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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1d577ba --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #65773 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/65773) diff --git a/old/65773-0.txt b/old/65773-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1f6224f..0000000 --- a/old/65773-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,15868 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Playing with Fire, by James Grant - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Playing with Fire - A Story of the Soudan War - -Author: James Grant - -Release Date: July 5, 2021 [eBook #65773] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Al Haines - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLAYING WITH FIRE *** - - - - - - - PLAYING WITH FIRE - - _A STORY OF THE SOUDAN WAR_ - - - - BY - - JAMES GRANT - - AUTHOR OF - 'THE ROMANCE OF WAR,' 'DULCIE CARLYON,' 'ROYAL - HIGHLANDERS,' ETC. - - - - LONDON - GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, LIMITED - BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL - MANCHESTER AND NEW YORK - - 1887 - - - - - - JAMES GRANT'S NOVELS. - - The Romance of War - The Aide-de-Camp - The Scottish Cavalier - Bothwell - Jane Seton; or, The Queen's Advocate - Philip Rollo - The Black Watch - Mary of Lorraine - Oliver Ellis; or, The Fusileers - Lucy Arden; or, Hollywood Hall - Frank Hilton; or, The Queen's Own - The Yellow Frigate - Harry Ogilvie; or, The Black Dragoons - Arthur Blane - Laura Everingham; or, The Highlanders of Glenora - The Captain of the Guard - Letty Hyde's Lovers - Cavaliers of Fortune - Second to None - The Constable of France - The Phantom Regiment - The King's Own Borderers - The White Cockade - First Love and Last Love - Dick Rodney - The Girl he Married - Lady Wedderburn's Wish - Jack Manly - Only an Ensign - Adventures of Rob Roy - Under the Red Dragon - The Queen's Cadet - Shall I Win Her? - Fairer than a Fairy - One of the Six Hundred - Morley Ashton - Did She Love Him? - The Ross-Shire Buffs - Six Years Ago - Vere of Ours - The Lord Hermitage - The Royal Regiment - Duke of Albany's Own Highlanders - The Cameronians - The Scots Brigade - Violet Jermyn - Miss Cheyne of Essilmont - Jack Chaloner - The Royal Highlanders - Colville of the Guards - Dulcie Carlyon - Playing with Fire - Derval Hampton - Love's Labour Won - - - - - CONTENTS. - - CHAPTER - - I. MERLWOOD - II. HESTER MAULE - III. KASHGATE--A RETROSPECT - IV. PLAYING WITH FIRE - V. THE COUSINS - VI. ANNOT DRUMMOND - VII. 'IS SHE NOT PASSING FAIR?' - VIII. 'IT WAS NO DREAM' - IX. THE OLD LOVE AND THE NEW - X. ROLAND'S HOME-COMING - XI. A COLD RECEPTION - XII. MAUDE - XIII. ROLAND'S VEXATION - XIV. MAUDE'S SECRET - XV. MR. HAWKEY SHARPE SEEKS COUNSEL - XVI. FOOL'S PARADISE - XVII. AT EARLSHAUGH - XVIII. 'MY LOVE SHE'S BUT A LASSIE YET' - XIX. HESTER RECEIVES A PROPOSAL - XX. MR. SHARPE MAKES A MISTAKE - XXI. MALCOLM SKENE - XXII. A FATAL SHOT - XXIII. THE CITY OF THE CALIPHS--OCTOBER IN THE LAND OF THE PHARAOHS! - XXIV. JACK ELLIOT'S PERIL - XXV. THE WILL - XXVI. MOLOCH - XXVII. ANNOT'S MISGIVINGS - XXVIII. THE FIRST OF OCTOBER - XXIX. ALARM AND ANXIETY - XXX. THE KELPIE'S CLEUGH - XXXI. 'ALL OVER NOW!' - XXXII. PELION ON OSSA - XXXIII. A TANGLED SKEIN - XXXIV. THE PRESENTIMENT - XXXV. LOST IN THE DESERT - XXXVI. ALONE! - XXXVII. THE FIRST QUARREL - XXXVIII. THE CRISIS - XXXIX. TURNING THE TABLES - XL. THE NEW POSITION - XLI. THE CAPTIVE - XLII. THE ZEREBA OF SHEIKH MOUSSA - XLIII. A MARRIAGE - XLIV. THE TROOPSHIP - XLV. THE DEATH WRESTLE - XLVI. MAUDE'S VISITOR - XLVII. THE RESULT - XLVIII. 'INFIRM OF PURPOSE!' - XLIX. CHRISTMAS DAY IN CAMP AT KORTI - L. THE START FOR KHARTOUM - LI. THE MARCH IN THE DESERT - LII. THE PRESENTIMENT FULFILLED - LIII. A HOMEWARD GLANCE - LIV. THE LONG-SUSPENDED SWORD - LV. WITH GENERAL EARLE's COLUMN - LVI. THE BATTLE OF KIRBEKAN - LVII. THE SICK CONVOY - LVIII. IN THE SHOUBRAH GARDENS - LIX. CONCLUSION - - - - -PLAYING WITH FIRE. - - - -CHAPTER I. - -MERLWOOD. - -''Pon my word, cousin, I think I should actually fall in love with -you, but that--that----' - -'What?' asked the girl, with a curious smile. - -'One so seldom falls in love with one they have known for a life -long.' - -The girl sighed softly, and said, still smiling sweetly: - -'Looking upon her as almost a sister, you mean, Roland.' - -'Or almost as a brother, as the case may be.' - -'Then how about Paul and Virginia? They knew each other all their -lives, and yet loved each other tenderly.' - -'Or desperately, rather, Hester; but that was in an old story book -greatly appreciated by our grandmothers.' - -'Instead of talking nonsense here, I really think you should go home, -Roland,' said the girl, with a tone of pain and pique at his -nonchalant manner; 'home for a time, at least.' - -'To Earlshaugh?' - -'Yes.' - -'Are you tired of me already, Hester?' - -'Tired of you, Roland?--oh, no,' replied the girl softly, while -playing with the petals of a flower. - -The speakers were Roland Lindsay, a young captain of the line, home -on leave from Egypt, and his cousin, Hester Maule, a handsome girl in -her eighteenth year; and the scene in which they figured was a shady, -green and well-wooded grassy bank that sloped down to the Esk, in -front of the pretty villa of Merlwood, where he swung lazily in a net -hammock between two beautiful laburnum-trees, smoking a cigar, while -she sat on the turf close by, with a fan of peacock feathers in her -slim and pretty hand, dispersing the midges that were swarming under -the trees in the hot sunshine of an August evening. - -While the heedless fellow who swung there, enjoying his cigar and his -hammock, and the charm of the whole situation, twitted her with her -unconcern, Hester--we need not conceal the fact--loved him with a -love that now formed part of her daily existence; while he accorded -her in return the half-careless affection of a brother, or as yet -little more. - -At his father's house of Earlshaugh, at his uncle's villa of -Merlwood, and elsewhere, till he had joined his regiment, they had -been brought up together, and together had shared all the pleasures -and amusements of childhood. In the thick woods of Earlshaugh, and -along the sylvan banks of the Esk, in the glorious summer and autumn -days, it had been their delight to clamber into thick and leafy -bowers--vast and mysterious retreats to them--where, with the birds -around them, and the flowers, the ivy, and the ferns beneath their -feet, they wove fairy caps of rushes and conned their tasks, often -with cheek laid against cheek and ringlets intermingled; and in their -days of childhood Roland had often told her tales of what they would -do and where they would go when they became man and wife, and little -Hester wondered at the story he wove, as it seemed impossible that -they could ever be happier than they were then. He always preferred -her as a companion and playmate to his only sister Maude, greatly to -the indignation of that young lady. - -She had borne her part in many of Roland's boyish pastimes, even to -spinning tops and playing marbles, until the days came when they -cantered together on their sturdy little Shetlands through Melville -Woods and by the braes of Woodhouselee, or where Earlshaugh looked -down on the pastoral expanse near Leuchars and Balmullo, in the East -Neuk of Fife. - -When the time came that Roland had inexorably to go forth into the -world and join his regiment, poor Hester Maule wept in secret as if -her heart would have burst; while he--with all a boy's ardour for his -red coat and the new and brilliant life before him--bade her farewell -with provoking equanimity and wonderful philosophy; and now that he -had come back, and she--in the dignity of her eighteen years--could -no longer aid him in birdnesting (if he thought of such a thing), or -holding a wicket for him, she had--during the few weeks he had been -at home--felt her girl's heart go back to the sweet old days and the -starting-point, which he seemed to have almost forgotten, or scarcely -referred to. - -And yet, when she came along the grassy bank, and tossed her garden -hat aside on seating herself on the grass near him, there was -something in her bearing then which haunted him in after-years--a -shy, unconscious grace in all her movements, a flush on her soft -cheek, a bright expression in her clear and innocent eyes, brightened -apparently by the flickering shadows that fell between the leaves -upon her uncovered head, and flushed her white summer dress with -touches of bright colour; and looking at him archly, she began, as if -almost to herself, to sing a song she had been wont to sing long -ago--an old song to the older air of the 'Bonnie Briar Bush': - - 'The visions of the buried past - Come thronging, dearer far - Than joys the present hour can give, - Than present objects are----' - - -'Go on, Hester,' said Roland, as she paused. - -'No,' said she with a little _moue_, 'you don't care for these old -memories now.' - -'When soldiering, Hester, we have to keep our minds so much in the -present that, by Jove! a fellow has not much time for brooding over -the past.' - -Hester made no reply, but cast down her lashes, and proceeded to roll -and unroll the ribbons of her hat round her slender fingers. - -Roland Lindsay manipulated another cigar, lit it leisurely, and -relapsed into silence too. - -He was a remarkably good-looking young fellow, and perhaps one who -knew himself to be so, having been somewhat spoiled by ladies -already. Though not quite regular, his features were striking, -and--like his bearing--impressed those who did not know him well with -a high opinion of his strength of character, which was not great, we -must admit, in some respects; though his chin was well defined and -even square, as shown by his being closely shaven all save a -carefully trimmed dark moustache. - -His grayish hazel eyes looked almost black at night, and were -expressive and keen yet soft. In figure he was well set up--the -drill-sergeant had done that; and unmistakably he was a manly-looking -fellow in his twenty-seventh year, dressed in a plain yet -irreproachably-made tweed suit of light gray that well became his -dark and dusky complexion, with spotlessly white cuffs and tie, and a -tweed stalking-cap peaked before and behind. He had an air of -well-bred nonchalance, of being perfectly at home; and now you have -him--Captain Roland Lindsay of Her Majesty's Infantry, with a face -and neck burned red and blistered by the fierce sun of Egypt and the -Soudan. - -Merlwood, the house of Hester's father, which he was now favouring -with a protracted visit, is situated on the north bank of the Esk, -and was so named as being the favourite haunt of the blackbird, whose -voice was heard amid its thickets in the earliest spring, as that of -the throstle was heard not far off in the adjacent birks of -Mavis-wood on the opposite side of that river, which, from its source -in the hills of Peebles till it joins the sea at Musselburgh, -displays sylvan beauties of which no other stream in Scotland can -boast--the beauties of which Scott sang so skilfully in one of his -best ballads: - - 'Sweet are the paths, O, passing sweet! - By Esk's fair streams that run - O'er airy steep, through copsewood deep, - Impervious to the sun, - - 'From that fair dome where suit is paid, - By blast of bugle free, - To Auchindinny's hazel shade, - And haunted Woodhouselee, - - 'Who knows not Melville's beechy grove - And Roslin's rocky glen, - Dalkeith, which all the virtues love, - And classic Hawthornden? - -Embosomed amid the beautiful scenery here, the handsome modern villa -of Merlwood, with its Swiss roof and plate-glass oriel windows half -smothered amid wild roses, clematis, and jasmine, crowned a bank -where the dreamy and ceaseless murmur of the Esk was ever heard; and -in the cosy if not stately rooms of which old Sir Harry Maule, -K.C.B., a retired Lieutenant-General, and the veteran of more than -one Indian war, had stored up the mementoes of his stirring past--the -tusky skulls, striped skins, and giant claws of more than one -man-eating tiger, trophies of his breechloader; and those of other -Indian conflicts at Lucknow, Jhansi, and elsewhere, in the shape of -buffalo shields, tulwars, inlaid Afghan juzails, battle axes, and -deadly khandjurs, with gorgeous trappings for horse and elephant. - -And picturesque looked the home of the old soldier and his only -daughter Hester, as seen in the August sunshine, at that season when -autumn peeps stealthily through the openings made in thicket and -hedge, when the sweet may-buds are dead and gone, the feathered -grasses are cut down, but the ferns and the ivy yet cover all the -rocks of the Esk, and flowering creepers connect the trees; the blue -hare-bell still peeped out, and in waste places the ox-eye daisy and -the light scarlet poppy were lingering still, for August is a month -flushed with the last touches of summer, and though the latter was -past and gone, those warm tints which make the Scottish woods so -peculiarly lovely in autumn had not yet begun to mellow or temper the -varied greenery of the bosky valley of rocks and timber through which -the mountain Esk flows to the Firth of Forth. - -To the eyes of Roland Lindsay, how still and green and cool it all -seemed, after the arid sands, the breathless atmosphere, and the -scorching heat of Southern Egypt! - -'By Jove, there is no place like home!' thought he, and he tossed out -of his hammock _Punch_, the _Graphic_, and Clery's 'Minor Tactics,' -with which he had been killing time, till his fair cousin joined him; -and with his cigar alight, his stalking cap tilted forward over his -eyes, his hands behind his head, he swung to and fro in the full -enjoyment of lazy indolence. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -HESTER MAULE. - -Though the life of Hester Maule at Merlwood was a somewhat secluded -one, as she had no mother to act as chaperone, it was not one of -inaction. Her mornings were generally spent in charitable work among -poor people in the nearest village, visiting the old and sick, -sometimes in scolding and teaching the young, assisting the minister -in many ways with local charities, and often winding up the evening -by a brisk game of lawn-tennis with his young folks at the manse, and -now and then a ball or a carpet dance at some adjacent house, when -late hours never prevented her from being down from her room in the -morning, as gay as a mavis or merle, to pour out her father's coffee, -cut and air his paper, or attend to his hookah, the use of which the -old Anglo-Indian had not yet been able to relinquish. - -Now the girl had become shy or dry in manner, piqued and silent -certainly, to her cousin; for, in mortifying contrast to her silent -thoughts, she was pondering over his off-hand speech with which the -preceding chapter opens; thus even he found it somewhat difficult to -carry on a one-sided conversation with the back of her averted head, -however handsome, with its large coil of dark and glossy hair turned -to him. - -Roland liked and more than admired his graceful cousin, and now, -perhaps suspecting that his nonchalant manner was scarcely 'the -thing' and finding her silent, even frosty in manner, he said: - -'Hester, will you listen to me now?' - -'That depends upon what you have to say, Roland.' - -'I never say anything wrong, so don't be cross, my dear little one.' - -'He treats me as a child still!' she thought in anger, and said -sharply: - -'Well?' - -'Shall we go along the river bank and see the trout rising?' - -'Why?' - -'Well--it is certainly better than doing nothing.' - -'But is useless,' said she coldly. - -'Why? It is now my turn to ask.' - -'Because you know very well, or ought to know, that there are none to -be seen after June, and that the mills have ruined angling hereabout.' - -'Let us look for ferns, then--there are forty different kinds, I -believe, in Roslin Glen.' - -'Ferns--how can you be so childish, Roland!' exclaimed the girl with -growing pique, as she thought--'If he has aught to say of more -interest, surely he can say it here,' and she kept her eyes averted, -looking down the wooded glen through which the river brawled, with -her heart full of affection and love, which her cousin was singularly -slow to see; then furtively she looked at him once or twice, as he -lounged on his back, smoking and gazing upward at the patches of blue -sky seen through the interlaced branches of the overarching trees. - -'Gentleman' was stamped on every feature and in every action of -Lindsay, and there was an easy and quiet deliberation in all he did -and said that indicated good breeding, and yet he had a bearing in -his figure and aspect in his dark face that would have become -Millais' 'Black Brunswicker.' - -Hester Maule is difficult to describe; but if the reader will think -of the prettiest girl she or he ever saw, they have a general idea of -her attractions. - -A proud and stately yet most graceful-looking girl, Hester had a -lissom figure a trifle over the middle height, hair of the richest -and deepest brown, dark violet-coloured and velvety-like eyes with -full lids, long lashes, and brows that were black; a dazzling -complexion, a beautiful smile when pleased, and hands and feet that -showed race and breeding beyond all doubt. - -Roland was quite aware that Hester was no longer a child, but a girl -almost out of her teens, and one that looked older than her years. -He had seen her at intervals, and seen how she had grown up and -expanded into the handsome girl she had become--one of whom any -kinsman might be proud; and with all his seeming indifference and -doubt of his true emotions, it was evident now that propinquity might -do much; and times there were when he began to feel for her some of -that tender interest and admiration which generally form a sure -prelude to love. Moreover, they were cousins, and 'there is no -denying that cousinship covers a multitude of things within its -kindly mantle.' - -Hester was the only daughter of his maternal uncle, the old General, -whose services had won him a K.C.B.--an improvident and somewhat -impoverished man, who for years had been a kind of invalid from -ailments contracted after the great Indian Mutiny--chiefly from a -bullet lodged in his body at Jhansi, when he fought under the famous -Sir Hugh Rose--Lord Strathnairn in later years. - -She was the one 'ewe lamb' of his flock, all of whom were lying by -their mother's side under the trees in the old kirkyard of Lasswade, -within sound of the murmuring Esk; and though the charm of Hester's -society had been one of the chief reasons that induced Roland Lindsay -to linger at Merlwood, as he had done for nearly a month past, he was -loth to adopt the idea now being involved therein. Such is the -inconsistency of the male heart at times; and he, perhaps, -misconstrued, or attributed his emotion to compassion for her -apparently lonely life and somewhat dubious future--for Sir Henry's -life was precarious; and in this perilous and dubious state matters -were now, while Roland's leave of absence was running on. - -Not that the latter was extremely limited. To the uninitiated we may -mention that what is technically termed winter leave extends -generally from the 15th October to the 14th of the following March, -'when all officers are to be present with their respective regiments -and depôts;' but Roland had extended or more ample leave accorded him -than this, owing to the sufferings he had undergone from a wound and -fever when with the army of occupation in Egypt, a portion of which -his regiment formed--hence it was that August saw him at Merlwood. - -And now we may briefly state how he was situated, and some of the -'features' on which his future 'hinged.' - -During his absence with the army his father, the old fox-hunting -Laird of Earlshaugh, a widower, after the death of Roland's mother -had rashly married her companion, a handsome but artful woman, who, -at his death (caused by a fall in the hunting-field, after which she -had nursed him assiduously), was left by him, through his will, all -that he possessed in land, estate, and heritage, without control; but -never doubting--poor silly man--that she would do full justice in the -end to his only son and daughter, as a species of mother, monitress, -and guardian--a risk the eventualities of which he had not quite -foreseen, as we shall show in the time to come. - -But so it was; his father, who, at one time, he thought, would hardly -have rested in his grave if the acres of Earlshaugh and the turrets -of the old mansion had gone out of the family, in which they had been -since Sir James Lindsay of Edzell and Glenesk fell by his royal -master's side at Flodden, had been weak enough to do this monstrous -piece of injustice, under the influence of an artful and designing -woman! - -It was an injury so galling, so miserable, and--to Roland Lindsay--so -scarcely realizable, that he had been in no haste to return to his -ancestral home. - -And hence, perhaps, he had lingered at Merlwood, where his uncle, Sir -Harry, who hated, defied, and utterly failed to understand anything -of the 'outs and ins' of law or lawyers, including wills and -bequests, etc., etc., fed his natural indignation by anathematizing -the artful Jezebel of a step-mother; and declaring that he never did -and never would believe in her; and adjusting himself as well as that -cursed 'Jhansi bullet' would allow him, while lounging back in his -long, low, and spacious Singapore chair, he would suck his hookah -viciously, and roundly assert, as a crowning iniquity, that he was -certain she had 'at least four annas to the rupee in her blood!' - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -KASHGATE--A RETROSPECT. - -It was pretty clear, on the whole, to Hester, that her cousin, Roland -Lindsay, thought but little of the past, and perhaps, as a general -rule, cared for it even less. While she had been living on the -memory of these dear days, especially since this--his last return -home--he had allowed other events to obliterate it from his mind. - -Let us take a little retrospect. - -In contrast to the apparently languid and _blasé_ smoker, swinging in -his net hammock, enjoying the balmy evening breeze by the wooded Esk, -and dallying with a girl of more than ordinary loveliness, let us -imagine him in a dusty and blood-stained tunic, with a battered -tropical helmet, a beard unshaven for many a day, haggard in visage, -wild-eyed and full of soldierly enthusiasm, one of the leading actors -in a scene like the following, at the fatal and most disastrous -battle of Kashgate. - -It was the evening of the 3rd November in an arid waste of the -Soudan--sand, sand everywhere--not a well to yield a drop of brackish -water, not a tree to give the slightest shade. The heat was awful, -beyond all parallel and all European conception, well-nigh beyond -endurance, and the doomed soldiers of General Hicks--known as Hicks -Pasha--a veteran of the famous old Bombay Fusiliers who had served at -Magdala, and to whose staff Roland Lindsay, then a subaltern, was -attached, toiled on, over the dry and arid desert steppe that lies -between El Duem and El Obeid, in search of the troops of the -ubiquitous Mahdi--the gallant Hicks and his few British officers -training their loosely and hastily constituted Egyptian army to -operations in the field, even while advancing against one, said to be -three hundred thousand strong--doubtless an Oriental -exaggeration--but strong enough nevertheless, as the event proved, to -sweep their miserable soldiers off the face of the earth, in that -battle, the details of which will never be known till the Last Day, -as only one or two escaped. - -Like Colonel Farquhar of the Guards, Majors Warren, Martin and other -British officers, Roland Lindsay, by his personal example, had done -all that in him lay to cheer the weak-limbed and faint-hearted -Egyptian soldiers, whose almost sable visages were now gaunt and -hollow, and whose white tunics and scarlet tarbooshes were tattered -and worn by their long and toilsome march through the terrible -country westward of the White Nile--a vast steppe covered with low -thorny trees, purple mimosa, gum bushes, and spiky grass, till the -sad, solemn, and desert waste was reached near Kashgate, where -all--save one or two--were to find their graves! - -Mounted on a splendid Arab, whose rider he had slain in the battle of -the 29th of April, Roland Lindsay led one face of the hollow square -in which the troops marched, and in which formation they fought for -three days, with baggage, sick and wounded in the centre, Krupp and -Nordenfeldt guns in the angles, against a dark and surging human sea -of frantic Dervishes, wild Bedouins, and equally wild and savage -Mohammedans and Mulattoes, shrieking, yelling, armed with ponderous -swords and deadly spears that flashed like thousands of mirrors in -the sunshine. - -The Dervishes came on, the foremost and most fearless, sent by the -Mahdi, Mahommed Achmet Shemseddin, who had declared that they must -vanquish all, as they had the aid of Heaven, of the Prophet and his -legions of unseen angels, as at the battle of Bedr, when he conquered -the Koreish. - -Wild and desperate was the prolonged fighting, the Egyptians knowing -that no mercy would be accorded to them, and fearful was the -slaughter, till the sand was soaked with blood--till the worn-out -square was utterly broken, its living walls dashed to pieces, and -hurled against each other under the feet of the victorious Mahdists. - -In vain did young Lindsay, like other Britons who followed Hicks, -endeavour to make some of their men front about; calling on them, -sword and revolver in hand, as they flung themselves on the sand now -in despair, face downwards, and perished miserably under sword and -spear, or fled in abject and uncontrollable terror; but in the end he -found himself abandoned, and had to hack his way out of the press -through a forest of weapons till he reached the side of General -Hicks, who was making a last and desperate charge at the head of his -staff alone! - -Side by side, with a ringing and defiant cheer, these few Britons -galloped against the living flood that was led by a sheikh in -brilliant floating robes. - -'He is the Mahdi--he is the Mahdi!' cried Lindsay, and such Hicks and -all who followed him supposed that sheikh, but in mistake, to be. - -He was splendidly mounted, and in addition to his Mahdi surcoat and -floating robes wore a glittering Dharfour helmet, with a tippet of -chain-mail and a long shirt of the same defensive material. Through -this the sword of Hicks gave him a deadly cut in the arm, and his -sword-hand dropped, but with the other he contrived to hurl a club, -which unhorsed the General, who was then slain; but the mailed -warrior, who looked like a Crusader of the twelfth century, was hewn -down by Roland through helmet and head to the chin, and just as he -fell above Hicks all the staff perished then on foot, their horses -being speared or hamstrung--all gallant and resolute soldiers, -Fraser, Farquhar, Brodie, Walker, and others--fighting back to back -or in a desperate circle. - -One moment Roland saw the last of them, erect in all the pride and -strength of manhood, inspired by courage and despair--his cheeks -flushed, his eyes flashing, while handling his sword with all the -conscious pride of race and skill; and the next he lay stretched and -bleeding on the heap beside him, with the pallor in his face of one -who would never rise again. - -In that _mêlée_ no less than three Emirs of the False Prophet fell -under the sword of Lindsay, who cut his way out and escaped alone; -and spattered with blood from the slain, as well as from two -sword-wounds in his own body, spurred rearward his horse, which had -many a gash and stab, but carried him clear out of the field and -onward till darkness fell, and he found himself alone--alone in the -desert. There the whitening skeleton of more than one camel--the -relic of a caravan--lay; and there the huge Egyptian vultures -('Pharaoh's chickens,' as they are called), with their fierce beaks, -great eyes, and ample wings, were floating overhead on their way to -the field, for the unburied slain attract these flocks from a -wonderful distance. - -When his horse sank down, Lindsay remained beside it, helpless and -weary, awaiting the blood-red dawn of the Nubian sun. - -As he lay there under the stars that glittered out of the blue sky -like points of steel, many a memory of the past, of vanished faces, -once familiar and still loved; of his home at Earlshaugh, with its -wealth of wood and hill; and recollections which had been growing -misty and indistinct came before him with many a scene and episode, -like dissolving views that melted each other, as he seemed to himself -to sink into sleep--the sleep that was born of fatigue, long -over-tension of the nerves, and loss of blood. - -For weeks he was returned as one of the slain who had perished at -Kashgate; but Roland was hard to kill. He had reached Khartoum--how -he scarcely knew--ere Gordon, the betrayed and abandoned by England, -had perished there; and eventually regained the headquarters of his -regiment, then with the army of occupation in Lower Egypt. - -Of all this, and much more, with reference to her cousin had Hester -Maule read in the public prints; but little or nothing of his -adventures in the East could she glean from him, as he seemed very -diffident and loth to speak of himself, unlike her father, Sir Harry, -who was never weary of his reminiscences of the war in Central India, -particularly the siege and capture of Jhansi under Lord Strathnairn, -of gallant memory. - -So the bearing of Roland Lindsay at the battle of Kashgate and -elsewhere had proved that he was worthy of the old historic line from -which he sprang; and that there was a latent fire, energy, and spirit -of the highest kind under his calm, easy, and pleasant exterior. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -PLAYING WITH FIRE. - -And now, a few days subsequently, while idling after dinner over -coffee and a cigar, with his pretty cousin and Sir Harry, in the -latter's study, a little room set apart by him for his own -delectation, where he could always find his tobacco jars, the Army -Lists, East Indian Registers, and so forth, ready at hand--a 'study' -hung round with whips and spurs, fishing and shooting gear, a few old -swords, and furnished with Singapore chairs, tiger skins, and a -couple of teapoys, or little tables, Roland Lindsay obtained a little -more insight into family matters that had transpired daring his -absence while soldiering against the False Prophet in the East. - -Sir Harry was a tall and handsome man, nearer his seventieth than his -sixtieth year, with regular aquiline features, keen gray eyes, and -closely shaven, all save a heavy moustache, which was, like his hair, -silver white; and though somewhat feebler now by long Indian service -and wounds, he looked every inch, an aristocratic old soldier and -gently but decidedly he spoke to his nephew of troubles ahead, while -Hester's white hands were busy among her Berlin wools, and she -glanced ever and anon furtively, but with fond interest, at her young -kinsman, who apparently was provokingly unconscious thereof. - -The old fox-hunting laird, his father, though a free liver, had never -been reckless or profligate; had never squandered or lost an acre of -Earlshaugh; never drank or gambled to excess, nor been duped by his -most boon companions; but on finding that he was getting too heavy -for the saddle, and that the world, after all, was proving 'flat, -stale, and unprofitable,' had latterly, for a couple of years before -his death, buried himself in the somewhat dull and lonely if stately -mansion of Earlshaugh, where he had for a second time, to the -astonishment of all his friends, those of the Hunt particularly, -betaken himself to matrimony, or been lured thereinto by his late -wife's attractive and, as Sir Harry phrased it, 'most strategic' and -enterprising companion, who had--as all the folks in the East Neuk -said--contrived to 'wind him round her little finger,' by discovering -and sedulously attending to and anticipating all his querulous wants -and wishes; and thus, when he died, it was found that he had left -her--as already stated--possessed of all he had in the world, to the -manifest detriment and danger of his only son and daughter; and, -worse still, it would seem that the widow was now in the hands of one -more artful than herself--said to be a relation--one Mr. Hawkey -Sharpe, into whose care and keeping she apparently confided -everything. - -Roland's yearly allowance since he joined the army had not been -meddled with; but deeming himself justly the entire heir of -everything, it could scarcely be thought he would be content with -that alone now. - -'A black look-out, uncle,' said he grimly; 'so, prior to my return to -Earlshaugh, to be forewarned is to be fore-armed.' - -'Yes; but in this instance, my boy,' said Sir Harry, relinquishing -for a moment the amber mouthpiece of his hookah, 'you scarcely know -against what or against whom.' - -'Nor can I, perhaps, until I see a lawyer on the subject.' - -'Oh, d--n lawyers! Keep them out of it, if possible. The letters -S.S.C. after a man's name always make me shiver.' - -'And who is this Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, who seems to have installed -himself at Earlshaugh?' asked Roland, after a brief pause. - -'No one knows but your--your stepmother,' replied Sir Harry, with a -grimace, as he kicked a hassock from under his foot. 'No one but she -apparently; he seems a sharp fellow, in whom she trusts implicitly in -all regarding the estate.' - -'Where did he come from?' - -'God knows; but he seems to be what our American cousins deem the -acme of 'cuteness.' - -'And that is----' - -'A Yankee Jew attorney of English parentage,' replied Sir Harry, with -a kind of smile, in which his nephew did not join. - -'Earlshaugh is a fine properly, as we all know, uncle; but it was -deuced hard for me, when I thought I had come into it, to find this -stepmother--a person I can barely remember acting as my mother's -amanuensis, factotum, and toady--constituted a species of guardian to -me--to me, a captain in my twenty-seventh year, and to be told that I -must for the time content me with my old allowance, as the pater had -been--she said--rather extravagant, and so forth. I can't make it -out.' - -'Neither can I, nor any other fellow,' said the old General testily. -'I only know that your father made a very idiotic will, leaving all -to that woman.' - -'If he actually did so,' said Roland. - -'No doubt about it--I heard it read.' - -'But you are a little deaf, dear uncle.' - -'D--n it, don't say that, Roland--I am fit for service yet!' - -'Well, she has not interfered with my allowance as yet.' - -'Allowance!' exclaimed Sir Harry, smiting the table with his hand; -'why the devil should you be restricted to one at all?' - -'If--I am very ignorant in law, uncle--but if under this will she has -the life-rent----' - -'More than that, I tell you.' - -'I can scarcely believe it; and she has not meddled with the -allowance of dear little Maude.' - -'She may cut off your sister's income and yours too at any moment, -Roland!' - -'Well, I suppose if the worst comes to the worst,' said the latter, -with a kind of bitter laugh, while still hoping against hope, 'I -shall have to send in my papers and volunteer as a trooper for one of -these Cape corps in Bechuanaland or the Transvaal.' - -'Oh, Roland, don't think of such things,' said Hester, as with -tenderness in her eyes she looked up at him for a moment, and then -resumed her work. - -'Have you seen this stepmother of mine lately?' he asked. - -'No--but she has invited me to Earlshaugh next month, not knowing, -perhaps, that you would spend the first month of your leave--' - -'With his old uncle,' said Sir Harry, as his eyes kindled, and he -patted Roland's shoulder, adding, 'a good lad--a good lad--my own -sister's son!' - -Uncle and nephew had much in common between them, even 'shop,' as -they phrased it; and the regard they had for each other was mutual -and keen. - -'She writes to me seldom,' said Hester, 'for, of course, our tastes -and ideas are somewhat apart; but, as papa says, when he sees her -stiff note-paper, with the sham gentility of its gilt and crimson -monogram, and strong fragrance of Essbouquet, he feels sure that, -with all her manners, airs, and so forth, she cannot be a lady, -though many a lady's companion, as she was to your mother, unhappily -is.' - -Roland remained silent, sucking his cheroot viciously. - -'Yes,' observed his uncle, 'her very notes in their pomposity speak -of self-assertion.' - -'In going--unwillingly as I shall--to Earlshaugh, I don't know how -the deuce I may get on with such an incubus,' said Roland -thoughtfully; and now thoughts of the cold welcome that awaited him -by the hearth that had been his father's, and their forefathers' for -generations past, made him naturally think and feel more warmly and -kindly of those with whom he was now, and more disposed to cling to -the loving old kinsman who eyed him so affectionately, and the sweet, -gentle cousin, every motion of whose white hands and handsome head -was full of grace; and thus, more tenderly than ever was his wont, he -looked upon her and addressed her, softly touching her hands, as he -affected to sort, but rather disarranged, the wool in her -work-basket; and, though the days were rather past now when he -regarded with interest and admiration every pretty girl as the -probable wife of his future, and he had not thought of Hester in that -sense at all, she was not without a subtle interest for him that he -could scarcely define. - -'Give me some music, Hester--by Jove! I am getting quite into the -blues; there is a piano in the next room,' said Roland, throwing -aside his cigar and leading her away; 'a song if you will, cousin,' -he added, opening the instrument and adjusting the stool, on which -she seated herself. - -'What song, Roland?' - -'Any--well, the old, old one of which you sang a verse to me the -other evening in the lawn.' - -'Do you really wish it?' she asked, looking round at him with -half-drooped lashes, and an earnest expression in her dark, starry -eyes. - -'I do, indeed, Hester--for "Auld Langsyne."' So she at once gave her -whole skill and power to the Jacobite air and the simple, old song -which ran thus - - 'The visions of the buried past - Come thronging, dearer far - Than joys the present hour can give, - Than present objects are. - I love to dwell among their shades, - That open to my view; - The dreams of perished men, and years, - And bygone glory, too. - - 'For though such retrospect is sad, - It is a sadness sweet, - The forms of those whom we revere, - In memory to meet. - Since nothing in this changing world - Is constant but decay; - And early flowers but bloom the first, - To pass the first away!' - - -As the little song closed, the girl's voice, full as she was of her -own thoughts, became exquisitely sweet, even sad. - -'Hester, thank you, dear,' said Roland, laying a hand on her soft -shoulder, with a sudden gush of unusual tenderness. 'The early -flowers that bloomed so sweetly with us have not yet passed away, -surely, Hester?' - -'I hope not, Roland,' she replied, in a low voice. - -'And I, too, hope not,' said he, stooping, and careless of the eyes -of Sir Harry, who had been drumming time to the air on a teapoy, he -pressed his lips to the straight white division between her close and -rich dark hair. - -As he did so he felt her thrill beneath the touch of his lips, and -though his nonchalant air of indifference was gone just then he said -nothing more, but he thought: - -'Is not this playing with fire?' - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -THE COUSINS. - -Some days passed on after the little episode at the piano, and the -intercourse between the cousins, if tender and alluring, was still -somewhat strange, undecided, and doubtful--save in the recesses of -Hester's heart. - -Rambling together, as in days past, among the familiar and beautiful -sylvan scenery around Merlwood, times there certainly were, when eye -met eye with an expression that told its own story, and each seemed -to feel that their silence covered a deeper feeling than words could -express, and that though the latter were not forthcoming as yet, -their hearts and lives might soon be filled by a great joy, on the -part of the untutored girl especially. - -At others, Roland, though not quite past seven-and-twenty, had, of -course, seen too much of the world and of life, in and out of -garrison, to be a hot-headed and reckless lover, or to rush into a -position which left him no safe or honourable line of retreat. - -His passions were strong, but tempered by experience and quite under -his control; and he was inclined to be somewhat of a casuist. - -'Was this brilliant and attractive companion,' he sometimes asked -himself, 'the same little girl who had been his playmate in the past, -who had so often faded out of his boyish existence amid other scenes -and places? And now did she really care for him in _that_ way after -all?' - -His manner was kind and affectionate to her, but playful, and while -lacking pointed tenderness, there was--she thought--something forced -about it at times. - -When this suspicion occurred, her pride took the alarm. Could it be -that she had insensibly allowed her heart to slip out of her own -keeping into that of one from whom no genuine word of love had come -to her? Then the fear of this would sting Hester to the soul, and -make her at times--even after the _[oe]illades_ and eloquent silences -referred to--cold and reserved; and old Sir Harry, who, for many -reasons, monetary and otherwise, apart from a sincere and fatherly -regard for his only nephew, would have been rejoiced to have him as a -son-in-law, would mutter to himself: - -'Do they know their own minds, these two young fools?' - -He often thought sadly and seriously of Hester's future, for he had -been an improvident man; his funds and his pensions passed away with -himself; thus it was with very unalloyed delight that he watched the -pair together again as in the days of their childhood, and he wove -many a castle in the air; but they all assumed the form of a certain -turreted mansion in the East Neuk of Fife. Then he would add to -Hester's annoyance by saying to her in a caressing and blundering way: - -'He will love you very dearly, as he ought to do, some day, my pet; -and if you don't love him just now, you also will in time. Your poor -mother would have liked it--Roland was ever her favourite.' - -'Please not to say these things, papa,' implored Hester, though they -were alone, and she caressed his old white head, for Sir Harry seldom -or never spoke of her mother, whose death occurred some twelve years -before, without an emotion which he could not conceal, for he was -gentle and loving by nature. - -'Bother the fellow!' said Sir Harry testily, ashamed that his voice -had broken and his eyes grown full; 'he should know his own heart by -this time.' - -'I would rather, papa, you did not say such things.' - -'Well--I can't help thinking of them, and you have no one to confide -in, Pet Hester, but me,' he added, drawing her head down on his -breast. - -'If it will make you any happier, dear papa,' said Hester in a very -low voice, 'I will promise to do as you wish, if Roland asks me to -love him, which he has not done yet. Anyway, it does not matter,' -she added, a little irrelevantly; 'I care for no one else.' - -'Not even for Malcolm of Dunnimarle?' he asked laughingly. - -'No, papa--not even for Malcolm Skene.' - -'He admires you immensely, Hester, but then Roland seems to me just -the sort of fellow to advise and protect--to be good to a -girl--strong and brave, kind and tender.' - -'Oh, hush, papa,' said Hester, ready to sink with confusion and -annoyance; 'here he comes,' she added, as Roland came lounging -through an open French window into the dining-room. - -'What about Skene of Dunnimarle, uncle--surely I heard his name?' he -asked, adding to Hester's emotion of confusion, though he failed to -notice it. 'May I finish my cigar here, Hester?' - -'Oh, please do--I rather like it,' she replied hastily. - -'I have asked Skene for the shooting next month at Earlshaugh--to -knock over a few birds.' - -'That will be pleasant for Hester; he is rather an admirer of hers,' -said Sir Harry. - -'I don't know that he is,' said Hester; 'and if you talk that way, I -shall not go to Earlshaugh this summer at all, papa.' - -'After your promise to me that you will do so?' asked Roland. - -'Yes, even after my promise to you,' she replied, as she left the -room. - -'I'll tell you a strange story of Malcolm's father when we were -together in Central India,' said Sir Harry, to change the subject. -'It happened at Jhansi--you never heard it, I suppose?' - -'Not that I know of,' replied Roland, who was already weary of the -Indian reminiscences that Sir Harry contrived to drag into -conversation whenever he could. - -'Well, it was a strange affair--very much out of the common, and -happened in this way. Duncan Skene was Captain of our -Grenadiers--ah, we _had_ Grenadiers then, before the muddlers of -later years came!--and a handsomer fellow than Duncan never wore a -pair of epaulettes. A year before we stormed Jhansi from the -Pandies, we were in quarters there, and all was as quiet at Allahabad -as it is here in the valley of the Esk. We did not occupy the city -or the Star Fort, but we had lines outside the former then, and one -night Duncan, when pretty well primed, it was thought, after leaving -the mess bungalow, betook him towards his own, which stood in rather -a remote part of the cantonment. All seemed dark and quiet, and the -_ghurries_ at the posts had announced the hour of two in the morning, -when Duncan came unexpectedly upon a large and well-lighted tent, -within which he saw six or seven fellows of ours--old faces that he -knew, but had not seen for some time--all carousing and drinking -round the table; he entered, and was at once made welcome by them all. - -'Now, Duncan must have been pretty well primed indeed not to have -been sobered and chilled by what he saw; he could scarcely believe -his eyes or his own identity, and thought that for the past year he -must have been in a dream; for there he was met with outstretched -hands and hearty greetings by many of ours who he thought were gone -to their last homes. There was Jack Atherly, second to none in the -hunting-field, whom he had seen knocked over by a matchlock ball in a -rascally hill fight; and there, too, was Charley Thorold, once our -pattern sub and pattern dancing man, who he thought had fallen the -same day at the head of the Light Company; there, too, were Maxwell -and Seton, our best strokes at billiards, whom he had seen--or -thought he had seen--die of jungle fever in Nepaul; and Hawthorn and -Bob Stuart, for whom he had backed many a bill, and who had been -assassinated by Dacoits; but now seeming all well and jolly, hale and -hearty, though a trifle pale, after all they had undergone. It was a -marvellous--a bewildering meeting; but he felt no emotion either of -fear or surprise--as it is said that in dreams we seldom feel the -latter, though some of his hosts in figure did at times look a little -vaporous and indistinct. - -'He was forced to sit down and drink with them, which he did, while -old regimental jokes were uttered and stories told till the tent -seemed to whirl round on its pole, the pegs all in pursuit of each -other; and then Duncan thought he must be off, as he was detailed for -guard at dawn. But ere he quitted them, they all made him promise -that he was to rejoin them at the same place that day twelvemonth, a -long invitation, at which he laughed heartily, but to which he -acceded, promising faithfully to do so; then he reeled away, and -remembered no more till he was found fast asleep under the hedge of -his compound by the patrol about morning gun-fire. - -'Duncan's dream, or late entertainment, recurred vividly to him in -all its details; he could point to the exact spot where the tent had -stood, but not a trace of it was to be found in any way, and no more -was thought about the matter by the few in whom he confided till that -time twelvemonth, when we found ourselves before Jhansi, with the -army sent under Lord Strathnairn to avenge the awful slaughter and -butchery there of the officers of the 12th Native Infantry by the -mutineers, from whom we took the place by storm; and in the conflict, -at the very hour of the morning in which Duncan Skene had had that -weird meeting and given that terrible promise, and on the very spot -where the supposed tent stood, he was killed by a cannon shot; and -just about the same time I received the infernal bullet which is -lodged in me still. - -'That is a story beyond the common, Roland, for Skene of ours was a -fellow above all superstition, and wild though his dream--if a dream -it was--he was wont to relate it in a jocular way to more than -one--myself among the number.' - -Was it the case that the mention of young Skene as a new -admirer--perhaps more than an admirer--of Hester had acted as a -species of fillip to Roland? It almost seemed so, for after that -there was more tenderness if possible in his manner to her, and he -did not fail to remark that he saw music and books lying about, -presented to Hester by the gentleman in question; and her father -muttered to himself with growing satisfaction, for he loved Roland -well: - -'Now they are all day together, just as they used to be; and see, he -is actually carrying her watering pan for the rosebuds. Well, -Roland, that is better fun, I suppose, than carrying the lines of -Tel-el-Kebir!' And the old gentleman laughed at his own conceit till -he felt his Jhansi bullet cause an aching where it lodged. This -companionship filled the heart of the girl with supreme happiness, -and more than once she recalled the words of a writer who says of -such times: 'I think there are days when one's whole past life seems -stirred within one, and there come to the surface unlooked-for -visions and pictures, with gleams from the depths below. Are they of -memory or of hope? Or is it possible that those two words mean one -thing only, and are one at last when our lives are rounded and -complete?' - -One evening, after being absent in the city, Roland suddenly, when he -and Hester were alone, opened a handsome morocco case wherein -reposed, in their dark-blue satin bed, a necklace of brilliant -cairngorms set in gold with a beautiful pendant composed of a single -Oriental amethyst encircled by the purest of pearls. - -'A little gift for you, Hester,' said he; 'I am soon going to -Earlshaugh, and I hope to see you wear these there,' added he, -clasping the necklace round her slender throat. - -'Oh, Roland!' exclaimed Hester in a breathless voice, while her -colour changed, 'can I accept such a gift?' - -'From me--your cousin--Hester?' he asked softly but reproachfully, -and paused. Beyond the gift he gave no distinct sign as yet, and it -flashed on Hester's mind that with the jewels there was no ring. -Could that be an omission? Scarcely. - -Then, seized by a sudden impulse, he abruptly, yet softly and -caressingly, drew her towards him and kissed her more than once. He -had often saluted her before at meeting and parting, but always in a -cousinly way; but this seemed very different now. - -Breathless, dazed apparently, the trembling girl pushed him from her, -and he gazed at her with some surprise as she said: - -'Why did you do that, Roland? It is cruel--unkind of you,' she -added, with trembling fingers essaying, but in vain, to unclasp the -necklet. - -'Cruel and unkind--between us, Hester?' - -'Yes,' she said, blushing deeply, and then growing very pale. - -'I forgot myself for a moment, dearest Hester, in my fondness of you.' - -She was trembling very much now, and as he took her hands caressingly -within his own, her eyes grew full of tears. - -'Hester, you know--you know well,' he began, with a voice that -indicated deep emotion. - -'Know what, Roland?' said she, trying to withdraw her hands. - -'That I love you,' he was about to say, and would no doubt have said, -but that Sir Harry most inopportunely came limping heavily in, so -Roland was compelled to pause. The few words that might have changed -all the story we have to tell were left unuttered, and next moment -Hester was gone. - -'He does love me!' she thought in the solitude of her own room; 'love -me as I love him, and wish to be loved!' - -Long she pondered over the episode and gazed on his gift ere she -retired to rest that night. She hoped in time to bind him to her -more closely, for she thought he was a man who would love once in a -lifetime with all the strength of a great and noble nature. - -Sweetly and brightly the girl smiled at her own reflection in the -mirror as with deft fingers she coiled up her rich brown hair for the -night; while slowly but surely she felt herself, with a new and -joyous thrill, to be turning her back upon the past, yet a happy and -an innocent past it had been, and that she was standing on the -threshold of a new and brighter world of dreams. - -At last she slept. - -Roland Lindsay had been on the point of declaring his love, but -something--was it Fatality?--withheld him; then the interruption -came, and the golden moment passed! - -Would it ever come again? - -But a change was at hand, which neither he nor Hester could foresee. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -ANNOT DRUMMOND. - -Next morning when Hester, in the most becoming of matutinal costumes, -pale rose colour, which so suited her dark hair and complexion, was -presiding over the breakfast table, and Sir Harry was about to dip -into his newspapers, selecting a letter from a few that lay beside -her plate, she said: - -'Papa, I have a little surprise for you--a letter from Annot -Drummond, my cousin; she comes here to-night _en route_ to -Earlshaugh, invited by Maud, your sister,' she added to Roland; 'by -this time she will be leaving London at Euston.' - -'"London, that maelstrom of mud and mannikins," as it has perhaps -been unjustly stigmatized by George Gilfillan,' said Sir Harry, -laughing, 'and she is to be here to-night--that is sudden.' - -'But Annot was always a creature of impulse, papa!' - -'So some think,' said her father; 'but to me her impulses always -seemed to come by fits and starts. However, I shall be delighted to -see the dear child.' - -'The "dear child" is now nearly eighteen, papa.' - -'Heavens--how time runs on!--eighteen--yes.' - -'And she and I are to go to Earlshaugh together in October--that is -if you can spare me, papa,' added Hester, colouring, and keeping the -silver urn between herself and Roland. - -'Excellent; I shall make up a little party for the covert shooting, -to entertain Skene of Dunnimarle, Jack Elliot of ours, and one or two -more, if I can,' said the latter. 'I have been so long away from -Earlshaugh; but doubtless dear little Maud and the--the -stepmother----' - -Sir Harry's brow clouded at the name, and Roland paused. - -'You did not see Annot when in London?' said Hester. - -'No--I had no time--she lived in a part of South Belgravia, rather -out of my wanderings,' replied Roland. - -'She is a very attractive girl, gentlemen think.' - -'Ah,' was the brief response of Roland, intent more on his breakfast -than the attractions of Annot Drummond, who was the only child of Sir -Harry's favourite sister, a widow, whose slender circumstances -compelled her to reside in a small and dull old-fashioned house of -the last century in that locality which lies on the borderland of -fashionable London, where the narrow windows, the doorways with huge -knockers, quaint half-circular fanlights, and link extinguishers in -the railings, tell of the days when George III. was King. - -'She complains, Roland, that you did not call on her, in passing -through London. Poor Annot,' said Hester. - -'Our, or rather your, little Cockney cousin, who no doubt loves her -love with an A, because he is 'andsome,' laughed Roland. - -'How can you mock Annot?' said Hester; 'she is a very accomplished -girl--and lovely too--at least all men say so.' - -'And you, cousin Hester?' - -'I quite agree with them.' Hester was a sincere admirer of beauty, -and--perhaps owing to her own great attractions--was alike noble and -frank in admitting those of others. 'Her photo is in the album on -that side table.' - -Roland was not interested enough in the matter even to examine it. - -'You will be sure to admire her,' added Hester with an arch and even -loving smile as she thought of last night and the jewel that had been -clasped about her neck. - -'Admire her--perhaps; but nothing more, I am sure,' replied Roland, -while Hester's colour deepened, and her smile brightened, though her -long lashes drooped. He gave her covertly one of his fond glances, -which to the girl's loving eyes seemed to spread a glory over his -dark face, and a close hand-clasp followed, unseen by Sir Harry, who -was already absorbed in the news from Egypt; but coyly and shyly--she -could scarcely have told why--all that day she gave him no -opportunity of recurring to the episode of the preceding evening, or -resuming the thread of that sweet story which her father had so -unwittingly interrupted. - -Since that minute of time, and its intended and most probable -_finale_, what had been Roland Lindsay's secret thoughts? They were -many; but through all and above all had been a home such as he could -make even of gloomy and embattled Earlshaugh, if brightened by -Hester's sweet face, her alluring eyes and smile; with its echoes -wakened by her happy ringing voice, free from every note of care as -those of the merles in the wood around her father's house. - -But withal came emotions of doubt and anger, as he thought of his -father's will, his own supposed false position thereby, and how the -future would develop itself. - -Though old, and being so, he might be disposed to take gloomy views -of these doubts, that cheery veteran Sir Harry saw little or nothing -of them, and had but one thought while he limped along the river's -bank, enjoying his cheroot under the shady and overarching trees that -cast their shadows on the brawling Esk, that his nephew Roland was -the one man in all the world with whom he could fearlessly trust the -happiness of his daughter; and lovingly and fondly, with most -pardonable selfishness, the old man pondered over this; and thus it -was that the hopeful thoughts referred to in the preceding chapter -were ever recurring to him and wreathing his wrinkled face with -smiles, especially after he had seen the beautiful necklet, which -Hester had duly shown him, clasped round her snowy throat. He loved -to see them together, and to hear them singing together at the piano -or in the garden, as if their hearts were like those of the merle and -mavis, so blithe, content, and happy they seemed, as when they were -boy and girl in the pleasant past time, when she wore short frocks -and little aprons, the pockets of which were always full of Roland's -boyish presents--sometimes the plunder of neighbours' fruit trees. -While to Roland the revived memory or vision of a bright little girl -with a tangled mass of curls, who was often petulant, and then would -confess her tiny faults as she sobbed on his shoulder, till absolved -by a kiss, was ever before him; and now they could linger, while -'dropping at times into that utterly restful silence which only those -can enjoy who understand each other well; and perhaps, indeed, only -those who love each other dearly.' - -But this day was an active one with Hester. She chose rooms for her -coming cousin, relinquishing for a time those slippers of dark blue -embroidery on buff leather with which she was busy for Roland. Vases -of fresh flowers, selected and sorted with loving hands, were placed -in all available points to decorate the sleeping and dressing rooms -of Annot Drummond; draped back, the laced curtains of the windows -displayed the lovely valley of the Esk, up which the river, as it -flowed eastward, softly murmured; Kevock-bank and the wooded Kirkbrae -on the north; the slope of Polton on the south; Lasswade, with its -quaint bridge, in the middle distance, and Eldin woods beyond--a -sweet and sylvan view on which Hester was never weary of gazing. - -Thus with her passed most of the day; how it was spent she scarcely -knew; then evening came, and she and Sir Harry drove into town to -meet their expected visitor; and Roland never knew how much he missed -her till he was left to his own thoughts--to the inevitable cheroot, -and after despatching his letters to Malcolm Skene, to Jack Elliot -'of ours,' and others, to vary his time between lounging in the -hammock between the shady trees and tossing pebbles into the Esk. - -At last, after the shadows had deepened in the glen and dusk had -completely closed in, the sound of carriage wheels, with the opening -and banging to of doors, announced the arrival of Annot Drummond, -accompanied by her uncle and cousin; and Roland assisted them to -alight. For a moment the tightly gloved and childlike hand of Miss -Drummond rested in his, and her eyes, the precise colour of which he -could not determine, but which seemed light and sparkling, met his -own with an expression of confidence and inquiry. He had simply a -vague idea of sunny eyes and waving golden hair. The rest was -undiscoverable. - -'Roland, I suppose,' she exclaimed, laughing, adding, 'I beg your -pardon, Captain Lindsay--but I have heard so much of you from dearest -Hester.' - -'Roland he is, my dear girl, and now welcome to Merlwood--welcome for -your mother's sake and your own!' exclaimed Sir Harry, as he turned -to give some orders about the luggage, and Annot, accompanied by -Hester, who towered above her by a head, tripped indoors, with a nod -and a smile to the old housekeeper and other servants, all of whom -she knew. She seemed, indeed, a bright, fairy and airy-like little -creature, in the most becoming of travelling costumes and most -piquant of hats. - -'She seems quite a child yet, by Jove!' said Sir Harry, looking after -the _petite_ creature, as she hurried to her room to change her -dress, and imbibe the inevitable cup of tea brought by the motherly -old housekeeper. - -'What do you think of our Annot?' asked Hester, returning for a -moment. - -'That she has a wonderfully fair skin,' replied Roland slowly. - -'All the Drummond women have that--it runs in the clan. But her -eyes--are they not beautiful?' - -'I cannot say.' - -'Did you not see them?' - -'No, Hester.' - -'Why?' - -'She scarcely looked at me.' - -'They are the loveliest hazel!' exclaimed Hester. - -'Hazel--rather green, I think; but you know, I prefer eyes of violet -blue or gray to all others, Hester.' - -She laughed, as she knew her own were the eyes referred to; but now -the gong--a trophy of Sir Harry's from Jhansi--sounded, and Annot -came hurrying downstairs, and clasped one of Hester's arms within her -own so caressingly, with her white fingers interlaced. - -To Roland now, at second sight, she looked wonderfully _petite_ and -gentle, pure and fair--'fair as a snow-flake and nearly just as -fragile,' Sir Harry once said, and she clung lovingly and confidingly -to Hester, but it seemed as if, of necessity, Annot must always be -clinging to someone or something. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -'IS SHE NOT PASSING FAIR?' - -When she took her seat at table to partake of a meal which was -something between a late dinner and an early supper, Roland saw how -exquisitely fair Annot Drummond was, as with a pretty air of -childishness she clung to Hester--an air that became her _petite_ -figure and _mignonne_ face, but not her years, as she was some months -older than her cousin, who with her dark hair and eyes he thought -looked almost brown beside this flaxen fairy, that seemed to realize -the comment of old Cambden, who says--'The women of the family of -Drummond, for charming beauty and complexion, are beyond all others, -and in so much that they have been most delighted in by kings.' - -She had, however, greenish hazel eyes--greenish they were decidedly, -yet lovely and sparkling, shaded by brown lashes and eyebrows, with -golden hair, wonderful in quantity and tint, that rippled and shone. -Her complexion was pure and pale, while her pouting lips seemed -absolute scarlet, rather than coral; and her eyes spoke as freely as -her tongue, lighting and brightening with her subject, whatever it -was. - -Annot's was indeed a tiny face; at times a laughing, a loving and -petulant face, and puzzling in so far that one knew not when it was -prettiest, or what expression became it most; yet Hester--a very -close observer--thought there was something cunning and watchful in -it at times now. - -Seeing that Roland was closely observing the new arrival, she said: - -'Would you ever imagine, cousin Roland, that Annot and I are just -about an age? she looks like fifteen, and I was eighteen my last -birthday.' - -'Eighteen,' thought Roland Lindsay, toying with a few grapes; 'can it -be?--that golden-haired dolly--old enough to be the heroine of a -novel or a tragedy--old enough to be a wife and the mistress of a -household? By Jove, it seems incredible.' - -And as she prattled away of London, the Park and the Row, what plays -were 'on' at the different theatres, of new dresses, sights and -scenes, and so forth; of her journey down, a long and weary one of -some hundred miles, and the attention she received from various -gentlemen passengers, the bright chatterer, all smiles, animation, -and full of little tricks of manner, seemed indeed a contrast to the -taller, graver, dark-haired, and dark-eyed Hester, whose violet-blue -eye looked quite black by gaslight. - -Though a niece of Sir Harry's, Annot Drummond was no cousin to Roland -Lindsay, yet she seemed quite inclined, erelong, to adopt the _rôle_ -of being one; for he was quite handsome enough and interesting enough -in aspect and bearing to attract a girl like her, who instinctively -filled up her time with every chance-medley man she met, and knew -fully how to appreciate one whose prospects and positions were so -undoubtedly good; thus she repeatedly turned with her irresistible -smiles and _espièglerie_ to him, as if he were her sole, or certainly -her chief, audience. - -Meanwhile old Sir Henry sat silently smoking his inevitable hookah, -eyeing her with loving looks, and tracing--or rather trying to -trace--a likeness between her and his favourite sister; and Hester, -who had of course seen her cousin often before, sat somewhat silent, -for then each girl was, perhaps unconsciously, trying to know, to -learn, and to grasp the nature of the other. - -'Hester,' said Annot in a well-managed aside, 'I saw your friend -Skene of Dunnimarle in London, and he talked of you to me, and of no -one but you, which I thought scarcely fair.' - -'Why?' - -'One girl doesn't care to hear another's praises only for an hour -without end, I suppose.' - -Hester looked annoyed, but Roland seemed to hear the remark as if he -heard it not, which was not the case, as Hester's name had been more -than once mentioned in conjunction with that of the young fellow in -question. - -'I remember when Skene of ours at Sealkote----' Sir Harry was -beginning, when Hester contrived to cut the Indian reminiscence short. - -Next morning Annot was in the garden betimes, natheless the fatigue -of her long railway journey; she seemed bright as a summer butterfly, -inhaling the fresh odour of the flowers, under the shady trees, amid -the rhododendrons of every brilliant tint, the roses and sub-tropical -plants that opened their rich petals to the August sunshine, and more -than all did she seem to enjoy the fresh, soft breeze that came up -the steep winding glen or ravine through which the Esk ran gurgling; -and ever and anon she glanced at her companion Roland, indulging in -that playful _gaîté de coeur_, which so often ends in disaster, for -she was a finished flirt to the tips of her dainty fingers; and he -was thinking, between the whiffs of his permitted cigar: What caused -his present emotion--this sudden attraction towards a girl whom he -had never seen before, and whose existence had been barely known to -him? And now she was culling a dainty 'button-hole' for him, and -making him select a bouquet for the breast of her morning dress, a -most becoming robe of light blue cashmere with ribbons and lace of -white. - -Could it be that mysterious influence of which he had heard often, -and yet of which he knew so little--a current of affinity so subtle -and penetrating, that none under its spell could resist it? He was -not casuist enough to determine; but looked about for his cousin -Hester and muttered: - -'Don't play the fool, Roland, my boy!' - -Usually very diffident and reticent in talking about himself and his -affairs, even the gentle and winning Hester had failed, as she said, -to 'draw him out;' but now, Annot--the irrepressible Annot--led him -on to do so by manifesting, or affecting to manifest, a keen interest -in them, and thus lured him into flattering confidences to her alone -about his garrison life in England and the Mediterranean, or as much -as he cared to tell of it; his campaigns in Egypt; his escape from -the slaughter of Kashgate; his risks and wounds; his medals and -clasps; his regiment, comrades, and so forth, in all of which she -seemed suddenly to develop the deepest interest, though perhaps an -evil-minded person might have hinted that she had a deeper and truer -interest in Earlshaugh and its surroundings, of which he had no -conception as yet. - -Hester quickly saw through these little manoeuvres, and at first she -laughed at them, thinking they were all the girl's way; that Roland -was the only young man at Merlwood; and so, by habit and nature, she -must talk to him, laugh with him, make _[oe]illades_ and dress for -him; and in dressing she was an adept, choosing always soft and -clinging materials of colours suited to her pure complexion and fair -beauty, and well she knew by experience already that 'love feeds on -suggestions--almost illusions,' as a French writer says; 'for the -greatest charm about a woman's dress is less what it displays than -what it only hints at;' and Annot had all that skill or taste in -costume which is a great speciality of London girls. - -During the whole day after this arrival, and even the following one, -Hester was unpleasantly conscious that because Annot Drummond -absorbed Roland so entirely, he had scarcely an opportunity of -addressing herself alone, and still less of referring--beyond a -glance and a hand pressure or so forth--to that evening, on the last -minutes of which so much had seemed to hinge. - -A little music usually closed each evening, and Annot performed, from -Chopin and others, various 'fireworks' on the piano, as Roland was -wont to term them; while at Hester's little songs, such as that one -to the air of the 'Briar Bush,' she openly laughed, declaring they -were quite 'too, too!' - -Her voice was not so trained as Annot's, and was not remarkable for -strength or compass, but it was clear and sweet, fresh and true, and -she sang with unaffected expression, being well desirous of pleasing -her cousin Roland--her lover as she perhaps deemed him now. - -Annot's song, after Hester had given a little _chanson_ from -Beranger--'_Du, du liegst mir im Herzen_,' accompanied--though sung -indifferently--with several _[oe]illades_ at Roland, gave her an -opportunity to make, what Hester termed, some of her 'wild speeches.' - -'A sweet love song, Annot,' said the latter. - -'A love song it is--but twaddle, you know,' replied Annot, turning -quickly the leaves of her music. - -'Twaddle--how?' - -'About marrying for love only and not money, Hester. That is an -old-fashioned prejudice which is fast dying out, mamma tells me. -Thank Heaven I am poor!' she added, with a pretty shrug of her -shoulders. - -'Why?' asked Hester. - -'Because, when poor, one knows one is loved for self alone.' - -The reply was made in a soft voice to Hester, yet her upward glance -was shot at Roland Lindsay, and she began a piece of music that was -certainly somewhat confused, while he--sorely puzzled--was kept on -duty turning over the leaves. - -'Annot, I thought you were a finished performer!' said Hester with -some surprise and pique. - -'I was taught like other girls at Madame Raffineur's finishing school -in Belgium; and I _can_ get through a piece, as it is called, without -many stoppages, though I often forget upon what key I am playing, and -use the pedals too at haphazard, yet they are beyond my skill; but I -find that whatever I play----' - -'Even a noise?' suggested Hester. - -'Yes, even a noise, while it lasts, puts down all conversation, and -when it is over everyone graciously says, "Thanks--so much!" "Do I -sing?" is next asked, but I mean to practise so sedulously when I -return to London.' - -'A bright little twaddler!' thought Hester, with a slight curl of her -handsome upper lip. - -'You talked of the Row--you ride, I suppose?' said Roland to change -the subject. - -'I have no horse,' replied Annot. - -'No horse! At Earlshaugh I shall get you an excellent mount.' - -'Oh, thanks so much, cousin Roland!' replied Annot, and while running -her slender fingers rapidly to and fro upon the keys she gave him one -of her glances which were never given without 'point.' - -'You seem pleased with her, Roland?' said Hester as they drew a -little way apart. - -'Well, I think she is wonderfully fair.' - -'Nothing more?' - -'Well, fair enough, and all such little golden-haired women since the -days of Lucrezia Borgia, I suppose, make no end of mischief.' - -'Roland!' said Hester, her eyes dilating. - -Her cousin laughed, but knew not, perhaps, how truly and -prophetically he spoke. - -'Did you like my song?' asked Hester, after a little pause. - -'What song?' - -'Can you ask me? The little _chanson_ of Béranger, that you admire -so much.' - -'Oh, yes--pardon me.' - -'You were thinking of her when you should have been listening to -_me_,' said Hester with an unmistakable flash in her dark eyes, and -he felt the rebuke. - -'Well--I was thinking, perhaps--but not as you suppose, or say, -Hester,' replied Roland, with a little laugh; but a time came when -Annot Drummond and her presence proved to be no laughing matter. - -Days passed on now; whether it was that Annot was perpetually in the -way, or that no proper opportunity occurred--which in the circle of a -country house seemed barely probable--Roland did not seek for the -'lost chord,' or seem prepared to resume the thread of the sweet old -story that had been dropped so abruptly, and poor Hester felt in her -secret heart perplexed and piqued on a most tender point, and would -have been more than human had she been otherwise. - -On an afternoon the quartette were seated under a spreading beech, -the girls idling over their tea, Roland and his uncle smoking, when -Annot suddenly proposed a walk to the ruins of Roslin Castle, through -the woods. Roland at once rose and offered himself as escort; but -Hester, who had already begun to feel herself a little _de trop_--a -bitter and mortifying conviction--professed to have something to -attend to, and quietly declined the stroll, on which, with something -of an aching heart, she saw the two set forth together. - -Archæology was not much in the way of Miss Annot Drummond, she knew; -but she also knew that if any ice remained between these two (which -was very improbable) it would be surely thawed before that stroll -ended, while in assisting her over stiles and through hedges Roland's -hand touched that of Annot, or when her skirt brushed him, as they -wandered through freshly mown meadows and under shady trees, by the -steep, narrow, and rocky paths that lead to the shattered stronghold -of the Sinclairs--the glances and touches and hand-clasps, enforced -by the surmounting of slippery banks and apparently perilous ditches, -where the beautiful ferns grow thick and green; and then the rambling -among the ruins that crown the lofty rock and overlook such lovely -and seductive scenery. - -Of what might have passed Hester could only, yet readily, guess; her -heart was full of aching thoughts--full well-nigh to bursting at -times--when the pair returned, silent apparently, very happy too, and -inclined to converse more with their eyes than their lips; and -singular to say, that of the sylvan scenery of that wonderful glen, -and of the ruined abode of the whilom Dukes of Oldenburg and Princes -of Orkney, Annot Drummond seemed to have seen or noted--nothing; and -a sense of this, with what it implied, added to the secret -mortification of Hester. - -Thus, despite herself, that evening at dinner the latter failed to -act a part, and scarcely spoke, but seemed to play with her knife and -fork rather than eat; and fortunately no one observed her, save -perhaps her father. She was painfully listless, yet nervously -observant. - -Had Roland Lindsay's thoughts not been elsewhere he must have seen -how already the change in her looks was intensified by the -brilliance, the sparkling eyes, and the soft, gay laughter of Annot, -and how, when she did speak, she nervously twisted her rings round -and round her slender fingers, seeming restless and _distraite_. - -A charming girl was certainly no novelty to Roland; nor did he now -regard one--as in his boyhood--as a strange and mystic being to -worship. He knew girls pretty well, he thought, also their ways and -pretty tricks, their fascinations and little artifices; yet those of -Annot--and she was a mass of them--assuredly did bewilder him and -attract his fancy, though he only admitted to Hester that she was as -'fashionably appointed and well-got-up a girl as could be found -within a three-mile radius of Park Lane.' - -She was indeed full of sweet and winning--if cultivated--ways. The -inflexions of her voice were very sympathetic, and the ever-varying -expression of her bright hazel eyes--albeit they were 'dashed' with -green--added to her fascination and influence; whilst she had a -childish and pleading way of putting her lovely white hands together -when she asked for anything that--as old Sir Henry said--'would melt -the heart of a cannon-ball.' - -Then, with regard to Roland, she was always asking his advice about -some petty trifle or book (though she was not a reader), and deferred -to his opinion so sweetly that she gave him a higher idea of his own -intellect than he had ever possessed before; for she had all the -subtle finesse of flattery and flirtation, without seeming to possess -or exert either; and thus poor Hester was--to use a sporting -phrase--'quite out of the running.' - -One night the latter had a new insight into her cousin's character, -though Annot now never spoke, nor could be got to speak, if possible, -of Roland Lindsay. - -Prior to retiring to her bed, Annot had let down and was coiling up -her wonderful wealth of golden hair, which reached almost to her -knees; and she and Hester Maule, with whom she was still on perfectly -amicable and apparently loving terms, were exchanging their gossiping -confidences, as young girls often do at such a time; and on this -occasion Hester thought--for a space--she might be wrong in supposing -that Annot had any serious views upon Roland Lindsay, as she saw her -drop, and then hastily snatch up, a photograph on which she had been -gazing with a smile. - -'Who is this, Annot?' asked Hester. - -'Only old Bob.' - -'Who?' - -'Bob Hoyle,' replied Annot, laughing. - -'Old; why, he seems quite a boy, In uniform, too.' - -'He is not a boy, though I call him "old."' - -'His age?' - -'Is four-and-twenty; but I have known him so long, you know, Hester.' - -'Since when?' - -'Since he used to come and see his sister at Madame Raffineur's -school in Belgium. He is awfully in love with me.' - -'Is?' queried Hester, a little relieved of her suspicions. - -'Well--was--when younger.' - -'And now?' - -'He loves me still, I have no doubt.' - -'Do you mean to marry him?' - -'He has never asked me.' - -'Well, if he did--or does ask you?' - -'I don't know about that,' said Annot, as with deft little fingers -she finished and pinned her golden coil. - -'Why so?' - -'Oh, cousin Hester, how inquisitive you are! I like him immensely. -He says openly that he can't stand the London girls; that they are -all very well to flirt with, dance, drive, and talk with; but he -wants a wife who in her own sweet person will combine all the charms -of fashionable and domestic life, like me. But then he is so poor; -has little more than his pay. I can't fancy being poorer than I -am--love in a cottage is all bosh, you know; but I have promised -him----' - -'What?' - -'To think about it; but I won't be bound by promises, Hester. When I -marry I want to be rich. I must have a carriage, beautiful horses, -diamonds and dresses, for I have no _dot_ of my own. Marry for love, -indeed! No, no, Bob, dear. Who in these days does anything so -absurd as that? It is as much out of fashion as chivalry, duels, and -periwigs.' - -'Oh, Annot--so young and so mercenary!' exclaimed Hester. - -'Not mercenary, only practical, cousin. Another dear fellow did so -love me last winter, Hester!' said the girl, with a dreamy smile. - -'And now?' - -'We are less than nothing to each other, Hester--after all--after -all.' - -'How--why?' - -'He was a second son--Mamma's _bête noire_; besides, a married lady -took him off my hands.' - -'A married lady?' exclaimed Hester. - -'Yes--oh, my simple cousin! The mischief done in London nowadays by -married flirts would amaze you, Hester; but good-night, I am so -sleepy, dear.' - -And kissing the latter with great _empressement_ on each cheek, Annot -departed to repose with one of her silvery laughs, leaving the -impression that if 'she was passing fair' she was also passing -heartless. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -'IT WAS NO DREAM.' - -To Roland Lindsay there was some new and undefinable attraction -towards Annot Drummond, against which, to do him justice, he strove -in vain, and his eyes actually fell under the calm glance of his -cousin Hester. 'Call it what one may,' says a writer, 'that such a -power does exist, and most seriously influences our lives, is an -undoubted fact. We may deride and deny it as we will; but who can -honestly doubt that the sudden and mutual attraction felt by two -persons who are in essential matters absolutely ignorant of each -other, does occur in the lives of most of us, and it is not to be -fought against or laughed away in any manner.' - -Whether the attraction was quite _mutual_ in this instance remains to -be seen. As yet the intercourse between Roland and Miss Drummond -_seemed_, with a little more _empressement_ of manner, merely the -well-bred companionship of two persons connected through mutual -relations and residence in the same pleasant country house; but the -change in Roland's manner to herself--veil it as he might--was subtly -felt by Hester, and became apparent even to her father, the otherwise -obtuse old Indian campaigner. - -'He was ever attentive, full of fun, lightness, and merriment; but, -oh, there is no mistaking that there is a change now--a change since -_she_ came. What can it be--what has come over him?' thought Hester. - -'It is all very odd,' growled Sir Harry; 'I can't make out the -situation now. Roland does not seem a flirting fellow, whatever the -girl may be, and she is plain when compared with my Hester; yet he -looks like a shorn Samson in the fairy hands of this little -golden-haired Delilah, and seems never happy except when with her. -It appears to me that people nowadays always fall in love when, -where, and with whom they ought not. Ah, he is one of the "Lightsome -Lindsays;" yet I never saw anyone so changed,' added Sir Harry, who -had latterly found him wax weary of his Indian reminiscences. - -Meanwhile Annot, who firmly believed in the dictum of Thackeray, -'that any woman who has not positively a hump can marry any man she -pleases,' quietly pursued her own course; and day by day it was -Hester's lot to see this courtship evidently in progress--herself at -times ignored and reduced to 'playing gooseberry,' as Annot thought -(if, indeed, she ever thought at all)--reduced again to her own inner -life once more; and knowing that nothing of it could interest them -now, so much did they seem bound in each other, she pursued her old -avocations among the poor and parish people more than ever. - -The love--the budding love--he certainly once loved _her_--was less -than a shadow now! - -She ceased to accompany them in their walks and long rambles in the -woody glen by Mavisbank and Eldin groves, and knowing the time when -Roland was certainly 'due' at Earlshaugh, she counted every hour till -he should leave Merlwood. - -'What a couple of wanderers you have become!' said Sir Harry, a -little pointedly. - -'Roland is so sympathetic,' simpered Annot; 'he appreciates fully all -my yearnings after the beautiful, of which we can see nothing in the -brick wilderness of London; and certainly your scenery on the Esk is -surpassingly lovely, uncle!' though in reality she cared not a jot -about it, and had somewhat the Cockney's idea of a landscape, 'that -too much wood and too much water always spoiled it.' - -One evening matters had evidently reached a culminating point with -this pair. - -Returning at a somewhat late hour for her, when the gloaming was -deepening into darkness, from visiting a poor widow, to whom she had -taken some comforts, Hester, on reaching Merlwood, paused in a garden -path to look around her, pleased and soothed by the calmness and -stillness of the dewy August evening, when not a sound was heard but -the ceaseless murmur of the unseen Esk far down below. Suddenly, -amid the shrubbery, she heard familiar voices, to which she listened -dreamily, mechanically, at first; then, startled by their tenor, she -was compelled to shrink between the great shrubs, and--however -obnoxious and repugnant to her--was compelled to overhear; and till -indignation came, as she listened, there was a passionate, pleading -expression in Hester's eyes, which was unseen in the dark; as was the -quivering of the lip that came from the torture of the soul. - -Roland was speaking in accents low and eager, and in others that were -broken and tremulous Annot was responding. - -'You have made me so happy, dearest Roland, by the first whisper that -you--you loved me,' sighed the girl. - -'I seem scarcely to recollect what happened to me before I met you -here, Annot,' said he. - -'How so?' she asked coyly. - -'It seems as if I had only existed then.' - -'And now, Roland?' - -'I live, my darling! for - - "In many mental forms I vainly sought - The shadow of the idol of my thought," - -till now. In three days more--only three--my little Annot--my -golden-haired darling, I shall have to leave you for Earlshaugh; and, -till you join me there, what will life be without you?' - -He drew her close to him, and poor Hester shivered; but flight was -impossible. - -'And what will life at Merlwood be to me?' replied, or rather asked, -Annot, in that caressing and cooing tone which she well knew was one -of her chief attractions. - -'But Earlshaugh in time will be your home, Annot--yours, to make what -alterations you choose on the quaint old place. You shall reign -there--the fairest and dearest bride that ever came within its walls.' - -'Do not talk thus, Roland!' - -'Why?' - -'It makes me feel as if I were selling myself.' - -'Annot!' he expostulated; and she answered with that low, cooing -laugh of hers which was such a wonderful performance. - -'Now, tell me,' said she; 'were you ever in love before?' - -'Why that question, Annot?' - -'I have no motive--only curiosity, Roland--yet I could not bear to -think that you had ever loved anyone else as you do me.' - -'I never did! All men have, or have had fancies,' said he evasively. - -'I don't mean a fancy--a real love!' - -'Annot?' - -'Did you ever ask a girl to marry you?' - -'Never--never! My darling--my pet--my little fairy--you alone have -crept into my heart and made it all your own! With all their real -length, how short have seemed the August days since you came hither, -Annot!--how brief and swift the hours we spend together! -But--but--you must say nothing of all this, our hopes and our future, -to Hester.' - -'No--oh no; I love you too fondly to have a confidant in the world.' - -'I must seal your lips, dearest Annot,' interrupted Roland. Then -came a pause and many caresses and many endearing names, as they -slipped softly away towards the lighted windows of the villa, and -left the agonized and startled listener free--for startled she was, -and, curiously enough, for all she had seen and suspected, she was -scarcely prepared for such a scene as this; and every caress she saw -had seemed to sink like a hot poniard into her heart, as she stole -away to her room, and strove to think, as one might in a dream. - -Vague and numb was the first impression the episode made upon her, -till feverish jealousy and mortification made her clasp and wring her -hot, dry hands, and gnaw her nether lip, while burning tears rolled -down her cheeks, with the assurance that all was over now! - -'After all--he meant nothing--nothing after all!' she muttered; 'why -did you make me love you so, Roland!' - -The man she had loved--who fully, as far as manner and almost words -went, had answered her love for him, had meant nothing, but _pour -passer le temps_. He had been, he thought perhaps, only kind, -friendly, cousinly, while she--great Heavens!--had been on the point -of laying her affectionate heart at his feet. - -Oh, what humiliation was hers! - -In explanation of the lateness of their return, they had been a long -walk, the loiterers said, away below Roslin Chapel; but said nothing -of what the walk had somewhat suddenly evolved. - -When the gloaming was considerably advanced, and, though a ruddy -sunset lingered in the north-west, there was no moon in the sky, -where the evening star shone brilliantly, they had wandered down the -river-side--its current flowing like molten silver when seen between -and under the dark, overshadowing, and weird-like trees--to where, on -the summit of its high and grassy knoll, the beautiful chapel of -Roslin towered up between them and the sky-line--the solemn scene, as -Scott has preserved it, of one of the most thrilling and poetical of -all family presages of death and war; a legend deduced from the -tomb-fires of the Norsemen, and, doubtless, transplanted from our -stormy Northern Isles to the sylvan valley of the Esk by that old -Prince of Orkney, whose bride, Rosabelle, perished, and when the -chapel seemed filled with flame. - - 'O'er Roslin all that dreary night, - A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam! - 'Twas broader than the watchfire's light, - And redder than the bright moonbeam. - - -Even as Roland was quoting these lines to Annot Drummond a wonderful -but natural effect took place. - -'Look, Roland,' cried she with a thrill of real terror; 'look, the -chapel is on fire!' - -'Oh, impossible,' said he, still intent on gazing on her sweet face. - -'But look--look--it _is_!' - -Whether she thought so or not Annot was evidently startled and -discomposed, while Roland certainly was not without momentary -astonishment. A row of red lights appeared through the branches of -the dark trees high above where he and Annot stood. It was the last -light of the orange and blood-red set sun gleaming though the double -row of chapel windows--the rich red light that is peculiar to -Scottish sunsets, and the phenomenon it produced had a powerful -effect upon the vision and minds of the beholders--even on the -volatile and unimaginative Annot, who, before the light faded out, -was not slow to understand and to utilize the situation in her own -way. - -She clung to Roland in an access of terror apparently, and that it -was more than partly simulated certainly he never thought. While -seeming to be terrified by the ghostly sight, she hid her face in his -neck; and then Roland felt it was all over with him! - -'My darling--my darling, do not be so alarmed--it is only a transient -sunset effect,' said he, kissing her cheek. - -'Don't, Roland, don't--oh, you must not do that,' she murmured. - -But Roland did _that_, again and again--pressing his lips to her -eyes, her rippling hair--covering her face with kisses, while he half -lifted, half led her homeward, up the steep and winding path to -Merlwood, which they reached, as said, at a somewhat later period -than usual. - -'Well,' thought Hester, as she bathed her face and eyes to remove all -traces of her late emotion, 'in three days I shall, for a time at -least, see and hear no more of this. And yet--my heart will speak--I -have loved _him_--all my life--ever since he was a boy; and she has -known him, as it were, but yesterday!' - -She put a hand to her forehead and pushed back the rings and rows of -heavy brown hair, as if their weight oppressed her. - -'Thank Heaven!' she thought, 'I can make my life a useful and a busy -one, even here. Thank Heaven for the refuge of another love, with -work and duty--love and duty to papa, and work for my poor people and -their little ones! But why, oh why,' she added, while interlacing -her fingers behind her neck, and looking round her wildly, 'did he -love her after _all_?--why turn from me to her--that little -golden-haired doll, with her winning ways and heartless nature; and -how comes it that her languorous green eyes have power to awake such -a passion as filled every accent of Roland's voice in the gloaming -there? She came when she was not wanted; and both are cruel, -heartless, treacherous!' - -But, to do Annot justice, she knew nothing then of the tender -relations that had begun to exist between Hester and her cousin, -though we do not suppose that the knowledge would have much -influenced that enterprising young lady in her plans and views, her -wishes and purpose. - -Hester felt that she had been ready enough--too ready, she now -feared--to show him all her own heart, till that other girl came, and -she thought till now that it had frozen up under Annot's presence and -too evident influence on him. - -That evening she did not appear at dinner, but sent excuses -downstairs, and refused to receive even a visit from Annot. That -would have been indeed too much to have undergone; but anon the -mental storm passed away; the ruddy dawn stole into Hester's bedroom, -and she rested her weary head against the open window to inhale the -fresh morning breeze that came up the woody valley of the Esk, and -over parterres of dewy flowers that were sweet enough to grace the -bank whereon the Queen of Elfin slept. - - -That day she saw on Annot's mystic finger--the fourth of the left -hand--a ring she had not observed before, and knew who was the donor, -and what the gift meant, but the knowledge could not give her a -keener pang. She thought of Roland's gift, and of the emotions that -had filled her heart when he had clasped it round her neck. She -could not return that gift to Roland without some reason; and she -apparently had none; but yet its retention was most repugnant to her, -and never would she wear it. He had given it to her as his -cousin--nothing more, now it would seem. Did he mean it so, _then_? - -The dainty slippers, with blue embroidery on buff leather, which had -formed a portion of her daily and loving work, were relinquished now -and cast aside, too probably to be never finished. - -Hester Maule felt all the shame and sorrow of loving one in secret, -whose heart and preference were given to another. What evil turn of -Destiny had wrought this for her? Why had she so mistaken--if she -_had_ indeed done so--his mere playful, cousinly regard for aught -else than its true value? - -Yet--yet there had been times--especially on that night when he gave -her the jewels--that a gleam of tenderness, of yearning, of love had -lit up his dark eyes--an expression that had gone straight to her -heart and made every nerve thrill. Why had she not guessed then--why -not foreseen what was to happen? But the _future_ is always oddly -woven up with the _present_, we are told; and 'how strange are the -small threads that first begin to spin the great woofs of our life -story--unnoted, unheeded at the time--they stand out clearly and -plainly to our mental vision afterwards, and we ask ourselves with -bitter anguish, "Why did we not guess--why did we not foresee it?" -Better, perhaps, that the power of prevision is denied us, since we -can neither alter nor avert the doom that awaits us along the path of -life.' - -We do not mean to palliate or defend the indecision--change of love -and regard--on the part of Roland Lindsay; but Hester had been from -his earliest years so much of a younger sister to him, that, though -loving, winning, and gentle, this golden-haired girl, with all her -_espièglerie_, her bold little speeches, and pretty touches and -tricks of manner, came as a new experience to him; and for the -present certainly, to all appearance, had enslaved and bewildered -him, dazzling his fancy to say the least of it. - -Despite all her efforts, Hester, if she completely controlled her -manner, could not conceal her pain; thus her eyes seemed dull, even -sunken, and harsh lines marred the usual sweetness of her lips. If -Roland noted these signs, he strove to ignore them. Annot had -artfully instilled some petty jealous suspicions of young Skene of -Dunnimarle in Roland's mind, and he sought mentally to make these a -kind of apology to himself, while seeming indifferent to what the -girl might suffer, even when her presence (despite the arrangement -for secrecy she had overheard) scarcely at times interfered with the -_sotto voce_ babble of their lover-like but inane conversation. - -To Hester it seemed as if she was in a bad dream, but - - 'It was no dream, and she was desolate.' - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -THE OLD LOVE AND THE NEW. - -So Roland Lindsay was engaged to Annot Drummond. Hester could have -no doubt about that when she saw the ring upon her mystic finger; and -she supposed rightly that till he could ascertain definitely 'how the -land lay' at Earlshaugh nothing further was arranged, and at last, to -her supreme satisfaction--an emotion she once never thought to feel, -so far as Roland was concerned--the day of his departure for -Fifeshire came. - -'I must turn up at Earlshaugh now,' said he, when the last evening -came. 'I have asked Jack Elliot, Skene, and one or two other -fellows, over for the covert shooting; and also, I suppose, I shall -have to give my attention to Mr. Hawkey Sharpe in the matters of -subsoil and drainage, mangold wurzel, and all that sort of thing.' - -'I don't think he will trouble you much on these matters,' said Sir -Harry dryly. - -'Why, uncle?' - -'You will find that he deems them his own peculiar province and -_interest_ too,' replied Sir Harry, with a lowering expression of -eye; and that his once jolly old uncle's manner was now somewhat cool -to him Roland was unpleasantly sensible: and when the evening drew -on, and, knowing that he would depart betimes in the morning, he had -to bid Hester farewell, something of regret--even remorse--came -across his mind. He suspected too surely all she had been led to -hope of him in the past--the love he could not give her now, at -least; and he strove to affect a light bearing to her, and appear his -old _insouciant_ self, while thinking over Annot's instilled -suspicions. - -'Skene!' he muttered; 'was my regard for Hester a passing -infatuation, or an old revived fancy? Was it likely to have proved a -lasting attachment if Annot had not come? And in Hester would I have -but received the worn-out remnant of an attachment for another? Do -not look so strange--so white, cousin,' said he in a low voice, as he -touched her hand. - -'White am I?' asked Hester with inexpressible annoyance; 'if so, it -is caused by anxiety for papa--he is not strong, Roland.' - -'Of course,' glad to affect or adopt any idea; 'but always trust to -me----' - -'To _you_!' - -'Yes; we have ever been friends, and shall be so always, I hope, for -I never forget that I am your cousin, though the privileges of such -might turn a wiser head than mine,' he added, unwisely, awkwardly, -and with a little laugh. - -A gleam came into Hester's eyes, which always looked nearly as black -as night, and there was an angry curl on her red lip for a moment. - -Bewildered--besotted, in fact--though Roland had become, by the -wiles, graces, and beauty of the brilliant Annot, it was impossible -for him not to feel, we say, some compunction, and keenly too, for -his treatment of the soft and gentle Hester. He could not and dared -not in any fashion approach so delicate a subject with -her--explanation or exculpation was not to be thought of; yet he felt -reproach subtly in her manner; he could read it in her eyes, strive -to conceal her emotions as she might; and confusion made him blunder -again. - -'Hester, we part but for a few days,' said he in a low voice, and -with more _empressement_ of manner than he had adopted for some time -past; 'we have ever been excellent friends, have we not, my dear -girl? and now we shall be more so than ever.' - -Hester remained silent. 'Why now, more than ever?' thought she, -while his half-apologetic tone irritated and cut her to the heart, -and she knew that a much more tender leave-taking with Annot was over -and had taken place unseen; and now, indulging in dreamy thoughts of -her own, that young lady was idling over the keys of the piano. - -'Will you miss me when I am gone?' he asked, with a little nervous -smile. - -'No doubt you will be missed--by papa especially.' - -'Well, I hope so.' - -'Why?' - -'It is nice to feel one's self important to others,' said he. with -another awkward attempt at a jest; adding, 'May I?' as he lighted a -cigar. - -She grew paler still; for a moment he looked sorrowfully into her -white-lidded and velvety dark blue eyes, and attempted to touch her -hand, but she shrank back. - -'I should like,' he began, 'to stay a little longer, of course, but I -must go; the covert shooting is at hand, and Earlshaugh must wait me.' - -'It is more than some do there, papa thinks.' - -'The more reason for me to go, cousin,' said he, with darkening face. - -'Go--and the sooner the better,' thought Hester bitterly; 'there is -now no middle course for me--for us; we must be everything or nothing -to each other--and nothing it is!' - -'Good-night, Hester dear,' said he, still lingering. 'Adieu, Annot. -I shall be off to-morrow by gunfire, as we say in barracks, when all -are asleep in Merlwood.' - -'Good-night.' - -And so they parted, but not finally. - -Early though the hour next day, Hester was too active by habit, too -much of a housewife, and too kind of heart to permit him to depart -without being down betimes to give him a cup of coffee and to see him -ere he went, despite his laboured apologies. How fresh and bright -Hester seemed in her white morning dress, with all its frills--fresh -from her bath, and both clear-skinned and fair, as only a dark-haired -and dark-eyed girl usually looks at such a time, requiring none of -that powdering and other odious process now known as 'making up.' -Annot's low curtains remained closely drawn, and there was no sign of -that young lady, for the sun was barely over the woods of Hawthornden. - -Hester tendered her soft cheek for Roland's farewell salute, and -carried it bravely off--better even than he did, as with a wave of -the hand he was driven away. - -He was gone--_gone_, and had ceased to be hers. Lingeringly the girl -looked around her. To Hester every flower and shrub in the garden -seemed to have a voice and say so. Every inanimate object told her -so again and again. Fragments of his cigar lay about the gravel -walks; there yet swung his hammock between the trees; and there was -almost no task she could attempt now that was not associated with -him, and, worse than all, with Annot Drummond. - -Long did Hester sit on a garden sofa, as the former could see from -her window, while brushing out her marvellous hair--sit with cold and -locked hands and pathetic eyes, motionless and miserable, as she -listened like one in a dream to the singing of the birds, the humming -of the bees around her, and the pleasant murmur of her native Esk. - -The fair and beautiful girl saw this and knew the cause thereof; yet -in her great love and passion, if not in her artful design, she was -pitiless! - -She was too well trained, she thought, by her mother to be otherwise. -Taught from her cradle to look upon wealth, and all that wealth could -obtain, as the chief object of life, she had from the days of her -short frocks and plaited hair, heard only of 'excellent matches,' of -'moneyed marriages,' and 'eligible men,' and so her mind was framed -in another world from Hester's. - -Men, thought the latter, cared little for a love that was easily won, -she had read. Perhaps Roland valued hers lightly thus. Well, she -would assert herself--might even go to Earlshaugh, meet him beneath -his own roof, and in his own home show herself that she was -heart-whole, could she but act the part her innate pride suggested. - -At first she avoided Annot, whom she heard hourly idling over the -piano; she felt, amid all her crushing and mortifying thoughts, that -she would be happier if busy, and so she bustled about the house -affecting to be dreadfully so; tied up, let down, snipped, and twined -rose-bushes in the garden, and strove to look happy and cheerful, -with a sick and sinking heart--even attempting to sing, but her voice -failed her. - -On the other hand, the frivolous, emotional, and perhaps somewhat -sensuous nature of Annot required change, society, and above all some -exciting incident to keep her even in tolerable humour and mental -health; and now that she had no companion at Merlwood but Hester and -her old uncle, with his inevitable hookah and Indian small talk, she -became unmistakably _triste_ and fidgety, impatient and absent--only -awake and radiant when the postman was expected. She felt utterly -bored by Merlwood now, and could not conceal her impatience to fulfil -her visit to Earlshaugh. - -'I quite look forward to that event,' said she. - -'No doubt,' assented Hester. - -'It will be so delightful--a country house full of people, and mamma -not there to watch and scold me in private.' - -'For what?' - -'Ah, you should see or hear her after she has caught me idling much -with a detrimental, or daring to leave my hand in his for a moment.' - -'Annot!' - -'I fear that I am a natural born flirt, Hester.' - -The latter made no reply, as she thought, a little disdainfully, that -these would-be artless speeches were merely meant to 'cast dust in -her eyes,' and with regard to her own visit to Fifeshire, she was -seldom twice in the same mood of mind. - -'Invited to Earlshaugh--to meet, see, and associate hourly with him, -and with _her_, too, there!' Hester would think. 'Better feign -illness and stay at home--at sequestered Merlwood; but that would -only be putting off the evil day. As her kinsman, she must meet him -some time and face it boldly--meet him as little more than a friend, -after all that had passed between them, and he had left--unsaid!' - -'I cannot make you and Roly--I mean Roland--out!' said Annot on one -occasion. - -'How?' asked Hester. 'I do not understand you.' - -'I always thought myself quick in discovering cases of spoon----' - -'Don't be slangy, Annot.' - -'Slang or not, you know the phrase and all it expresses!' - -'Well?' - -'When I first came here I made up my mind that Roland was entirely -yours, though I could not be sure whether you returned his regard; -but after being with you both for nearly a month, I find myself quite -at a loss.' - -'Do you?' said Hester icily. - -'Yes--you parted last night without the least sign of regret or -emotion, and all that sort of thing.' - -'How dare she attempt to quiz me thus?' thought Hester, feeling -almost that she could strike the smiling little speaker; 'how dare -she?--but she knows not all I know--all I was compelled to overhear!' - -So, as days passed on, beyond dark shadows under her eyes, the result -of broken nights, there was little bodily sign of what Hester endured -mentally. - -'Why, Hester, you have really and truly received a letter at last -from Earlshaugh!' exclaimed Annot one morning, to Hester's annoyance -and pique, as the former quickly recognised the coat of arms and -post-mark; and that Annot, who received missives from the same source -daily, should jest over the event, made Hester, with all her innate -gentleness of heart, almost hate the speaker. - -It was from Roland at last, thanking her and Sir Harry for their -great kindness to him, and hoping to see her and Annot Drummond -together at Earlshaugh at the time proposed. - -Nothing more! - -'Go to Earlshaugh--no--no!' was again Hester's first thought, with a -kind of shudder; 'to be with _them_ morning, noon, and evening--the -feeling would madden me--yet how am I to excuse myself?' - -'You never go from home now, papa,' she took an opportunity of saying -as she wound her soft arms round Sir Harry's time-silvered head and -drew it down upon her breast; 'and seldom though I do so, I wish to -escape this visit to Earlshaugh--I am most loth to leave you.' - -'For a few weeks--a few miles' distance!' - -'But who will take my place when I am gone? Who will make your -breakfast so early, cut the papers, and brighten up the fire for -you----' - -'The housekeeper, of course.' - -'Deck the room with flowers; walk with you along the woody paths by -the river? Who will read, play, and sing to you at night? I do not -wish to go at all, papa--let Annot go alone.' - -'Nonsense, girl! I shall miss you, of course, but it is only for a -time,' said her father, who knew and felt well that it was in the -nature of Hester to think and anticipate his every wish, and do all -that in its truest and holiest sense made Merlwood a _home_ for him. - -'You are not worrying yourself about anything, dear?' said the old -gentleman, who had his own thoughts on the matter, as he put an arm -caressingly round her, and eyed her anxiously. - -'Of course not, papa,' replied Hester with assumed briskness; 'about -what should I worry?' - -'Little troubles look big at times,' said he, laying his head back in -his easy-chair. - -Her trouble was not a little one, however, and while pursuing his own -thoughts her father made her pale cheek grow paler still. - -'Annot seems to have taken a great fancy to Roland; but the fancies -of town-bred girls are often mere moonshine.' - -'Not the fancies of such girls as Annot, with a home-like Earlshaugh -in prospective,' said Hester, with a forced laugh, as she recalled -Annot's several confidences. - -'Ah!' muttered the old gentleman dubiously, while tugging his wiry -white moustache; 'still, it may be a fancy that will pass,' he -continued, still pursuing his own thoughts; 'and things always come -right in the end.' - -'On the stage and in novels, papa,' replied Hester, laughing outright. - -'But they _do_ wind up rightly, dear, even in real life sometimes.' - -'You know, papa, it is always said that no man ever marries his first -love.' - -'It may be so, Hester--it may be so; but one thing you may be sure -of, if he is a true man.' - -'And that is-- - -'He never can forget her.' - -Sir Harry's eyes kindled, and his voice grew soft as he said this; -for his thoughts were wandering away to the wife of his youth--she -who now lay in the old kirkyard above the Esk--and of whom Hester -seemed then a living reproduction, or the old man thought so; and -when he spoke thus in the love and chivalry of his heart, he revived -in Hester a moth-like desire to go to Earlshaugh after all, such is -the idiosyncrasy of human nature; and as some one has it, 'to suffer -that self-immolation, which is common to unhappy lovers. She longed -to see Roland once more'--to feast her eyes upon the man who seemed -happy with another, no matter what the after-pain might be. - -What she meant to say or do, or how to look--when this new fancy -seized her--she knew not. She only knew that--meanly, she -thought--she hungered and thirsted for the sound of his voice and a -glance of his eyes, before, perhaps, he--even as the husband of Annot -Drummond--went to Egypt or elsewhere, it might be to return, perhaps, -no more. - -Meanwhile, that 'fair one with the golden locks' was all feverish -impatience till the time came for quitting Merlwood, and had no doubt -that Roland would cross the Forth to meet her. - -'You seem strangely interested in the movements of Roland,' said Sir -Harry rather grimly to her. - -'He is almost half a cousin, is he not, uncle?' said Annot, in her -most cooing and caressing way; 'but no one would think me so foolish -as to lose my heart to a mere cousin.' - -'None will suspect you of such a loss, indeed,' observed Hester, with -some pardonable bitterness, as she recalled all she had so -unwillingly overheard in the shrubbery on that eventful evening. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -ROLAND'S HOME-COMING. - -Let us return to the day of Roland Lindsay's departure from Merlwood, -when full of thoughts of a sorrowful cast, and perhaps in the frame -described by Wordsworth as - - 'That sweet mood when pleasant thoughts - Bring sad thoughts to the mind.' - - -A letter that had come for him overnight--one from Annot's mother in -South Belgravia--he scanned twice hurriedly, and consigned to his -pocket. Annot, in that quarter, had made no secret, apparently, of -the terms on which he and she were, and the congratulations of the -old lady were palpable enough. - -'What is next?' he muttered, as he opened a little basket and -laughed. It contained sandwiches and sherry, peaches, grapes, and a -little bouquet of hot-house flowers, all selected, he knew, by the -white hands of Hester. - -'Poor girl!' he muttered; 'does she think I am bound, not for -Earlshaugh, but for Alexandria?' - -He had beautifully-coloured photos of both girls in his pocket -book--one of Annot, smiling, saucy, and arch, with her laughing eyes -and golden hair; and one of Hester, with her calm, sweet expression, -her dark, beseeching, and pleading eyes, and hair of rich dark brown; -but he had one of the former's fair tresses--not the first of them -that Annot had bestowed on 'Bob Hoyle' and others that he knew not -of. But so it is-- - - 'Fair tresses man's imperial race ensnare, - And beauty draws us with a single hair.' - - -Merlwood had vanished as the train sped on, and, away from the -immediate influence of Annot, softer memories of Hester began to -mingle upbraidingly with the idea of the former, and--as he thought -it all over again--the past; he recurred mentally to many a loving -and half-ended episode, to Hester's winning softness, her pleading, -truthful eyes of violet blue, and he felt himself, though uncommitted -by pledge or promise, inexpressibly false! - -It was not a pleasant reflection or conviction even while caressing -Annot's shining tress of hair--his tempter and her supplanter. - -Some men, it has been said, when they form a new attachment, try to -teach themselves that the old one contained no true love in it. This -was not the case with Roland, nor could he be a man to love two at -once, though some natures are thought to be capable of such an -idiosyncrasy. - -At last he was roused from his mingled day-dreams by his train -clanking into the Waverley Station, and he saw Edinburgh, the old -town and the new, with gables, spires, and tower-crowned rocks rising -on each side of him, with a mighty bridge of round arches high in air -spanning the space between. - -The day was yet young, so he idled for a time at the United Service -Club with Jack Elliot, his comrade in Egypt, on leave like himself, -and now his sister Maude's _fiancé_, a fine, handsome, and -soldier-like young fellow, of whom more anon--full of such earnest -love and enthusiasm for the girl of his unwavering choice, that -Roland--reflecting on his late proceedings at Merlwood--felt his -cheek redden more than once, as well it might, and an involuntary -sigh escaped him, though he could little foresee the _future_. - -So full was he of his own thoughts, that it was not until he was -landing on the Fife side of the Forth that he reflected with -annoyance: - -'What a fool I have been, when in the city, not to call upon old -MacWadsett, the W.S., about the exact terms of my father's will. -They never reached me in Egypt--the Bedouins at Ramleh made free with -the mail-bags. Besides, I need not have gone before this, as the old -fellow has been on the Continent.' - -So he consoled himself with the inevitable cigar, while the train -rolled on by many a familiar scene, on which he had not looked for an -age, as it seemed now; by the 'lang, lang town' of Kirkaldy, and -picturesque Dysart, with its zigzag streets, overlooked by the gaunt -dwelling-place of Queen Annabella, and the sea-beaten rock of -Ravenscraig; anon past Falkland Woods, and after he crossed the Eden -he began to trace the landmarks of Earlshaugh, and the train halted -at a little wayside station, close beside an old and almost unused -avenue that led to the latter, and he sprang out upon the platform, -where he seemed to be the only passenger. The two or three officials -who were loitering about were strangers, and eyed him leisurely. - -'Has not a trap come for my luggage?' he asked. - -'For where, sir?' - -'Earlshaugh.' - -'No sir,' replied one, touching his cap, an ex-soldier recognising -his questioner's military air. 'No trap is here.' - -'Strange!' muttered Roland, giving his moustache an angry twist; 'and -yet I wrote--I'll walk on, and send for my things,' he added. - -The house was little more than a mile distant, and every foot of the -way had been familiar to him from infancy. - -On many a strange and foreign scene had he looked, and many a peril -had he faced, in the land of the Pharaohs since last he had trod that -shady avenue--the land of the Sphinx and the Pyramids, where the hot -sand of the desert seemed to vibrate and quiver under the fierce -glare of the unclouded sun. - -Forgetful of old superstitions, he had entered the avenue by the -Weird Yett. It was deemed unlucky for a Lindsay of Earlshaugh to -approach his house after a long absence through that barrier; but as -the gate was open, Roland, full of his own thoughts, passed in, -heedless of the legend which told that the Lindsay fared ill who did -so. - -Two stone pillars, dated 1600, with an arch and coat of arms with the -Lindsay supporters, two lions sejant, termed the barrier, which was -usually closed by a massive iron gate, the barbs or pikes of which -had once been gilt. A century later had seen it the favourite -trysting-place of Roland Lindsay, the younger, of Earlshaugh, and a -daughter of a neighbour, the Laird of Craigie Hall, till the former -left with his regiment, the Scots Guards, for Spain. One evening the -girl was lingering there, in the soft violet light of the gloaming, -impelled by what emotion she scarcely knew, but doubtless to dream of -her lover who she thought was far away, when suddenly a cry escaped -her, as she saw him appear, in his scarlet uniform, with -feather-bound hat--the Monmouth cock--his flowing wig, and sword in -its splendid belt; but gouts of blood were upon his lace cravat, and -she could see that his face was sad and pale, as face and figure -melted away and she found herself alone. - -Apparitions generally 'come in their habits as they lived,' says the -authoress of the 'Night side of Nature,' 'and appear so much like the -living person in the flesh that when they are not known to be dead, -they are frequently mistaken for them. There are exceptions to this -rule, but it is very rare that the forms in themselves exhibit -anything to create alarm.' - -So did the girl's lover appear to her as if alive. - -With a power of reason beyond her years and time, she tried to -think--could it be a dream of her excited brain? But no, she was -awake with all her senses; she thought of the blood on his dress, and -the awful knowledge came to her, that she had looked upon the face of -the dead--on the wraith of her lover--who, a month after she learned, -had perished at that very hour and time, shot by the Spaniards on the -fatal field of Almanza. - -'The divine arts of priming and gunpowder have frightened away Robin -Goodfellow and the Fairies,' wrote Sir John Aubery of old; but the -ghost of the Weird Yett lingered long in the unused avenue of -Earlshaugh. - -When he did recall the terror of his boyhood, Roland smiled; but -kindly, for every feature round him spoke of _home_. Seen through -the tree-stems was the old thatched hamlet of Earlshaugh, on the side -of a burn crossed by one huge stone as a bridge--the hamlet where the -clatter of the weaver's loom still lingered even in these days of -steam appliances, and on the humble doors of which the old Scottish -risp or tirling-pin was to be seen as elsewhere in the East Neuk; and -as he looked at the gray fallen monolith by which the stream was -crossed, he thought of the old song which seemed to describe it: - - 'Yet it had a bluirdly look, - Some score o' years ago, - An' the wee burn seemed a river then, - As it roared doon below; - And a bauld bairn was he, - In the merry days lang gane, - Wha waded through the burn, - Aneath the auld brig-stane.' - -And, as if to complete the picture, an old woman, wearing one of -those white mutches, with the modest black band of widowhood, -introduced by Mary of Guelders, sat on a 'divot-seat' knitting at the -sunny end of her little thatched cottage. - -A love of his birthplace and a pride in his historic race were the -strongest features in the character of Roland Lindsay, and Earlshaugh -was certainly such a home as any man might be pardoned for regarding -with something of enthusiasm. - -As he looked upon the old manor house, high, square, and embattled, -towering on its grassy steep above the haugh--that abode of so many -memories, with all his pride in it, and pride of race and name, there -came a stormy emotion, or sense of humiliation--even of rage, when he -thought of the tenor or alleged tenor of that will, by which his -father, in the senility of age (if all he heard were true), had -degraded him to a cypher by leaving the estate entirely to an alien, -to his second wife, who had been the artful companion of his -first--to the exclusion of him--Roland, the heir of line and blood, -save for such a pittance or allowance as she chose to accord him, for -the term of his or her natural life, which, when the chances of war -and climate were considered, was certain to exceed his own, his -senior though she was in years. - -After all he had endured in the deserts by the Nile, hunger, thirst, -suffering, sickness, and wounds, facing and enduring all that a -soldier may since last he had looked on old, gray Earlshaugh, as -memory went flashing back he strove to forget for a brief time the -wrong his father had done himself and his sister Maude, and to think -only of his happy boyhood, and all that had been then. - -Memories of his dead parents, of his gentle and loving mother, of his -manly and fox-hunting father, who had taught him to ride, and shoot, -and fish--of little brothers who lay buried by their side in the -grave--of his childhood, of games, and old--or rather young--longings -and imaginings, when the woods of Earlshaugh, and the trouting -stream, were objects of vague mystery, the former peopled with -fairies, and the latter the abode of a wicked kelpie! - -Many a living voice and loving face had passed away since -then--vanished for ever; but the memories of them were strong and -pathetic. The rooks still clamoured in the old trees, and the birds -sang amid the shrubberies as of old; he heard the men whistling and -singing in the stable-yard. In the fields the soil had a fresh and -grassy odour in the noonday sunshine familiar to him; and he felt the -conviction that though he in many a sense had changed, Nature had -not--'for the wind blows as it will through all the long years, and -the land wakes glad and fragrant at the kiss of the pale dawn, and -plain daily labour goes on steadily and unheedingly from generation -to generation.' - -As unnoticed and unseen he drew near the house--a massive old -Scottish fortalice with tourelles at every angle--and surveyed its -striking façade, he recalled the words of his uncle and Hester, and -felt that he had now much that was practical to think about, much -that was painful and dubious to forgive or submit to, while a vague -sense of coming bitter annoyance--it might be humiliation, as we have -said--rose before his haughty spirit, and the suspicion or emotion -was not long of being put to the test. - -A man with his hands in the back pockets of his coat, his hat set -negligently into the nape of his neck--a thickset, well-to-do, little -fellow, about thirty years of age, clad in a kind of semi-sporting -style, with a straw in his mouth and much display of jewellery at his -waistcoat--came leisurely down the front steps from a -_porte-cochère_, which the late Laird had added to the old -house--leisurely, we say, and with a very _insouciant_ air, and -accorded a nod--bow it could not be called--to Roland and paused. - -'Oh,' said he, 'Captain Lindsay, I presume?' - -'Yes,' replied the other, with surprise, and curtly. - -'Ah, welcome; we've been expecting you. Did you walk from the -station?' - -'I was obliged to do so----' - -'Ah.' - -'And you, sir?' asked Roland inquiringly. - -'Mr. Sharpe--Hawkey Sharpe, at your service.' - -'The new steward?' said Roland, repressing a vehement desire to kick -him along the terrace. - -'If you please to call me so.' - -('What the devil else does he think I should call him?' thought -Roland.) - -As Mr. Hawkey Sharpe neither touched nor lifted his hat Roland -ignored his tardily proffered hand, which was replaced in his coat -pocket. - -'Had a pleasant morning journey, I hope.' - -'Yes.' - -'Ah, I am just going to the stables--all are well at home,' said this -strange and very confident personage, passing on, while Roland stood -for a moment rooted to the ground by the profound _insouciance_ of -the man; but from _that_ moment there was a secret, if unnamed, -hatred of each other in the eyes of these two--hate blended with -contempt and indignation in those of Roland, who felt intuitively -that the other, though, as he supposed, his underling, would yet work -him a mischief if he could. - -'D--n the fellow!' thought Roland. 'So this is Mr. Sharpe. I must -put him to the rightabout! He ought to have ushered me in or -preceded me.' - -He rang the bell furiously. - -A strange footman appeared promptly enough, but without the -indignation a 'London Jeames' would have manifested at a summons so -rough and impatient; for natheless his irreproachable livery and -powdered hair, he had been born and bred in the East Neuk of Fife, -and had no 'West-End' airs about him. - -'All are strangers now hereabout,' thought Roland, who was about to -enter, when the man distinctly barred his way. - -'Name, sir, please?' said he. - -'Is Miss Maude--Miss Lindsay, I mean--at home?' - -'No, sir; out riding.' - -'Your mistress, then?' said Roland sharply. - -'Yes, sir--if you will give me a card.' - -'Card, ha!' exclaimed Roland, losing his temper now, and with fury -blazing in his dark eyes. 'Say that Captain Lindsay has arrived!' - -On this the valet--Tom Trotter by name--threw the door wide open, -with a grin of welcome not unmingled with astonishment and alarm, and -Roland found himself again under the roof of Earlshaugh. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -A COLD RECEPTION. - -Roland found himself somewhat ceremoniously ushered into a -drawing-room with which he was familiar, and which was known as the -Red Room, where he was left at leisure for a few minutes, to look -about him and reflect. - -The second Mrs. Lindsay had been too wise, he could perceive, to -remove much of the ancient furniture of the manor house, but she had -interspersed it with much that was modern; large easy seats and rich -hangings, gipsy tables, Chippendale chairs, and great rugs, Parian -statuary, and one or two antique classic busts, had caught Roland's -eye as he passed along; but all old portraits were banished to the -staircases and corridors, for it had seemed to the intruder on their -domains that the grim old Lindsays in ruff and breastplate, with hand -on hip and sword in belt, with their dames in hoops and old-fashioned -Scottish fardingales, had rather scowled upon her. - -The Red Room of Earlshaugh had been one of the 'show places' in the -East Neuk, for nearly all its furniture was of red lacquer work, -brought from Japan by a Lindsay in the close of the last century. -The walls were hung with stamped leather, the golden tints of which -had faded now, though the gilding gleamed out here and there, and -against this sobered background the richly tinted furniture, with its -painted suns, moons, and stars, grotesque monsters, and queerly -designed houses and gardens, stood out redly and boldly, with -bronzes, marbles, and ivory carvings now yellow with age. - -It was noon now, and through the open and deeply embayed windows the -perfume of many flowers stole in from the gardens below, mingling -with that from roses and others that were in the _jardinières_, and -to Roland it all seemed as if he had stood there only yesterday. - -There was a sound; he turned and found himself face to face with his -stepmother, whom he had last seen and known as his own mother's -useful, bland, suave, apparently patient and always obsequious -companion. - -'Welcome, Roland, at last,' said she; but there was no welcome either -in her voice or eye, though she accorded him her hand, and a kiss -that was as cold as the expression of her face, though it was -apparent that she was trying to get up a pathetic look for the -occasion; in fact, she felt the necessity for a little acting--of -assuming a virtue, if she had it not--and Roland saw and understood -the whole situation at once, for after a few commonplaces, and he had -flung himself into a chair that had once been a favourite one of his -father, she asked: - -'How long does your leave of absence from the regiment last?' - -'So shortly,' replied Roland with an undisguised sneer, 'that I won't -mar your pleasure or spoil your appetite by telling its duration.' - -At this reply she coloured for a moment, and thought, 'We have here -an independent and conceited young man, who must be kept at his -proper distance.' But she only caressed Fifine, an odious little pug -dog, which she carried under her arm. - -And avoiding all family matters, which, sooth to say, Roland -disdained to discuss with her, even his father's death, more than all -the alleged terms of the odious will and similar subjects, they -talked the merest commonplaces--of the weather, the crops, the -country, and of the war in Egypt--but all in a jerky and unconnected -fashion, as each felt that a moment might land them on that dangerous -ground which was inevitably to be traversed yet. - -'And Maude?' said Roland during a pause; 'she must be quite a -grown-up young lady now.' - -'Yes, she is close on twenty; but I do not see much of Maude.' - -'Why?' - -'She stays away from Earlshaugh as much as she can, with friends in -Edinburgh, London, and elsewhere.' - -While closely observing his stepmother, Roland was compelled to admit -to himself that she was ladylike. In her fortieth year, her hair was -fair and thick; her stature good; her hands well-shaped and white, -but somewhat large. - -Her face was perfectly colourless; her eyes small, glittering, of the -palest gray, planted near a thin and aquiline nose; her lips were -also thin, not ill-tempered, but like her whole expression--hard. -Her teeth were small and sharp-looking; her face lineless--she looked -ten years younger than she was, and was beautifully, even tastefully, -dressed. - -She wore now, as she always did, a handsome-trimmed black costume of -the richest material, with a white cap of fine lace, slightly trimmed -with black, as a sign of widowhood, and jet ornaments, with a few -pearls among them. - -'I do so long to see my dear little Maude!' exclaimed Roland. - -'You have been in no hurry to do so,' said Mrs. Lindsay, with a cold -smile. - -'My uncle at Merlwood was so hospitable,' replied Roland, reddening a -little. Could he say to Mrs. Lindsay that _her_ presence had kept -him away from Earlshaugh to the last moment, or refer to the new -influence of Annot Drummond on himself? 'By-the-bye,' said he -abruptly, 'I met a fellow at the door--Mr. Hawkey Sharpe by name, it -seems--who I understand has been installed here as a kind of steward -or general factotum.' - -'What of him?' - -'Only that I have made up my mind that he shall march from this, and -pretty quick too!' - -'There may be some difficulties about that,' replied Mrs. Lindsay, -with a hectic flush crossing her pale cheek, and a sharp glitter in -her cold gray eyes. - -'Difficulties--how? With old MacWadsett?' - -'With more than him.' - -'What do you mean? By Jove, we shall soon see.' - -'What we shall _see_,' muttered Mrs. Lindsay under her sharp teeth; -but Roland, who could not be perfectly suave with her, now asked -sharply: - -'Why was there not a vehicle--trap--phaeton, or anything else, sent -to meet me at the station?' - -'Was there none?' she asked languidly. - -'None--and I had to leave my luggage there.' - -'Dear me--how negligent--eh, Fifine, was it not?' said she, toying -with the ears of her cur. - -'Negligent, indeed,' added Roland, his brow darkening. 'Yet I read -your letter--or telegram was it?--to Mr. Sharpe.' - -'You read my letter to--Mr. Sharpe?' - -'At least that portion of it referring to your return.' - -'Mr.--what's his name?--Sharpe had better act up to his cognomen -while I have to do with him. I am accustomed to be obeyed.' - -'Like the Centurion in the Scriptures--dear me!' - -'Exactly,' said Roland, feeling that there was mockery in her tone or -thoughts. - -'If not?' - -'We are accustomed to obedience in barracks, and enforce it. We have -the guard-house to begin with.' - -'An institution unknown in Earlshaugh,' said she, with a curl on her -lips. - -'I have a number of friends coming here to knock over the birds after -the 1st--you will please to order arrangements to be made for them.' - -'A houseful--I have heard from Maude.' - -'Not at all--only Elliot of ours, Skene of Dunnimarle, and one or two -more. My cousin Hester and Miss Drummond come too.' - -'Must you do this--must I entertain them all?' said she with -something like dismay. - -'You? Not at all! Let them alone--they will amuse themselves as -people in a country house always do. Young fellows and pleasant -girls generally contrive to cut out their own amusements.' - -'I see so few people now that I shall be quite scared.' - -'Let Maude act hostess then,' said Roland sharply, with a tone that -seemed to indicate he thought it more her place. - -'Maude is but a little child in my eyes--and none can take my -position in Earlshaugh!' said Mrs. Lindsay firmly and pointedly; and -Roland, tired of an interview, the whole tenor of which provoked him, -and in which an undefined and ill-disguised hostility to himself was -manifested, looked at his watch and asked: - -'Any chance of lunch, do you think?' - -'Lunch?' - -'Yes. When a fellow has travelled nearly forty miles in a morning, -and crossed the Firth, he wants something to pick him up.' - -'Lunch is past already,' said Mrs. Lindsay stiffly; 'but ring the -bell, please.' - -She made no attempt with effusive hospitality to rise from her seat. -That would have implied kindness, attention, and, more than all, it -would have involved exertion; and she was contriving now to be one of -those imperturbable creatures who never allow themselves to be -influenced or bored; and when Roland withdrew to the familiar -dining-room to partake of the meal, and where he was welcomed by -jolly old Simon Funnell, his father's rubicund butler, with shining -face and outstretched hands, she did not accompany him; nor did he -observe, when he left her, how her pale face expressed by turns -dread, defiance, hatred, and more! - -One would have supposed that the mere difference of sex might have -affected her, and made her disposed to view favourably, and to greet -pleasantly at least, the only son of the man to whose folly she owed -so much--a handsome young fellow, whose face made even those of old -women brighten. But it was not so; and thus bitterly did Roland -Lindsay feel that his home-coming, with all its sense of irritation -and humiliation, was such that, but for Maude and those at Merlwood, -he would have regretted that he did not perish after Kashgate, when -he lay helpless in the desert, with the foul Egyptian vultures -hovering over him. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -MAUDE. - -Lunch ended, Roland was lingering rather gloomily over a glass of his -father's old favourite Amontillado, which Simon Funnell had -disinterred from the cobwebby bins of the cellar for his special -delectation, when an exclamation made him start; a pair of soft arms -were thrown around his neck, and a bright, fair face was pressed -against his cheek. - -'Maude!' - -'Roland--Roland--you here! oh, such an unexpected joy!' exclaimed his -sister, a merry and impulsive girl, who had just returned from -riding, in bearing so smart, handsome, and perfect in her hat and -habit, as she tossed aside her whip and gauntlets and embraced him -again and again, so effusively and affectionately that he felt an -emotion of welcome for the first time. - -'I am here, Maude--but why did you not come to meet me?' said he. - -'I knew not that you were to be here to-day,' she replied, with a -sparkle in her eyes. - -'Did your--did not Mrs. Lindsay tell you I was coming?' - -'No,' replied Maude indignantly. - -'Another act of coldness and unwelcome.' - -'Oh, Roland--how I dread these people!' - -'Who?' - -'Mrs. Lindsay and her Mr. Sharpe! I have just had a spin over breezy -Tentsmuirs, making the sheep and rabbits fly before me, as you and I -and Hester Maule have often done before, Roland,' said Maude, -changing abruptly from grave to gay. - -Full of health and spirits, with a soft rose-leaf complexion that was -heightened by recent exercise and present excitement, she was a girl -whose beauty was of a delicate type. Her hair was of the sunniest -brown, her eyes a soft and dreamy blue, yet wont to beam and sparkle -at times; her figure was slight, extremely graceful, and she was now -in her twentieth year. - -'By Jove, Maude, you have grown quite a little beauty!' exclaimed -Roland, while, holding each other at arm's length, brother and sister -surveyed each other's face; 'but in expression you are not changed a -bit.' - -'Nor you, Roland--yet, how scorched--how brown you are!' - -'That was done in Egypt--but much of it wore off at Merlwood.' - -'How long you have been of coming here, Roland!' said Maude, with a -pout on her ruby lip. - -'Since returning to Britain, you mean?' - -'Since returning to Scotland.' - -'With all my love for you, my dear little sister, I was loth to face -the--the mortifications that I feared awaited me at home.' - -'A changed home, Roland!' - -'If we can call it so.' - -'But then at Merlwood,' said she archly, 'Hester--dear Hester, would -be an attraction, of course.' - -Roland actually coloured, and stooped to scrape a cigar light on his -heel, and to change the subject said: - -'I saw Jack Elliot of ours for a few minutes at his club in -Edinburgh.' - -'Dear Jack! and how is he looking?' - -'Well and jolly as usual; unluckily his leave is shorter than mine, -yet I hope to keep him here till the pheasants are ready.' - -'Darling Roland--how good of you!' exclaimed his sister, kissing him -again. - -'You and he expect your little affair to come off when----' - -'When the regiment returns home--I could not go out to Egypt, you -know, Roland.' - -'Worse than useless, when we may be moving towards the frontier -again.' - -'In her last letter to me Annot Drummond seemed full of Egypt, and -Egypt only.' - -'She has a lover out there, perhaps--or going,' said Roland, laughing. - -'Not improbable. She is coming here; but, truth to tell, I do not -like Annot Drummond much.' - -'Why?' - -'I cannot say.' - -'Nay, Maude, that is unjust.' - -'It is a case of Dr. Fell, I suppose.' - -'Yet you have invited her for a month or two to Earlshaugh.' - -'Yes.' - -'Why, then?' - -'As a return for her mother's kindness to me when in London--nothing -more. There is no love lost between Annot and me.' - -Roland became silent, as his sister evidently spoke unwillingly; and -to change the subject, he said: - -'And the stepmother, Maude; how do you and she get on?' - -'As my letters have told you--oh, I hate her, as much as it is in my -nature to hate anyone. When she comes near me I feel like a cat with -its fur rubbed the wrong way. Can you not pension her away from -Earlshaugh?' - -'Not if all I hear is true,' replied Roland, giving his dark -moustache an angry twist. 'But who is this fellow Sharpe, who seems -to be her factotum--and where did she pick him up?' - -'He is her brother.' - -'Her _brother_!' - -'Yes--so you must be wary----' - -'Till I see MacWadsett?' - -'If that will make any difference, which I fear not,' replied Maude, -lowering her voice, and actually glancing round with apprehension, -while her blue eyes lighted with indignation; 'he lives here--perhaps -she told you so?' - -'No--lives here--here in Earlshaugh?' - -'Yes; he has rooms set apart for him in the Beatoun wing.' - -'By _her_ orders?' - -'Yes. She has the whole estate, and you and me too, completely in -her power. Papa, in his folly, left her, apparently, everything; but -to come to us, I presume, in time; and now she is entirely influenced -and guided by her brother. Literally, we seem to be at his mercy,' -continued the girl, with a kind of a shudder, 'and you must play your -cards well to prevent a catastrophe.' - -'It is intolerable!' exclaimed Roland, in an accent of rage. - -'It is beyond my comprehension.' - -'I wish old MacWadsett were at home.' - -'He will not be in town for some weeks yet.' - -Some bitter words escaped Roland, who added: - -'God, give me patience! A fracas in the house with so many guests -coming is, of course, to be avoided.' - -'I hope your return may make some change, Roland; it has been so dull -here.' - -'Why--how?' - -'County people--the ladies at least--are shy of visiting, I feel -that, and often long to join Hester at Merlwood. You may see that -the calling cards in the basket are quite faded and old.' - -'No visitors!' - -'Very few, beyond the parish minister and his wife, or the doctor, -when she has some petty illness. She was a reader, a worker, and a -musician in mamma's time, I understand; but is a total idler now, -and, save to church, rarely leaves the grounds.' - -'Her dowry and the Dower House she was entitled to, but who could -ever have dreamed that she, the meek-faced, humble, and most -obsequious Deborah Sharpe would ever be the mistress of all this!' -exclaimed Roland as he strode to a window and looked forth upon the -view with a heart that thrilled with many mingled emotions, for he -loved his ancestral home with a love that was a species of passion, -especially after his term of foreign exile. - -Its situation was so perfect, overhanging the fertile haugh that gave -the place a name, and through which meandered a stream, that, though -insignificant there, widened greatly before it reached the sea. - -The house of Earlshaugh is large and picturesque. Built originally -in the days when James III. was King of the realm, and when that -ill-fated monarch granted a special license to the then Baron to -erect a fortalice, 'surrounded with walls and ditches, defended by -gates of brass or iron,' many additions had been made to it, and the -grace of a venerable antiquity was now combined with the comfort and -luxury of modern days. - -The old rooms were small, panelled with pine rather than oak; and the -old shot and arrow loopholes under the windows had long since been -plugged up and plastered over. In the olden time gardens were too -valuable to be left outside the walls of a Scottish fortalice at a -feudal neighbour's mercy, and trees only afforded cover for an -attacking foe; but now the slopes crowned by Earlshaugh sheltered a -modern garden with all its rare flowers, and the clefts of the rock -afforded nurture for numerous trees and shrubs. - -Royalty had often taken its ease in Earlshaugh, and in its grounds -there is still a venerable thorn-tree in which tradition says the -hawks of the Fifth and Sixth Jameses were wont to roost; nor was the -house unknown in history and war, for there is still a room that was -occupied by Cardinal Beatoun, the stair to which had a peculiarity -after his murder, that whoever went up its steps felt as if going -down; and the western wall yet bears the marks of the cannon shot, -when it was attacked by General D'Oisel, the Comte de Martigues, and -other French chevaliers, in the wars of Mary of Guise, and when -Kirkcaldy of Grange, by one stroke of his two-handed sword, slew at -its gate the Comte de St. Pierre, Knight of St Michael. - -In that old house every chamber had its story of some past occupant; -for there the Lairds of Earlshaugh were born; there they brought home -their brides, and there they had--unless they fell in battle--died -and been borne forth by their own people to Leuchars Kirk, or to the -Chapel of St. Bennet, of which no vestige now remains. - -Looking over the fair and sunlit scene before him, Roland Lindsay was -thinking of all these things, while Maude drooped her pretty head on -his shoulder, and said: - -'It is so terrible to suppose that we may have lost all this through -the folly--the weakness of papa.' - -'In the hands of an artful Jezebel! But who is that person riding -straight across the lawn, heedless of path or avenue?' - -'Sharpe--Mr. Hawkey Sharpe,' replied Maude, starting with something -like a shudder again--an emotion which Roland fortunately did not -perceive; for with reference to this obnoxious person there was a -secret between him and her which Maude, with all her love and -affection, dared not confide to her fiery brother, lest it should -bring about the very catastrophe which she dreaded so much. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -ROLAND'S VEXATION. - -'In my father's house on sufferance only, it would seem!' was the -half-aloud remark muttered through his teeth by Roland, when betimes -next morning he was up while the dew was glittering on shrub and -tree, to have a ramble, cigar in mouth, and feeling with bitterness -in his heart that through the fault of another, rather than himself, -he had been severely and unjustly dealt with. - -When Roland joined his regiment an elder brother now dead, Harry -Lindsay of the Scots Guards, had been, like himself, somewhat -extravagant--Harry particularly so amid the facilities afforded by -London for spending freely and living fast--thus between certain -bills which the later had compelled the old gentleman to accept, -looking upon him, as he too often said, 'merely as the family -banker,' but more especially by his betting, racing, and other -proclivities peculiar to 'the Brigade,' he had so enraged the old -Laird of Earlshaugh that, acted upon by the influence of his unwise -'second election,' the latter had executed a will--the obnoxious -document so often referred to--completely in her favour, leaving her -everything, with certain arrangements--a provision--for his surviving -son Roland and his daughter Maude. - -A codicil, tending to reverse or revoke this, had evidently been in -preparation, but was never fulfilled or signed. - -Thus far alone Roland had been made aware, but was still inclined to -doubt the tenor of a document he had never seen, which he could not -as yet see, and the copy of which, sent to him in Egypt, had been -lost in the transmission as stated. - -Moreover, he was a soldier--nothing but a soldier in many ways, and, -as he was wont to say to himself, 'an utter muff,' so far as business -matters were concerned. - -Of his own dubious position at Earlshaugh and the presumption of Mr. -Hawkey Sharpe, the steward or manager of the property, he was soon to -have unpleasantly convincing proofs that sorely tested his patience -and tried his proud and impetuous temper. - -A prey to somewhat chequered thoughts, he had wandered in the dewy -morning over much of the beautiful and picturesque property. Every -lane, hedgerow, field, and farm had been familiar to him from his -boyhood, since old Johnnie Buckle, the head groom, had taught him to -take his fences, even as the old gamekeeper, Gavin Fowler, had shown -him where the best grown coveys were sure to be found. He had seen -alterations and innovations which displeased him extremely, and had -visited some of the tenants, attended in his ramble by an old herd -who had been in the service of the Lindsays for half a century; and -he now returned by the great avenue, where still the ancient oaks, -that erewhile had heard the bugle of King James, the Scottish Haroun, -on many a hunting day, still gave forth their leaves from year to -year, and entered the cosy old-fashioned breakfast-room, where -Dresden china and glittering plate, with an array of cold meats, -fish, and fruit, suggested a hearty Scottish morning repast, and over -the carved stone fireplace of which hung a portrait of his father in -the scarlet costume of the Caledonian Hunt. Maude was not there; but -to his indignation the room had another occupant. - -'Mr. Trotter, when you have quite ended the perusal of that paper you -will, perhaps, so far favour me?' - -The person he addressed with a grim but mock suavity was Tam Trotter, -who, clad in the Lindsay livery, blue and yellow, making certain of -not being disturbed, had--with all the coolness, if not the easy -elegance, of a 'Jeames' of Belgravia or Mayfair--seated himself in -the breakfast-room, and, with his slippered feet on a velvet fender -stool, and his broad back reclined in an easy-chair, was deep in the -columns of the _Fife Herald_. - -He started up overwhelmed with confusion, and began in a breathless -voice to stammer an apology. - -'There--there--that will do; but don't let this happen again, -Trotter,' said Roland; 'it shows that the discipline of the house -wants adjustment. By Jove, if I had you in barracks I'd send you to -knapsack-drill for a week!' - -The wretched Tam made a hasty retreat, and Maude, detecting the -situation, came in laughing merrily to get her brother's morning -kiss, and looking, he thought, so bright, so sweet, and so pretty. -'Who,' says Anthony Trollope, 'has not seen some such girl when she -has come down early, without the full completeness of her morning -toilet, and yet nicer, fresher, prettier to the eye of him who is so -favoured than she has ever been in more formal attire?' - -'Covers laid for two only--thank goodness, you and I are to have our -breakfast _tête-à-tête_!' she exclaimed, as she seated herself at the -table, and the terribly 'cowed' or abashed Trotter took post behind -her. - -'And then I must be off to the stables to see what cattle are there, -and renew my acquaintance with old Johnnie Buckle, who taught me how -to take my flying leaps--never to funk at a bullfinch, a sunk fence, -a mill race, or anything. Many of Johnnie's tricks stood me in good -stead, Maude, when I was with poor Hicks and Baker in Egypt,' said -Roland. - -Strolling forth in the bright morning sunshine, amid which the house -of Earlshaugh, with its massive walls of polished ashlar, its -machicolated battlement and tall, old windows, glittered in light, -with masses sunk in shadow, he was met by the head gardener, old -Willie Wardlaw, whom he remembered as a faithful servitor in years -past (and whose rarest peaches he had stolen many a time and oft), -with a hand outstretched in welcome, and his hat in the other, as he -bowed his silvery head in token of respect. - -'Oh, sir, but I've been langing to see ye ere it is owre late and the -mischief done!' he exclaimed. - -'What mischief?' - -'The meadowing o' the park and lawn, where never a plough has been -since the King was in Falkland.' - -'Who has suggested this piece of utilitarian barbarity?' asked Roland -with lowering brow. - -'Wha wad it be but Mr. Hawkey Sharpe? Pawkie-Sharpe wad be a better -name for him,' was the contemptuous response, made with evident -bitterness of heart. - -'I'll see to that, Willie,' said Roland as he strode on, but soon to -be confronted by another official--a kind of forester--who had charge -of all the timber on the property. - -'I hope, Captain,' said the latter, 'you're in time to save the -King's Wood, sir.' - -'What do you mean?' - -'Ye surely ken it is doomed--a' to the King's Thorn?' - -'Doomed--how?' - -'To be cut down and sold--a black, burning shame! Some o' the aiks -are auld as the three Trees o' Dysart!' - -'By whose order?' asked Roland, greatly ruffled. - -'Oh, Mr. Hawkey Sharpe's, of course.' - -'But why?' - -'It is no for me to say, sir,' replied the old man uneasily; 'but -folk hint that when a body backs the wrong horse at races some one -maun pay the piper. Maister Sharpe cuts gey near the wind, and comes -aftener wi' the rake than the shool; but he'll get a bite o' his ain -bridle, I hope, yet!' - -'Racing, is it? I shall see this matter attended to also. His -presumption is unparalleled!' said Roland, as with something between -a groan and an imprecation on his lips he passed on, to look after a -mount for Annot Drummond, and to digest this new piece of -information--that the so-called steward was about to cut down one of -the oldest of the ancestral woods on the property to meet a gambling -debt! - -At the stables, warm indeed was the welcome he met from the veteran -groom Johnnie, who did not seem older by a day since Roland had seen -him last--hale, hardy, and lithe, though past his sixtieth year, with -long body, short bandy legs, small, closely-shaven head, and sharp, -keen, twinkling eyes--his white tie scrupulously folded, and attired -as usual in a heavily flapped corduroy waistcoat, with large pockets, -in one of which was stuck a curry-comb, and in his hands was a steel -bridle-bit, which he was polishing with leather till it shone like -silver. - -Roland Lindsay had been so long away from among his own people and -native country, that he felt the keenest pleasure at the warmth of -his reception by any of the old servants whom the new _régime_ -permitted to linger about Earlshaugh. - -'Eh, Captain, how like the Laird, your worthy father, you are!' -exclaimed old Johnnie Buckle, with kindly eyes, adding, 'but I hope -you'll never live to be sic a gomeral--excuse me, sir.' - -Roland knew to what the old fellow referred, and was silent. - -Like the old English squire of Belton, his father had been, though a -popular man with all his friends, and brother fox-hunters especially, -and a boon companion too--one that had a dignity that was his from -nature rather than effort, but was 'a man who, in fact, did little or -nothing in the world--whose life had been very useless, but who had -been gifted with such a presence that he looked as though he were one -of God's noblest creatures. Though always dignified, he was ever -affable, and the poor liked him better than they might have done had -he passed his time in searching out their wants and supplying them.' -Though little of eleemosynary aid is ever required or looked for by -the manly, self-reliant, and independent peasantry of Scotland. - -'You have some good nags here,' said Roland, as he walked through the -stables. 'I shall want two or three for the saddle in a day or two.' - -The old groom shook his head and chewed a straw viciously. - -'I should like a spin on this one--a pretty roan hunter.' - -'Yes; he's about sixteen hands high, a bonnie wee head, full chest -and barrel, broad i' the loins, and firm of foot.' - -'The very nag for me, Johnnie.' - -'But you can't have him, Maister Roland,' said the groom, forgetting -the lapse of years. - -'Why?' - -'That is Mr. Hawkey Sharpe's favourite saddle horse.' - -'Oh--indeed--this mare, then?' - -'That is his hack.' - -'The devil! This roadster, then?' - -'His pad; no leg must cross it but his own. That is a nag more -difficult to find in perfection than even a hunter or roan,' said -Buckle, passing a hand admiringly over the silky flank of the animal. -'That bay cob is close on saxteen hands high, bonnie in shape, as ye -see, and high-stepping in action, gentle as a wean, and a wean might -lead it.' - -'That, too, is Mr. Sharpe's, I presume!' - -'Yes, sir.' - -'By Jove, he is well mounted!' said Roland, in irrepressible wrath, -thinking of a certain individual 'on horse-back.' - -'That pair of thirteen hands each are Miss Lindsay's.' - -'Ah,' thought Roland, a little mollified, 'one of them will mount -Annot. Mr. Sharpe dabbles a little in horse-flesh, I have heard?' - -'And loses sometimes, Maister Roland.' - -'How do you know?' - -'By his face, for then he girns like a sheep's heid in the smith's -tangs. He kens as little o' dogs, or he wadna gang aboot wi' a -dust-hole pointer at his heels.' - -'What kind of pointer is that, Buckle?' - -'A cur o' nae mair breed than himsel',' replied the old groom, who -evidently had no love for the steward. 'Hech, me!' he added under -his breath, as Roland left the stable-yard with evident disgust and -annoyance in his face and air, 'is he yet to learn that a bad -servitor never made a gude maister, and that a sinking maister mak's -a rising man? Dule seems to hang o'er Earlshaugh!' - -But more mortification awaited Roland. He knew that there was an -infinity of matters connected with the tenants--rents, repairs, -timber, oxen, fences, and winter forage, renewal of leases, and so -forth--on which there was no appearance of him, the heir, the only -son, being consulted; and of this he soon had unpleasant proof. - -'Remember what I urged, dearest Roland,' said his sister, as she -joined him at the _porte cochère_ and lifted her loving and smiling -blue eyes to his, while clasping both hands over his arm and hanging -upon him. 'Do keep your temper in any interview you may have with -this man Sharpe, who actually affects to think it a condescension to -accept his post in our household, as he has been heard to say that a -gentleman must live somehow, as well as other people do.' - -'I must see him,' said Roland through his clenched teeth, as he -entered the library, where he found Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, who was -usually installed there at the same hour daily, on business matters -intent, occupying the late Laird's easy-chair, seated at his table, -which was littered with account-books, letters, and papers, while at -his back hung on the wall a full-length, by Scougal, of that Colonel -Lindsay who figured in the Legend of the Weird Yett, looking grim, -haughty, and proud, as the subjects of most old portraits do, when -every gentleman looked like a great lord. - -Sharpe saw the black expression that hovered in Roland's sombre face, -and, rising, accorded him a bow, and, in deference to the presence of -Maude (and perhaps of his sister, who entered the room at the same -moment), laid aside his cigar. - -'Among some letters to me this morning,' said Roland, 'is one from -old Duncan Ged, for a renewal of his lease of the Mains of Dron.' - -'But I have no idea of doing so,' replied Mr. Sharpe, dipping his pen -in the ink-bottle. - -'_You?_' queried Roland. - -'I--I mean, that is----' - -'Who or what the devil do you mean, Mr. Sharpe?' said Roland, -undeterred by the pressure of Maude's little hand on his arm. - -'I mean that Mrs. Lindsay, acting on my advice, has no intention of -doing so.' - -'Why?' asked Roland, dissembling his rage, to find the mask thrown -off thus. - -'Because the land is worth twice as much again as it was in the days -when your grandfather gave a tack of the Mains to his grandfather.' - -'Surely he deserves to benefit thereby?' - -'We don't think so.' - -'We again!' thought Roland, trembling with suppressed passion; but -now Trotter, the servant, announced that the gamekeeper wished to see -Mr. Sharpe, and Gavin Fowler was ushered in--an old man whose eyes, -when Roland shook hands with him, glistened with pride and pleasure, -as he exclaimed: - -'Welcome back to your father's rooftree and yer ain fireside, sir; a' -here hae lang wanted ye sairly.' - -A sneer hovered on the lips of Hawkey Sharpe, as he said briefly to -the keeper, who had a gun under his arm, a shot-belt over his -shoulders, and a couple of dogs at his heels: - -'Well, what brings you here to-day?' - -'I've caught that loon Jamie Spens snaring rabbits and hares in the -King's Wood.' - -'At last,' said Hawkey Sharpe through his teeth. - -'At last, sir,' responded the keeper, chiefly to Roland. - -'Did he show fight?' asked Sharpe. - -'Of course he did; Jamie comes o' a camstairy and fechtin' race.' - -'I know that,' said Roland; 'this is not his first offence, by what -you said?' - -'Allow _me_, sir,' said the steward pointedly, with a wave of his -hand. - -'He is no bad kind o' chield,' urged the keeper. - -'He will serve for an example, anyway!' - -'His family are puir--starving, in fact, sir.' - -'What the deuce do I care? I'd as soon shoot a poacher as a weasel.' - -'Let the poor fellow off for this time,' said Roland. - -'Of course--do, please,' urged Maude; 'if you, Mr. Sharpe, were poor, -hungry, and, more than all, had a hungry wife and children----' - -'They are nothing to me.' - -'But such pretty little children!' urged Maude. - -'God bless your kind heart, miss!' exclaimed the old keeper. - -'Let him go--this once--I say,' said Roland, still boiling at the -tone and manner adopted by the steward. - -'For my sake,' added Maude sweetly. - -'For yours?' asked Mr. Sharpe, looking at her with a peculiar -expression to which Roland had not yet the key, for he said firmly -and emphatically: - -'At my _order_, rather!' - -'Roland, please don't interfere,' said his cold and pale-faced -stepmother; 'Mr. Sharpe knows precisely how to deal with these -people.' - -'Oh--indeed!' - -'I shall not take my way in this instance,' said Mr. Sharpe -condescendingly; 'and so, to please _you_, Miss Lindsay, the culprit -shall go free,' he added, with a bow to Maude, who blushed, more with -annoyance, apparently, than satisfaction, while Roland, in obedience -to an imploring glance from her, stifled his indignation, and -abruptly quitted the library. - -'I thank ye for trying to help me, sir,' said old Duncan Ged, who -stood in the hall, bonnet in hand, and apparently quite crushed by -the non-renewal of his lease; 'but Hawkey Sharpe is the hardest agent -between the Forth an' Tay; he turns the puir out o' house and hame at -a minute's notice, and counts every hare and rabbit in the woods. -E'en's ye like, Mr. Sharpe!' said the old man, shaking his clenched -hand in the direction of the library door; 'ilka man buckles his belt -his ain gate, as I maun buckle mine. Everything has an end, and a -pudding has twa.' - -And thus strangely consoling himself, he took his departure. Roland -sent the old man by post a cheque for fifty pounds; he could do no -more at that time. - -'But for dear Maude's sake,' thought Roland, 'I should certainly -never set foot in Earlshaugh till these matters of mine are cleared -up--and perhaps never again! But I'll make no fracas till after the -covert shooting is over and our guests are gone; _then_, by Jove; -won't I bring Mr. Hawkey Sharpe and this grim stepmother to book, if -I can!' - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -MAUDE'S SECRET. - -Roland had got a suitable mount from old Buckle and gone for 'a -spin,' to leave, if possible, his worries and fidgets behind him, -away by Radernie and as far as Carnbee, where the green hills that -culminate in conical Kellie Law look down on the Firth of Forth and -the dark blue German Sea; while Maude--after being down at Spens the -poacher's cottage with money and sundry comforts for his starving -wife and children--full of the subject of Roland's return and the -approaching visit of her _fiancé_, Jack Elliot, had written a long, -effusive, and young girl-like epistle to the latter, and was on her -way to slip it into the locked letter-bag in the hall with her own -hand. She had a consciousness that she was watched, and with it no -desire that her correspondence should be discussed just then, as she -had a nervous dread of Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, who had actually and -presumptuously ventured on more than one occasion to evince some -unmistakable tenderness towards her--an indiscretion, to say the -least of it, of which she dared give no hint to her fiery brother; -but which was the source of much disquietude to poor Maude, and of -confusion and distress to her, as regarded the steward's power in the -house, and made her change colour at the mere mention of his name. - -And now when passing through a long and lonely wainscotted corridor, -the windows of which on one side overlooked the haugh beneath the -house, and which led to the great staircase, she came suddenly upon -the very object of her dread, Mr. Sharpe, and hastily thrust her -letter into the bosom of her dress. - -Though her own mistress, with her engagement to Captain Elliot -acknowledged and accepted by her brother, Maude, from the influence -of circumstances, was--as stated--actually afraid lest this daring -admirer should discover that she was writing to Elliot, so much did -she dread the power of Sharpe and his sister, and their capacity for -working mischief. - -Some vague sense, or doubt, of his security in the future, and of his -sister's continued favour to himself, made Mr. Sharpe thus raise his -bold eyes to the daughter of the house, aware that she was almost -unprotected; her maternal uncle, Sir Harry, was an old and well-nigh -helpless man, and her brother had yet to run the risks of war in that -land now deemed the grave of armies--the Soudan. - -Apart from her beauty of mind and person--not that Mr. Hawkey Sharpe -cared much about the former or was influenced thereby--the latter -certainly allured him, and the helplessness referred to encouraged -him in his pretensions, even when he began to suspect that there was -another in the field, though he knew not yet precisely who that other -was. - -Mr. Sharpe's antecedents were not brilliant. He had begun life in a -solicitor's office in Glasgow, but had learned more than law -elsewhere; book-making, betting, the race-course, and billiards had -brought him in contact with his betters in rank but equals in -mischief and roguery, and from them he had acquired a certain -factitious polish of manner, which he hoped now to turn to good -account. - -Maude Lindsay knew and believed in that which Roland struggled -against knowing and believing, the precise tenor of their father's -will; and in terror of precipitating matters with Sharpe and his -sister, she had been compelled to temporize and submit to the more -than effusive politeness of the former, whose bearing, however, she -could not mistake. - -In nothing, as yet, had he gone beyond those--in him, somewhat -clumsy--tendernesses of incipient love-making, which might, or might -not, mean anything, though Maude felt that they meant too much; and -she never forgot the shock, the start, the humiliating conviction -that she experienced when the necessity of regarding him as a lover -was forced by necessity upon her. - -Her disdain she utterly failed, at first, to conceal; but Hawkey -Sharpe, whose reading had taught him, through the perusal of many low -and exciting love stories, that a girl might be won in spite of her -teeth, was resolved to persevere. - -'Good-evening, Mr. Sharpe--what a start you gave me!' said Maude, -essaying to pass him in the narrow corridor; but he contrived to bar -her way. - -'Pardon me for a moment,' said he submissively enough; 'I wish you -would not call me Mr. Sharpe; and oh, more than all, that you would -permit me to--to call you Maude!' - -The latter's eyes flashed fire, soft and blue though they were. -There was no mistaking the tenor of this mode of address. Hawkey -Sharpe seemed to have opened the trenches at last, and Maude's first -thought was: - -'Has he been imbibing too much?' - -'It was for your sake I let off that poacher Spens this morning,' -said he in a slightly reproachful tone. - -'For the sake of his wife and children, I hope, rather.' - -'Oh, bother his wife and brats! what are they to me compared with the -satisfaction of pleasing you?' - -'Mr. Sharpe!' said Maude, drawing back a pace, and, in spite of -herself, cresting up her proud little head. - -'It seems so hard,' said he, affecting an air of humility, and -casting down his eyes for a moment, 'that there should be such a gulf -apparently between us, Miss Lindsay.' - -'A gulf,' repeated Maude, not precisely knowing what to say. - -'Yes--and you deepen it. If I attempt to speak to you even as a -friend, you recoil from me; and in this huge, sequestered house, it -seems natural that we should at least be friends.' - -'If we are enemies, I know it not, Mr. Sharpe,' said Maude with some -hesitation, and then attempting to cover the latter by a smile, as -she knew the necessity--a knowledge which distressed and disgusted -her--of temporizing, which seemed, even if for a moment, a species of -treason to Jack Elliot. - -On the other hand, inclination and calculations as to the future, -made Sharpe admire Maude very much, and perhaps he was in love with -her as much as it was in his nature to be in love with anyone beyond -himself. Rejected, or even scorned, he was not a man to break his -heart for any woman in the land, though it might become inspired by -hatred and a longing for revenge. Yet he was prepared to make 'a -bold stroke for a wife' in Maude's instance. If refused once he -would try again, and even perhaps a third or a fourth time, and feel -only an emotion of rage on his final rejection--so in reality heart -was not so much the affair with him. - -Maude attempted to pass him, but he still barred her way, and even -sought, without success, to capture one of her hands. - -'Open confession is good for the soul,' he resumed, in a blunt and -blundering way, 'and avowals come to one's lips at times, and cannot -be restrained. I have played too long with fire, or with edged -tools. You must know, Miss Lindsay, that no man could be in your -society much without admiring you, and admiration is but a prelude -to--love.' - -Fear of him, and all a quarrel with him might involve, repressed the -girl's desire to laugh at this inflated little speech; but he--with -all his constitutional impudence--quailed for a moment under the -expression that flashed in her eyes--blue, and usually soft and sunny -though they were--while she remained silent and thinking: - -'What on earth will he say next?' - -'Do you not understand me, Miss Lindsay?' he asked, perceiving a look -of wonder gathering in her face. 'Do you not know that I love you?' -he added, lowering his voice, while glancing round with quick and -stealthy eyes. - -'Mr. Sharpe,' said Maude, trembling, yet rising to the occasion, 'I -understand what you say; but I hope you are not serious, and not -insulting me.' - -'Is the emotion with which you have inspired me likely to be mingled -with jest, or with insult to you?' - -'Oh, this is too much!' said Maude, interlacing her fingers, with -difficulty restraining tears of anger and resentment, while, with a -keen sense of future danger and his presumption, she felt as if there -was something unreal and grotesque in the situation. Moreover, she -was anxious to get her letter into the house postal bag ere the -latter was taken away. - -'I am deeply earnest, Miss Lindsay,' resumed Sharpe, still with great -humility of tone and manner. 'My regard for you is no passing fancy. -I learned to love you from the first moment I saw you.' - -'Mr. Sharpe,' said Maude, gathering courage from desperation, 'I do -not understand why you venture to talk in this style to me! -Encouragement I have never given you, even by a glance.' - -'Too well do I know that,' said he, affecting a mournful tone; 'but I -hope to lead you to--to like me a little in return.' - -'I don't dislike you,' said Maude, again seeking to temporize. - -'And, if possible, to love me--as a man--one to whom you can entrust -a future you cannot see--one whom you will one day call husband.' - -He drew nearer as his voice became lower and more earnest, and Maude -recoiled hastily in growing dismay, and the words 'a future you -cannot see' stung her deeply. - -Too well did she know that all this bold love-making was born of the -humbled, fallen, and peculiar nature of her position under her -ancestral rooftree, and of the ruin of her family--a ruin on which -this man was rising under his sister's wing! - -'I beseech you, Mr. Sharpe,' said she, 'to say no more on this -subject, for more than the merest friendship there can never be -between us.' - -'Have you thought it over?' - -'Certainly not!' - -His face clouded, and his usually bold, observant, and keen gray eyes -became inflamed with growing anger. - -'Seriously--deliberately you refuse to accord me the slightest hope?' - -'Yes.' - -'You think by this bearing to humiliate me as much as a proud girl -can do?' - -'You pain me now by speaking thus,' she responded more gently. - -'And you ruin my life!' - -'I think not,' said Maude, with a little curl on her lovely lip. - -'And may make that ruin a subject of jest to your brother's fine -friends who are coming here in a few days--a few hours, rather, now.' - -At this coarse remark Maude accorded him an inquiring stare. - -'Oh, I know what young girls are,' he resumed in a half-savage, -half-sullen manner. 'A rejection like mine is just the sort of thing -they like to boast of.' - -'You thus add insult to your profound presumption!' exclaimed Maude, -quite exasperated now by the under-breeding of the style he adopted -so suddenly; and, sweeping past him, she reached the entrance-hall, -where the postal bag lay--a square and stately place, the stone floor -of which was covered with soft matting; where in winter a great fire -always blazed in the spacious stone fireplace, over which hung a -single suit of armour, amid a trophy of weapons, old swords, mauls, -and pikes. - -She put her hand in her bosom--her letter--the letter she wished to -dispose of with her own hand--was no longer there! How--where had -she dropped it? She turned, looked hastily round her, and saw Mr. -Hawkey Sharpe, who had evidently picked it up, descending the -staircase, and he handed it to her with a slight and grave bow. - -'Oh--thank you,' said Maude, her mind now full of confusion and -vexation. - -Quick as thought she dropped it into the postal bag after he handed -it to her, but not before he had seen the address, and a dangerous -gleam shot athwart his shifty eyes, and again the coarse, bold nature -of the man came forth. - -'So--so,' said he, through his clenched teeth. 'I find I have been -mistaken in you, Miss Lindsay.' - -'Mistaken, Mr. Sharpe?' - -'Yes--mistaken all along.' - -'I do not comprehend you.' - -'Deceived by your soft, fair face and gentle eyes, I thought you -unlike other girls--no coquette--no flirt--and now--now, I find----' - -'What, sir?' demanded Maude impetuously. - -'That you have correspondents.' - -'Few, I suppose, are without them.' - -'But who is he to whom you openly write--this Captain John Elliot?' - -'Intolerable! How dare you ask me?' demanded Maude, her breast -swelling, her cheeks, not flushed, but pale with anger, and her eyes -flashing. - -'A military friend of your brother's, I suppose we shall call him,' -said he with an undisguised sneer. - -'And a dear friend of mine,' said Maude defiantly, exasperated to -find that the very discovery she wished to avoid had been made, and -by this person particularly; 'but here comes my brother, and perhaps -you had better make your inquiries of him,' she added, as a great -sigh of mingled anger and relief escaped her on hearing Roland -dismount under the _porte-cochère_; but, unable to face even him, -distressed, humiliated, and altogether unnerved by her recent -interview, all it involved, and all she had undergone, poor little -Maude rushed away to seek alleviation amid a passion of tears, unseen -and in the solitude of her own room. - -So this was Maude's secret! - -Hawkey Sharpe cared not just then to face Roland Lindsay; but with -hands clenched he sent a glance of hate after the retreating figure -of Maude, and withdrew in haste. - -They met in future, as we shall show, even amid Roland's guests; but -with a consciousness--a most humiliating and irritating one to Maude, -that there was almost a secret understanding--that odious love-making -between them--and known, as she thought, to themselves alone. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -MR. HAWKEY SHARPE SEEKS COUNSEL. - -We have said that Maude thought that Mr. Hawkey Sharpe's love-making, -with all its euphonious platitudes, was known to him and to herself -alone. - -In this she was mistaken, as Hawkey's sister Deborah, Mrs. Lindsay, -was in his confidence in that matter, and quite _au fait_ of its -doubtful progress. She did not appear at dinner that evening, but -dined in her own room, and then betook her to her brother's sanctum, -or 'den,' as he called it--a picturesque old panelled apartment, in -what was named the Beatoun wing--which had a quaint stone fireplace, -the grate of which was full of August flowers then, but at the hearth -of which in the winter of the year before Pinkeyfield was fought, his -Eminence had been wont to toast his scarlet-slippered toes. - -The furniture was quite modern. Fishing and shooting gear, with -whips, spurs, billiard cues, a few soiled books on farriery and -racing, were its chief features now; while sporting calendars, etc., -strewed the table, with a few note and account books, and letters of -minor importance. - -After gloomily referring to his late interview with Maude Lindsay, he -assisted himself to a briar-root pipe from a nice arrangement of -meerschaums and other pipes stuck in an oaken and steel mounted -horseshoe on the broad mantel-shelf, and prepared to soothe himself -with 'a weed' and the contents of a remarkably long tumbler--brandy -and soda--sent up, per Mr. Trotter, from the pantry of old Funnell, -the butler, for his delectation; while his pale and sallow-visaged -sister was content to sip from a slender glass a decoction of some -medical stuff prescribed for chronic low spirits and weak action of -the heart--an affliction under which she laboured, and to which, no -doubt, her pallid and at times stone-coloured complexion was -attributable. - -Always calm in demeanour, she was otherwise unlike her brother -Hawkey, who was not particular to a shade in anything (provided he -was not found out), and she was outwardly a model of religion and -propriety, blended with hypocrisy, which--according to -Rochefoucauld--is the homage that vice pays to virtue. - -Attired in a luxurious dressing-gown and tasselled smoking cap, Mr. -Sharpe lounged in a cosy easy-chair, shooting his huge cuffs forward -from time to time, and stroking his sandy, ragged moustache, in what -he thought to be 'good style.' - -Instead of being thick and podgy, as his humble origin might suggest, -his hands, we must admit, were rather thin, with long spiky filbert -nails, reminding one--with all their cultivated whiteness--of the -talons of a bird of prey. - -'Deuced good thing for us, Deb, that codicil was never completed,' -said he (for about the hundredth time), breaking a pause; 'but still -we have now that fellow, Roland Lindsay, back again, ready to -overhaul matters, after escaping Arab bullets and swords, desert -fever, and the devil only knows what more.' - -'You forget that this is his home,' said she, with a little touch of -womanly feeling for the moment, 'or he deems it as such.' - -'So long as you permit it, I suppose.' - -'I cannot throw down the glove to the County just now.' - -'But assume a virtue if you have it not,' said Hawkey, applying -himself to the long tumbler, that still sparkled and effervesced in -the lamp-light. - -'He cannot harm me, at all events.' - -'I don't know that, and I was deuced easier when he was away in -Egypt. Some might call this selfish--what the devil do I care! A -man's chief duty centres on himself.' - -'Without pity for the unfortunate?' - -'Don't be a humbug, Deb, and don't act to me! The poor and -unfortunate are so, by their own fault, I suppose. I wish to speak -with you about that to which I have--reluctantly--referred more than -once.' - -Mrs. Lindsay made a gesture of impatience, and said, while toying -with her pet cur Fifine: - -'Ah--money matters with reference to yourself in the future?' - -'Yes; but I do dislike, my dear Deb,' said he, with an affection -which she knew right well was mostly simulated, 'discussing them with -you.' - -'Why?' - -'It is so disagreeable.' - -'It would be more disagreeable for you if there were no money matters -to discuss,' she replied with the smallest approach to a sneer. -'But, to the point, Hawkey--I know what it is!' - -'You are not strong, you know, dear Deb; you may go off--' (the -hooks, he was about to say, but changed his mind)--'off suddenly, and -not leave your house well ordered. We should always be prepared for -the worst. You know what the best doctors in Edinburgh have told -you,' he added, burying his nose and moustache in the tumbler again. - -'Well?' said she. - -'I mean that you should execute that will you spoke of.' - -'In your favour?' - -'And so preclude all contention from any quarter--a hundred times I -have hinted this to you.' - -'How kind and soothing the reminder is!' she replied bitterly, -unwilling, like all selfish people, to adopt or face the dire idea of -death, sudden or otherwise. - -'I do advise you to consider well, Deb.' - -'For your sake, of course.' - -'Well--it may seem selfish, dear Deb.' - -'Ah--advice is a commodity which every possessor deems most valuable, -and yet hastens to get rid of.' - -Hawkey eyed her anxiously, for her irritation and animosity, when her -delicate health and disease of the heart were referred to, always -predominated over every other feeling, but she waived them for the -time and returned to the first subject. - -'So that was all your success with Maude?' - -'Not much, certainly,' he replied, with a scowl at vacancy. - -'Unfortunate!' - -'Rather!' - -'As the provision left by her father is a most ample one for her.' - -'Not so ample as all Earlshaugh, however,' thought he, refilling his -briar-root in silence. - -'You must persevere. It has been truly said that "the days of Jacob -are over, that men don't understand waiting now, and it is always as -well to catch your fish when you can."' - -Hawkey smoked on in silence. He had never before dared to lift his -eyes so high, never before ventured to 'make love' to a lady. His -past experience had been more sudden, abrupt, less bothersome, and -more acceptable. Had he done or said too much, or too little? Ought -he to have gone down on his knees like the lovers he had seen on the -stage, or read of in old story books? - -No--he was certain she would have laughed at him had he done so; and -he was also certain no one 'did that sort of thing' nowadays. The -age of such supplication was assuredly past; and he thought, -viciously too, that he had 'done all that may become a man.' - -'These bloated aristocrats, Deb, have a way all their own, of setting -a fellow down!' said he, with a louring expression in his shifty, -pale-gray eyes; 'she is, I know, my superior in position, in the way -the world goes, _as yet_,' he continued, for Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, -though longing for the vineyard of Naboth, was--at heart--a -Social-Democrat; 'my superior in birth, education, and habits.' - -'I should think so.' - -'Don't sneer at me, Deb.' - -'So far, perhaps, as Maude is concerned, your success depends, -Hawkey, upon whether there is anyone else in her thoughts.' - -'Before me, you mean?' - -'Yes--she may be engaged for all we know. I, for one, am certainly -not in her confidence. She has a lover, however, I suspect.' - -'It looks deuced like the case. I saw her post a letter to a fellow -named Elliot to-night,' he added, with a knit in his brow and an ugly -gleam in his pale eyes. - -'Elliot--that is the name of one of those who come here to shoot, for -the First.' - -'To shoot?' - -'Yes--on Roland's invitation.' - -'There may be something else shot than partridges.' - -'Elliot--Captain Elliot?' - -'Yes--that was the name on her letter.' - -'Well--you must not quarrel with him--that would be unseemly.' - -'My dear Deb, I never _quarrel_ with those I _hate_,' was the -comprehensive and sinister reply of Hawkey Sharpe, with his most -diabolical expression; 'and though I have never seen this interloper -Elliot, I feel a most ungodly hatred of him already.' - -'I repeat that no good can come of a vulgar quarrel, and that you -must not forget the proprieties. What would the servants alone say -or think?' - -'Oh, d--n the servants!' responded her brother, tugging his moustache -angrily; 'but if that fellow Elliot is her lover, I must put my -brains in steep and contrive to separate them at all hazards, Deb. -If I allow him or anyone else to enter the stakes, I shall be out of -the running. Anyhow, as you are looking pale, Deb, I mustn't keep -you here talking over my incipient love affairs, or you will not be -able to receive some of these infernal guests, who, I believe, come -to-morrow. You are not overburdened with visitors, however.' - -'Yet I would rather it was the time of their going than their -coming,' said Mrs. Lindsay, whom his remark touched on a tender point. - -'Why?' asked Hawkey. - -'They must soon perceive that I am tabooed by the county -families--that no one calls here as of old.' - -'Well?' - -'Except, perhaps, the people from the Manse and the doctor.' - -'Neither--or none--of whom I care to see.' - -'And yet I subscribe to all local charities, bazaars, school feasts, -as regularly----' - -'As if you were an Elder of the Kirk--thereby wasting your money to -win a place among the "unco guid," and all to no purpose,' said -Hawkey, with the slightest approach to derision. 'Well--well; how I -shall succeed with the fair Maude--if I succeed at all--time and a -little management, in more ways than one, will show,' he added with -knitted brows and hands clenched by thoughts that were full of vague -but savage intentions. - -'You know the proverb,' said Mrs. Lindsay, with a cold smile, as she -lifted up her dog and retired: 'a man may woo as he will, but maun -wed where his weird is.' - -Hawkey Sharpe set his teeth, and his eyes gleamed as he thought -with--but did not quote--Georges Ohnet, because he knew him not: -'Money is the password of these venal and avaricious times. Beauty, -virtue, and intelligence count for nothing. People no longer say, -"Room for the worthiest," but "Room for the wealthiest!"' - -Then other things occurred to him. - -'I am certain that Maude' (he spoke of her as 'Maude' to himself and -his sister) 'won't mention our little matter, for cogent reasons, to -her brother,' he reflected confidently;. 'but I must work the oracle -with Deb about her will. With that heart ailment which she -undoubtedly has, she may go off the hooks at any moment, as I, -perhaps unwisely, hinted; and I am not lawyer enough to know how old -Earlshaugh's last testament may stand; yet, surely, I am Deb's -heir-at-law, anyhow, I should think!' - -Unless Mr. Hawkey Sharpe had indulged--which was not improbable--in -'tall talk,' his language and disposition augured ill for the safety -and comfort of Maude's _fiancé_ if he came to Earlshaugh; but -Sharpe's threatened vengeance had no decided plan as yet. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -'FOOL'S PARADISE.' - -The earliest of the guests so roughly referred to by Mr. Hawkey -Sharpe, as stated in the preceding chapter, duly arrived in the noon -of the following day, and were closely reconnoitred by that personage -through a field-glass from an angle of the bartizan, and he was -enabled to perceive that there were only two young ladies--a tall, -dark-haired one, and another less in stature, very _petite_ indeed, -with a small, flower-like face and golden hair; for they were simply -the somewhat reluctant Hester Maule and the irrepressible Annot -Drummond, for whose accommodation Mrs. Drugget, the housekeeper, had -made all the necessary preparations. - -'Welcome to Earlshaugh--you are no stranger here, Hester!' said -Roland, as he kissed the latter when he assisted her to alight from -the carriage at the _porte-cochère_--the lightest and fleetest thing -possible in the way of a salute--one without warmth or lingering -force; but then Annot--whom he did not kiss at all 'before folk'--had -her hazel-green eyes upon them. - -For Annot he had the most choice little bouquet that old Willie -Wardlaw, the gardener, could prepare; but there was none for Hester, -an omission which the latter scarcely noticed. - -'And this is your home!' exclaimed Annot, burying her little nose -among the many lilies of the valley, pink rosebuds, and fragrant -stephanotis. - -'It is the home of my forefathers,' replied Roland almost evasively, -as he gave her his arm. - -'What a romantic reply--savours quite of a three-volume novel!' -exclaimed Annot, unaware of what the answer too literally implied, -and what was actually passing in Roland's mind; but Hester felt for -him, and saw the painful blush that crossed his nut-brown cheek. - -The family legal agent had not yet returned to Edinburgh, so Roland -had not been able to see or take counsel with him as to what -transpired when he was lurking in the desert after Kashgate. - -But Annot was come, and for the time he was content to live at -Earlshaugh in that species of Fool's Paradise--'to few unknown,' as -Milton has it. As yet nothing more had been heard of the meadowing -of the park or cutting down the King's Wood; and save that Mr. Hawkey -Sharpe from time to time crossed his path, and even--to Maude's -intense annoyance, and that of Roland from other causes--joined his -sister at the family meals, Roland had no other specific grievance; -but he felt as if upon a volcano. - -As Annot left the carriage, she was greeted warmly and kindly by -Maude, who was glad to return attentions received in London, and who -as yet knew nothing of how the young lady was situated with regard to -Roland, who now looked round for Mrs. Lindsay as the lady of the -house. - -But the latter, under the _régime_ of her predecessor, his mother, -'was too accurately acquainted with the weights and measures of -society for such a movement as that;' and thus received her two -guests--or Maude's rather--in the Red Drawing-room, accurately -attired in rich black moire, with lace lappets and jet ornaments; and -was, of course, 'delighted' to see both, while according to each, not -her hand, but a finger thereof; and Hester, who knew her well of old, -read again in her pale face that mixture of hardness and cunning with -which the slight smile on her thin lips--a smile that never reached -her sharp gray eyes--well accorded. - -Her eyes were handsome, and had been pleasing in their expression -once; but now her somewhat false position in Earlshaugh and her -secret ailment had imparted to them a defiant, restless, and peculiar -one. - -The coldness of her manner struck Hester as unpleasant; Roland's -politeness was not warmth that made up for it, and the girl already -began to think--'I was a fool--a weak fool to come! But how to get -away, now that I am here?' - -'It is a beautiful place!' thought the artful and ambitious little -Annot, when left for a few minutes in the solitude of her own room, -and, forgetting even to glance at her soft face and _petite_ figure -in the tall cheval glass or toilette mirror, gazed dreamily from the -windows, arched and deep in the massive wall, over the far extent of -pastoral country, tufted here and there with dark green woods, with a -glimpse of the German Sea in the distance; and she felt, for a time, -all the anticipative joy of being the mistress--the joint owner--of -such a stately old pile as Earlshaugh with all its surroundings, the -historic interest of which was to her, however, a sealed book; but -there is much in the glory of a sense of ownership, says a -writer--'of the ownership of land and houses, of beeves and woolly -flocks, of wide fields and thick growing woods, even when that -ownership is of late date, when it conveys to the owner nothing but -the realization of a property on the soil; but there is much more in -it when it contains the memories of old years; when the glory is the -glory of a race as well as the glory of power and property.' - -And though to a little town-bred bird like Annot such historic -flights were empty things, the old walls of Earlshaugh had seen -ancestors of Roland ride forth heading their followers with morion, -jack, and spear, to the fields of Flodden, Pinkey, and Dunbar; to the -muster place of the Fife lairds, in the year of Sherriffmuir, and to -many a stirring broil in the days when the Scotsman's sword was -always in his hand and never in its scabbard; but from such daydreams -as did occur to her, Annot was now roused by the welcome sound of the -luncheon gong echoing from the entrance-hall, and, dispensing with -the assistance of a maid, she hurried at once downstairs. - -In expectation of the gentlemen who were coming after the birds on -the First, a day or two passed off delightfully enough, amid the -novelty of Earlshaugh, and the evenings were devoted to music; and -despite the unwelcome presence of the cold, haughty, and somewhat -repellant Mrs. Lindsay, Annot, as at Merlwood, talked to Roland, -played for, sang to Roland, and put forth--more effusively than -ever--all her little arts in the way of attraction for him, and him -alone; which his sister Maude, to whom this style of thing was rather -new, looked on with amused surprise at first, and then somewhat -reprehensively and gloomily. - -To Hester, Roland, acting as host, was elaborate in his brotherly -kindness and attention; perhaps--nay doubtless--a lingering sentiment -of remorse had made him so; and she received it all, but with secret -pain and intense mortification, and Maude's soft blue eyes were not -slow to detect this. - -'Hester,' said Maude, with arms affectionately twined round her, 'I -used to think that you and Roland were very fond of each other!' - -'So we were,' said Hester in a low voice. - -'Were?' - -'Are, I mean--very fond of each other. Why should we be otherwise?' -stammered poor Hester, turning away for a moment. - -'I mean--I thought (uncle Harry used to quiz you both so much!) he -cared for you, and you for him more--more----' - -'Than cousins usually do?' - -'Yes.' - -'Oh, no--no--you mistake, dear Maude.' - -'Well--it seems Annot now; and yet I hope--ah, no--it cannot be.' - -One fact soon became too apparent to Roland Lindsay: that his sister -Maude did not like Annot Drummond now, if she ever did. - -'I never saw a girl so changed since we were at school together at -Madame Raffineur's in Belgium--even since I saw her last in London!' -said Maude; 'why, Roland, she has become quite an artful little woman -of the world!' - -'Artful--oh, Maude!' he expostulated. - -'Girls in their confidential moods say and admit many things their -best friends know nothing of; but don't let me vex you, dear Roland. -However, I don't like to hear Annot boast of enjoying cigarettes and -being a good shot.' - -'All talk, Maude; she takes a waggish delight in startling you -country folks. I'd stake a round sum on it, she never tried either,' -he replied, with undisguised irritation. - -Maude was silent for a moment; but she would have been more than -blind had she not seen how Annot and her brother were affected to -each other, and she disliked it. - -'You love Annot then?' she asked. - -'I do.' - -'And mean to--to marry her?' - -'I hope so.' - -'With Annot you have not a sentiment in common; and marriage between -two persons whose tastes are diverse is a great error.' - -'If our tastes are so; but surely we know our own minds, little one, -quite as much as you and Jack Elliot of ours do.' - -'There now--you are angry with me!' said Maude, with a pout on her -lip. - -'Angry--not at all, Maude; who could be angry with you? But I am -disappointed a little.' - -'And so am I--not a little, but very much.' - -'How?' - -'I always thought you were attached to our sweet and earnest-eyed -Hester.' - -'And so I am,' replied Roland, selecting a cigar with great apparent -care; 'but, as a cousin, you know.' - -'And now it seems to be Annot!' said Maude, with her white hands -folded on her knee and looking up at him with an air of annoyance. - -'Beyond my admissions just made, what led you to think so?' - -'A thousand things! I am not blind, nor is anyone else. According -to what you have said, then you must be engaged!' - -'Well--yes.' - -'And you keep it a secret?' - -'Yes.' - -'But why?' - -'Surely, Maude, that should be obvious to you. Till I can see old -Mr. MacWadsett and have certain matters cleared up.' - -'You are wise. But Annot, does she, too, wish the engagement kept -secret?' - -'Decidedly, from the world at least,' - -'A comprehensive word; but why?' - -'I have a little tour in Egypt before me yet.' - -'My poor Roland! But to me it seems that when a couple are engaged -there is no reason why all the world need not know of it, unless -there are impediments.' - -'Which certainly exist so far in our case. I am the heir of -Earlshaugh, yet is Earlshaugh mine? At the present moment,' he -added, with his teeth almost set in anger, 'congratulations might be -embarrassing.' - -Maude sighed for her brother's future, but not for her own. That -seemed assured. She thought that if the fashion of congratulations -prevented promises of marriage being lightly given, they served a -purpose that was good. She had read that a girl might say yes 'when -asked to marry, with the mental reservation that if anything better -came along she will continue not to keep her word and think twice -about it if she has to go through such a form' (and such a girl she -shrewdly suspected Annot to be). Maude also thought that marriage -engagements are frequently too lightly entered into and too lightly -set aside, and that the contract should be as sacred as marriage -itself. - -'You surely know Annot well?' said Roland, breaking a silence that -embarrassed him. - -'Oh yes,' replied Maude, without looking up. - -'I think you will learn to like, nay, must like her!' he urged. - -'I shall try, Roland,' was the dubious response, with which he was -obliged to content himself as with other things in his then Fool's -Paradise. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -AT EARLSHAUGH. - -For two or three days before the all-important First of September, -Roland, the old gamekeeper, Gavin Fowler, young Malcolm Skene, and -even the pardoned poacher Jamie Spens, had all been busy in a vivid -and anxious spirit of anticipation as the day approached. Many a -time had they reconnoitered by the King's Wood, the Mains of Dron, in -the Fairy Den, and elsewhere, till they knew every rood of -ground--ground over which Roland's father had last rambled on his old -shooting pony--by stubble field, hedgerow, and scroggy upland slope, -where the coveys of the neighbourhood lay, and knew almost the number -of birds in every covey; and many a time and oft the route of the -first day was planned, schemed out, and enjoyed in imagination; while -the dogs were carefully seen to in their kennels, and the guns and -ammunition inspected in the gunroom, as if a day of battle were at -hand. - -Yet, even in the Lowlands of Scotland, the palmy days of shooting are -gone in many places never to return. Muirland after muirland has -been enclosed, marshes reclaimed, and in other parts the hill slopes, -that were lonely, stern, and wild--often all but inaccessible--have -now become the sites of villas, mansions, and new-made railway -villages, till people sometimes may wonder what Cowper meant in his -'Task' when he wrote-- - - 'God made the country, and man made the town!' - -But much of this applies more to England than to the sister kingdom. - -The last evening of August saw a gay dinner party in the stately old -dining-hall of Earlshaugh, with Roland acting as host, and Mrs. -Lindsay, pale and composed as usual, but brilliant in his mother's -suite of diamonds (heir-looms of the line), too brilliant, he -thought, for the occasion, at the head of the table. - -Among other friends who had come for the morrow's shooting were Jack -Elliot and Malcolm Skene, both most prepossessing-looking young -fellows; and the style and bearing of both--but especially of the -former, who had about him that finishing touch which the service, -foreign travel, and good society impart--inspired the heart of Mr. -Hawkey Sharpe with much jealous rancour and envy, and with something -of mortification too. - -It may be superfluous to say that in all the elements that make a -perfect gentleman, and one accustomed to the world, he far outshone -the unfortunate Hawkey; and as he sat there, clad in evening costume, -toying with his wine-glass, and conversing in a pleasantly modulated -voice with Annot Drummond, who affected to be deeply interested in -Cairo and Alexandria, Tel-el-Kebir and Kassassin, he had no more -consciousness or idea of finding a rival in such a person than in old -Gavin Fowler, the keeper, or Funnell, the butler, who officiated -behind his chair. - -But Deborah--Mrs. Lindsay--was observing Elliot, and thought of her -brother's jealousy, his ambition and avarice, and his recent threats -with secret dread and misgivings, and, knowing of what he was -capable, she glanced at him uneasily from time to time as he sat -silent, almost sullen, and imbibing more wine than was quite good for -him. - -The appurtenances of the table, especially so far as plate went, were -all that might be expected in a house of such a style and age as -Earlshaugh, and the great chandelier that hung in the dome-shaped -roof with its profusely parqueted ceiling, shed a soft light over -all--on many a stately but dim portrait on the walls--among others, -one of the Lindsay of the Weird Yett, above the stone mantelpiece, on -which was carved the _fesse-chequy_ of Lindsay, crested by a tent, -with stars overhead, and the motto, _Astra castra, numen lumen_. - -In the centre of the board towered a giant silver épergne (the gift -of the Hunt to the late laird) laden with fruit and flowers, a -tableau representing the gallant King James V., the 'Commons King,' -slaying a stag at bay in Falkland Wood. - -Several attractive girls were present, but none perhaps were more so -in their different degree than Maude, with her sunny hair and winning -blue eyes; Hester, with her pure complexion, soft bearing, and rich -dark-brown braids; and Annot, with her flower-like face, childish -playfulness of manner, and glorious wealth of shining golden tresses. - -Nearly all at the table were young, and the dinner was a happy and -joyous one, save perhaps to Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, who felt himself, with -all his profound assurance, somewhat _de trop_, though he deemed -himself, as he was, certainly 'got up as well as any fellow there.' - -He was as vain of the form and whiteness of his hands as ever Lord -Byron was, and he was wont to hold forth his right one, clenching a -cambric handkerchief, with a brilliant sparkling ring of unusual -size. His tie was faultless, his eyeglass arrogant and offensive, -especially to Elliot, after a time; his would-be general air of -stiffness and languid exclusiveness (imitated ill from others) sat as -grotesquely on him as his habit of leaving remarks unanswered, while -to all appearance critically examining the condition of his spiky -finger-nails. - -His presence on this particular occasion, though under the auspices -of his sister, at first roused Roland's anger to fever heat, and the -latter took his seat at table with a very black expression in his -handsome face indeed; but he saw or felt the necessity for -dissembling, and ignored his existence. Then after a time, affected -by the geniality of his surroundings, by the bright, pleasant faces -of his friends, the conversation, and the circulation of Mr. -Funnell's good wines--more than all, by the presence of such a sunny -little creature as Annot, who had been consigned to the care of Jack -Elliot--he completely thawed, and acted the host to perfection. - -At his back stood old Funnell, his rubicund visage shining like a -harvest moon, radiant to see Roland in his father's chair and place -at the foot of the table, even though she, Mrs. Lindsay (_née_ -Deborah Sharpe), was at the head thereof, though 'not Falkland bred,' -an old and unforgotten Fife saying of the days of the princely -James's which conveys much there with reference to birth and breeding. - -So Roland tried to forget--perhaps for the time actually forgot--the -probable or inevitable future, and strove to be genial with her, -though it was quite beyond him to be so with her cub of a brother; -and, indeed, he never stooped to address him at all. - -From the opposite side of the table Elliot silently enjoyed the -luxury of admiring his merry-eyed and bright-haired Maude, and all -the natural grace of her actions; but Hawkey Sharpe was seated -directly opposite to her too; yet her manner betrayed--even to his -keen and observant eyes--none of the annoyance or constant confusion -which might have shown itself as regarded _him_ and a recent episode, -as she entirely ignored his existence, while the presence of Jack -shed an ægis over her. - -After the ladies withdrew, in obedience to a silent sign from Mrs. -Lindsay, the conversation of the gentlemen, as they closed up towards -Roland's chair, developed some unpleasant features; for Hawkey -Sharpe, whose tongue was loosened and his constitutional impudence -encouraged by Funnell's excellent Pomery-greno, evinced an unpleasant -disposition to cavil at and contradict whatever Elliot advanced or -mentioned--rather a risky proceeding on the part of Mr. Sharpe, as -Elliot was what has been described as a 'stand-offish sort of man, -with whom one would not care to joke on an early acquaintance, or -slap on the back and call 'old fellow,' or abbreviate his Christian -name;' so, when the different breeds of sporting dogs and new -fire-arms were under discussion, the steward said abruptly: - -'Guns--oh, talking of guns, there is nothing I know for sport like -that with the new grip action, with Schultze powder.' - -'Ah! you mean,' said Elliot, 'the one with the only action that works -independently of the top lever spring.' - -'Yes.' - -'But not for partridges or pheasants.' - -'For anything,' said Sharpe curtly. - -'Come, you are mistaken,' replied Jack. - -'Not at all,' said Sharpe doggedly. - -'Excuse me,' said the young officer; 'as a sportsman and an -ex-instructor in musketry, you may permit me to have some knowledge -of fire-arms; but the one you refer to is for big game, and will -neither stick nor jam like the Government rubbish issued to us in -Egypt, and is based on the non-fouling principle.' - -'Non-fowling? It will shoot any fowl you aim at,' replied Sharpe, -mistaking his meaning; 'but you don't know what you are talking -about.' - -Elliot simply raised his eyebrows and stared at the speaker for a -moment. - -'You heard me?' added Sharpe, with an angry gleam in his eye. - -Elliot turned to Skene and spoke of something else; but his cool and -steady, yet inoffensive, stare, and his ignoring the last defiant -remark, exasperated Hawkey Sharpe, who had--we have said--imbibed -more wine than he was wont; and, like all men of his class, -particularly felt the quiet contempt implied by the other's silence -and utter indifference to his presence--a spirit of defiance very -humiliating and difficult to grapple with, especially by the -underbred; thus, 'while nursing his wrath to keep it warm,' Sharpe -was determined to pursue a system of aggravation, and when Elliot -remarked to Roland, in pursuance of some general observations, that -shooting, even in the matter of black-game and muirgame, should never -begin till October, as thousands of young partridges that are not -fair game would escape being shot by gentlemen-poachers, or falling a -prey when in the hedges and hassocks to the mere pot-hunter--Hawkey -Sharpe contradicted him bluntly, without knowing what to urge on the -contrary, and made some blundering statements about following young -game into the standing corn, and how jolly it was to pot even young -pheasants in the standing barley during the month of September. - -'In these little matters, my good man, you are rather at variance -with Colonel Hawker.' - -'Who the devil is Hawker?' said Sharpe. - -'A great authority on all such matters, sir,' said young Skene, 'and -not to have heard of him argues that you are--well, imperfectly up in -the subject.' - -'Which we had better drop,' said Roland, with a dangerous sparkle in -his dark eyes; 'but pass the decanters, Jack--they stand with you.' - -Mr. Hawkey Sharpe gave an audible sniff of contempt, meant, -doubtless, for Elliot, whose cool stare at him was now blended with a -smile indicative of curiosity and amusement, that proved alike -enraging and baffling. - -When the gentlemen rose to join the ladies in the drawing-room, -whence came the distant notes of the piano and the voice of Annot -Drummond with her inevitable '_Du du_,' Hawkey Sharpe, with an -unpleasant consciousness that he had been somewhat foolish and had -the worst of his arguments, withdrew to his sanctum in the Beatoun -wing to growl and smoke over his brandy and soda, and was seen no -more for that night. - -Pausing in the entrance-hall, Elliot said: - -'Pardon me, Roland, but who is that unmitigated cad who contradicted -me so at table?--seemed to want to fix a quarrel, by Jove!' - -Roland coloured. - -'Why, you redden as if he was a bailiff in disguise--a man in -possession!' said Elliot, laughing. - -'You forget, Jack, that such officials are unknown on this side of -the Border.' - -'Then who or what is he?' persisted Elliot. - -'My overseer--steward.' - -'Steward--the devil! and you have a fellow of that kind at table.' - -'Mrs. Lindsay has--not I,' replied Roland, with growing confusion and -annoyance. 'There are wheels within wheels here at Earlshaugh, -Jack--a little time and you shall know all, even before the pheasants -you disputed about are ready for potting.' - -But before that period came, or the opportunity so lightly referred -to, much was to happen at Earlshaugh that none could at all foresee. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -'MY LOVE SHE'S BUT A LASSIE YET.' - -The First of September came in all that could be wished for the -shooting, in which, to Roland's disgust and Elliot's surprise, Hawkey -Sharpe took a part, but attired in accurate sporting costume, and -duly armed with an excellent breech-loader. The corn was yellow in -some places, the stubble bare in others; there were rich 'bits' of -colour in every field, and silver clouds floating in the blue expanse -overhead. In such light, says a writer with an artistic eye, 'the -white horses seem cut out of silver, the chestnuts of ruddy-gold; -while the black horses stand out against the sky as if cut in black -marble; and what gaps half a dozen reapers soon make in the standing -corn!' - -Then the trails of the ground convolvulus and cyanus or corn-flower, -of every hue, may be seen, while the little gleaners are afield, -tolerated by a good-hearted farmer, who, like Boaz of old, may, -perhaps, permit the poor to glean 'even amongst the sheaves.' -Elsewhere the fern and heather-covered muirlands were beautiful, with -their tiny bushes laden with wild fruits, bramble, and sloe. - -How the shooting progressed there--how coveys were flushed and -surrounded; how the brown birds rose whirring up, and the _cheepers_ -tumbled over in quick succession or were caught by the dogs; how the -latter found the birds lurking among turnips or potatoes, or where -the uncut corn waved (for there they shelter, engender, and breed), -till they rose in coveys of twenty and even thirty--may not interest -the reader, so now we must hasten on to other points in our story, -having more important matters to relate; but, as Mr. Hawkey Sharpe -had an unpleasant reputation for shooting sometimes a little wildly, -and forgetting the line of fire, all--by the whispered advice of old -Fowler, the keeper--gave him a very wide berth in the field, and of -this he was angrily conscious. - -Yet he brought upon himself the irate animadversions of most of the -sportsmen, and more particularly of Jack Elliot, by ill-using one of -the best pointers on the ground. Trained by old Gavin Fowler, this -animal would not only stand at the scent of a bird or a hare, but, if -in company, would instantly _back_ if he saw another dog point. This -perfection, the propensity to stand at the scent of game, though a -striking example of intelligence and docility, was so misunderstood -by Hawkey Sharpe that he dealt poor Ponto a blow with the butt-end of -his rifle, eliciting an oath from the white-haired keeper, and anger -from all--remarks which made him clench his teeth with rage and -mortification. - -But, as the hot month of September is not meant for hard fagging, the -whole party were back at the house by luncheon-time, and the united -spoil of all the bags was duly laid out by braces on the pavement of -the court-yard, and a goodly show it made. - -After shooting in the morning and forenoon, as there were three sets -of lovers among the party at Earlshaugh, much of the time was spent -in riding, driving, and rambling about the grounds and their -vicinity, while Roland found a congenial task in teaching Annot to -ride, as he had procured a most suitable pad for her, by the aid of -old Johnnie Buckle, at the Cupar Tuesday Fair; and just then nothing -seemed to exist for him but Annot's white soft cheek, her golden -hair, and the graceful little figure that made all other women look, -to his eyes, angular and peculiar; and then truly he felt that 'there -are days on which heaven opens to us all, though to many of us next -day it shuts again.' And shut indeed it seemed to Malcolm Skene, who -followed Hester like her shadow, and whose eyes often wore a tender -and wistful intensity as he gazed upon her soft dark ones without -winning one responsive glance; and he would seek to lure her into the -subject that was nearest his own heart--his great love for her--while -with the rest, but always somewhat apart, they would ramble on by the -silvery birches in the Fairy's Den, by the King's Wood, with its -great old oaks and heaven-high Scottish firs that towered against the -blue sky; in the leafy dingles where the white-tailed rabbits -skurried out of their sandy holes, where the birds twittered -overhead, the black gleds soared skyward in the welkin, the dun deer -started from the rustling bracken and underwood, and so on to where -the woods grew more open, and there came distant glimpses of the -German Sea or perhaps of the Firth of Tay, rippling in the glory of -the evening sun as it set beyond the Sidlaw Hills. - -Unlike Maude and Elliot, who took their assured regard with less -demonstration, Roland and Annot Drummond--owing doubtless to the -impressible and effusive nature of the latter young lady--were so -much together, everywhere and every way, as to provoke a smile among -their friends and an emotion of amusement, which certainly Hester -Maule did not share. - -'Why did I come here after all?' she often asked of herself, as her -mind harked back to old days and dreams. 'I could have declined that -woman, old Deborah's invitation, and Roland's too. Save papa's -suspicions, there was no compulsion upon me. Fool that I have been -to come--yet,' she would add with a bitter smile, 'I shall not wear -my heart on my sleeve.' - -Thus she seemed to lead the van in every proposed scheme for -amusement, and the attentions of her old admirer, Malcolm Skene, if -they failed to win, at least pleased and soothed her; and, watching -her sometimes, Roland would think-- - -'Well, after all, I am glad to see her so happy.' - -A ball had early been proposed, but through the opposition or -mal-influence of Mrs. Lindsay the scheme proved a failure; visions of -the large dining-hall gay with floral decorations, the lines on the -floor and the ball cloth smooth and tight as a drum-head, passed -away, and a simple, half-impromptu carpet-dance was substituted; -hired musicians were procured from the nearest town, and all the -invited--even Hester--looked forward to a night of enjoyment; and, -sooth to say, since her visit she had sedulously done all in her -power to avoid meeting Roland alone--no difficult matter, so occupied -was he with Annot; and then Earlshaugh was a large and rambling old -house, intersected by tortuous passages without end, little landings -and flights of steps in unexpected places, rooms opening curiously -out of each other, and turret stairs up and down, the result of -repairs and additions in past times: thus, while it was a glorious -old house for flirtation, for appointments and partings, it was quite -possible for two persons to reside therein and yet meet each other -seldom, unless they wished it to be otherwise. - -It was impossible for the mind of Hester not to dwell on the time -when Roland was--as she thought--her lover; of rambles and -conversations and silences that were eloquent, and beatings of the -heart in the bat-haunted gloaming, when the Esk gurgled over its -stony bed and the crescent moon was in the violet-tinted sky. - -She thought she had got over it all, but she had not yet--she felt -that she had not; but now Malcolm Skene was there, and she might if -she chose show Roland the sceptre of power, and that the art of -pleasing was still hers as ever. - -Roland had actually been more than once on the point of seeking some -apologetic explanation with her; in his inner consciousness he felt -that he owed it to her; but he shrank from it with a species of moral -cowardice--he who had hacked his way out of the carnage of Kashgate, -and ridden through the slaughter of other Egyptian fields; and though -he had often rehearsed in his mind the _amende_ he owed her, how -could he dare to approach it? - -'It was a mistake of his at Merlwood thinking that he loved me,' -Hester would ponder on the other hand; 'and he did not know -then--still less did I--that it was a mistake; but I know it now! -The only thing left for me is to school myself, if I can, to love him -as a friend or sister, a cousin merely. But it is hard--hard after -all; and for such an artificial girl as Annot!' - -Maude's carpet-dance--for the idea was hers--proved a great success, -and many were present to whom, as they have no place in our story, we -need not refer; but the music was excellent, and from an arched and -partially curtained recess of the Red Drawing-room it swelled along -the lofty ceilings and through the stately apartment, on the floor of -which the dancers glided away to their hearts' content. - -Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, bold and unabashed, was there attired _de rigueur_ -in evening costume; but even he did not venture on asking Maude to -favour him with one dance; yet he ground his sharp teeth from time to -time as he watched her and Captain Elliot, and overheard some--but -only some of his remarks to her, though Hawkey had the ears of a fox. - -'Maudie, darling, I am afraid you are tired,' said Jack tenderly, -pausing for a moment. - -'Already? Not at all, Jack; I would go on for ever,' exclaimed the -girl, and they swept away again. - -To her how delightful it was, waltzing with him--his hand pressed -lightly on her willowy waist, her fingers, gloved and soft and -slender, just resting on his shoulder; a faint perfume of her silky -hair, a drowsy languor in every movement and in the whole situation. - -'After we are married, Maudie,' whispered Jack, 'I am sure I shall -disapprove of waltzing.' - -'Disapprove--why?' - -'Because I shall hate to see you whirling away with another.' - -'Don't be a goose, Jack.' - -'Won't I have the right to forbid you?' - -'A right I shall not recognise. You surely would not be jealous of -me?' - -'Of you--no; but of others--a humiliating confession, is it not?' he -added, smiling tenderly down upon her. - -Though it was all a hastily got up and _impromptu_ affair, Maude and -Annot were radiantly happy; the latter in securing such a lover as -Roland Lindsay, with all his surroundings, which she appreciated -highly, as they far exceeded the most brilliant hopes and aspirations -of herself and her match-making mother in South Belgravia. Her soft -cheeks flushed and paled, and her tiny feet--for tiny they were as -those of Cinderella--beat responsive to the music; and in the fulness -of her own joy even her original emotions of covetousness, and -ambition perhaps, were dimmed or lessened; while the dances which she -had with Roland seemed quite unlike those she had enjoyed with other -men; even when Hawkey Sharpe, who, being a Scotchman, danced of -course, ploughing away with the minister's good-natured daughter, -cannoned with some violence against them, and made Roland frown and -mutter under his moustache till he drew Annot into the recess of a -window, and while fanning her, and in doing so lightly ruffling Her -shining hair, talked that soft nonsense so dear to them then. - -'How childlike you are, Annot, in the brightness of your joy and in -your genuine love of amusement!' said he admiringly, as he stooped -over her. - -'I feel as light as a bird when I hear good dance music like that and -have such a good partner as you, Roland,' she exclaimed, looking up, -her green hazel eyes beaming with pleasure. - -'How could it be otherwise,' said he, 'when, - - "My love she's but a lassie yet, - A lightsome, lovely lassie yet." - -a sweet one that never had even a passing _penchant_, I am sure, or -perhaps a flirtation!' - -'Yet having a very decided tendency thereto.' replied Annot, with one -of her arch smiles. 'But nothing more, dear Roland, nothing more!' -she added, perfectly oblivious of poor Bob Hoyle and many other -'detrimentals,' as Mamma Drummond called them. - -'Have you never had even what the French call a _caprice_?' he asked, -with a soft laugh and a fond glance. - -'Never--never--till----' - -'Till when?' - -'I came to Merlwood.' - -'My little darling!' - -'So Hester and Mr. Skene are dancing together again,' said Annot, -anxious to change what she deemed a dangerous subject. 'I saw her -dancing with Captain Elliot after you resigned her.' - -'Yes--she seems enjoying herself, poor Hester!' - -'I am so glad to see her with Mr. Skene.' - -'Why?' - -'Because I hope they will marry yet, and bring their little comedy to -a close.' - -'How a young girl's mind always runs on love and marriage!' said -Roland. 'But this little comedy you refer to, I never heard of it, -save from yourself.' - -'Indeed!' replied Annot, who, from cogent reasons of her own, was -anxious to make the most of Skene's undoubted admiration for Hester. -'I've noticed them greatly in London.' - -'I always knew that Malcolm was her unvarying admirer, who singled -her out in the Edinburgh assemblies and balls elsewhere from the -first, and had, of course, poured much sweet nonsense into her pretty -little ears--treasured flowers she had worn, gloves, handkerchiefs, -bits of ribbon, and all that sort of thing----' - -'Which you all do?' - -'That I don't admit, Annot.' - -'Anyway, this absurd appreciation of each other's society was a -source of great amusement to us in London,' she continued, not very -fairly, so far as concerned Hester; but then Annot, a far-seeing -young lady, was full of past preconceived suspicions and of present -plans of her own. - -'However, Annot, this little affair is nothing to us--to _me_,' added -Roland, and oddly enough, with the slightest _soupçon_ of pique in -his glance and tone, as he saw Malcolm Skene, a tall and stately -fellow, who might please any woman's eye--and did please the eyes of -many--leading his dark-eyed and dark-haired cousin, not into the -whirl of dances, nor to the refreshment-room, but--as if almost -unconsciously--towards the entrance of the long and dimly-lighted -conservatory which opened off the Red Drawing-room. - -As Jack Elliot was too well-bred a man to attract attention by -dancing too much with Maude, his _fiancée_, the observant Mr. Hawkey -Sharpe saw, with no small satisfaction, that for nearly the remainder -of the night he bestowed the most of his attention on strangers, -wholly intent that Maude's little entertainment should please all and -go off well, and that intention, which Mr. Sharpe misunderstood, was -one of the causes that led to a serious misadventure at a future time. - -Old Gavin Fowler, as he carried Ponto home in his arms to his own -lodge, while the dog, conscious of kindness, whined and licked his -weather-beaten hands, had muttered between his teeth to Roland: - -'A better dog never entered a field! Eleven years has he followed -me, and now he is thirteen years auld, and can yet find game wi' the -youngest and the best whelp we hae; and to think that he should get -sic a clowre from a clod like that! But dogs bark as they are -bred--so does Hawkey Sharpe! He's like the witches o' Auchencraw; -he'll get mair for your ill than your gude.' - -A proverb that means, favours are often granted an individual through -fear of his malevolence. - -Roland felt all the words implied, and colouring, said, pale with -anger: - -'He shall pay up this score and others, I hope, ere long, Gavin.' - -And Mrs. Lindsay placed her hand upon her heart, on hearing of the -episode, and was secretly thankful that the only one who suffered -from Hawkey's jealous vengeance was poor Ponto, the pointer. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -HESTER RECEIVES A PROPOSAL. - -Annot was certainly curious to know what was passing between the two -whom she had seen wandering into the cooler atmosphere of the -conservatory; but she could not at the same time relinquish the -society of Roland, and to suggest that they should adjourn thither -might only mar the end she wished--without any real affection for -Hester--to come to pass, as she had not been without her own -suspicions retrospectively. But, sore though it was, we fear that -the heart of Hester Maule was not to be caught on the rebound. - -And in dread and dislike of Annot's observation, her jests and -comments, she had--so far as she could--lately avoided being, if -possible, for a moment alone with Malcolm Skene, or giving him an -opportunity of addressing her, and he had felt this keenly. - -In the long drawing-room the dancing was still gaily in progress, and -the soft strains of Strauss went floating along the leafy and -gorgeous aisles of the conservatory, where Skene and Hester had--so -far as she was concerned--unconsciously wandered. She seated -herself, wearily and flushed with dancing, while he hung over her, -with his elbow resting on a shelf of flowers, while looking pensively -and tenderly down on her--on the heaving of her rounded bosom, her -long dark lashes, and the clear white parting of the rich brown hair -on her shapely head, longing with all his soul to place his arms -round her, and draw that beloved head caressingly on his breast; and -yet the words he said at first were somewhat commonplace after all. -But Hester, while slowly fanning herself to hide the tremulousness of -her hands, knew and felt intuitively that a scene between them was on -the tapis; and, deeming it inevitable at some time or other, she -thought the sooner it was over the better; and in the then weariness -of her heart, she felt a little reckless; but his introductory -remarks surprised her by their bluntness. - -'My life now seems but one manoeuvre, Miss Maule--to be alone with -you for a moment or two.' - -Hester made some inaudible reply; so he resumed: - -'I have heard it said by some--by whom matters not--that you are -engaged, Miss Maule?' - -'Then they know more than I do--but to whom have my good friends -assigned me?' - -'To your cousin.' - -'Roland!' - -'Yes.' - -'I am not engaged to Roland certainly,' replied Hester, her lips and -eyelashes quivering as she spoke. - -'I thought not,' said Malcolm Skene, gathering courage; 'Miss -Drummond seems to me his chief attraction. If he is as happy as I -wish him, he will be the happiest of deserving men.' - -'The phrase of a novel writer, Mr. Skene,' said Hester, a little -bitterly, as she thought over some episodes at Merlwood; 'but do not -talk so inflatedly of what men deserve. The best of them are often -unwise, unkind, unjust.' - -'Do not blame all men for the faults perhaps of one,' said Skene at -haphazard, and a little unluckily, as the speech went home to -Hester's heart. She grew pale, as if he had divined her secret. - -'I do not understand you,' she faltered a little haughtily, while -flashing one upward glance at him. - -'Considering the way you view men now, and the way you avoid or -rebuff me, I wonder that I have got a word with you, as I do -to-night.' - -'Do I rebuff you?' - -'Yes--to my sorrow, I have felt it.' - -'Sorrow--of what do you really accuse me?' - -'Treating me with coldness, distance----' - -'I am not aware--that--that----' she paused, not knowing what to say. - -'Hester--dearest Hester,' said he in a low and earnest voice, while -stealing nearer her and assuring himself by one swift glance that -they were alone in the conservatory; 'let me call you so, were it -only for to-night--you know how long I have loved you, and surely you -will love me a little in time. I know how true, how tender of heart -you are; I know, too, that I have no rival in the present--with the -past I have nothing to do; but tell me, even silently, by one touch -of your hand, that you love me in turn, or will try to love me in -time, Hester--dear, dear Hester!' - -She opened her lips, but no sound came from them, and her interlaced -hands trembled in her lap, for the 'scene' had gone somewhat beyond -her idea in depth and earnestness; and she felt that Malcolm Skene's -deduction as regarded there being no rival in the present was a -mistake in one sense. - -Encouraged by her silence, and construing it in his own favour, -little conceiving that her head was then full of a false idol, he -resumed: - -'Hester, ever since I first saw and knew you, it has been the great -hope of my existence to make you my wife.' - -Still the girl was voiceless, and felt chained to her seat. - -She could feel--yea, could hear her heart beating painfully, as she -had a pure regard and most perfect esteem for the young fellow by her -side; and thought that to the end of her days the perfume of the lily -of the valley, of stephanotis, and other plants close by would come -back to memory with Malcolm's voice, the strains of Strauss, the -strange atmosphere of the conservatory, and the dull sense of -unreality that was over her then. - -'Oh, Hester, will you not tell me that you will try to love me--to -love me a little? Have you not a single word to give me?' - -Passionately earnest were his handsome eyes--anxious and eager was -his lowered voice and the expression of his clearly cut face. He -said nothing to her, as other men might have done, of his fortune, of -his estate, of his lands of Dunnimarle that overlooked the Forth, of -his prospects or his future; all such items were forgotten in the -present. Neither did he urge that he was going far--far away from -her soon--much sooner than he had then the least idea of--to enhance -his value in her eyes, or win her interest in his favour; for even -that, too, he forgot. - -She looked up at him with her soft, velvety, dark-blue eyes suffused, -gravely and kindly; the charming little tint gone from her rounded -cheeks; her whole face looking very sweet and fair, but not wearing -the expression of one who listened with happiness to a welcome tale -of love. - -'Oh, why do you say all this to me, Mr. Skene--Malcolm I shall call -you for old acquaintance' sake--why ask me to marry you?' - -'Why? a strange question, Hester,' said he, a little baffled by her -apparent self-possession, while tremulous with joy to hear for the -first time his Christian name upon her lips. - -'Yes--why?' she asked, wearily and sadly. - -'Because I love you as much as it is in the nature of an honest man -to love a woman.' - -'But--but I do not return the sentiment--I cannot love you as you -would wish.' - -'Not even in the end, Hester?' - -'What end?' - -'Any time I may give you and hopefully wait for?' - -She shook her head and cast down her white eyelids. - -'And yet no one else seeks your love?' said he a little reproachfully. - -'No one else.' - -'Can I never make you care for me?' he urged in a kind of dull -desperation. - -'Pardon me--but I do not think so; my regard, my friendship and -gratitude will ever be yours; but please--please,' she added almost -piteously, 'do not let us recur to this matter again.' - -'You feel the impossibility----' - -'Of receiving your words as you wish.' - -'You are at least candid with me, Hester; and I shall, indeed, -trouble you no more.' - -He spoke with more grief than bitterness, as he dropped the little -and softly gloved hand which he had captured for a moment. - -She then passed it over his arm and rose, as if to show that all was -over and that they were to return to the drawing-room--which she now -deeply regretted having quitted--and with them the dancing, the joy, -and the brilliance of Maude's little fête had departed for the night. - -Skene felt that nothing was left for him now but to quit Earlshaugh -at once, and the time and the hour came sooner than he expected, and -all the more welcome now. - -But the adventures of the night--adventures in which Mr. Hawkey -Sharpe bore a somewhat prominent part--were not yet over. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - -MR. SHARPE MAKES A MISTAKE. - -Maude, though she knew not then the reason, had seen how Hester -Maule, after coming from the conservatory, with a kind of good-night -bow to Skene, had abruptly quitted the dancers, and looking pale, -ill, and utterly out of spirits, had retired to her own room, whither -she soon accompanied her; but failing to learn the reason of her -discomposure, was returning downstairs to have one last turn with -Jack Elliot, when she suddenly met Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, the result of -whose attentions to the wine in the refreshment-room was pretty -apparent in his face and watery gray eyes, and he paused unsteadily -with a hand on the great oaken banisters. - -As Maude came tripping down the broad stone staircase with leisurely -grace and clad in a soft and most becoming dress, one of those 'whose -apparently inexpensive simplicity men innocently admire, and over the -bills for which husbands and fathers wag their heads aghast,' he -glanced appreciatively at her snowy neck and shoulders, where her -girlish plumpness hid even the small collar-bones; at her beautiful, -blooming face, her sunny hair; her petulant, scornful mouth, and -delicate profile; while she, with some remembrance of how he had -acquitted himself among the dancers, and when waltzing, in attempting -to reverse, had spread dismay around him, for a moment felt inclined -to smile. - -Wine gave Hawkey Sharpe fresh courage, and just then some new -thoughts had begun to occur to him. - -He had seen that--unlike young Malcolm Skene, who hovered about -Hester like her shadow, and unlike Roland, who was never absent from -the side of Annot--Captain Elliot and Maude were not apparently -overmuch together; for in the assured position of their love and -engagement they seemed in society very much like other persons. He -was ignorant of the mystery that there could be - - 'Sighs the deeper for suppression, - And stolen glances sweeter for the theft,' - -and in the coarseness of his nature and lack of fine perception he -mistook the situation, and began to think that, notwithstanding all -he heard mooted, and notwithstanding the fact of seeing a letter -addressed in Maude's handwriting to the gentleman in question, there -might be 'nothing in it,' but perhaps an incipient flirtation; and he -had resolved on the first opportune occasion to renew his -pretensions, as the Captain had evidently danced much with other -girls--perhaps, he thought, had preferred them--during the past night. - -And now it seemed the time had come; and, over and above all his -extreme assurance, he thought to win through her terror and necessity -of temporizing for appearance' sake what she never might yield to any -regard for himself; and even now, as he prepared to address her, -anger, fear, and a sickly sense of humiliation suddenly came into the -heart of Maude, though a moment before it had been beating happily -with thoughts that were all her own. - -'I hope,' said he, with what he meant for a smile, but was more like -a grimace, 'that you enjoyed the dancing to-night, Miss Lindsay?' - -'Thanks,' replied Maude curtly. 'I hope you, too, have been amused,' -she added, making a side step to pass, but, as on a previous -occasion, he barred the way, and said: - -'I did not venture to ask you for one dance, even.' - -Maude, who deemed his presence there, though at the invitation most -probably of her stepmother, presumption enough, smiled coldly and -haughtily, and was about to pass down with a bow, which might mean -anything, when, still opposing her progress, he said, while eyeing -her fair beauty with undisguised admiration, and with a would-be soft -voice, which, however, was rather 'feathery': - -'Have you quite forgotten the subject on which I last addressed you?' - -'The subject!' - -'Yes.' - -'I have not forgotten your profound presumption, Mr. Sharpe, as I -then called it, if it is to that you refer,' replied Maude, trembling -with anger. - -'Presumption! You so style my veneration--my regard--my----' - -'Take care what you say, sir, and how you may provoke my extreme -patience too far,' interrupted Maude, her face now blanched and pale. - -'Your patience! _that_ for it!' said he, suddenly snapping his -fingers, and giving way to a sudden gust of coarse anger that caused -his cheeks to redden and his eyes to gleam. 'It is your fear of -me--your fear of me for your brother and his popinjay friends that -gives you what you pretend to call patience, Maude Lindsay, and by -the heavens above us,' he continued, wine and rage mounting into his -brain together, 'by the heavens above us, I say, if that fellow -Elliot-- - -What he was about to say remains unknown, as it was suddenly cut -short. A hand from behind was laid firmly on his right ear, and by -that he was twisted round, flaming with rage, fury, and no small -amount of pain, to find himself confronted by the calm, stern, and -inquiring face of the very person he referred to--Captain Elliot. - -There was a half-minute's pause after the latter flung Hawkey Sharpe -aside. - -The steward glared at his assailant, who scarcely knew what to make -of the situation, a sound like a hiss escaping through his teeth in -his speechless rage and sense of affront, he clenched his hands till -the spiky nails pierced his flesh. He grew deadly pale, and, with an -almost grotesque expression of hate there is no describing in his -pale, shifty, and watery eyes, he turned away muttering something -deeply and huskily; while with a smile of disdain Jack Elliot drew -the trembling girl's arm through his own and led her downstairs; but -her dancing was over for that night. - -'Maudie, darling, is that fellow mad? What the deuce is all this -about?' asked Elliot, full of concern and surprise. - -'Jack, dear Jack,' said Maude beseechingly, and in tears now, 'I -implore you not to speak to Roland of this unseemly episode.' - -'The fellow seems to have taken too much wine.' - -'Yes, Jack, and forgot himself.' - -'But he should have remembered you, and who you are.' - -'But you don't know--you can't know, how Roland is situated,' said -Maude, in a breathless and broken voice. - -'I suspect much; but there--don't weep, Maude; the fellow's whole -existence is not worth one of your tears.' - -Maude was full of fear and distress for what might ensue if Roland -knew all. Alas! she could very little foresee what _did_ ensue. - -But notwithstanding his promise to Maude, Elliot was too puzzled by -the apparent mystery, and her too evident sense of grief and -mortification, not to make some small reference to the affair when he -and Roland met for a farewell cigar in the smoke-room, after the last -of the guests had driven away. He kept, however, Maude's name out of -the matter. - -'I am loth, Roland, to have an unseemly row with one of your -dependents; but, d--n me, if I don't feel inclined to lash that -fellow--Sharpe, I think, his name is!' - -'He is certainly an underbred fellow,' said Roland uneasily. - -'Then why not send him to the right-about?' - -'Easier said than done, Jack--if you knew all,' said Roland, almost -with a groan; 'but has he been rude to you?' - -'To me--well--yes, in a way he has.' - -'With all his impudent would-be air of ease, it is evident he has -none, as one may see at a glance,' said Skene, who had been smoking -moodily in a corner, 'he is a man who does not know what to do with -his legs and arms, or to seem in any way at ease like a gentleman.' - -'I feel at times that I would like to kick the fellow,' said Roland, -with a sudden gush of anger, 'when he sits with that aggravating -smile and see-nothing look on his face, yet "taking stock" of -everyone and everything all round--all the while answering me so -softly, when he knows that I am burning with contempt and dislike of -him. If he would get into a passion and fly out I would respect him -more, but he seems to be for ever biding his time--his time for -what?' added Roland, almost to himself. - -'Passion? You should have seen him to-night!' said Elliot, who, -unfortunately for himself, had not yet seen the tail of the storm he -had roused; 'but why give him house-room, I say?' - -'He is just now a necessary evil--a little time, Jack, and you shall -know all,' replied Roland in a somewhat dejected voice; so Elliot -said no more. - -Meantime the subject of these remarks had betaken him to his own -apartments, and certainly as he had ascended the old hollowed steps -of the turret stair that led thereto they seemed, according to the -Earlshaugh legend, to lead down rather than up. - -'I'll be even with you, Miss Maude Lindsay, some fine day--see if I -am not!' he muttered as he went; 'your high and mighty hoity-toity -airs will be the ruin of you and yours. And as for that fellow -Elliot, I'll take change out of him--make cold meat of him, by -heaven, if I can!' - -Sobered by rage he reached his peculiar sanctum, and sat down there -to scheme out revenge, through the medium of a briar-root from his -rack of pipes, and brandy and soda from a cellarette he possessed. - -'I'll marry that girl Maude--or--by Jove! not a bad idea, the _other_ -one, with the golden hair, if old Deb fails me, which I can scarcely -think. The little party with the golden hair seems game for -anything,' he added, showing more acuteness than Roland in the -matter. 'Why shouldn't I? I am going in for respectability now, and -I rather flatter myself I am as good as any of that Brummagem lot -downstairs, for all their coats of arms, pedigrees, and bosh! I'm in -clover here--in society now, and, by Jove, I'll keep to it. But, -Deb,' he continued talking aloud, as the new beverage cast loose his -tongue, 'her heart is in a bad way--devil a doubt of that! The -doctors assure me of it--is breaking up--breaking up--tell more to me -than they have done to her; and that she may go off any time like a -farthing candle! Poor Deb--she is not half a bad sort--yet I wish -she would settle her little affairs and----' - -A sound made him look round, and he saw his sister looking -pale--white indeed--and weary, with an unpleasant expression in her -cold, deep eyes, and a palpable knit on her usually smooth and -lineless forehead. - -'How much had she overheard?' was Hawkey's first fearful thought. - -'My dear Deb,' he stammered, 'I was just thinking that you should -make the whole of that pack clear out of the house--they are too much -for you, and the house is yours! Have a little brandy and water, -Deb--you look so ill! Poor, dear Deb,' he continued in a maudlin -way, 'if anything happened to you, you know how I should sorrow for -it.' - -'I have no intention of affording you that opportunity yet,' she -replied, with something of a flash in her eyes. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - -MALCOLM SKENE. - -The sportsmen assembled next morning a little later than usual, and -after hastily partaking of coffee, were about to set forth after the -partridges, with dogs, keepers, and beaters, to a particular spot -where Gavin Fowler assured them that the coveys were so thick as to -cover the ground, when Malcolm Skene, whom all were beginning to -miss, suddenly appeared, but minus gun, shot belt, and other shooting -paraphernalia, yet with a brighter smile on his face that it had won -overnight. - -'What is up, Malcolm?' asked Roland; 'don't you go with us?' - -'Impossible! I have just had a telegram from the Colonel. The corps -is short of officers, from sickness, casualties, and so forth; so I -must resign my leave and start at once.' - -'For the depôt?' - -'No--for Egypt,' continued Skene, 'so I must be off. Let me have a -trap, Roland, that I may catch the up train for the South.' - -'This is sudden!' exclaimed several. - -'Sudden indeed--but no less welcome,' - -'I am so sorry, old fellow!' exclaimed Roland, 'when the birds are in -such excellent order, too.' - -'I can scarcely realize it,' said Skene, whose thoughts were not with -the birds certainly. 'In a fortnight, I shall be again in my -fighting kit and in the land of the Pharaohs.' - -Ignorant of what had so suddenly transpired, Hester, for whom he -looked anxiously and wistfully, was lingering in her room, till the -shooting party should have gone forth, unwilling to face Malcolm -Skene after the interview of last night, and full of a determination -to return at once to Merlwood, to her old life by the wooded Esk, -with her silver-haired father, his bubbling hookah, and his Indian -reminiscences--oh! how well she knew them all! But Maude, and even -the selfish and apparently volatile Annot, regarded the handsome -fellow with deep interest, and the lips of the former were white and -quivering as she bade him adieu. - -'Good-bye, all you fellows;' he exclaimed, when old Buckle came with -the trap to the _porte-cochère_. 'Good-bye, Roland and you, -Jack--when shall we three meet again? In thunder and all the rest of -it, no doubt. Farewell, Miss Lindsay--Maude I may call you just -now--bid Hes--, your cousin, adieu for me, and God keep you all till -we meet once more--if ever!' he added, under his moustache. - -Another moment he was gone, and no trace remained of him but the -wheel-tracks in the avenue. - -'Good-bye--good-bye;' it sounded like a dirge in the air of the warm -autumn morning. - -'Poor Malcolm--he is the king of good fellows,' said Roland to his -friends who were gathered in the entrance-hall, just as Hester Maule, -pale as a lily, after vainly practising a little the art of smiling -and looking happy in her mirror, appeared at the foot of the -staircase, and heard what had occurred. - -'Yes--Skene has just gone, poor fellow. Should you not have liked to -have bade him farewell?' - -'Yes--of course,' said Hester, with colourless lips; but thought, 'it -is better not--better not _now_.' - -'His last message was to _you_,' whispered Maude. - -'Well--it will be my turn next, and yours too, Elliot,' said Roland -as he lit a cigarette. - -'It but reminds me of Wolfe's song,' added Elliot cheerily, as he -sang in a tragic-comic way-- - - 'Let mirth and wine abound. - The trumpets sound, - And the colours flying are, my boys! - 'Tis he, you, or I, - Whose business is to die; - Then why should we be melancholy, boys, - Whose business is to die?' - -Come along--here are the dogs.' - -'Skene's departure seems to have upset you girls,' said Roland, 'and -now, Hester, my dear cousin,' he added in a blundering way, 'you look -as pale as if Melancholy had marked you for her own.' - -'Don't jest, Roland,' said Maude; 'Malcolm Skene looks like one who -has a history behind him, and a strange destiny before him. Only -think, Roland,' she added in a whisper, as she drew her brother -aside; 'he proposed to Hester in the conservatory last night!' - -'And--and she----' - -'Refused him.' - -'Why?' - -Maude only shook her pretty head; but his heart told him too probably -_why_, and for a time his conscience smote him. - -'Don't you think she was foolish?' asked Maude; 'I certainly told her -that I thought so, as Malcolm is such a lovable fellow.' - -'And what did she say?' - -'Replied, with a feeble laugh, that she meant to die an -unappropriated blessing.' - -'What is that, Maudie?' - -'An old maid.' - -'Nonsense--a handsome girl like Hester!' - -To do the latter justice, she asked herself more than once why had -she refused him, and for _what_? - -Many may deem that Hester acted a foolish part: but her heart was too -sore, and still too full of regard for another to find a place in it -for the love of Malcolm Skene, though she knew it had been hers in -the past, ready to lay at her feet. - -Steadfast of purpose, she was, in some respects, a remarkable girl, -Hester Maule. Roland, her companion in childhood, as we have -elsewhere stated, was the one love of her life. - -'All of hers upon that die was thrown,' and her heart was not to be -caught on the rebound, through pique, pride, soreness, or -disappointment. - -But now that Malcolm was gone, Hester in solitude could not but give -a few tears as she thought of his true regard for her; his stately -presence, his soft earnestness, and his sad, tender eyes--thought -over all that--but for Roland's image--might have been; and of the -high compliment Skene's honest and gallant heart had paid her; but -all--even could she have wished it otherwise--was over now, and he -had gone to that fatal land of battle and disease, where so many -found their graves then! - -Did Roland jest when he asked if Melancholy had marked her for its -own? If so, it was a species of wound, and she felt that 'it is only -wounds inflicted by those we love whose sting lasts.' - -Maude and Annot, with the old groom, Johnnie Buckle, as their -_Escudero_, had gone for a 'spin' on their pads as far as Kilmany, to -visit the Gaules-Den, a deep ravine through which a river runs; Mrs. -Lindsay was in the seclusion of her own room, as usual at that time -of the day, when she took some kind of drops for her heart, and -Hester, left alone to silence and solitude, mentally followed Malcolm -Skene in his journey southward. Her hands were folded idly in her -lap; a kind of sad listlessness was all over her, and her soft dark -eyes were dreamily fixed on vacancy, and seemed to see--if we may say -so--visions, while, as on yesternight, the perfume of the lily of the -valley, of the stephanotis, and other flowers was floating round her. - -She thought she might have seen him once again had she gone -downstairs at the usual time--but have seen him to what end or -purpose, constituted as her mind was then? Better not. - -In these days it seemed to Hester that there was not one of her -actions which she did not repent of before it was half conceived or -half acted upon. - -The forenoon sun soared hot and high, and the drowsy flies and one -huge humming bee, enclosed by the windows of her room, made their -useless journeys up and down the panes, on which the climbing ivy -pattered; the birds twittered among the leaves of the latter; an -occasional dog barked in the stable-yard, and the voice of the -peacock--never pleasant at any time--was heard on the terrace -without; but soon other sounds--voices indicative of excitement and -alarm--caused her to rise, throw open a window in the deep embayment -of the ancient wall, and look out. - -Advancing across the emerald sward of the lawn, but slowly and -carefully, came a group--the sportsmen of the morning, with their -guns sloped on the shoulder or carried under an arm, and the dogs -cowering, as if overawed, about their footsteps. - -What was the cause of this? What had happened? - -Four men were bearing a fifth on a stretcher or hurdle of some -kind--a man either terribly wounded or dead, he lay so still--so very -still! - -A half-stifled cry escaped Hester, as she rushed downstairs, for some -dreadful catastrophe had evidently taken place! - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - -A FATAL SHOT. - -When the shooting party, after being somewhat delayed by Skene's -unexpected departure, was setting forth, Roland and Elliot, with no -small indignation, and confounded by his profound assurance, saw -Hawkey Sharpe join them, belted, accoutred, gaitered, and gun in -hand, looking quite sobered and fresh, having doubtless just had from -Mr. Funnell 'a hair of the dog that bit him' overnight. - -'That fellow here, actually--after all!' said Roland through his -clenched teeth, though Elliot had given him but a vague outline of -Sharpe's rudeness, remembering Maude's earnest desire and evident -anxiety. - -While somewhat 'dashed' by the coolness of his reception by all--even -to old Ponto the setter, who gave him a wide berth--Mr. Hawkey Sharpe -was mean enough--or subtle enough--to hammer a kind of excuse for -'some mistake' he had made last night, attributing it to the wine he -had taken--mixing champagne and claret-cup with brandies and soda--of -all of which he had certainly imbibed freely, as his still -yellow-balled and bloodshot eyes bore witness. - -Elliot heard him with a fixed stare of calm disdain; while Roland, -writhing in his soul, still temporized--despising himself heartily -the while--for the sake of appearances, but determined now, before -twenty-four hours were past, to get at the bottom of the mystery--to -ascertain the real state of his affairs. - -There was something in Jack Elliot's well-bred and steady stare, as -he focussed him with his eye-glass, that expressed vague wonder, -_insouciance_, and no small contempt; it enraged Hawkey Sharpe and -made his whole heart seem to burn in his breast with hate and -suppressed passion, while fixing his own eyeglass defiantly and -attempting suavely to say: - -'Good-morning, Captain Lindsay--good-morning, gentlemen, _all_.' - -Roland could scarcely master his passion or the impulse to club his -fowling-piece and knock the fellow down. - -'Mr. Sharpe,' said he in a low voice that seemed all unlike his own, -so low and husky was it, as he beckoned Hawkey aside, 'considering -the rudeness of which I understand you were guilty last night, I -wonder that you have the bad taste to address me at all, or thrust -yourself upon our society.' - -'Thrust--Captain Lindsay!' exclaimed Sharpe, in turn suppressing his -rage. - -'Yes--I repeat that considering there was something--I scarcely know -what--amounting to a fracas between my friend Captain Elliot and you, -I also wonder--nathless your relative and assumed position in this -house--that you venture to join my party this morning.' - -It was the first time that Roland had spoken so plainly to this -obnoxious personage. - -'I don't quite understand all your words imply,' replied the latter -with an assumption of dignity and would-be _hauteur_ that sat -grotesquely upon him. 'I am in the house of my sister, Mrs. Lindsay -of Earlshaugh, who has accorded me permission to shoot, and shoot I -shall whether you like it or not!' - -'For the last time, I trust,' muttered Roland under his moustache. - -'That we shall see,' was the mocking remark of Hawkey, who overheard -him. - -Roland turned abruptly away, loth to excite comment or surprise among -his friends by the strange bearing of one deemed by them his mere -dependent. - -So the shooting progressed, and for a time without let or impediment. -Away through the King's Wood and the Fairy's Den went the sportsmen, -over the harvest fields, so rich in beauty to the picture-loving eye, -by the green and scented hawthorn hedgerows, where the golden spoil -of the passing corn carts remained for the gleaner; among brambles -and red fern--the crimson bracken that, according to the Scottish -proverb, brings milk and butter in October; firing in line, as -adjusted by old Gavin Fowler; and as their guns went off, bang, bang, -bang, in the clear and ambient air, when the startled coveys went -whirring up, the brown birds came tumbling down with outspread wings, -before the double barrels. - -If the autumn sunset in Scotland is lovely, not less so is the autumn -sunrise, when seen from the slope of some green hill, like the spur -of the Ochils that looks down on Logic, while through pastoral valley -and wooded haugh the white silver mist is rolling. 'Then the tops of -the trees seem at first to rise above a country that is flooded, -while the kirk spire appears like some sea mark heaving out of the -mist. Then comes a great wedge-like beam of gold, cutting deep down -into the hollows, showing the stems of the trees and the roofs of the -cottages, gilding barn and outhouse, making a golden road through a -land of white mist that seems to rise on either side like the sea -which Moses divided to pass through dryshod. The dew-drops on the -sun-lighted summit the feet rest upon, are coloured like precious -stones of every dye, and every blade of grass is beaded with the -gorgeous gems.' - -And never do the deer look more graceful and beautiful than when in -autumn they leave their lair among the bracken, when the blue -atmosphere is on a Scottish mountain side, and changing hues are on -leafy grove and heath-clad slope. - -As the sportsmen, now pretty far apart, after beating successfully up -the slope of a stubble field on a hill-side, came upon some aged and -irregular hedgerows, full of gaps and interspersed with stunted -thorn-trees, and having on each side a wet grassy ditch, the warning -voice of the old keeper was heard some paces in the rear: - -'Tak' tent, gentlemen; tak' tent. Nae cross shots here. There is a -different ground owre beyond.' - -A covey of some twenty birds whirred up from a gap in the hedge, and -both Elliot and Hawkey Sharpe seemed to fire at it. We say seemed, -as the former fired straight to his front, the latter, who was on his -right, obliquely to the left; and then there came a sharp cry of -anguish and pain but seldom or never heard among a group of gay -sportsmen. - -'By the Lord, but he's done it at last,' cried old Fowler. - -'I aye thocht he wad be the death on the field o' somebody,' cried -Jamie Spens, the ex-poacher, who was acting as a beater. - -'Sharpe's dune it at last,' cried Fowler again. - -'What--who--what?' said a dozen voices. - -'Murdered some ane--hang me if it isna Captain Elliot. Sharpe's a -devilish gleed gunner, if ever there was ane.' - -Hawkey Sharpe heard these excited exclamations as if in a dream, and -as if heard by another and not himself. - -He had unexpectedly seen Jack Elliot come, if not in his line of -fire, unseen by others, within range of it; and though hitherto -vaguely intent on mischief, a sudden, a devil-born impulse came like -a flash of lightning over him. - -He fired, and Jack Elliot dropped like a stone! - -The moment he had done so the heart of Hawkey Sharpe seemed to stand -still; enmity, rivalry, and affront were all forgotten--seemed never -to have existed. There was a roaring or surging of the blood in his -ears, while a sudden darkness seemed to fall upon the sunshiny -landscape. - -Was it accident or murder, he thought, and then felt keenly that - - 'Murder, though it have no tongue, will speak - With most miraculous organ.' - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - -THE CITY OF THE CALIPHS--OCTOBER IN THE LAND OF THE PHARAOHS. - -Malcolm Skene had been three weeks among 'the flesh-pots of Egypt,' -as he wrote to Roland Lindsay, since he landed from a great white -'trooper' at Alexandria. - -It was now nearly the close of what is called the first season in -that part of the world--that of the inundation of the Nile--which -extends from the first of July to the winter solstice, and when, till -the month preceding Skene's arrival, the whole country appears like -one vast sea, in which the towns and villages rise like so many -islands, and when the air is consequently moist, the mornings and -evenings foggy; and Malcolm thought of what brown October was at home -in his native land, where new vistas of hamlet and valley are seen -through the half-stripped groves, a few hardy apples yet hang in the -orchards, and nests are seen in the hedges where none were seen -before; where the flocks are driven to fold as the dim sunset comes -and the landscape assumes its sober hue, while the call of the -partridge and of the few remaining birds on the low sighing wind, -fall sadly on the ear. He thought of all this, and of the thick old -woods that sheltered his ancestral home, where Dunnimarle looks down -on the northern shore of the Forth. - -He often thought of Hester Maule too, and _why_ she had refused him, -after all--after all he had been half led to hope. - -'So--so,' he reflected, 'we shall live out the rest of our lives each -without the other--forgetting and perhaps in time forgot.' - -Thought was not dead nor memory faint yet, and he seemed, just then, -to have no object to live for, save to kill both, if possible, amid -any excitement that came to hand, and such was not wanting at that -crisis both in Alexandria and Grand Cairo. - -No fighting--though such was expected daily--was going on in the -Upper Province or on its frontier; and to kill time, Skene more than -once resorted to the gambling booths of the Greeks and Italians, as -most of our officers did occasionally--a perilous resource at times, -as the reader will admit, when we describe some of the events -connected with them; and, curious to say, it was amid such scenes -that Malcolm Skene was to hear some startling news of his friends at -Earlshaugh. - -Long before this he had 'done' Cairo, and seen all that was to been -seen in that wonderful city, which, though less purely Oriental than -Damascus, yet displays a more lively and varied kind of Oriental life -than Constantinople itself; for there are still to be found the -picturesque scenes and most of the _dramatis personæ_ of the 'Arabian -Nights'--and found side by side with the latest results of nineteenth -century civilization. 'The short quarter of an hour's drive from the -railway station,' says M'Coan, 'transports you into the very world of -the Caliphs--the same as when Noureddin, Abou Shamma, Bedredden -Hassan, Ali Cogia, the Jew Physician, and the rest of them played -their parts any time since or before Saladin.' - -A labyrinth of dark and tortuous lanes and alleys is the old city -still--places where two donkeys cannot pass abreast, and the toppling -stories and outshoots shut out the narrowest streak of sky; while the -apparently masquerading crowd below seems unchanged from what it was -when Elliot Warburton wrote of it a quarter of a century ago; 'Ladies -wrapped closely in white veils; women of the lower classes carrying -water on their heads, and only with a long blue garment that reveals -too plainly the exquisite symmetry of the young, and the hideous -deformity of the old; here are camels perched upon by black slaves, -magpied with white napkins round their heads and loins; there are -portly merchants, with turbans and long pipes, smoking on their -knowing-looking donkeys; here an Arab dashes through the crowd at -almost full gallop; or a European, still more haughtily, shoves aside -the pompous-looking bearded throng; now a bridal or circumcising -procession squeezes along, with music; now the running footmen of -some Bey or Pacha endeavour to jostle you to the wall, till they -recognise you as an Englishmen--one of that race whom they think the -devil can't frighten or teach manners to.' - -Now the streets and the Esbekeyeh Square are dotted by redcoats; the -trumpets of our Hussars ring out in the Abbassiyeh Barracks; the -drums of our infantry are heard at those of Kasr-el-Nil; and the -pipes of the Highlanders ever and anon waken the echoes of El Kaleh, -or the wondrous citadel of Saladin, with the 'March o' Lochiel,' or -the pibroch of 'Donuill Dhu.' - -Skene and his brother-officers enjoyed many a cigar on the low -terrace in front of Shepheard's now historical hotel, under the shade -of the acacia trees, watching the changing crowds in the modern -street, which, with all its splendour, cannot compare with the -picturesqueness of older Cairo; but the dresses are strangely -beautiful, and the whole panorama seems part of a stage, rather than -real life; while among the veiled women, the swarthy men in turban -and tarboosh, the British orderly dragoon clanks past, or groups of -heedless, thoughtless, and happy young officers set forth in open -cabs to have a day at the Pyramids--an institution among our troops -at Cairo--especially early in the day, when the air has that purity -and freshness peculiar to a winter morning in Egypt, and towering -skyward are seen those marvels in stone, of which it has been said, -that 'Time mocks all things, but the Pyramids mock time!' and where -the mighty Sphinx at their base, 'the Father of Terrors,' has its -stony eyes for ever fixed on the desert--the gate of that other -world, where the work of men's hands ends, and Eternity seems to -begin. - -At this time several peculiar duties, exciting enough, though not -orthodox soldiering, devolved on the troops, and more than once -Malcolm Skene, as a subaltern, found himself with a part of the -picket aiding the miserable Egyptian police in the now nightly task -of closing and clearing out the _Assommoirs_ and _Brasseries_, -gambling and other dens, which were kept open with flaring lamps till -gun-fire--a task often achieved by the fixed bayonet and clubbed -rifle; and in the course of these duties he had more than once come -unpleasantly in almost personal contact with Pietro Girolamo, a -leading promoter and frequenter of such places, and one of the -greatest ruffians in Cairo or Alexandria, under what is now known as -the _Band_ system. - -One result of the leniency shown to the followers of Arabi Pacha, who -were allowed to escape or disperse after Tel-el-Kebir, was a flooding -of the country with armed banditti, by whom some districts were -absolutely devastated, and with whom it was suspected that the native -authorities were in league, as the police always disappeared with a -curious rapidity whenever they were most required. A 'Flying -Commission' was appointed to deal with these brigands, but without -much avail, though certainly some were captured, tried, and -hanged--even on the Shoubra Road, the 'Rotten Row' of the fashionable -Cairenes. - -The _Band_ system, in which Pietro Girolamo figured so prominently, -is a murdering one by no means stamped out by the presence even of -our army of occupation, and is a result of the pernicious habit of -carrying weapons among the lower class of Greeks and Italians; thus -scarcely a week passes without a stabbing affray. - -In the Esbekeyeh Gardens, outside the theatre, some high words passed -one evening about a girl _artiste_, during one of the _entr'actes_, -between an Italian and Girolamo, who laid the former dead by one blow -of his poniard. For this he was tried before his Consulate and -merely punished by a nominal fine, while nightly the actress appeared -on the stage, draped in black for her lover, to sing her comic songs. - -'Cairo and all the large towns' (says the _Globe_) 'are infested by -the refuse of the Levant--hordes of Greeks of the criminal class and -of the most desperate character, with no more respect for the -sanctity of human life than a Thug. These men come here to spoil -Egypt, and some of them are, in addition, retained by private persons -as bullies, if not assassins. Appeal to the Greek Consul, and he -will tell you that he can do nothing in regard to these idle and -disorderly characters, though the French, Italian, and German -authorities deport the same class of their own countrymen on the -first complaint.' - -The reason of Pietro Girolamo transferring the scene of his life, or -operations, from Alexandria to Cairo was an outrage in which he had -been concerned a year or two before this period. - -In a café near the Place des Consuls were two respectable and very -beautiful girls who served as waitresses, till one evening several -carriages drove up and a number of ruffians, armed with yataghan, -pistol, and poniard, entered, and instead of opposing them, every man -in the café made his escape. - -'This girl's smiles would inspire a flame in marble!' cried Girolamo, -seizing one of the waitresses, whom his companions carried off to the -Rosetta Gate, where she was savagely treated and left for dead by the -wayside; and--according to a writer in the _Standard_--only one of -her murderers--an Egyptian Bey--was punished by a fine. - -'Life is short--what is the use of fussing about anything?' was the -philosophic remark of Pietro Girolamo, who was a native of Cerigo -(the Cythera of classical antiquity), and latterly the 'Botany Bay' -of the Ionian Isles. - -All unaware that this personage was in league with the -proprietors--if not actually one--of a handsome roulette saloon, in a -thoroughfare near the Esbekeyeh Gardens--a place from where it was -said no man ever got home alive with his winnings--Malcolm Skene, -then in the mood to do anything to teach him to forget, if possible, -Hester Maule and that night in the conservatory at Earlshaugh, had -spent on hour or so watching the fatal revolving ball, and risking a -few coins thereon, after which he seated himself to enjoy a cigar, a -glass of wine, and a London newspaper, at a little marble table, -under a flower-decorated awning, in front of the edifice. - -Malcolm had been deep in the columns of home news, while sipping his -wine from time to time--wine that was not the Mareotic vintage so -celebrated by Strabo and Horace, but of the common espalier trees in -the Delta--before he became aware that he had a companion at his -table similarly engaged, but in the pages of the obnoxious _Bosphore -Egyptien_. - -He was a striking and picturesque-looking fellow in the prime and -strength of manhood. Though somewhat hawk-like in contour, his -features were fine and dark; his eyes and moustache jetty black--the -former keen, and his knitted brows betokened something of a stern and -savage nature. He was well armed with a handsome poniard and -pistols, and his dress resembled the Hydriote costume, which is -generally of dark material, with wide blue trousers descending as far -as the knee, a loose jacket of brown stuff braided with red, and an -embroidered skull-cap with a gold tassel. - -Furtively, above his paper, he had been eyeing from time to time the -unconscious Skene, in whose grave face he was keen enough to trace a -mixture of power and patience, of concentrated thought without gloom; -a face well browned by exposure, a thick dark moustache, and -expression that savoured of the resolution and perfect assurance of -the genuine Briton; by all of which he was no way deterred, as the -picturesque-looking rascal was no other than Pietro Girolamo, the -perpetrator of so many unpunished outrages. - -Malcolm Skene was intent on his paper, and read calmly from column to -column, till a start escaped him on his eye catching the following -paragraph: - - -'Misfortune seems to attend the sporting season at Earlshaugh, in -Fifeshire. A short time since we had to record the accidental--or -supposed accidental--shooting of one of the guests--a distinguished -young officer; and now we have to add thereto, the mysterious -disappearance of the host, Captain Roland Lindsay, who, when covert -shooting last evening, disappeared, and as yet cannot be traced, -alive or dead.' - - -Skene started, and for a moment the paper dropped from his hand. - -'Dogs dream of bones and fishermen of fish, but what the devil are -you dreaming of?' said a voice in rather tolerable English, and -Malcolm found himself seated face to face with Pietro Girolamo! - -With an unmistakable expression of annoyance and disdain, if not -positive disgust in his face, Skene rose to leave the table, when the -hand of the other was lightly laid on his arm, and Pietro said with -mock suavity; - -'The Signor will make his apologies?' - -'For what?' asked Malcolm bluntly. - -'Permitting his English paper to touch my boot just now.' - -'Absurd; I merely dropped it,' said Malcolm Skene, turning away and -about to look at the paragraph again. - -'You must, you shall apologize!' cried the Levantine bully, his -sparkling eyes flaming and his pale cheek reddening with rage and -rancour. - -'This is outrageous. Stand back, fellow!' cried Malcolm, laying his -left hand on the scabbard of his sword to bring the hilt handy. - -'I mean what I say, Signor,' cried the Greek, snatching away the -paper and treading it under foot. - -'And so do I,' replied Malcolm, making a forward stride. - -The hand of the Greek was wandering to the poniard in his girdle. -Malcolm knew that in another moment it would be out; but, disdaining -to draw his sword in an open thoroughfare and upon such an adversary, -he clenched his right hand and dealt him, straight out from the -shoulder, a blow fairly under the left ear that stretched him -senseless in a heap on the pavement beside the marble table. - -Thinking that he had sufficiently punished the fellow's overbearing -insolence, Malcolm, with his usually quiet blood at fever heat, -muttering with a grim laugh, 'That was not a bad blow for a -kail-supper of Fife,' was turning away to leave the spot, when a -dreadful uproar in the café behind him made him pause, and hearing -shouts for succour in English he at once re-entered it. - -There he found a number of Europeans and of British officers--chiefly -middies--who had come by rail from Alexandria for a 'spree' in the -city of the Caliphs, engaged in a fierce _mêlée_ with a number of -those ruffians who frequent such places. - -The vicinity of the wretched roulette-table had been very much -crowded, and a dozen or so of these thoughtless young Britons, who -could not get near enough to stake their money personally, had been -passing it on from one to another to stake it on the colours. A -trivial dispute had occurred, and then a Greek ruffian, who was well -known to be a terror to every gambling saloon, rushed forward with -his cocked revolver, savagely resolute, and demanded as his, 'every -piastre--yea, every para on the tables'--a demand not at all uncommon -by such persons in such places. Greeks came in from all points, -armed with cudgels and poniards, and in a moment a battle-royal -ensued. The roulette-table was overturned, the chairs smashed, and -bloodshed became plain on every hand. - -While plunging into the _mêlée_ to rescue more than one lad in peril, -Malcolm Skene towered above them all, in his herculean strength; and -as he laid about him with a cudgel he had found, there floated -through his mind a sense of rage and mortification at what Hester -Maule would think if he perished in a brawl so obscure and -disreputable. - -'Take, cut, and burn!' was the cry of the Greek, a local laconism, -signifying 'take their money, burn their houses, cut their throats!' - -'Kill the Frankish dogs, these smokers and pilaff eaters!' shouted -Girolamo, who had now gathered himself up and plunged into the fray, -intent only on putting his poniard into Skene. - -But the latter, now relinquishing the cudgel, achieved the feat which -afterwards found its way into more than one British print. - -From the gambling saloon there was only one issue, down a narrow -passage, in which a number of the rabble had taken post on both -sides, and with knife and club allowed none to pass, so that the -place soon became a species of shamble. Perceiving this, Malcolm -Skene--bearing back the seething mass of yelling Greeks, Italians, -and Levantine scum, who, with glaring black eyes, set white teeth, -and visages pallid and distorted with avarice and the lust of blood -and cruelty, surged about him with knife and cudgel, impeding and -wounding each other in their frantic efforts to get at him--dragged -up a couple of Greeks, one in each hand, and by sheer dint of -muscular strength lifting them off the floor, and using their bodies -as shields on each side, he charged right through the passage and -gained the street, where he flung them down, gashed and bleeding from -cuts and stabs by the misdirected weapons of their compatriots, while -he escaped almost without a scratch; gathered about him his -companions, all of whom had suffered more or less severely, and -getting cabs they drove to the barracks. - -For this affair Pietro Girolamo was arrested in the Shoubra Road, and -brought before the Greek Consul after twenty-four hours' -incarceration in the Zaptieh; but as usual, like all the rogues of -his nationality, he claimed protection under the Alexandrian -Capitulations, and went forth free into the streets again. - -Malcolm Skene soon dismissed the row from his thoughts, but not the -newspaper paragraph in the perusal or consideration of which he had -been so roughly interrupted; and he pondered deeply and vainly on -what was involved by the mysterious and alarming--'disappearance at -Earlshaugh.' - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - -JACK ELLIOT'S PERIL. - -We have anticipated some of the occurrences referred to in the last -chapter, but shall relate them in their place. - -Gathering in an excited group at the scene of the catastrophe, the -sportsmen, keepers, and beaters found Elliot reclining against, or -clinging to the stem of a tree in the old hedge, looking very pale, -with his chest all bloody--at least his shirt dyed crimson, and -divested of his coat and vest, which he had thrown off. - -Spared by what he had done, the moment Hawkey Sharpe had seen his -victim fall--the moment his finger had pulled the trigger--the savage -and secret exultation that had filled his heart passed away. - -He felt as if on the verge of a giddy precipice, over which he dared -not look; yet he was compelled to confront the scene, and to -proceed--but apparently with lead-laden feet--with the others, to -where his victim was now supported in the arms of Gavin Fowler and -Spens, the beater. - -For a minute the intended assassin scarcely seemed to breathe, and to -have but one wish--that the deed were undone, for the hot blood that -prompted it was cool enough now, and the instincts of revenge had -grown dull. Terror seized his soul, and his gaze wandered in the -air, on the while flying clouds, on the yellow stubble fields and -waving woods; but he nerved himself to approach the startled and -infuriated group, whose menacing eyes were on him; and he nerved -himself also to act a part, or, if not, lose his senses, and with -them, everything. - -He felt that beyond cheating, cardsharping, jockeying at horse races, -and peculation at Earlshaugh, he had taken a mighty stride in crime, -and that mingling curiously with his craven fear, there was an insane -recklessness--a wild incoherence about his brain and heart, with a -sickening knowledge that if Captain Elliot died, he--Hawkey -Sharpe--would be _that_ which he dared not name to himself, even in -thought. - -Hence his apparent sorrow and compunction seemed, and perhaps were, -genuine _pro tem._, but the outcome of selfishness. - -'How in Heaven's name came this to pass--how did it happen?' demanded -Roland, his eyes blazing as he fixed them on Sharpe. - -'It was an accident--an entire accident,' faltered the latter. 'The -leaves of a turnip twisted round my right ankle, causing me to -stumble and my rifle to explode.' - -'A likely thing,' growled Jamie Spens, the beater, with a scowl in -his eyes. 'Ye were oot o' the belt o' neeps at the time; but I've -aye thocht ye wad pot some puir devil, as ye have done the Captain.' - -'Silence, you poaching----,' began Sharpe in a furious voice; but -Roland interrupted him. - -'Stand back, sir. This is no time for words. "Accident," you say. -To me it seems a piece of cowardly revenge--a case for the police and -the Procurator-Fiscal.' - -At these words Hawkey Sharpe grew, if possible, paler still, as they -were the echoes of his own fears, and drew sullenly back. - -'My poor, dear fellow--Elliot--Jack,' exclaimed Roland, kneeling down -by his friend's side, 'are you much hurt--tell me?' - -'I cannot say,' replied Elliot faintly. 'I feel as if my breast was -scorched with fire--the charge, or some of it, seems thereabout.' -Then, after a pause, he added in a husky voice: 'This horrible -accident is most inopportune, when my leave is running out, and I am -so soon due at headquarters.' - -'Don't bother about that, dear Jack, I'll make all that -right--meantime your hurt must be instantly seen to. Jamie Spens, -run, as if for your life, my man, to the stables; get a good horse -from Buckle, and ride to Cupar on the spur for the doctors--send a -couple, at least.' - -'Let me--let me go!' urged Hawkey Sharpe, in a breathless voice. - -'You--be hanged!' cried old Fowler, who, like all the people on and -about the estate, hated the tyrannical steward. - -So the ex-poacher was away on his errand--speeding across the fields -like a hare. - -'Now, my lads,' cried Roland, after having, with soldier-like -promptitude, secured a handkerchief folded as a pad, by another torn -into bandages, across the wound; 'quick with that iron hurdle,' -pointing to one in a gap of the hedge; 'hand it here to form a -litter.' - -Roland, like Elliot, had faced danger and death too often to be made -a woman by it now, and his eyes seemed stern and fearless as he gave -one long, steady, and withering glance at the cowering and -white-faced Hawkey Sharpe; then he took off his coat, an example -others were not slow in following, to make as soft a couch as -possible of the iron hurdle, which four stout fellows lifted, as soon -as the sufferer was laid thereon, and the sorrowful procession, which -Hester from the window had seen approaching, set out for Earlshaugh. - -'Fules shouldna hae chappin' sticks! I kent how it wad be wi' some -o' us,' muttered old Gavin Fowler, as he sharply drew his cartridges, -and unaware of Hawkey Sharpe's secret motives for action, added, -'Maister Roland, he has nearly made cauld meat o' me mair than ance; -but ne'er again--ne'er again will I beat the coveys wi' him. It is -as muckle as your life's worth!' - -Slowly the shooting party wended their way, by field and hedgerow, -towards the mansion-house; and, with his heart full of bitter and -vengeful, if vague, thoughts, Roland strode by that blood-stained -litter, thinking of the time when he had seen Jack Elliot similarly -borne from the field of Tel-el-Kebir. - -Seeing the deep commiseration of Roland, Elliot attempted to smile, -and said: - -'You know, perhaps, the old Spanish proverb--that a soldier had -better smell of _polvora rancho de Santa Barbara_, than of musk or -lavender.' - -'But not in this fashion, Jack, at the hands of a blundering cad--if -a blunder it was!' - -The bearers had some distance to traverse, as the park stretched for -a couple of miles around them, wooded and undulating, crossed by a -broad silvery burn or stream, that flowed through the haugh, and past -the Weird Yett to the hamlet of Earlshaugh. - -Their arrival at the house elicited a shout of dismay from Tom -Trotter, whose nerves were not of the strongest order, and -consternation spread from the drawing-room to the servants' hall and -from thence to the stable court, with many exaggerated reports of the -very awkward part the obnoxious Mr. Hawkey Sharpe--for obnoxious he -was to all--had played in the catastrophe; while the anguish of -Maude, her suspicion and her loathing of the latter, may be imagined, -as Elliot was borne past her to his rooms. - -On hearing of an accident, neither Annot nor Hester had thought of -Captain Elliot. The first dread of the former--a selfish one, we -fear, and of the latter, a purer one, certainly--was for Roland -Lindsay, who, accustomed to bloodshed, wounds, and suffering, was to -all appearance singularly cool and collected. - -'Don't be alarmed, Maudie, darling,' said he, endeavouring to look -cheerful, as he drew his terrified sister almost forcibly aside; -'Jack will be all right in a few days.' - -'But what--oh, what has happened?' - -'He has been hit--shot--wounded, I mean--that is all, by Hawkey -Sharpe, or some other duffer.' - -'Oh, Roland, why did you have that horrid fellow to shoot with you? -But need I ask why--we can help nothing now! But Jack--my -darling--my darling!' she added with a torrent of tears; 'I had a -presentiment--I knew something would happen, and it _has_ happened! -Oh heavens, Roland, our position here seems overstrained and -unnatural. Would that we were out of Earlshaugh and his power!' - -'Maude? Our father's house!' - -'Our father's house no more.' - -'That is as may be,' replied Roland, through his set teeth. - -Meanwhile the author of all this dismay ascended the turret-stairs to -his 'sanctum' and betook him without delay, with tremulous hands and -chattering teeth, to a stiff and tall rummer of brandy and soda to -steady his nerves, gather Dutch courage, and prepare to face the -worst, while muttering as if to excuse himself. - -'An insult of the sort he gave me can never be forgotten!' and he -rubbed his right ear, which seemed yet to be conscious of Jack's -finger and thumb when used by the latter as a fulcrum to twist him -round; while, to do her justice, his sister Deborah grew paler than -ever, and seemed on the point of sinking when she heard of what had -occurred. - -'It was all an accident--a horrible accident, Deb,' said he, an -assertion to which he stuck vigorously; 'my ankle got twisted in a -turnip shaw, don't you see--anyhow, don't get up your -agitation-of-the-heart business just now, for my nerves may not stand -it.' - -She eyed him coldly--almost sternly, and not as she was wont to do; -she read his real fear, and knew the full value of his sham -contrition, and that it was born of alarm for himself; but his -courage rose, and his secret wrath and hate returned apace, when the -doctors, after a consultation and much pulling of nether lips, with -also much mysterious and technical jargon, declared that the wound -was not a serious one, though some of the charge (No. 5), which had -crossed Jack's chest transversely, went perilously near the heart; -and that unless suppuration took place, his constitution was so fine -'he would soon pull through.' - -The doubt that he might _not_, or that a relapse might ensue, proved -too much just then for the nerves of Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, who resolved -on taking his departure for a time. - -'And you go--for where, Hawkey?' asked his sister, not surprised that -he should suddenly remember an engagement. - -'To the western meeting--they make such a fuss over this accident, -and you know I hate fuss. Besides, I have a pot of money on the -Welter Cup, and if I lose----' - -'Well?' - -'Well--why, the timber of that old King's Wood may come to the -hammer--that's all, Deb,' said he, as confidently as if it were his -own. - - -'Now, girls, don't be foolish,' said Roland, in reply to the -entreaties of Maude and Hester--the former especially--to be -permitted to visit Jack, who was now abed, and in the hands of an -accredited nurse. - -'Why--may not I see him?' pled Maude. - -'Not yet, certainly,' replied Roland, caressing her sunny brown hair, -and patting her cheek, from which the faint rose tint was fled. - -'I must see him, Roland, that I may know he is not--not--dead. - -'Dead, you dear little goose! Such fellows as Jack Elliot take a -long time in dying. You should have seen him as I did (though it is -well, however, you did not), when doubled up by a grape-shot at -Tel-el-Kebir. He'll be all right in a day or two, and meanwhile-- - -'What, Roland?' asked the trembling girl. - -'I go to Edinburgh, to get at the real state of our affairs, what or -however they may be; I feel inclined to shoot that fellow Sharpe like -a dog if he crosses my path again at Earlshaugh!' - -'Roland, Roland, you surely know all?' said his sister with intense -sadness. - -'No, I do not know all,' said he, drawing her head on his breast and -caressing her; and feeling keenly that their father's roof was -degraded by the presence of this fellow, after attempting such a -crime--for a crime Roland felt and knew it to be; albeit that the -perpetrator was the brother of their father's widow, and should, but -for cogent reasons, be handed over to the mercies of the -Procurator-Fiscal for the county. - -By the very outrage he had committed, Sharpe had excited all the -tenderness and commiseration for Elliot of which Maude's nature was -capable, and for himself all the loathing and detestation which her -usually gentle heart could feel. Thus he had lost much and won -nothing; and notwithstanding his sister's position, influence, and -interest at Earlshaugh, he felt himself very much _de trop_; and, -unable to face the heavy fire of obloquy and blame that met him on -every hand, he feigned the excuse--if such were wanting--of having to -attend the Ayr races, which came off about that time, and departed -ostensibly for the great western meeting on that famous course which -lies southward of the ancient town of Ayr. His farewell words to his -sister were: - -'I'll be even with Roland Lindsay yet--yes, more than even, as you -shall see, Deb!' - -Whether he really went there was apocryphal, as he was seen ere long -hovering about the vicinity of Earlshaugh, if not in the house itself. - -And Hawkey Sharpe never did anything without a prime or ulterior -object in view. - -The event we have narrated marred the partridge shooting at -Earlshaugh for a time; and as lately quite a crop of dances and -drums, garden and music parties had sprung up in the vicinity, and -attendance at these was marred too, Annot Drummond felt more -exasperation than commiseration at the cause thereof. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - -THE WILL. - -In the pursuit of personal information, which should have been in his -possession before, that somewhat too easy-going young soldier, Roland -Lindsay, in the course of a day or two, found himself in the 'Gray -Metropolis of the North,' or rather in that portion thereof which has -sprung up within the last hundred and forty years or so. - -The office of Mr. M'Wadsett, W.S., was amid a number of such 'wasps' -nests,' in a small and rather gloomy and depressing arena known as -Thistle Court, under the shadow of St. Andrew's great, sombre, and -circular-shaped church. - -The situation was a good one for a prosperous town lawyer's office, -and Mr. M'Wadsett was a prosperous--and, as usual with many of them, -effusively pious--lawyer, and all about him, whether by chance or -design, was arranged to give clients--victims many deemed -themselves--an impression that his practice was wide, select, and -respectable--intensely respectable--while Mr. M'Wadsett never omitted -church services at least twice daily, for the kirk was his -fetish--the test of a decorous life, like his black suit and white -necktie. - -He was busily engaged just then, so Roland sent in his card and had -to wait, which he felt as a kind of hint that he was not so important -a client now as he might have been. The room he was ushered into was -a dull one, overlooking the gloomy court; and slowly the time seemed -to pass, for Roland was in an agony of impatience now to know the -worst--the profound folly of his father, for whom his feelings just -then were, to say the least of them, of a somewhat mingled cast. - -Mr. M'Wadsett's office consisted of several rooms--the interior and -upper floors of an old-fashioned house. In one of these, partly -furnished like a parlour, the walls hung with fly-blown maps and -prospectuses--a waiting-room--Roland was left to fume and 'cool his -heels'; while in one somewhere adjacent he heard a curious clashing -of fire-irons, and a voice giving the--to him--somewhat familiar -words of command, but in a suppressed tone: - -'Guard--point--two! Low guard--point--two!' etc., for it was evident -that some of the clerks who were rifle volunteers were having a -little bayonet exercise, till a bell rang, when they all vaulted upon -their stools and began to write intensely, for then the voice of old -Mr. M'Wadsett was heard, and Roland was ushered into his presence. - -His room was snug and cosy, albeit its principal furniture consisted -of green charter boxes on iron frames, all of which held secrets -relating to the families whose well-known names were displayed upon -them. How much, indeed, did he not know about all the leading -proprietors of Fife and Kinross? - -He received his visitor warmly and pleasantly enough, spoke of the -war in Egypt, his health, the weather, of course, and then when a -pause ensued, Roland stated the object for which he had come. - -The lawyer, a fussy little man, with a sharp, keen manner, and sharp, -keen gray eyes, raised his silver-rimmed glasses above his bushy -white eyebrows, and said: - -'My dear sir, I sent a copy of your respected father's will to Egypt.' - -'Addressed to me?' - -'Yes.' - -'I never got it.' - -'Why?' - -'We were holding the lines in front of Ramleh at that time; the Arabs -made free with the mail-bags, and lit their pipes with the contents, -no doubt, in the desert beyond Ghizeh.' - -'My dear sir, how lawless of them!' - -'I have thought about this will at times, till I have become -stupid--woolly in fact, and hated the name of it.' - -'Your good father-- - -'Ah,' interrupted Roland, a little testily, 'I fear we only looked -upon him latterly as the family banker, and he was useful in that -way--very.' - -'To your brother in the Guards perhaps too much so,' said the lawyer -gravely. - -'Well--about the cursed document itself?' began Roland a little -impetuously. - -'Strong language, my dear sir--strong language! The terms of your -respected father's will are, I must say, a little peculiar, and were -framed much against my advice; though his old family agent, I -scarcely felt justified in drawing out the document.' - -'I have heard that its conditions are outrageous.' - -'They are--my dear sir--they are.' - -'Such as no respectable lawyer should have drawn up,' said Roland -sternly. - -'Captain Lindsay, there you are wrong--severe--but I excuse you,' -replied Mr. M'Wadsett, perking up his bald, shining head, as he drew -the document in question from a charter box, after some trouble in -finding the key thereof, and which Roland eyed--without touching -it--with a very gloomy and louring expression. - -'Dear me--dear me,' muttered M'Wadsett, as, seating himself in a -well-stuffed circular chair, and adjusting his spectacles, he glanced -over the document. 'He wrote: "I have delayed making my will so long -as I have thought it safe to do so, but I am an old man now, and the -gross and wilful extravagance of----" Shall I read it all, Captain -Lindsay? The first few clauses are unimportant enough: £1,000 to Sir -Harry Maule; some jewellery to his daughter Hester--bequests to the -servants--Funnell the butler, Buckle the head groom, and then with -the provisions appointed for your sister and yourself----' - -'Comes the "crusher," I suppose,' interrupted Roland, crashing his -right heel on the floor. - -'Precisely so, my dear sir; I don't wonder that you feel it; but -listen and I shall read it all.' - -'Please don't,' cried Roland; 'lawyers make everything so lengthy, so -elaborate, so full of circumlocution and irritating repetition. Cut -it short--the gist of it.' - -'Is--that all the estates, real and personal, are devised and -bequeathed by the testator to his wife, Deborah Sharpe or Lindsay.' - -'For life? - -'No--to do with as she pleases in all time coming; the whole power of -willing everything away is left in her hands, as you may read for -yourself here.' - -There was a silence of a minute. - -'I thought such episodes--such outrages--never happened but in -novels?' said Roland. - -The lawyer smiled faintly and shook his head, and refolding the -document, said: - -'It is, of course, duly recorded.' - -'And Earlshaugh will go to her heirs?' - -'To Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, unless she devises otherwise.' - -'A bitter satire!' - -'A codicil was framed, or nearly so, revoking much that had gone -before; but was never signed. By that omission----' - -'I have lost all,' said Roland, starting to his feet; 'so the -fortunes of the Lindsays of Earlshaugh are at their lowest ebb.' - -'Unless you can find an heiress,' said the lawyer, with another of -his weak smiles. - -Annot was no heiress, Roland remembered. - -'As for my father's folly,' he was beginning bitterly, when M'Wadsett -touched his arm: - -'Let us not speak ill of the dead,' said he; 'the late Laird may have -been deceived, misled--let us not wrong him.' - -'But he has wronged the living, who have to feel--to endure and to -suffer!' - -'The folly of your brother, the Guardsman--rather than your -own--brought all this about, Captain Lindsay,' said the lawyer, -rising too, as if the unprofitable interview had come to an end; and, -a few minutes after, Roland found himself outside in the bustle and -sunshine of George Street, that broad, stately, and magnificent -thoroughfare, along which he wandered like one in a bad dream, and -full of vague, angry, and bitter thoughts. - -A deep sense of unmerited humiliation galled his naturally proud -spirit, now that the truth of his real position had been laid before -him without doubt. - -The 'fool's paradise' in which he had been partly living had -vanished; and he thought how much better it had been had he left his -bones at Tel-el-Kebir, at Kashgate, or anywhere else in Egypt, as so -many of his comrades had done. - -What was he to do now? - -His profession at least was left him. Would he return to his -regiment at once, and go to Earlshaugh no more? It was impossible -just yet to turn his back on what was once his home. There was -Annot, his _fiancée_; there was Maude, his sister; there were Jack -Elliot and other guests; before them a part must be acted as yet--and -then--what then--what next? - -A bitter malediction rose to his lips, but he stifled it. - -Once matters were somehow smoothed over, back to the regiment he -should, of course, go, and turning his back on Scotland for ever, try -to forget the past and everything! - -With incessant iteration the thought--the question--was ever before -him how to explain to Jack Elliot and Annot Drummond that he--Roland -Lindsay, deemed the heir, the Lord of Earlshaugh and all its acres of -wood and wold, field and pasture, was little better than an -outcast--admitted there on the sufferances of the sister of that most -pitiful wretch, Hawkey Sharpe! - -Viewed in every way the situation was maddening--intolerable. With -regard to Annot, he could but trust to her love now. Should he ask -Maude or Hester to break the matter to her gently? No--that task -must be his own. - -Most of the hopes of himself and his sister seemed to be based on the -goodwill that might be borne them by Deborah Sharpe (how he loathed -to think of her as Mrs. Lindsay), and she, too, evidently, was -inimical to them both, and under the complete influence of her -brother, Hawkey Sharpe. - -Amid the turmoil of his thoughts he did not forget to procure as a -souvenir of this wretched visit to Edinburgh a valuable bracelet for -Annot Drummond, and then took his way--homeward he could not deem -it--to Earlshaugh. - -He had but one crumb of consolation, that at the last hour his father -seemed to have repented the evil he had done him--at the last -hour--but too late! - -'Not always in life is it possible to unravel the mesh which our -fingers have woven,' says a writer. 'Sometimes it is permitted to -recall the lost opportunities of a few mistaken hours; sometimes, -when all too late, we would willingly buy back with every drop of our -heart's blood the moments we have so wilfully abused, and the chances -we have so foolishly neglected. But it is too late!' - -So it was too late when Roland's father thought to amend his fatal -will. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - -MOLOCH. - -While Roland's mind was agitated by a nervous dread of how to break -to the ambitious little Annot--for ambitious he knew her to be--the -real state of his position and his altered fortune, unknown to him, -and in his absence, that young lady was receiving an inkling of how -matters stood, and thus, when the time came, some trouble and pain -were saved him. - -Red-eyed, and apparently inconsolable for his absence for a single -day, the 'gushing' Annot had cast her society almost entirely upon -Hester, as Maude was too much occupied by her own thoughts and cares -to give her sympathy. - -'Why has he gone, why left me so soon after we came here?' she moaned -for the twentieth time, with her golden head reclined on Hester's -shoulder. 'What shall I do without him?' she added. - -'For a few hours only. What will you say when winter comes or -spring, and he is back in Egypt, if you think so much of a few hours -now?' - -'It is very silly of me, I suppose, but I cannot help it; but we have -never been separated since--since----' - -'You met at Merlwood,' said Hester coldly, and annoyed by the other's -acting or childishness, she scarcely knew which it was. She added, -'Business has taken him to Edinburgh.' - -'Business--he never told me! About what?' - -'Something very unpleasant, I fear; but you know that a man of -property-- - -Hester paused, not knowing very well how to parry the questions of -Annot, who had put them to her frequently, and for a few minutes they -promenaded together the long flowery aisles of the conservatory in -silence. - -Hester was so tall and straight, so proud-looking and yet so soft and -womanly, her bearing a thing of beauty in itself, her dark velvety -eyes so sensitive and sweet in expression that anyone might wonder -how Annot Drummond, with all her fair and fairy-like loveliness, had -lured Roland away from her, yet it was so. - -Now and then, oftener than she wished, there came back unbidden to -Hester's mind memories of those happy August evenings at Merlwood, -ere Annot came, when she and Roland wandered in the leafy dingles by -the Esk, by 'caverned Hawthornden' and Roslin's ruin-crowned rock; -and when these memories came she strove to stifle them, as if they -caused a pain in her heart, for such haunting day-dreams were full of -tenderness, a vanished future and a present sense of keen -disappointment. - -And she remembered well, though she never sang now, the old song he -loved so well, and which went to the air of the 'Bonnie Briar Bush': - - 'The visions of the buried past - Come thronging, dearer far - Than joys the present hour can give, - Than present objects are.' - -And she felt with a sigh that her past was indeed buried and done -with. - -Honest and gentle, Hester had long since felt that she was unequal to -cope with Annot Drummond, or the game the latter played--a damsel who -possessed, as a clever female writer says, 'all the thousand and one -tricks, in short, by which an artificial woman understands how to lay -herself out for the attraction and capture of that noble beast of -prey called man;' and Annot was indeed artificial to the tips of her -tiny fingers. - -'Hester,' said Annot, breaking the silence mentioned, and following -some thoughts of her own, 'have you never had dreams--day-dreams, I -mean--of being rich?' - -'I don't think so.' - -'Why is this?' - -'Because I am quite content; and when one is so there is no more to -be desired. As our proverb says: "Content is nae bairn o' wealth."' - -'I cannot understand your point of view,' said Annot. 'I should like -gorgeous dresses--Worth's best; fine horses, with skins like satin, -and glittering harness; stately carriages, such as we see in the -parks; tall footmen, well-liveried and well-matched; a house in Park -Lane----' - -'And lots of poor to feed?' - -'I never think of them--they can take care of themselves, if the -police don't.' - -'Oh, Annot!' - -'And I should like my wedding presents to be the wonder of all, and -duly catalogued in all the 'Society' papers--services in exquisite -silver, the épergne of silver and gold--spoons and forks without -number--ice buckets and biscuit boxes--coffee sets in Dresden china, -écru, and gold--toilette suites in crystal and gold--Russian sables, -fans, gloves, jewels--a Cashmere shawl from the Queen, of course--a -lovely suite of diamonds and opals from the brother-officers of the -bridegroom--shoals of letters of congratulation, and a present with -each!' - -'In all this you say nothing of love,' said Hester, with a curl on -her sweet red lip, 'and without it all these things were worthless.' - -'And without them it were useless,' replied the mercenary little -beauty, with a perfect coolness that kindled an emotion of something -akin to contempt rather than amusement in the breast of Hester. - -'As Claude Melnotte says, after describing his palace by the Lake of -Como, "Dost like the picture?"' asked Annot laughingly. - -'Not at all from your point of view,' replied Hester, a little -wearily. 'The diamond and opal suite, to be the gift of the -bridegroom's brother-officers, has reference, I suppose----' - -'To Roland, of course.' - -'Poor Roland!' said Hester, with a genuine sigh. - -'Why do you adopt that tone in regard to him?' asked Annot, her eyes -of bright hazel green dilating with surprise. - -'For reasons of which, I fear, you know nothing,' replied Hester, -unable to repress a growing repugnance for the questioner. - -'But I surely must know them in time?' - -'Perhaps.' - -'There is no "perhaps" in the matter,' said Annot pettishly; 'what do -you mean, Hester--speak?' - -'Is it possible,' said the other with extreme reluctance, 'that you -have never heard of the terms of his father's will?' - -'Scotch-like, you reply to one question by another. Well, what will?' - -'His father's most singular and unjust one.' - -'No.' - -'Not even from Roland?' - -'No--never, I say!' - -'Most strange!' - -'You know that I cannot speak of it.' - -'Of course not.' - -'But mamma may. This estate of Earlshaugh----' - -'Is the property by gift of his father to his second wife----' - -'That grim woman, Deborah Sharpe?' - -'Yes--to have and to hold--I don't know the exact terms.' - -'How should you?' said Annot incredulously. 'You cannot be much of a -lawyer, Hester!' - -'Of course not--but this is not a lawyer's question now.' - -'Why?' - -'The will is an accomplished fact. Roland, when abroad, may have -been misled--nay, has been misled--by words and delusive hopes; but -these the family agent will shatter when he shows him the truth.' - -Annot made no immediate reply to a startling statement, which she -suspected was merely the outcome of natural female jealousy, and -perhaps rancour in the heart of Hester Maule. But the memory of the -latter went too distinctly back to that mournful day at Earlshaugh -when the last laird had been borne to his last home on the shoulders -of his serving men, while Roland was in Egypt, and poor Maude too ill -to leave her own room; the solemn and substantial luncheon that was -laid in the dining-hall for all who attended the funeral, and of the -subsequent reading of the will by Mr. M'Wadsett in the Red -Drawing-room to that listening group, over whom lay the hush and the -shadow of selfish anticipation; the legacies to faithful old -servants, those to her father, to herself, and other relations; and -then the terrible clause which bequeathed to 'his well-beloved wife -and ministering angel of his later days' everything else of which the -testator died possessed. And then followed the buzz of astonishment -and dissatisfaction with which the sombre assembly broke up. - -Of these details Hester said nothing to Annot; but the latter had now -something _to reflect upon_, which was too distasteful for -consideration, and which she endeavoured resolutely to set aside. - -Sooth to say, her selfish delight in the solid, luxurious, and -baronial glories of Earlshaugh was too great to be easily dissipated, -and she had still, as ever, a decided, repugnance to the -recollections of her widowed mother's struggles with limited means; -and their somewhat sordid home in South Belgravia, as she sought -courageously to shut her bright eyes to the gruesome probabilities of -Hester's communication. - -With a sigh of sorrow, in which, notwithstanding the gentleness of -her nature, much of contempt was mingled, Hester Maule regarded her -town-bred cousin, who though apparently so volatile and thoughtless, -was quite a watchful little woman of the world, with what seemed -childish ways, and Hebe-like beauty, so fair, so soft, with rose-leaf -complexion, and her _petite_ face peeping forth, as it were, from -among the coils and masses of her wonderful golden hair; and yet she -was ever ready to sacrifice everything to society--that Moloch to -which so many now sacrifice purity, happiness, and life itself. - -For Annot believed in a union of hands and lands, with hearts left -out of the compact. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - -ANNOT'S MISGIVINGS. - -Jack Elliot's mishap--accident though it could scarcely be -called--thoroughly marred and shortened the partridge shooting at -Earlshaugh, and the birds had quite a holiday of it. - -'Never mind, Jack,' Roland had said on his departure for Edinburgh, -'you'll make amends when the pheasants are ready.' - -Irritated by the event which had struck him down--exasperated by the -whole affair, the secret motives for which had gradually become more -apparent to him, Elliot tossed on his bed feverishly and wearily, at -times scarcely conscious, in a sleepy trance, for he had lost much -blood; but being a tough fellow, with a splendid constitution, he -soon became convalescent, after the few grains of No. 5 that lodged -had been picked out by the doctors. - -Feverishly he called for cooling draughts, which were always at hand, -prepared by old Mrs. Drugget, the buxom housekeeper, and even by -grim, grave Mrs. Lindsay, whom the catastrophe had seriously startled -and upset, as it showed the cruelty, cunning, and devilish villany of -which her brother and _protégé_ was capable. - -Mrs. Drugget, influenced by Jack's love of Maude, whom she had known -from infancy, scarcely left the patient for an instant, and ever sat -motionless and watchful by his bedside, till he was safe, and in the -way of a rapid recovery. - -Many were the calls to know the progress of the invalid, whose -'accident' had made some noise and excited much speculation; -carriages were always rolling up to the _porte-cochère_, the great -iron bell of which was clanged incessantly, and on the same errand -horsemen came cantering across the park; and one thing seemed -certain, that, until the party then assembled at Earlshaugh left the -place, Mr. Hawkey Sharpe would not show himself there in the field, -nor under the roof of the house, it was confidently supposed. - -Ere long Elliot was promoted from jellies and beef-tea to chicken and -champagne, administered by the loving little white hands of Maude; -and, with such a nurse, it seemed not a bad thing to lie convalescent -to one like Jack, who had undergone enteric fever in the hospital at -Ismailia, by the Lake of Tismah, and later still in the huts at -Quarantine Island, by the burning shore of Suakim. - -Maude grew bright and merry; she had got over the shock; but yet had -in her heart all the terror and loathing it could feel for the hand -that had dealt the injury--an injury which, but for the scandal it -must have caused in the county generally, and in the 'East Neuk' in -particular, might have been made a very serious matter for Mr. Hawkey -Sharpe. - -Actuated by some judicious remarks from the old Writer to the Signet -of Thistle Court, Roland returned to Earlshaugh with the intention of -endeavouring to 'tide over' the humiliation and difficulties of his -position till he could turn his back upon that place for ever, -without making any more unpleasantness, and, more than all, giving -rise to any useless speculation or _esclandre_. - -Mrs. Lindsay had somehow heard of his sudden, but certainly not -unexpected, visit to Edinburgh, and divined its object, if indeed no -casual rumour had reached her about it; and a smile of derision and -triumph, that would greatly have pleased her obnoxious brother, stole -over her pale and usually calm face when she thought of the utter -futility of Roland's expedition; and something of this emotion in her -eyes was the response to his somewhat crest-fallen aspect when she -met him in the Red Drawing-room on his return. - -But he was master of himself, if he was master of nothing more, and -resolved to have a truce, if not a treaty of peace, with 'Deborah -Sharpe,' as he and Maude always called her in her absence. - -Strange to say, he found that, outwardly at least, her old animosity, -jealousy, and spirit of defiance were much lessened, though he knew -not the secret cause thereof; but she was a woman, and as he looked -on the deathly pallor of her face, the ill-concealed agitation of her -manner, and thought of the terrible secret disease under which she -laboured, he felt something of pity for her, that was for the time -both genuine and generous. - -'You look pale,' said he gently as he took her hand and led her to a -sofa, adjusting a cushion at her back; 'I hope you have not been -exciting yourself about the state of my friend Elliot; Jack will be -all right in a few days now.' - -The soft grace of his manner and sweetness of his tone (common to him -when addressing all women) impressed her greatly; her own brother, -Hawkey Sharpe, never spoke thus, even when seeking his incessant -monetary favours. If the latter watched her pallor or detected -illness, his observation was rendered acute, not by fraternal -tenderness, but by selfishness and ulterior views of his own; thus -Roland's bearing vanquished, for a time at least, her innate dislike -of him, for it is an idiosyncrasy in the hearts of many to dislike -and fear those they have wronged or supplanted. - -Thus Roland was superior to her. - -'A more glorious victory cannot be gained over another than this,' -says Tillotson; 'when the injury began on their part, the kindness -should begin on ours.' - -'I hope you have secured medical advice as to the state of your -health?' said he after a little pause, and with a nameless courtesy -in his attitude. - -'Thank you so much for your kindness, Roland.' (She usually called -him 'Captain Lindsay.') 'Just now you remind me so much of your -father; and this is the anniversary of the day when he met with his -terrible accident, and his horse threw him,' she added, looking not -at him, but past him; yet the woman's usually hard disposition was -suddenly moved by the touch of nature that 'makes the whole world -kin.' - -'Like my father, you think?' said Roland coldly. - -'Yes--and for _his_ sake it is perhaps not too late--too late----' - -'For what?' he asked, as her lip quivered and she paused. - -'Time will show,' she replied, as one of her spasms made her lip -quiver again, and her breath came short and heavily. - -'Is there anything Maude or I can do for you--speak, please?' said -Roland, starting up. - -'Nothing--but do give me your arm to the door of my own room, and -ring for Mrs. Drugget.' - -He gave her his escort tenderly and courteously; and thus ended a -brief interview--the first pleasant one he had ever had with 'the -usurper' of his patrimony, and which he was to recall at a future -time. - -Whether or not Annot Drummond was thinking over Hester's cloudy and -alarming communications it is difficult to say; but she said to the -latter after a most effusive meeting with her _fiancé_: - -'What _has_ come over Roland since his visit to Edinburgh? He looks -shockingly ill--so changed--so _triste_--what does it all mean?' - -'I told you he went there on business, and that seems to have always -its worries--all the greater, perhaps, to those who detest or know -nothing about it.' - -'His moodiness quite belies the sobriquet of his name--"The Lindsays -lightsome and gay;" but here he comes again. Roland,' she added, -springing up and kissing his cheek, 'a thousand thanks, darling, for -this lovely bracelet you have brought me. It was so kind--so like -you to remember poor little me!' - -'As if I could, even for a moment, forget,' was his half-maudlin -response, while she drew up her sleeve a little way, coquetishly -displaying a lovely arm of snowy whiteness, firmly and roundly -moulded by perfect health and youth, with the bracelet clasped on her -slender wrist; and while turning it round and round, so as to inspect -it in every light and from every point of view, she was thinking that -when--after the bestowal of so many other valuable gifts--he could -bring her a jewel so expensive as this, surely Hester's hints about -_the will_ must have been nonsense, or the outcome of jealousy at -her--Annot's--success with a handsome cousin, whom she knew that -Hester was at least well disposed to regard with interest. - -Yet, when she and Roland were together, to Annot's watchful eyes his -manner did seem thoughtful and absent at times, and would have caused -misgivings but that she thought, and flattered herself, that it was -caused, perhaps, by his having to go prematurely to Egypt, like -Malcolm Skene. - -After Elliot had become convalescent, and Roland, with others, had -resumed their guns, and betaken them again to the slaughter of the -partridges, all went well apparently for a few weeks. There were gay -riding parties in the afternoon to visit the ruined castles at Ceres -and the muir where Archbishop Sharpe was slain; to the caves of Dura -Den at Kemback; picnics to Creich and the hills of Logie; there were -dances in the evening, and music, when Hester's rich contralto, -Elliot's tenor, Maude's soft soprano, and Roland's bass, took -principal parts. - - 'Young hearts, bright eyes, and rosy lips were there; - And fairy steps, and light and laughing voices - Ringing like welcome music through the air-- - A sound at which the untroubled heart rejoices.' - - -Life seemed a happy idyl, and that of Annot--we must suppose that she -had her special dreams of happiness too--was ever gay apparently; but -Roland's soul was secretly steeped in misery! - -Circumstanced as he knew himself to be, Annot's frequent praises of -Earlshaugh and her delight with all therein galled and fretted him, -and made him so strange in manner at times that the girl, to do her -justice, was bewildered and grieved; and Hester, though she wished it -not nor thought of it, was in some degree avenged. - -'What can be the meaning of it?' was often Annot's secret thought. - -Like Elliot and Maude, to her it seemed that perhaps they were too -happy for commonplace speeches as they idled hand-in-hand about the -grounds, wandering through vistas of thick and venerable -hawthorn-hedges, away by the thatched hamlet, through the wooded -haugh, where the 'auld brig-stane' still spanned the wimpling burn, -while face turned to radiant face, and loving eye met eye. - -In such moments what need had they, she thought, for words that might -seem dull or clumsy? 'But, after all, words, though coarse or -clumsy, are the coin in which human creatures must pay each other, -and failing in which they are often bankrupts for life.' - -Had Roland spoken then and said much that he left unsaid, perhaps -much suffering might have been spared him at a future time--we says -'perhaps,' but not with certainty, as we have only our story to tell, -without indulging in casuistry as to what might have occurred in the -sequel. - -The story of the will, Annot began to think, must have been a -fallacy--a cruel and unpalatable one. By-and-by she refused to face -the probability at all; but she could not help remarking that when -their conversation insensibly turned upon the future, as that of -lovers must do, upon their probable trip to London, his certain tour -of service in Egypt, or on anything that lay beyond the sunny horizon -of the _present_, Roland became strange in manner, abrupt and cloudy, -and nervously sought to turn the subject into another channel. - -Could he tell her yet, that he was a kind of outcast in the house of -his forefathers; that he was a mere visitor at Earlshaugh, and that -not a foot of the soil he trod was his own? - -And so day by day and night after night went on. The riding lessons -through which Annot hoped sometime to shine in 'The Lady's Mile,' -were still continued, on the beautiful and graceful pad which old -Johnnie Buckle had procured for her at Cupar fair--tasks requiring at -Roland's hand much adjustment of flowing skirts and loose reins; of a -dainty foot in a tiny stirrup of bright steel; the buttoning of -pretty gauntlets; much pressure of lingering fingers, and joyous -laughter in the sunny and grassy parks, where now the deers' antlers -were still lying, though one tradition avers that stags bury their -horns in the moss after casting them, and another that they chew and -eat them--a practice which Gavin Fowler and the forester asserted -they had often seen them attempt. - -'And in all your stately old home there is not even one traditional -ghost?' said Annot, looking back from the spacious lawn to where the -lofty façade of the ancient fortalice towered up on its rock in the -red autumnal sunshine. - -'A ghost there is, or used to be in my grandmother's time, at the -Weird Yett,' replied Roland; 'but in the house, thank Heaven, -no--though there are bits about it eerie enough to scare the -housemaids after dark without that dismal adjunct; yet blood enough -and to spare has been shed in and about Earlshaugh often in the olden -time; and more than one ancestor of mine has ridden forth to die on -the battlefield or at Edinburgh Cross, for the Stuart kings. But let -us drop this subject, Annot; a fellow cuts a poor figure swaggering -about his ancestors and their belongings in these days, when even -every Cockney cad airs his imaginary bit of heraldry on his -notepaper.' - -'But there were fairies surely in the Fairy Den?' persisted Annot. - -'But never with golden hair like yours, Annot,' said Roland, laughing -now. 'Tradition has it that an ancestor of mine, who was Master of -the Horse to Anne of Denmark, made a friend of an old Elf who dwelt -in the glen--a droll little fellow with a huge head, a great ruff, -and a gray beard that reached to his knees--and when the then Laird -of Earlshaugh, after being caught in a flirtation with the Queen in -Falkland Wood, was about to be led to the scaffold for his pretended -share in the Gowrie Conspiracy, the Elf came on a white palfrey and -bore him away, through crowd and soldiers and all, from the Heading -Hill of Stirling to his own woods of Earlshaugh, a story which Sir -Walter Scott assigns to another family, I believe.' - -So Annot strove with success in partially abandoning herself to the -joy of the present, and to the full budding hope of the future. - -She could not bring herself, 'little woman of the world,' as Hester -knew her to be, to do or say anything that could have the aspect of a -wish on her part to hurry on a marriage before Roland departed to -Egypt; but, while trembling at all the contingencies thereby -involved, had to content herself by prettily and coquettishly -referring from time to time to the events of their future life -together and combined; consoling herself with the knowledge that so -far as Roland's honour went, and that of his family, 'an engagement -known to all the world is much more difficult to break than one to -which only three or four persons are privy;' whilst for herself, she -adopted the tone of being, in her correspondence with London friends, -vague and cloudy, as if the engagement might or might not be; or that -her visit to Earlshaugh meant nothing at all, more than one anywhere -else. - -'Now that Jack is nearly quite well,' said Maude to her, 'we are to -have all manner of festivities before the pheasant shooting is over, -and we all bid adieu to dear old Earlshaugh, Roland says. There will -be a ball, the Hunt Ball, a steeplechase is also talked of, and I -know not what more.' - -But ere these things came to pass there occurred a catastrophe which -none at Earlshaugh could foresee, that of which, to his profound -concern and bewilderment, Malcolm Skene read in the papers at Pietro -Girolamo's roulette saloon, at Cairo. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - -THE FIRST OF OCTOBER. - -'As weel try to sup soor dook wi' an elshin as shoot in comfort wi' -that coofor waur--that gowk Hawkey Sharpe--so thank gudeness he's no -wi' us this day!' snorted old Gavin Fowler, the gamekeeper, when, on -the morning of the all-important 1st of October, he shouldered his -gun and whistled forth the dogs. - -But Hawkey Sharpe was fated to be cognisant of one grim feature in -that day's sport in a way none knew save himself. - -So October had come--'the time,' says Colonel Hawker, 'when the -farmer has leisure to enjoy a little sport after all his hard labour -without neglecting his business; and the gentleman, by a day's -shooting at that time, becomes refreshed and invigorated, instead of -wearing out himself and his dogs by slaving after partridges under -the broiling sun of the preceding month. The evenings begin to -close, and he then enjoys his home and fireside, after a day's -shooting of sufficient duration to brace his nerves and make -everything agreeable.' - -'We'll make good bags to-day,' was the opinion of all. - -Despite Maude's entreaties, Jack Elliot was too keen a sportsman to -forego the first day of the pheasant shooting, though his scar was -scarcely healed, and thought, though he did not say so to her, that -next October might see him 'potting' a darker kind of game in the -Soudan. - -'Get me a golden pheasant's wing for my hat, dear Roland,' said Annot -laughingly, as he came forth with his favourite breechloader from the -gun-room; and though such birds were scarce in the East Neuk, the -request proved somewhat of a fatal one, as we shall show; but Annot -had no foreboding of that when, with her usual childish effusiveness, -she bade Roland farewell, as he went to join the group of sportsmen -and dogs at the _porte-cochère_. - -'You have no father, I believe, Miss Drummond?' said Mrs. Lindsay, -who had been observing her. - -'No; poor papa died quite suddenly about two years ago,' was the -reply. - -'Suddenly?' queried Mrs. Lindsay, becoming interested. - -'Yes,' said Annot hesitatingly. - -'In what way--by an accident?' - -'Oh, dear--no.' - -'How then?' - -'Of disease of the heart; we never suspected it, but he dropped down -dead--quite dead--while poor mamma was speaking to him about a drive -in the park--but oh! what have I said to startle you so?' she added, -on perceiving that Mrs. Lindsay grew pale as ashes, and half closing -her eyes, pressed her hand upon her left breast, a custom she had -when excited. - -'Nothing--nothing--only a faintness,' she said, with something of -irritation; 'it is the wind without.' - -'But there is none,' urged Annot. - -'I often feel this when stormy weather is at hand,' replied the other -with an attempt at a smile, but a ghastly one; and Annot said no -more, as she had already seen that the slightest reference to her -secret ailment irritated Mrs. Lindsay, who abruptly left her. - -'There is not much liking lost between us,' thought the young lady, -as she adjusted in the breast of her morning dress a bunch of -stephanotis Roland had given her. 'It is evident, too, that Mrs. -Lindsay knows little of county society, and is one with whom county -society is shy of associating. Well, well; when Roland and I are -married, this grim matron shall be relegated from Earlshaugh to the -Dower House at King's Wood. It is a pity we shall not be able to -send her farther off.' - -Meanwhile the sportsmen were getting to work, and the guns began to -bang in the coverts. - -Autumn was rapidly advancing now; every portion of the beautiful -landscape told the eye so. The summer look was gone, and the sound -of the leaves fluttering down was apt to make one thoughtful. Then -even the sun seems older; he rises later, and goes to bed earlier. -The singing birds had gone from the King's Wood and the Earl's Haugh -to warmer climes. The swallows were preparing to leave, assembling -at their own places on the banks of the burn, waiting till thousands -mustered for their mysterious southern flight. Elsewhere, as Clare -has it, might be seen-- - - 'The hedger stopping gaps, amid the leaves, - Which time o'erhead in every colour weaves; - The milkmaid passing, with a timid look, - From stone to stone across the brimming brook; - The cottar journeying with his noisy swine - Along the wood side, where the branches twine; - Shaking from many oaks the acorns brown, - Or from the hedges red haws dashing down.' - - -But the scenery was lost on the sportsmen, who had eyes and ears for -the pheasants alone! - -The keepers and beaters were waiting at the corner of the King's Wood -when Roland and his friends made their appearance. - -Though the copses had not lost all their autumnal glory, the season -was an advanced one; a cold breeze swept down the grassy glens, and -frost rime hung for a time on boughs and thick undergrowth, sparkling -like diamonds in the bright morning sunshine, till melted away; and -in the clear air was heard that which someone describes as the -indescribable and never-to-be-forgotten sound for the sportsman--that -of the pheasant as he rises before the advancing line of -beaters--when the cock bird, roused by the tapping of their sticks on -the tree trunks, whirrs high over the tops to some sanctuary in the -wood, which the gun beneath him fates him never to reach. - -A spirt of smoke spouts upward, some brown feathers puff out in the -air, and with closed wings the beautiful bird falls within some -thirty yards of its killer. - -Though the shooting was most successful, other coverts than the -King's Wood were tried, some of which gave pheasants, others rabbits -and hares, till fairly good bags were made; and so the sportsmen shot -down the side of a remote spur of the Ochil hills--save the banging -of the guns no other sounds being heard but the beating of sticks -against trees or whin bushes, and the voices of Gavin and the beaters -shouting, 'Mark cock,' ''Ware hen,' 'Hare forward,' and so on, till a -dark dell was reached--a regular zeriba (Roland called it) of -bracken, briars, and gorse--where luncheon was to meet the party--one -of the not least pleasant features of a day's shooting; but the -sportsmen had become so intent on their work that they now realized -fully for the first time that the day had become overcast; masses of -dark gathered cloud had enveloped the sun; that dense gray mist was -rolling along the upper slopes of the hills, and in the distant -direction of Earlshaugh, the dark and blurred horizon showed that -rain was pouring aslant, and so heavily that Maude and Hester, who -had promised to bring the viands in the pony phaeton, would not dream -of leaving the shelter of the house. - -'Homeward' was now the word, but not before the last beat of the -day--reserved as a _bonne bouche_--was made, though noon was past and -gloom was gathering speedily. - -At the upper end of a little glen a long belt of firs bounded a field -beyond which rose another belt, and in the field the guns were -posted, while the pheasants could be seen making for the head of the -wood. - -Nearer and more near came the tapping of the beaters' rods, until one -gallant bird rose at the edge and was knocked over by Roland, who was -far away on the extreme right of the line. The tapping went gently -on lest too many birds should be put up at once. Some rapid firing -followed--all the more rapidly that the mist and rain were coming -down the hill-slopes together. - -In quick succession the birds left the covert, some flying to one -flank, some to the other, while others rose high in the air, and some -remained grovelling amid the undergrowth, never to leave it alive. - -It was no slaughter--no _battue_--however; about a dozen brace were -knocked over and picked up ere the mist descended over the field and -its boundary belts of fir trees, and drawing their cartridges, in -twos and threes, with their guns under their arms and their coat -collars up, for the rain was falling now, the sportsmen began to take -their way back towards the house, which was then some miles distant: -and all reached it, in the gathering gloom of a prematurely early -evening--weary, worn, yet in high spirits, and--save for the contents -of their flasks--unrefreshed, when they discovered that Roland -Lindsay was _not_ with them--that in some unaccountable way they had, -somehow, lost or missed him on the mountain side. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. - -ALARM AND ANXIETY. - -Time passed on--the mist and rain deepened around Earlshaugh, veiling -coppice, glen, and field, and Roland did not appear. - -He must have lost his way; but then every foot of the ground was so -familiar to him that such seemed impossible; and the idea of an -accident did not as yet occur to any one. - -Thus none waited for him at the late luncheon table, and then, as in -the smoke-room and over the billiard balls, Jack Elliot and others -talked only of the events of the day--how the birds were flushed and -knocked over--of hits and misses, of game clean-killed, and so forth; -how one gorgeous old pheasant in particular came crashing down -through the wiry branches of the dark firs in the agonies of death; -and how deftly Roland killed his game, without requiring a keeper to -give the _coup de grâce_--there were never many runners before him, -and how 'he looked as fresh as a daisy after doing the ninety acre -copse,' and so forth, till his protracted absence and the closing in -of the darkness, with the ringing of the dressing-bell for dinner, -made all conscious of the time, and led them to wonder "what on -earth" had become of him--what had happened, and whither had he, or -could he have gone! - -Speculations were many and endless, - -'Some fatality seems surely to attend the shooting here now!' said -Mrs. Lindsay anxiously, as she nervously pressed her large white, -ringed hands together. - -To some of those present the stately dinner, served up in the lofty -old dining-room, was a kind of mockery; and Maude and Hester, who -dreaded they knew not what, made but a pretence of eating, while the -presence of the servants proved a wholesome, if galling, restraint to -them; but not so to the irrepressible Annot, who talked away as usual -to the gentlemen present, and displayed all her pretty little tricks -of manner as if no cause for surmise or anxiety was on the tapis. - -The unusual pallor, silence, and abstraction of Mrs. Lindsay, as she -sat at the head of the table, while Jack Elliot officiated as host, -were painfully apparent to those who, like Hester, watched her. - -But she had her own secret thoughts, in which none, as yet, shared! - -An attempt had been made to injure Elliot, perhaps mortally, under -cover of a blunder--a mishap. Had the same evil hand been at work -again? - -A cloud there was no dispelling began to settle over all; -conversation became broken, disjointed, overstrained, and the cloud -seemed deeper as a rising storm howled round the lofty old house, -shook the wet ivy against the windows, and grew in force with the -gathering gloom of night. - -Annot's equanimity amid these influences grieved Maude and annoyed -Hester, who recalled her twaddling grief when Roland had been but a -few hours absent from her in Edinburgh. - -'How can she bear herself so?' said Maude. - -'Because she is heartless,' replied Hester; 'and to say the least of -her, I never could imagine Annot, with all her prettiness and -_espièglerie_, at the head of a household, or taking her place in -society like a woman of sense.' - -Hour succeeded hour, and still there was no appearance of Roland, and -the clang of the great iron bell in the _porte-cochère_ was listened -for in vain. - -So the night came undoubtedly on, but what a night it proved to be of -storm and darkness! - -The rain hissed on the swaying branches of the great trees now almost -stripped and bare; it tore down the flowers from the rocks on which -the house stood, and wrenched away the matted ivy from turret and -chimney; the green turf of the lawn and meadows was soaked till it -became a kind of bog; the winding walks that descended to the old -fortalice became miniature cascades that shone through the gloom, -while the wind wailed in the machicolations of the upper walls in -weird and solemn gusts, to die away down the haugh below. - -That a tempest had been coming some of the older people about the -place, like Gavin Fowler, had foretold, as that loud and hollow noise -like distant thunder that often precedes a storm among the Scottish -mountains had been heard among the spurs of the Ochils, and from -which in the regions farther North, the superstitious Highlanders, as -General Stewart tells, presage many omens, when 'the Spirit of the -Mountain shrieks.' - -All night long the house-bell was clanged at intervals from the -bartizan, to the alarm of the neighbourhood. - -London-bred Annot was scared at last by the elemental war, by these -strange sounds, and the pale faces of those about her, and with -blanched visage she peered from the deeply embayed windows into the -darkness without, with genuine alarm, now. - -How often had she and Roland rambled in yonder green park, not a -vestige of which could now be seen even between the flying glimpses -of the moon, or crossed it together, talking of and planning out that -future which he seemed to approach with such doubt and diffidence -latterly; or as he went forth with his breechloader on his shoulder -and she clinging with interlaced hands on his right arm--he tall, -strong, and stalwart, with his dogs at his heels, and looking down -lovingly and trustfully into her fair, smiling face. - -Now they might never there and thus walk again, yet her tears seemed -to be lodged very deep just then. - -But softer Hester's thoughts were more acute. Had Roland perished in -some unforeseen, mysterious, and terrible manner? Was this the last -of _her_ secret love-dream, and had all hope, sweetness, glamour and -beauty gone out of her heart--out of her life altogether? - -Oh, what had happened? - -Could Hawkey Sharpe--no, she thrust even fear of him on one side; -but, as the time stole on and the midnight hour passed without -tidings, she tortured herself with questions, lay down without -undressing, and wetted her pillow with tears for the doubly lost -companion of her infancy, of her girlhood, and its riper -years--thinking all the while that her sorrow, her longing, and -passionate terrors were for the affianced of another--of the artful -Annot Drummond. - -Clinging to the supposition that he must have mistaken his way in the -swiftly descending mist, Jack Elliot and other guests, with -serving-men, keepers, and hunters, carrying lanterns and poles, set -out more than once into the darkness, rack, and storm to search -without avail, and to return wet and weary. - -Hour after hour the circle at Earlshaugh watched and waited, -trembling at every gust and listening to every sound--shaken and -weakened by a suspense that grew intolerable. - -From the windows nothing could be seen--not even the tossing trees -close by, or the dark outline of the distant mountains. The -listeners' hearts beat quick--gust after gust swept past, but brought -no welcome sound with it, and they became familiarized with the idea -that some catastrophe must have happened or tidings of the absent -must have come by that time; and with each returning party of -searchers, hope grew less and less, while those most vitally -concerned in the absence of Roland began to shrink from questioning -or consulting them, as they were already too much disposed by their -nature to adopt the gloomiest and most morbid views; and still the -storm gusts continued to shake the windows, and dash against them -showers of leaves and the wet masses of overhanging foliage. - -Without his cheerful presence and general _bonhomie_ of manner, how -empty and void the great old drawing-room--yea, the house -itself--seemed now! All his occasional strange, abstracted, and -thoughtful moods were forgotten, and now the hours of the dark -autumnal morning wore inexorably on. - -A few of the guests had retired to their rooms, but the majority -passed the time on easy-chairs, watching and waiting for what might -transpire. Now and then a dog whined mournfully, and cocked its ears -as if to listen, adding to the eerie nature of the vigil. - -'Three,' said Hester to Maude when the clocks were heard striking. -Then followed 'four' and 'five.' The fires were made up anew. - -'Oh, my God, what _can_ have happened!' thought the two girls in -their hearts, glancing at Annot, who, overcome by weariness, had -dropped into a profound sleep; and ere long the red rays of the sun, -as he rose from his bed in the German Sea, began to tinge the summits -of the distant Ochils and the nearer Lomonds, and the storm was dying -fast away. - -It was impossible now to suppose that he could in any manner have -lost himself, or taken shelter in the house of any friend or tenant, -as no message came from him, and the last idea was completely -dissipated by the final return of Gavin Fowler, who, with his staff -of keepers and beaters, had been at every farm and house within miles -making inquiries, but in vain. - -Nothing had been seen or heard of the lost one. - -Gavin, however, had seen something which, though he spoke not of it -then, had given him cause for anxious thought and much speculation. -This was Mr. Hawkey Sharpe (who for some time past had betaken him -elsewhere) rapidly and furtively passing out by the Weird Yett, well -muffled up, either to conceal his face or for warmth against the cold -morning air; and by the path he had taken, he had evidently come by -the back private door from the house of Earlshaugh! - -'What's i' the wind noo?' muttered the old gamekeeper, with a glare -in his dark gray eye, and with knitted brows, 'But there's nae hawk, -Maister Hawkey Sharpe, flees sae high but he will fa' to some lure. -They were gey scant o' bairns that brocht you up.' - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. - -THE KELPIE'S CLEUGH. - -On the extreme flank of his party, and rather farther out or off than -usual, Roland, intent on following his game, took no heed at first of -the swiftly down-coming mist, till it fell like a curtain between him -and his companions, who had drawn their cartridges and ceased firing. -Even the sound of their voices was muffled by the density of the -atmosphere and he knew not where they were; but, thinking the cloud -would lift, he felt not the least concern, but went forward, as he -conceived, in the direction of home, and that which led towards the -field where the last beat of the day had been made; but as he -proceeded the ground seemed less and less familiar to him. - -Over a high bank, slippery with dead leaves and the thawed rime of -the past morning, he went, a nasty place to get across, and in doing -so he prudently removed the cartridges from his gun, lest he might -slip, trip, or stumble to the detriment of himself or some adjacent -companion. - -Pausing at times, he uttered a hallo, but got no response. He could -see nothing of the belts of firs before referred to; but he came upon -clumps of hazel, nearly destitute of leaves, growing thickly about -the roots, and expanding as they rose some nine feet or so above the -ground. - -There was a dense undergrowth of bracken and intertwisted brambles -here, a tangle of dead leaves, stems, and thorns, most perplexing to -find one's self among in a dense mist. From amid these a rabbit or -hare scudded forth; but he took no heed of it. - -Suddenly a bird--a fine golden pheasant--whirred up, and settled down -again in the covert very near him. He remembered the request of -Annot. Never had the latter seemed brighter, dearer, or sweeter too, -than that morning when she playfully asked him to bring a golden -pheasant's wing, and secretly returned his farewell caress with such -joy and warmth. - -Dropping a charge into one of his barrels, he fired, but failed to -kill the bird, which, hit somewhere, beat the earth with its wings -and rolled or ran forward into the mist. Dropping his gun, Roland -darted forward after it--the tendril of a bramble caught his feet, -and a gasping cry escaped him as he fell heavily on his face and then -downward--he knew not where! - -Instinctively and desperately he clutched something; it was turf on a -rocky edge. He felt it yielding; a small tree, a silver birch, grew -near, and wildly he caught a branch thereof; and swung out over some -profundity, he knew not what or where, till like a flash of lightning -there came upon his memory the Burn Cleugh, a deep, rocky chasm, -which had been the mysterious terror of his boyhood--as the fabled -shade of a treacherous kelpie, a hairy fiend with red eyes and red -claws--a rent or rift in the low hills some miles from his home, and -at the bottom of which, about sixty feet and more below, the burn -referred to as passing through the Earl's Haugh, and near the hamlet -of the same name, flowed towards Eden. - -'Save me--God save me!' rose to his lips, and with each respiration -as he clung to the branch and the bead-drops started to his forehead, -he lived a lifetime--a lifetime as it were of keenest agony. - -He knew well the profoundity of the rocky abyss that yawned in -obscurity below him, and he heard the slow gurgle of the burn as it -chafed against the stones that barred its downward passage, and, -mechanically, as one in a dream who fears to fall, he strove to sway -his body upward, but could find no rest for his footsteps, and felt -that the birch branch to which he clung was gradually but -surely--rending! He had no terror of death in itself--none of death -in the battlefield, as we have shown; but from such a fate as this he -shrank; his soul seemed to die within him, and with every respiration -there seemed to come the agony of a whole lifetime. - -His nerve was gone, and no marvel that it was so. He might escape -instant death; but not the most dreadful mutilation; and, sooth to -say, he dreaded that a thousand times more than death. - -One glance downward into that dark and misty chasm was in itself a -summons to death, and he knew well the terrible bed of stones and -boulders that lay below. - -He became paralyzed--paralyzed with a great and stunning fear. The -rending of the branch continued; his arms were waxing faint and -strained; his fingers feeble; and it was only a question of moments -between time and eternity--fall--fall he must--how far--how deep -down--the depth he had forgotten. - -The suspense was horrible; yet it was full of the dire certainty of a -dreadful end. - -Every act and scene of his past life came surging up to memory--the -memory of less than a minute, now. - -The branch parted; but, still grasping it, down he went whizzing -through the mist--there was a stunning crash as he fell first on a -ledge of rock and then into the stream's stony bed below, and then -sight and sense and sound passed away from him! - - -How long he lay there he knew not. After a time consciousness -returned, but he felt himself incapable of action--of motion--almost -of thinking. - -The ledge or shelf of rock, which was covered by soft turf, had first -received him, and thus broken the fall, which ended, we have said, in -the bed of the stream, in which he was partially immersed from the -waist downwards; but whether his limbs were broken or dislocated he -knew not then, and there he lay helpless, with the cold current -trickling past and partly over him, the rocks towering sharply and -steeply up on either side of him to where their summits were hidden -in the masses of eddying mist, that now began to rise and sink as the -wind increased and the afternoon began to close. - -How long might he lie there undiscovered in that desolate spot, which -he knew so few approached? How long would he last, suffering as he -did then? And was a miserable death, such as this--there and amid -such surroundings--to be the end of his young life, with all its -bright hopes and loving aspirations for the future? - -Cold though he began to feel--icy cold--hot bead drops suffused his -temples at the idea, and at all his fancy began to picture, and more -than once a weak cry for aid escaped him. - -The Cleugh became more gloomy; he heard the bellowing of the wind, -and felt the falling rain, the torrents of which were certain to -swell and flood this tributary of the Eden, and the terror of being -drowned helplessly, as the darkness fell and the water rose, impelled -him to exertion, and by efforts that seemed almost superhuman he -contrived to drag his bruised body and--as he felt assured--broken -limbs somewhat more out of the bed of the stream; but the agony of -this was so great that he nearly fainted. - -With all his constitutional strength and hardihood, he was certain -that he could never survive the night; and even if he did, the coming -morning and day might bring him no succour, for save when in search -of a lost sheep or lamb in winter, what shepherd ever sought the -recesses of the Kelpie's Cleugh? - -As he lay there, with prayer in his heart and on his lips, his whole -past life--and then indeed did he thank God that it had been -well-nigh a blameless one--seemed to revolve again and again as in a -panorama before him; while a thousand forgotten and minute details -came floating back rapidly and vividly to memory. - -His boyhood, his dead brother, his mother's face, as he had seen it -bending over him tenderly in his little cot, while she whispered the -prayer she was wont to give over him every night, till it became -woven up with the life of his infancy and riper years; his -roystering, fox-hunting father; his regiment--the jovial mess--the -gallant parade, with familiar faces seen amid the gleam of arms; his -service in Egypt--Tel-el-Kebir, with its frowning earthworks towering -through the star-lit gloom and dust of the night-march, till the red -artillery and musketry flashed over them in garlands of fire, as the -columns swept on and the Highland pipes sent up their pæan of victory! - -Then came memories of Kashgate--its bloody and ghastly massacre--the -flight therefrom into the desert; and then sweet Merlwood and Hester -Maule, and Annot with her fair and goddess-like loveliness. - -Then came the realities of the present again in all their misery, -power, and sway--the ceaseless rush of the cold stream, the pouring -rain upon his upturned face, the drifting clouds, the occasional -glinting of the stars, the rustle of the wet leaves torn from the -trees by the gusty wind, and the too probable chances of the coming -death through pain, chill, exposure, and utter exhaustion. - -Again, exerting all his powers, a despairing cry escaped him, and -this time a sound responded. It was only a heron, however, that, -full of terror, seemed to flash out from its nest in the rocks, and -winged its way out of sight in a moment. - -As he lay there it seemed to him as if time had a torturing power of -spinning out its seconds, minutes, and hours that he had never known -it to have before. - -But to lie there perishing within almost rifle-shot of the roof under -which he was born--so near his friends and so many who loved -him--Annot more than all--was a terrible conviction--one apparently -unnatural, unrealizable! - -The mist had gone now, and the dark rocks between which he lay began -to assume strange and gruesome forms in the weird light of the -occasional stars, still more so when once or twice a weird glimpse of -the stormy moon penetrated into the Cleugh. - -'Oh, God!' cried he imploringly, 'to perish--to perish thus!' - -At that moment, in a swiftly passing gleam of moonshine, he saw a -face--a human face--peering over the rocks above as if seeking to -penetrate the watery gloom below, and again a cry for help--help for -the sake of mercy, for the sake of Heaven, escaped him. - -For a moment, we say, the face was there; the next it vanished, as a -dark mass of cloud swept over the silver disc of the moon, and a -sound, painfully and unmistakably like a mocking laugh, reached the -ears of the sufferer. - -The face--if face it actually was--and not that of the fabled fiend, -the Kelpie of the Cleugh, appeared no more; the hours went by; no -succour came, and Roland, as he now resigned himself to the worst, -believed that what he had seen, or thought he had seen, was but the -creation of his own fevered and over-excited fancy. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. - -'ALL OVER NOW!' - -But it was no delirious delusion of Roland's that he had seen a human -face, or heard a human voice respond mockingly to his despairing cry -for aid. - -It singularly chanced that about an hour before midnight, and during -a lull in the storm, Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, who--as we have said--had -been seen hovering about the vicinity of Earlshaugh, was betaking -himself thither, intent on seeing his sister, the mistress thereof -(whom he also deemed his banker) concerning some of his monetary -affairs, and had been passing on foot by the narrow sheep-path that -skirted the verge of the dangerous Cleugh, when the occasional cries -of the sufferer reached his ear, and on peering down he had speedily -discovered by his voice _who_ that sufferer was. - -He paused for a minute till quite assured of the fact, and though at -a loss to conceive how the event had come to pass, he proceeded with -quickened steps for some miles, till he reached the private -entrance--for which he had a key--but not for the purpose of raising -an alarm, or procuring or sending forth succour. Of that he had not -the least intention, as we shall show. 'In the place where the tree -falleth, there let it lie,' was the text of Mr. Hawkey Sharpe just -then. - -He found the entire household on the _qui vive_, and heard that -Roland Lindsay was missing, thus corroborating to the fullest extent -any detail that might be wanting, and obviating all doubt as to the -episode at the Cleugh. - -'What a fuss,' said he mockingly, 'about a storm of rain!' - -It now rested with him, by the utterance of a single word, or little -more, to save the missing one from a miserable and lingering death; -but that word remained unuttered, and with a grim and mocking smile -upon his coarse lips, and a gleam of fiendish joy in his watery gray -eyes, he proceeded to his sanctum, up the old turret stair, without -the sensation of his steps going downward according to the household -tradition. - -'Lindsay lost in this storm!' he thought. 'How came he to tumble or -to be thrown down there--thrown, by whom?' he added mentally, for his -mind was ever prone to evil. 'Then I am not wrong--it _was_ his -voice I heard at the bottom of the Kelpie's Cleugh! Ha! ha! let him -lie there till the greedy gleds pick his bones to pieces! Well--come -what may, I have had no hand in _this_!' he continued, thinking -doubtless of the charge of No. 5 aimed at Captain Elliot. - -Roland had often goaded Hawkey to the verge of madness by his cool, -haughty bearing and unassailable scorn, even at times when the latter -secretly amused him by the 'society' airs he strove to assume; but -Hawkey's time for vengeance seemed to have come unexpectedly and all -unsought for; and in fancy still he seemed to glare gloatingly down -into the dark chasm where the pale sufferer lay in his peril, -doubtless with many a bone broken, and the waters of the burn rising -fast, for the rain was falling in torrents, and there was a _spate_ -in all the mountain streams. - -Hawkey threw off his soaked coat, invested his figure in a loose, -warm _robe de chambre_, and took a bottle of his favourite 'blend' -from his private cellarette, after which he threw himself into an -easy-chair, with his feet upon another, and strove to reflect. - -'I always thought, if I could get rid of that fellow Lindsay by fair -means or foul, this place would certainly be mine, unless Deb plays -the fool--mine! The girl in my way is nothing, yet I may have her -too, and if not, the _other_ one with the yellow hair. After what I -saw by a gleam of the Macfarlanes' lantern to-night, the way seems -pretty clear now!' - -He tugged his straw-coloured moustache, and after fixing his eyes -with a self-satisfied glare on vacancy for a full minute, rang the -bell for supper imperiously. - -Mr. Hawkey Sharpe was one who never troubled himself about the past, -and seldom about the future; his enjoyment was in the present, and -the mere fact of living well and jollily without having work to do. - -Just then he was pretty full of alcohol and exultant hope--two very -good things in their way to lay in a stock of. He cared little what -he did, but he dreaded greatly discovery in any of his little -trickeries. - -To him the world was divided into two portions, those who cheat and -those who are cheated. - -'Rid of Lindsay,' was the ever-recurring thought; 'rid of his -presence, local influence, and d----d impudence, I shall have this -place again more than ever to myself, if I can only throw a little -dust in Deb's eyes, and have, perhaps, my choice of these two -stunning girls when I choke off that other snob, Elliot.' - -Excitement consequent on this most unlooked-for episode at the Cleugh -had nearly driven out of his mind the object which had brought him -that night to Earlshaugh, and his last potations of hot whisky toddy -at The Thane of Fife, a tavern or roadside inn on the skirts of the -park, had for a time rather clouded his intellect, without, however, -spoiling his usually excellent appetite. - -Thus when Tom Trotter arrived with a large silver tray--a racing -trophy of the late laird's career--covered with a spotless white -napkin, and having thereon curried lobster, mutton cutlets, devilled -kidneys, and beef kabobs on silver skewers, with a bottle of Mumm, he -drew in his chair and made a repast, all the more pleasantly perhaps -that he heard at intervals the clang of the great house bell -overhead, and saw the lanterns of the searchers like glow-worms amid -the storm of rain and wind, as they set forth again on their bootless -errand, and then a smile that Mephistopheles might have envied spread -over his face. - -'Lindsay lost!' he muttered jocularly. 'Well, there was mair lost at -Shirramuir when the Hielandman lost his faither and mither, and a -gude buff belt that was worth them baith.' - -He had a habit, when liquor loosened his tongue, of soliloquizing, -and he was in this mood to-night. - -'Now, how to raise the ready!' he muttered, as he thrust the silver -salver aside, and drew the decanter once more towards him, together -with his briar-root and tobacco-pouch. 'The money I have lost must -go to a fellow who is said to possess the power of turning everything -he touches to gold--to gold! Gad, could I only do that, I wouldn't -even sponge on old Deb in Earlshaugh, or wait for a dead woman's -shoes. Besides, if I don't please her, she may hand over the whole -place to the Free Kirk; and, d--n it, that's not to be thought -of!--that body which, as she always says, seceded so nobly, and -scorned the loaves and fishes. If I could only get hold of Deb's -cheque-book; but she keeps everything so devilish close and secure! -When a fellow comes to be as I am,' he continued, rolling his eyes -about and lighting his pipe with infinite -difficulty--'bravo!--there's a devil of a gust of wind--hope you like -it, Lindsay--when a fellow, I say, comes to be as I am, with an -infinitesimal balance at the banker's and not much credit with his -tailor, he can't be particular to a shade what he does--and so about -the cheque-book----' - -'What have you been doing _now_?' asked a voice behind him. - -His sister Deborah again! He grew very pale and nearly dropped his -pipe. 'How much had she overhead?' was his first thought; 'curse -this habit of thinking aloud!' was his second. - -'You are always stealing on a fellow unawares, Deb,' said he, in a -thick and uncertain voice; 'it is deuced unpleasant--startles one so.' - -Her face was pale as usual; but her eyes and mouth expressed anger, -pain, and a good deal of indignation and contempt too. - -'What have you done?' she demanded categorically. - -'Nothing,' said he, striving to collect his thoughts; 'but made my -way here in a devil of a shower, for want of other shelter.' - -'You know what has happened?' - -'To Lindsay--yes.' - -'You do?' she exclaimed, making a step forward, with a hand on her -side, as if her usual pain was there. - -'I know that he is absent--missing--that is all,' he replied doggedly. - -'Nothing more?' - -'Nothing more--and care little, as you may suppose,' he replied, -avoiding her keen searching eye by carefully filling his pipe. -'There is always some row on,' he grumbled; 'what a petty world this -is after all--I wonder if the fixed stars are inhabited.' - -'That will not matter to you, I should think.' - -'Why?' - -'You will go some other way, I fear.' - -'Deb, your surmise is unpleasant.' - -The manner of Hawkey Sharpe to his sister had lost, just then, much -of its general self-contained assurance. She detected the change, -and it rendered her suspicious. - -'Save this poor little dog Fifine,' said she, caressing the cur she -carried under an arm, and which was greedily sniffing the _débris_ of -Mr. Hawkey's supper, 'I do not know a living creature who really -cares for me!' - -'Oh--come now, Deb--hang it!' said her brother in an expostulatory -manner. - -'You have some object in coming here to-night,' said she sternly; 'to -the point at once, Hawkey?' - -'Well, since you force me, Deb--I have been unfortunate in some -speculations.' - -'Is it thus you describe your losses on the race-course?' - -'At the western meeting--yes--backed the wrong or losing -horse--_Scottish Patriot_--devil of a mess, Deb!' - -'And lost--how much? An unlucky name.' - -'Two thousand pounds--must have the money somehow--I'm booked for it, -and you know the adage-- - - "A horse kicking, a dog biting, - A gentleman's word without his writing," - -are none of them in my way.' - -'I know nothing of the adage, but this I know--there are bounds to -patience.' - -'My dear Deb!' said he coaxingly. - -'I have lost much--too much, indeed, through you--money that might be -put to good and holy uses--and now shall lose no more!' - -Turning abruptly, she swept away and left him. - -He looked after her with absolutely a red glare of rage in his pale -gray eyes. - -'Good and holy uses--meaning the kirk of course!' he muttered with a -savage malediction. 'We shall see--we shall see. She must have -heard me muttering about her cheque-book--ass that I am; but that -money I must have before three months are past if I rake Pandemonium -for it!' - -Again the clanging of the house bell fell upon his ear, and he heard -the storm as it rose and died away to rise again. He took another -glass of stiff grog and glared at the great antique clock on the -mantel-shelf. - -'Three in the morning,' he muttered. 'It must be all over with _him_ -by this time--all over now!' - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - -PELION ON OSSA. - -The rain and the wind were over; the storm had passed away into the -German Sea, as perhaps more than one luckless craft found to its cost -between Fife Ness and the shores of Jutland. - -It was over in the vicinity of Earlshaugh; the sluices of heaven -seemed to have emptied themselves at last; but the atmosphere, if -clear, was damp and laden with rain, and the masses of ivy, rent and -torn by the wind, flapped against the walls of the old manor-house. - -The hour was early; bright and clear the morning had come from the -German Sea, and a freshness lay over all the fields and groves of the -East Neuk. After such a terrible night there seemed something -fairy-like in such a morning with all its details, but the excitement -was yet keen in Earlshaugh. - -The horse-chestnuts still wore their changing livery of shining gold, -and the mountain ash looked gray, but lime and linden were alike -nearly stripped of their leaves; and when the breeze blew through the -old oaks of the King's Wood the pale acorns came tumbling out of -their cups--the tiny drinking-cups of the freakish elves that once -abode in the Fairy Den. - -Old Jamie Spens, the ex-poacher, now came with startling tidings to -Earlshaugh. A shepherd's dog--one of those Scottish collies, of all -dogs the most faithful, intelligent, and useful, as they can discover -by the scent any sheep that may have the misfortune to be overblown -by the snow, had been seen careering wildly in the vicinity of the -rocky Cleugh, disappearing down it, to return to the verge barking -and yelping loudly, as if he had evidently discovered someone or -something there. - -Old Spens had looked down, and too surely saw the young laird lying -pale, still, and motionless. - -'Dead?' asked a score of voices. - -'After sic a nicht and sic a fa' what could ye expect?' said the old -man with tears in his eyes as he remembered Roland's kindness to -himself, adding, as he shook his grizzled head, 'but I hope no--I -hope no.' - -Spens had found Roland's gun, and a golden pheasant, dead, near the -edge of the Cleugh, for which a party at once set out in all haste, -Hester and Maude, pale and colourless after such a sleepless night, -too impatient to wait for the pony phaeton which Jack Elliot offered -to drive, preceding them all, for the scene of the catastrophe was at -some distance from the house. - -'They laugh longest who laugh last,' muttered Hawkey Sharpe to -himself, as--while pausing on the brow of an eminence beyond the -Weird Yett--he saw this party setting forth, a large group of -servants and keepers with poles and ropes--and he shook his clenched -hand mockingly and threateningly as he added, 'do your best, but - - '"In the midst of your glee, - You've no seen the last o' my bonnet and me!"' - - -Annot did not accompany this excited party; it might be that her -strength was unequal to it at such an hour and over such ground, or -it might be that she had not heart enough for it. There is no secret -of the latter, says a French writer, that our actions do not -disclose; and as Annot's heart seemed--well, Hester Maule cared not -then to analyze it; she was too disgusted to be angry. - -But Annot, in all her selfish existence, had never before been, as -she thought, face to face with the most awful tragedy of -life--Death--and she shrank from the too probable necessity now. - -So she remained behind with Mrs. Lindsay. She was not accustomed to -such rough weather and such exhibitions; she would get her poor -little feet wet; she was subject to catching cold; the morning was -full of rain and wind--it was still quite tempestuous--such was never -seen in London; so Maude and Hester swept away in contemptuous -silence, leaving her, well shawled and cowering close to the fire in -Mrs. Lindsay's luxurious boudoir, and thought no more about her, as -she remained motionless, silent, and with her eyes certainly full of -tears, fixed on the changing features of the glowing coals, and -seeing her hopes of Earlshaugh too probably drifting far away in -distance, now! - -Could this calamity be real? was the ever-recurrent thought in the -mind of Hester. It seemed too fearful--too horrible to be true! Was -she dreaming, and the victim of a hideous nightmare, from which she -would awake? - -With all their impatience and anxiety to get on, the keepers, -servants, and others stepped short in mistaken kindness or courtesy -to the two young ladies who accompanied them; but in an incredibly -short space of time the yawning Cleugh was reached, where the -shepherd's faithful dog was still on guard, bounding to and fro as -they approached, barking and yelping wildly; and with hearts that -beat high and painfully--every respiration seeming an absolute -spasm--Hester and Maude, who clung to Elliot's arm, reached the verge -of the chasm, and on looking down saw too surely--as something like a -wail escaped the lips of each--Roland lying at the bottom, still and -motionless, half in and half out of the burn's rocky bed, as he, by -the last efforts of his strength, had painfully dragged or wrenched -himself. - -Exclamations of commiseration and pity were now heard on every hand. - -'This way, lads--round by the knowe foot,' cried old Gavin Fowler. - -'No--by the other way--the descent is easier!' said Elliot -authoritatively; but heedless of both suggestions, Hester Maule, like -the gallant girl as she was, took a path of her own, and went -plunging down the very face of the rocks, apparently! - -A cry of terror escaped the more timid Maude, as Hester seemed to -stumble and fall, or sway aside, but rose again and, trembling, -sobbing violently, in breathless and mental agony, her delicate -hands, which were gloveless, now torn and bleeding by brambles and -thorns, her beautiful brown hair all unbound and rolling in a cascade -down her back, finding footing where others would have found none, -grasping grass and heather tufts; while the more wary were making a -circuit, she was the first to reach him, and kneel by his side! - -Raising his head, she laid her cheek upon his cold brow, while her -tears fell hot and fast, and for a moment she felt that this helpless -creature was indeed her own, whom even Annot Drummond could not take -from her then. - -How pale, cold, sodden, and senseless he seemed! With a moan of -horror that felt as if it came from her wildly beating heart, Hester -applied to his lips a tiny hunting flask of brandy with which she -had, with admirable foresight, supplied herself, and almost -unconsciously he imbibed a few drops. - -'Roland!' said Hester, in an agonized voice. - -A litter flicker of the eyelashes was the only response. - -'Thank God, he lives!' exclaimed the girl. - -'Annot, Annot!' he murmured. - -'Always--always the idea of chat girl!' sighed Hester bitterly, and -she withdrew her face from its vicinity to his as Elliot, Gavin -Fowler, Spens, and others came splashing along the bed of the stream -from two directions, above and below the Cleugh, and ample succour -had come now. - -What his injuries were, whether internal or external, or both, none -could know then. He seemed passive as a child, weak and utterly -exhausted. To all it was but too apparent that had succour been -longer of coming it had come too late; but now there was no lack of -loving and tender hands to bear him homeward, and into his father's -house. - -'Annot's name was the first word that escaped his lips,' said Hester, -as with torn and tremulous fingers she knotted up her back hair into -a coil, and seemed on the verge of sinking, after her recent toil, -and under her present excitement and anxiety. - -'That girl has been his evil genius--his weird--I think,' said Maude, -who never liked Annot, and mistrusted her; 'and he will never be free -so long as this weird hangs on him.' - -'She, a Drummond! The town-bred coward!' exclaimed Hester, her dark -violet eyes flashing fire, while she coloured at her own girlish -energy. - -'The sooner she changes it to some characteristic one like Popkins or -Slopkins the better,' said Maude; 'but I think she would prefer -Lindsay.' - -'Telegraph to Edinburgh at once for Professor ---- and Dr. ----,' -said Mrs. Lindsay, naming two of the chief medical men (as Roland was -carried up to his room), and evincing an interest that surprised -Maude, and for which her brother, Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, would not have -thanked her. - -'I'll see to that myself,' said Jack Elliot, betaking himself at once -to the stable-yard that he might ride to the nearest railway-station, -and meantime send on to Earlshaugh the best local aid that could be -obtained in hot haste. - -Roland's injuries were serious undoubtedly, but not so much so as had -been feared at first. - -These were a partial dislocation of the left thigh bone and a strain -of the right ankle, both of which bade fair to mar his marching for -many a day; with a general shock to the whole system consequent on -the fall (which, but for the turfy ledge of rock that broke it, would -have proved fatal) and the exposure to the elements for a whole -autumnal night of storm and rain. But with care and nursing, the -faculty--after pulling him about again and again till he was -well-nigh mad, after much tugging of their nether lips, as if in deep -thought, consultations over dry sherry and biscuit, and pocketing big -fees in an abstracted kind of manner--had no doubt, not the slightest -doubt, in fact, that with his naturally fine constitution he would -soon 'pull through.' - -A crowd of people always hovered about the gate-lodges; women came -from their cottages, weavers, perhaps the last of their trade, from -their looms, and the ploughmen from their furrows to inquire after -the health of the young laird, for such these kindly folks of the -East Neuk deemed Roland still, for of the mysterious will they knew -little and cared less; horsemen came and went, and carriages, too, -the owners with their faces full of genuine anxiety, for the Lindsays -of Earlshaugh were much respected and well regarded as being among -the oldest proprietors in a county that has ever been rich in good -old historical families; and the veteran fox-hunting laird had been a -prime favourite in the field with all his compatriots. So again, as -before, during Jack Elliot's mishap, the bell of the _porte-cochère_ -sent forth its clang in reply to many a kind inquiry. - -And many agreed with Maude that none in Earlshaugh were likely to -forget the unfortunate shooting season of that particular year, as -this calamity seemed to surpass the last. It was grief upon grief, -like the classic piling of Pelion on Ossa. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. - -A TANGLED SKEIN. - -Natheless the fair promises of the faculty, Roland Lindsay seemed to -hover between life and death for days. They were a time of watching, -hoping, and fearing, and hoping again, till every heart that loved -him grew sick with apprehension and anxiety. - -At first he looked like one all but dead; the great charm of his face -lay in the earnest and thoughtful expression of his eyes, and in -their rich brown colour; both were gone now, and the clearly cut and -refined lips, that denoted a brave, gentle, and kindly nature, were -blue and drawn; and a slight sword cut upon the cheek, won at -Kashgate, looked rather livid just then. - -He was exhausted, languid, and passive, but, at times, seemed to -awaken into quickened intelligence; then anon his mind would wander a -little, and the names of Hester and Annot were oddly mingled on his -feverish tongue. - -But there was great joy when he became sensible of the perfume of -flowers--the sweetest from the conservatory--culled and arranged by -the loving hands of the former, in the vases that ornamented his -room, and when he fully recognised the latter in attendance upon him. - -'My little wife--my child-wife that is to be,' he whispered, 'you -love me still, though I am all shattered in this fashion?' - -Then Annot caressed his hand, and placed her cheek upon it. - -Guests had all departed, the key was turned in the gun-room door; the -dogs were idle in their kennels, and only Elliot, Hester, and Annot -remained as visitors at Earlshaugh. The great house seemed very -silent now; but Roland, as strength and thought returned, was -thankful that the guests he had invited were gone. The difficulty of -their presence had been tided over without any unpleasantness (save -the affair of Elliot and Sharpe), and now he felt only a loathing of -his paternal home, with an intense longing to be gone--to get well -and strong--to keep well, and then go, he cared not where at first, -so that Annot was with him, and then back to the regiment as soon as -possible, even before his leave was ended. - -Annot was now--unlike the Annot who cowered over the boudoir fire on -the morning when Roland was rescued--most effusive in her expressions -of regard and compassion, though she was perhaps the most useless -assistant a nurse could have in a sick room, the air of which 'so -oppressed her poor little head;' and thus she was secretly not -ill-pleased when her services there were firmly, but politely, -dispensed with by old Mrs. Drugget, the portly housekeeper, who had -nursed Roland and his dead brother many a time in their earlier -years, and now made herself, as of old, mistress of the situation. - -Annot's bearing on the eventful morning referred to rankled in the -memory of Maude and Hester. They strove to dissemble and veil their -growing dislike to, and mistrust of, her under their old bearing and -cordiality of habit; but almost in vain, despite her winning, -clinging, and child-like ways and pretty tricks of manner. These -seemed to fall flatly now on ear and eye, and soon events were to -transpire with regard to that young lady which gave them cause for -much speculation, suspicion, and positive anger. - -She was soon sharp enough to discover that there was a growing cloud -between them, and took the precaution of giving a hint thereof to -Roland. She was somewhat of a flirt, he knew very well; but there -was no one in the house to flirt with, now that Malcolm Skene and all -the others were gone; and he had consoled himself with the reflection -that she was devoted to him, and that her little flirtations had been -of a harmless nature, and the outcome of a spirit of fun and -_espièglerie_. - -And if Hester and Maude were somewhat disposed to be severe on Annot -and reprehend this, he knew by experience that ladies who adopt the -_rôle_ of pleasing the opposite sex are rarely appreciated by their -fair sisters. - -Mrs. Lindsay when she visited Roland from time to time, as he thought -to watch his progress towards health and departure, felt thankful, -though of course she gave no hint thereof, that her brother had at -least no active hand in the misfortune that had befallen him. - -'The guests I somewhat intrusively invited here are all gone, Mrs. -Lindsay,' said he on one occasion, 'and I shall soon relieve you, I -hope, of the trouble my own presence gives you.' - -'Captain Lindsay--Roland--do not talk so,' she replied, either -feeling some compunction then for the false position of them both, or -veiling her old constitutional dislike of him, which, Roland cared -not now. Calm, cold, self-contained, and self-possessed, Mrs. -Lindsay, as usual, was beautifully and tastefully dressed in rich -black material, with fine lace lappets over her thick, fair hair, and -setting off her colourless and lineless face. Her expression, we -have said elsewhere, was not ill-tempered but generally hard and -unsympathetic, and now it was softer than Roland had ever seen it, -and something of a smile like watery sunshine hovered about her thin -and firm lips, and to his surprise she even stroked his hair with -something of maternal kindness as she left him, pleased simply -because he had uttered some passing compliment to the effect that he -was glad to see her looking so well and in such good health. But she -and Maude were not, never were, and never could be, friends. - -'I should like to know precisely the secret of this prison house,' -thought the observant Annot, as she saw this unusual action. - -If a 'prison house,' it suited her tastes admirably; but she was -fated to learn some of the secrets thereof sooner perhaps than she -wished. - -A month and more had passed now; Roland was becoming convalescent; he -could even enjoy a cigar or pipe with Jack Elliot, and had been -promoted from his bed to a couch in a cosy corner of his room; and he -felt that now the time had come when he ought to break to Annot the -true story of how monetary matters stood with him at Earlshaugh. - -A heavy feeling gathered in his heart as this conviction forced -itself upon him--a sensation as of lead; yet he scorned to think that -he would have to cast himself upon her generosity, or ask for her -pity. - -Compared with what might and ought to have been, his prospects now -were, in many respects, gloomy to look forward to; but he had fully -taken breathing time before breaking to her news which, he greatly -feared, might be testing and grievously disappointing. - -But it would be unmanly to trifle longer with Annot, or dally with -their mutual fate. Yet how was he to preface the most unwelcome -intelligence that he was no longer--indeed, never was--laird of that -stately mansion and splendid estate, with all its fields, wood, and -waters? - -How he dreaded the humiliating revelation--yet why so, if she loved -him? - -Taking an opportunity when they were alone, and the two other girls, -escorted by Elliot, had gone for a 'spin' on horseback, he drew her -tenderly towards him, with one arm round her slender waist and one -hand clasping hers, which still had his engagement ring on a -baby-like finger, while gazing earnestly down into her sunny eyes, -which were uplifted to his with something of inquiry in them, he said: - -'I have news, darling--terrible news to reveal to you at last.' - -'News?' she repeated in a whisper. - -'Of a nature, perhaps, beyond your imagining,' said he in a voice -that became low and husky despite its tenderness. - -'What do you mean, Roland? You frighten me, dearest!' - -He pressed her closer to him, and she felt that his hands were -trembling violently. - -'Annot, I have a hundred times and more heard you say that you loved -me for myself, and would continue to love me were I poor--poor as Job -himself.' - -'Of course I have often said so, and I do love you; but why do you -ask this question now? What has happened? Why are you so strange?' -she asked, changing colour and looking decidedly restless in eye and -manner. 'Are you not well? How cold your poor hands are, and how -they tremble!' - -She drooped her fairy-like head, with all its wealth of shining -golden hair, upon his shoulder, and looked upward keenly, if -tenderly, into his downcast eyes. - -'Has any new calamity occurred to distress you?' - -'Nothing that is new--to me.' - -'Why, then-- - -'It is this. I am not Lindsay of Earlshaugh--not the owner of the -estate I mean. I am poor, poor, Annot, yet not penniless; I have my -old allowance and my pay--but this beautiful estate is not mine.' - -'Not yours?' - -'No--not a foot of it--not a tree--not a stone!' - -Her lips were firmly set, and the rose-leaf tint in her delicate -cheeks died away. - -'Whose, then, is it?' - -'My father--weakly--my father----' - -'To whom did he leave the property?' she asked, lifting her head from -his shoulder and speaking with a sharpness he did not then notice; -'is it as I have heard whispered?' - -'To my stepmother--yes. You knew of that--you suspected it, my -darling?' he added, with a sudden access of hope and joy--hope in her -unselfishness and purity of love. - -She made no immediate reply. - -'Is this unjust will tenable?' she asked, after a time. - -'It is without flaw, Annot. My father left her all he possessed, -with the power of bequeathing it to whom she pleases, without -hindrance or restriction.' - -'Cruel and infamous! And who, my poor Roland, is her heir?' - -'That reptile, Hawkey Sharpe, I presume.' - -Something between a gasping sigh and a nervous laugh escaped Annot, -who said, after a little pause, during which he regarded her fair -face with intense and yearning anxiety: - -'I thought you as prosperous a gentleman as the Thane of Cawdor -himself; but this is terrible--terrible!' - -And as she spoke there was something in her tone that jarred -painfully on his then sensitive and overstrung nerves. - - -Annot assured him of her unalterable love, whatever lay before -them--whatever happened or came to pass--was he not her own--her very -own! She wound her arms about his neck; she caressed him in her -sweet, and to all appearance, infantile way, striving to reassure -him; to soothe, console, and implant fresh confidence in his torn and -humbled heart; but with all this, there was a new and curious ring in -her voice--a want of something in its tone, and erelong in her eye -and manner, that stung him keenly and alarmed him. - -What did this mean? Did she resent his supposed duplicity as to his -means and position? But he consoled himself that he would soon have -her away from Earlshaugh, with all its influences, associations, and -the false hopes and impressions it had given her, and then she would -be his own--his own indeed. - -'How loving, how true, gentle, and good she is! Do I indeed deserve -such disinterested affection?' were his constant thoughts. - -He disliked, however, to find that Annot had begun to cultivate the -friendship of Mrs. Lindsay--"Deb Sharpe" as she was uncompromisingly -called by Maude, who was always on most distant terms with that -personage; and to find that she was ever in or about her rooms, doing -little acts of daughter-like attention such as Maude, with all her -sweetness of disposition, had never accorded; even to fondling, -feeding, and washing her snarling pug Fifine; and Mrs. Lindsay, of -whom other ladies had always been rather shy, and towards whom they -had always comported themselves somewhat coldly and with that cutting -hauteur which even the best bred women can best assume, felt -correspondingly grateful to the little London beauty for her -friendship and recognition. - -The splendour of the house, the richness of the ancient furniture and -appurtenances, the delicacies of the table, the attendance, the -comfortable profusion of everything, had been duly noted and duly -appreciated by Annot, and she felt that it was with sincere regret -she would quit the fleshpots of Earlshaugh. - -More than once, when promenading about the corridors with the aid of -a stick, Roland had surprised her in tears. - -'Tears--my darling--why--what!' he began. - -'It is nothing,' she replied, with a little flush. 'I am oppressed, -I suppose, by the emptiness and size of this great house. I am such -an impressionable little thing you know, Roland.' - -'We can't amend the size of the house,' said he, smiling, 'but a -cosier and a smaller one awaits us elsewhere, when you are my dear -little wife, and we quit this place, once so dear to me, as I never -thought to quit it in disgust--for ever!' - -Seeing the varying moods of Annot, and the occasional petulance, even -coldness, with which she sometimes ventured to treat Roland now, -Hester, remembering that young lady's confidences with reference to -Mr. Bob Hoyle and other 'detrimentals,' her avowed passion for money, -and how a moneyed match was a necessity of her life, and knowing -Roland's changed position and fortunes--Hester, we say, was not slow -in putting 'two and two together,' to use a common adage, to the -detriment of Annot in her estimation. - -'I would that I were a strong-minded woman,' said the latter -reproachfully, as she and Roland lingered one evening in a corridor -that was a veritable picture gallery (for there hung the Lindsays of -other days, as depicted by the brushes of the Jamesons, the Scougals, -De Medinas, Raeburns, and Watsons in the striking costumes of their -times), and Roland had been taking her a little to task for some of -her petulant remarks. - -'A strong-minded woman,' he repeated. 'Nonsense! But why?' - -'Then I should cease to annoy you, and join an Anglican Sisterhood, -to nurse the poor and all that sort of thing.' - -She pouted prettily as she spoke--sweetly, with all her softest -dimples coming into play. - -'Are you not perfectly happy, Annot?' - -'Oh, yes--yes!' she exclaimed, and interlaced her fingers on his arm; -yet he eyed her moodily, and lovingly, ignorant of the secret source -of her discontent or disquietude. - -'How can I take her to task,' thought he; 'already too! so fair, so -bright, with her hair like spun gold!' - -He tried to catch and retain her loving glance, but the corners of -her pretty mouth were drooping, and her eyes of pale hazel looked -dreamily and vacantly out on the far extent of sunlit park and the -white fleecy clouds that floated above it; but he thought he read -that in her face which made him long for health and strength to take -her away from Earlshaugh to the new home he had now begun to picture, -and seldom a day passed now without something occuring to increase -this wish. - -'Roland,' said Maude on one occasion, as she drove him out through -the pleasant lanes in her pretty pony phaeton, 'that odious creature -Hawkey Sharpe is still, I understand, hovering about here.' - -'Bent on mischief, you think?' - -'Too probably.' - -'Well, I am powerless to prevent him. He is, you know, his sister's -factotum and now all but Laird of Earlshaugh.' - -Though possessing no brilliant beauty, the face of the sunny-haired -Maude was one usually full of merriment, and capable of expressing -intense tenderness--one winning beyond all words; but it grew cloudy -and stern at the thought of 'these interlopers,' as she always called -them--Deborah Sharpe and her obnoxious brother. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. - -THE PRESENTIMENT. - -Among her letters one morning--though her chief correspondent was her -father, the old Indian veteran at Merlwood, whose shaky caligraphy -there was no mistaking--there came one which gave Hester a species of -electric shock. It bore the postmarks 'Egypt' and 'Cairo,' with -stamps having the Pyramids and Sphinx's head thereon. - -'From Malcolm Skene!' she said to herself; 'Malcolm Skene, and to -_me_!' - -She hurried to her room that she might read it in solitude, for it -was impossible that she could fail to do so with deep interest after -all that Malcolm Skene had said to her, and the knowledge of all that -might have been--yea, yet perhaps might be; but the letter, dated -more than a month before at Cairo, simply began:-- - - -'MY DEAR MISS MAULE, - -'My excuse for writing to you,' he continued, 'is--and your pardon -must be accorded to me therefore--that I am ordered on a distant, -solitary, and perilous duty, from which I have, for the first time in -my life, a curious, yet solemn, presentiment that I shall never -return. - -'This emotion may, please God, be a mistake; and I hope so, for my -dear mother's sake. It may only be that superstition which some deem -impiety; but we Skenes of Dunnimarle have had it in more than one -generation--a kind of foreknowledge of what was to happen to us, or -to be said or done by those we met. As some one has it, the map of -coming events is before us, and the spirit surveys it, and for the -time we are translated into another sphere, and re-act, perhaps, -foregone scenes. Be that as it may, the unbidden emotion of -presentiment seems to have some affinity to that phenomenon.' - - -'What a strange letter; and how unlike Malcolm--thoughtful and grave -as he is!' was Hester's idea. - - -'I read a few days ago that some calamity had occurred at Earlshaugh; -that my dear old friend and comrade Roland had met with an -accident--had _disappeared_! What did that mean? But too probably I -shall never learn now, and, as I have not again seen the matter -referred to in print, hope it may all be a canard--a mistake. - -'You remember our last interview? Oh, Hester, while life remains to -me I shall never, never forget it? I think or hope you may care for -me now in pity as we are separated--or might learn to care for me at -a future time. Tell me to wait that time; if I return from my -mission, Hester, and I shall do so--yea, were it seven years, if you -wish it to be--if at the end of those seven years you would lay your -dear hand in mine and tell me that you would be my wife. - -'The waiting would be hard; yet, if inspired by hope, I would undergo -it, Hester, and trust while life was spared to me. We are told that -"the meshes of our destiny are spinning every day," silently, deftly, -and we unconsciously aid in the spinning--scarcely knowing that--as -we stumble through the darkness to the everlasting light--the dangers -we have passed by, and the fires we have passed through, are all, in -different ways, the process that makes us godlike, strong and free.' - - -Much more followed that was a little abstruse, and then he seemed to -become loving and tender in spite of the manner in which he strove to -modify his letter. - - -'I depart in an hour, and tide what may, my last thoughts will ever -be of you--my last wish a prayer for your happiness! My life's -love--my life's love, for such you are still--once more farewell! - -'MALCOLM SKENE.' - - -Certainly the gentle-hearted Hester could not but be moved by this -letter, coming as it did under all the circumstances from the writer -in a remote and perilous land. She looked at the date after perusing -the letter more than once, and her spirit sank with a dread of what -might have transpired since then. - -She recalled vividly the face of Malcolm Skene, and his eyes, that -were soft yet full of power, more frequently grave than merry, and -his firm lips. He was a man whose features and bearing would have -been remarkable amid any group of men, and the first to arrest a -woman's attention and arouse her interest. - -But as she re-read his expressions of love she shook her handsome -head slowly and gravely, and thought with Collins: - - Friendship often ends in love, - But love in friendship never!' - -To this letter a terrible sequel was close at hand. This she found -in the newspapers of the following day, and while her whole mind was -full of that remarkable and most unexpected missive to which she -could send no answer: - - -'Captain Malcolm Skene, who with a native guide quitted Cairo some -weeks ago, has not been heard of since he entered the Wady Faregh, at -a point more than ten Egyptian _shoni_ or thirty miles British, -beyond Memphis, which was not in his direct way. - -'This energetic and distinguished young officer is the bearer of -despatches to the Egyptian Colonel commanding a Camel Battery and -Black Battalion near Dayer-el-Syrian, which district he certainly had -not reached when the latest intelligence came from that somewhat -desolate quarter. - -'Doubts are now--when too late--entertained as to the fidelity of -Hassan Abdullah, his guide. A camel supposed to have been his has -been found dead of thirst in the desert, and as there have been some -dreadful sand-storms in that district, the greatest fears are -entertained at headquarters that Captain Skene has perished in the -wilderness--dying in the execution of his duty to his Queen and -country, as truly and as bravely as if he had met a soldier's death -in battle.' - - -The paper slipped from Hester's hands, and she sank forward till her -forehead rested on the sill of a window near which she sat. She knew -this paragraph meant too probably a terrible and unknown death, the -harrowing details of which might--nay, too surely, never would--be -revealed--death to one who had loved her but too well, and thus all -her soul became instinct with a tender and fearful interest in him. - -'Poor Malcolm--poor Malcolm Skene!' she murmured again and again, -while her face, ashy white, was hidden in her hands. - -Few women can fail to take a tender interest in the fate or future of -any man who has been _interested_ in them. - -For a long time she sat still--nay, still as a statue, but for the -regular and slow rising and falling of the ribbons and lace at her -bosom, and the ruffling of her dark brown hair in the breeze that -came through the open window, kissing her white temples and cooling -her eyelids. - -Then she recalled her father's strange and weird story of his -father's dream, vision, or presentiment, before the storming of -Jhansi, where the latter fell; and thought with wonder, could such -things be? - -She confided the letter and its contents to her bosom friend Maude; -but she could not--for cogent reasons--bring herself to say a word on -the subject to Roland, whose mind, however, was full enough of the -newspaper report of his old friend's misfortune, or as he never -doubted now--evil fate! - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV. - -LOST IN THE DESERT. - -Natheless his somewhat gloomy letter to Hester Maule, Malcolm Skene, -though feeling to the fullest extent the influence of the -presentiment of evil therein referred to, was too young, and of too -elastic a nature, not to feel also a sense of ardour, enterprise, and -enthusiasm at the confidence reposed in him by his superiors. With -an inherent love of adventure and a certain recklessness of spirit, -he armed himself, mounted, and quitted his quarters at Cairo just -when the first red rays of the morning sun were tipping with light -the summit of the citadel or the apex of each distant pyramid, and -rode on his solitary way--solitary all save Hassan, the swarthy -Egyptian guide provided for him by the Quartermaster-General's -Department. - -He had been chiefly selected for the duty in question--to bear -despatches to the _Amir-Ali_, or Colonel, commanding the Egyptian -force at Dayr-el-Syrian, in consequence of his proficiency in -Arabic--the most prevailing language of the country. - -He and his guide were mounted on camels. Skene's was one of great -beauty, if an animal so ungainly can be said to possess it, with a -small head, short ears, and bending neck. Its tail was long, its -hoofs small, and it was swift of action. The rider was without -baggage; he wore his fighting kit of Khakee cloth and tropical helmet -with a pugaree. He had his sword and revolver, with goggles, and a -pocket compass for use if his guide in any way proved at fault. - -Unnoticed he traversed the picturesque streets that lay between the -citadel and the gate that led by a straight road towards the castle -and gardens of Ghizeh, passing the groups and features incident to -Cairo: a lumbering train of British baggage waggons, escorted by our -soldiers in clay-coloured khakee with bayonets fixed; an Egyptian -officer in sky-blue uniform and red tarboosh 'tooling' along on a -circus-like Arab; a whole regiment of darkies, perhaps with rattling -drums and French bugles; strings of maimed, deformed, and blind -beggars; private carriages with outriders in Turkish costumes of -white muslin with gold embroideries, and bare-legged grooms; 'the -gallant, gray donkeys of which Cairo is so proud, and which the -Cairenes delight in naming after European celebrities, from Mrs. -Langtry to Lord Wolseley;' singers of Nubian and Arabian songs and -dealers in Syrian magic, all were left behind, and in the cool air of -the morning Malcolm Skene found himself ambling on his camel under -the shadows of the lebbek trees, with wading buffaloes and flocks of -herons on either side of the road as he skirted the plain where the -Pyramids stand--the Pyramids that mock Time, which mocks all things. - -He was too familiar with them then to bestow on them more than a -passing glance, and rode forward on his somewhat lonely way. Hassan, -his guide, like a true Arab, uttered a mocking yell on seeing the -vast stony face of the Sphinx--an efrit--fired a pistol, and threw -stones at it, as at a devil, and then civilization was left behind. - -Trusting to his guide Hassan, Skene was taken a few miles off his -direct route southward down the left bank of the Nile, and while -riding on, turning from time to time to converse with that personage, -who was a typical Fellah--very dark-skinned, with good teeth, black -and sparkling eyes, muscular of form, yet spare of habit, and clad -simply in loose blue cotton drawers with a blue tunic and red -tarboosh--it seemed that his face and voice were somehow not -unfamiliar to him. - -But where, amid the thousands of low-class Fellaheen in Cairo, could -Malcolm Skene have seen the former or heard the latter? Never before -had he heard of Hassan Abdullah even by name. But 'strange it is, -for how many days and weeks we may be haunted by a _likeness_ before -we know what it is that is gladdening us with sweet recollections, or -vexing us with some association we hoped to have left behind.' - -Memphis, with its ruins and mounds, in the midst of which stand the -Arab hamlets of Sokkara and Mitraheny, was traversed with some -difficulty, though the site is now chiefly occupied by waste and -marshes that reach to the sand-hills on the edge of the desert; but -from Abusir all round to the west and south, for miles, Skene and his -guide found themselves stepping from grave to grave amid bones and -fragments of mummy cloth--the remains of that wondrous necropolis -which, according to Strabo, extended half a day's journey each way -from the great city of Central Egypt. - -'Ugh!' muttered Malcolm Skene, as he guided the steps of his camel -and lighted more than one long havannah, 'this is anything but -lively! What a dismal scene!' - -'The work of the Pharaohs,' said Hassan, for to them everything is -attributed by the Fellaheen, who suppose they lived about three -hundred years ago. - -But Memphis was ere long left in his rear, and night was at hand, -when--according to Hassan Abdullah's statement, on computation of -distance--they should reach and halt at certain wells, about ten -_shoni_ distant therefrom, in the direct line to the Wady Faregh. - -Memphis was, we say, left behind, and the two rode swiftly on. His -former thoughts recurring to him, Malcolm Skene, checking his camel -to let that of his guide come abreast of him, said to the latter: - -'Your face is singularly familiar to me. Did we ever meet in Cairo?' - -Hassan grinned and showed all his white teeth, but made no reply. - -'Your face _has_ some strange mystery for me,' resumed Skene, with -growing wonder, yet fearing he might make the man think he possessed -the evil eye; 'it seems a face known to me--the face of the dead in -the garb of the living.' - -'And it is so, _Yusbashi_ (captain), so far as _you_ are concerned,' -was the strange reply of the Fellah as his black eyes flashed. - -'What do you mean?' - -'We met in the roulette saloon of Pietro Girolamo.' - -'Right! I remember now; you are one of the fellows I fought with. I -thought you were killed in that row!' - -'Nearly so I was, and by _you_.' - -This was an awkward discovery. - -'But you escaped?' - -'Yes; thanks to an amulet I wear--a verse of the Koran bound round my -left arm.' - -To trust such a rascal as Skene now supposed this fellow must be was -full of peril. To return and seek another guide, when he had -proceeded so far upon his way, would argue timidity, and tempt the -'chaff' of the more heedless spirits of the mess; thus it was not to -be thought of. - -He could but continue his journey with his despatches, and watch well -every movement of his guide; but to have as such one of the ruffians -and bullies of Pietro Girolamo was certainly an unpleasant -discovery--one with whom he had already that which in these parts of -the world is termed a _blood feud_, seemed to be the first instalment -of his gloomy presentiment. - -Hassan Abdullah had been--he could not conceive how or why--chosen or -recommended as a guide by those in authority; and if false, or -disposed to be so, he veiled it under an elaborate bearing of -servility and attention to every wish and hint of Skene. Thinking -that he could not make any better of the situation now, Malcolm was -fain to accept that bearing for what it might be worth, and, to veil -his mistrust, adopted a new tone with Hassan, and instead of -listening to directions from him, began to give orders instead. But, -ignorant as he was of the route, this system could not long be -pursued. - -As he rode on he thought of Hester Maule, and how she would view or -consider his letter. Would she answer it? He scarcely thought she -would do so--nay, became certain she would not. Under the -circumstances in which they had parted after that interview in the -conservatory at Earlshaugh, and with the grim presentiment then -haunting him, it was beseeming enough in him perhaps to have written -as he did to her; but not for her to write him in reply unless she -meant to hold out hopes that might never be realized. - -What amount of ground they had traversed when the sun verged westward -Malcolm scarcely knew, as the way had been most devious, rough, and -apparently, to judge of the guide's indecision more than once, very -uncertain; but the former judged that it could not have been more -than thirty miles from Memphis as the crow flies. - -Dhurra reeds, date, and cotton-trees had long since been left behind, -and before the camel-riders stretched a pale yellow waste of sand, -strewed in places by glistening pebbles. Malcolm Skene thought they -were now entering the lower end of the Wady Faregh, between El Benat -and the Wady Rosseh, and on consulting his pocket-compass supposed -the Dayr Macarius Convent must be right in his front, but distant -many miles, and the post of Dayr-el-Syrian, for which he was bound, -must be about ten miles further on; but Hassan Abdullah knew better; -and when near sunset that individual dismounted and spread his dirty -little square carpet whereon to say his orisons, with his face -towards Mecca, his head bowed, his beads in his dingy hands, and his -cunning eyes half closed. None would have thought that a Mussulman -apparently so pious had only hate and perfidy in his heart for the -trusting but accursed infidel, or _Frenchi_, as he called Skene--the -general name in Egypt for all Europeans--as the latter seated himself -by the side of a low wall half buried in the drifted sand--the -fragment of some B.C. edifice--and partook of his frugal meat, supper -and dinner combined. - -Far, far away in the distance Memphis and the Valley of the Nile were -lost in haze and obscurity; westward the sun, like a ball of fire--a -blood-red disc of enormous proportions--shorn of every ray, was -setting amid a sky of gold, crimson, and soft apple-green, all -blending through each other, yet with light strong enough to send far -along the waste they had traversed the shadows of the two camels of -Skene and of Hassan. - -The former recalled with a grim smile Moore's ballad: - - 'Fly to the desert, fly with me!' - -and thought the desert looked far from inviting. - -His only table appurtenance was the jack-knife hung from his neck by -a lanyard, and as issued to all ranks of our troops in Egypt, and -with that he cut his sandwiches, now dry indeed by this time, and -opened a tiny tin of preserved meat, which he washed down by a -mouthful from the hunting-flask, carried in his haversack. - -As he sat alone eating his frugal meal, which from religious scruples -Hassan declined to share with him--or indeed anything save a -cigar--Skene, though neither a sybarite nor a gourmand, could not -help thinking regretfully of the regimental mess-table in the citadel -of Cairo, possessing, like other such tables, all the ease of a -kindly family circle, without its probable dulness; of the dressing -bugle, and the merry drums and fifes playing the 'Roast Beef of Old -England;' the quiet weed after dinner, a stroke at billiards, a -rubber of short whist while holding good cards; and just then -civilization and all the good things of this earth seemed very far -off indeed! - -When he and Hassan started again to reach the wells--where they were -to procure water for themselves and their camels, and were to bivouac -for the night, no trace of these could be found, though the -travellers wandered several miles in different directions; and, as -the sun set with tropical rapidity, Skene--his water-bottle -completely empty--with his field-glass swept the horizon in vain for -a sight of those gum-trees which were said to indicate the locality -of the springs in question; and then he began more than ever to -mistrust the good faith, if not the knowledge, of Hassan Abdullah. - -So far as their camels were concerned, Skene had no cause as yet for -any anxiety, as these animals, besides the four stomachs which all -ruminating quadrupeds possess, have a fifth, which serves as a -reservoir for carrying a supply of water in the parched and sandy -deserts they are so often obliged to traverse. - -A well--one unknown to Hassan, apparently--they certainly did come -upon unexpectedly, but, alas! it was dry. Malcolm Skene looked -thirstily at the white stones that lined or formed it, glistening in -the light of the uprisen moon, and with his tongue parched and lips -hard and baked he thought tantalizingly of brooks of cool and limpid -water, of iced champagne and bitter beer! - -He haltered his camel, looked to his arms and laid them half under -him, and resting his head against the saddle of his animal, strove to -court sleep, against the labours of the morrow, thinking the while -that the labours of Sisyphus were almost a joke to the toil of the -duty he had undertaken. - -At a little distance on the other side of the dried-up fountain, -Hassan, whom he watched closely for a time, took his repose in a -similar fashion. - -The night in the desert was not altogether unpleasant, for that -rarefied clearness of sky which renders the heat of the sun so -intolerable by day, makes the sky of night surpassingly beautiful, -and that is the time when, if he can, the traveller should really -make his way over the sandy waste. - -With early morning, and while the red sun was yet below the hazy -horizon, came full awakening after a somewhat restless night, broken -by periods of watchfulness and anxiety, and tantalized by dreams of -flowing and sparkling water, which left the pangs of growing thirst -keener than ever. - -Hassan, however, seemed 'fresh as a daisy,' having, as Malcolm -strongly suspected, some secret store of his own selfishly concealed -about him. - -They gave their camels a feed of their favourite food, the twigs of -some thorny mimosa that grew near the dried-up well--scanty herbage -of the desert--and then Malcolm, who distrusted the skill or fealty, -or both, of Hassan Abdullah, while the latter was kneeling on his -prayer carpet, turned to consult his pocket compass with reference to -the direction in which to steer through the waste of sand which now -spread in every direction around them. - -It was gone! - -Nervously, with fingers that trembled in their haste, he searched his -haversack, turning out its few contents again and again, and cast -keen glances all around where he had been overnight, but no sign or -trace of that invaluable instrument, on which too probably his life -depended, was there! - -Fiercely he turned to Hassan, then just ending his morning prayer and -folding up his carpet, suspecting that the soft and swift-handed -Egyptian must have filched it from him during sleep--yet he had felt -so wakeful that such could scarcely be the case. - -'My compass!' he exclaimed. - -'What of it, _Yusbashi_?' - -'Have you seen it?' - -'I--not I; and if I did, do you think I would touch it?' - -'It is _ifrit_--the work of the devil--an affair of which I, as a -true Mussulman, can know nothing.' - -'But how about the way to go now?' said Malcolm Skene in genuine -perplexity and alarm, looking all around the vicinity of the stony -hole, called a well, for the twentieth time. - -'The _Frenchi_ will be told all of the way that his servant knows,' -replied Hassan with a profound salaam, while bending his head to hide -the leer of his stealthy and glittering eyes. - -Skene thought for a moment. Should he take this fellow at his word; -threaten him with death if he did not produce the pocket compass, or -knock him down with the butt-end of his pistol and then search his -pockets? - -An open quarrel was to be avoided. Skene felt himself to be a good -deal, if not wholly, at the fellow's mercy. The latter could only -delude him so far, at the risk of perilling himself; but he might, on -the other hand, lure and betray him into the hands of the enemy, -several of whom, under a leader named Sheikh Moussa Abu Hagil, were -hovering on the skirts of the desert in various directions--a man -known to have been a faithful adherent and kinsmen of the captive -Zebehr Pasha. - -Nothing seemed to remain for Skene but to accept as before the -guidance of Hassan Abdullah, so, after the latter had breakfasted on -a few dates and the former on a simple ration from his haversack, -once more they headed their course into what seemed to be an endless -and markless waste of sand. - -Apart from the bodily pangs of thirst, anger, doubt, and anxiety were -gathering in the mind of Malcolm; but he sternly resolved that the -moment he became assured of Hassan Abdullah deluding or betraying him -he would shoot that copper-coloured individual dead, as if he were a -reptile or a wild beast. And Hassan no doubt knew quite enough of -life in his own country to be aware that he rode on with his life in -his hands. - -So another night and day passed away. - -And now, as we have referred to the desert here and elsewhere in the -Soudan, it may seem the time to give a description of what such a -waste is, and the scene that now spread before the anxious and -bloodshot eyes of Malcolm Skene; for it has been justly said that he -who has never travelled through such a place can form no idea of a -locality so wondrous--one in which all the ordinary conditions of -human life undergo a complete change. - -Once away from the valley of the Nile, all between the fourteenth -degree and the shore of the Mediterranean, a tract of more than eight -hundred thousand square miles _is desert_, treeless, waterless, -without streams or rivulets, and almost without wells, which, when -they exist, are scanty, few, and far apart. 'The first thing after -reaching a well,' says a recent writer, 'is to ascertain the quantity -and quality of its water. As to the former, it may have been -exhausted by a preceding caravan, and hours may be required for a new -supply to ooze in again. The quality of the desert water is -generally bad, the exception being when it becomes worse, though long -custom enables the Bedouins to drink water so brackish as to be -intolerable to all except themselves and their flocks. Well do I -remember how at each well the first skinful was tasted all round as -epicures sip rare wines. Great was the joy if it was pronounced -_moya helwa_, "sweet water;" but if the Bedouins said _moosh tayib_, -"not good," we might be sure it was a solution of Epsom salts.' - -The desert now traversed by Skene was composed of coarse sand, -abounding in some places with shells, pebbles, and a species of salt. -In some parts the soil was shifting, and so soft that the feet--even -of his camel--sank into it at every step; at others it was hard as -beaten ground. Here and there grew a few patches of prickly plants, -such as he remembered to have seen in botanic gardens at home, with -small hillocks of drifted sand gathered round them; and as he rode on -he felt as if he had about him the awful sensations of vastness, -silence, and the sublimity of a calm and waveless ocean--but an ocean -of sand, arid, and gloomy, dispiriting and suggestive of death--but -to the European only; as the Bedouins, whose native soil it is, are, -beyond all other nations and races, gay and cheerful. - -During August and September the winds in Egypt retain a northerly -direction, and the weather is generally moderate; but Malcolm Skene -was in the desert now, and under the peculiar influences of that -peculiar region. - -Then at times is to be encountered the mirage, or Spirit of the -Desert, as the Arabs call it, when the eyes of the wanderer there are -deluded by the seeming motion of distant waves; of tall and graceful -palms tossing feathery leaves in the distance, when only the -sun-scorched sand is lying, mocking him with the false show of what -his soul longs for, and his overheated brain depicts in glowing -colours. - -Riding mechanically on--uncomfortably, too, all unused as he was to -the strange ambling action of a camel--oppressed by thirst which he -could see no means of quenching, and knowing not when he might be -able to do so--oppressed, too, by the glare of a cloudless sun -growing hotter and hotter--more mighty than ever it seemed to be -before--Malcolm Skene was soon to become conscious that the sense of -vision was not the only one by which the mysterious desert mocks its -sojourner with fantastic tricks; and once he became sensible of that -strange and bewildering phenomena referred to by the author of -'Eothen' in his experiences of Eastern travel. - -He seemed, overpowered by the heat, to fall slowly asleep--was it for -moments or minutes?--he knew not; but he seemed also to be suddenly -awakened by the familiar but far-off sounds of drums beating, to the -wailing of a bagpipe playing 'The March of Lochiel,' as he had often -heard it played by the Queen's Own Cameron Highlanders, in the -citadel of Cairo. - -He started and listened, his first idea being naturally that he was -partly under the power of a dream; but it seemed as if minutes passed -ere these sounds, in steady marching cadence, became fainter and then -died away. - -Utterly bewildered, he was quite awake now. Under the same -influence, and in the same place, it was the bells of his native -village that were heard by the writer referred to, and who says: 'I -attribute the effect to the great heat of the sun, the perfect -dryness of the clear air through which I moved, and the deep -stillness of all around me. It seemed to me that these causes, by -occasioning a great tension and susceptibility of the hearing organs, -rendered them liable to tingle under the passing touch of some new -memory that must have swept across my brain in a moment of sleep.' - -And so doubtless it was with Malcolm Skene, who, sunk in thought and -lassitude, was pondering deeply over the strange dream--if dream it -was--when he was roused by the voice of Hassan Abdullah, as it -amounted to something like a shriek. - -'The _Zobisha_--the _Zobisha_!' he exclaimed, with a terror that was -too genuine to be affected in any way. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI. - -ALONE! - -It was about noon, now, and with a start, roused from his day-dream -and half-apathy, Malcolm Skene looked about him and saw that he had -then to face one of the most appalling, yet sublime, sights of the -desert--a sand-storm--at that season when the Egyptian winds approach -the Southern tropic, and they are more variable and tempestuous than -during any other season of the year--a state in which they remain -till February. - -Distant about two miles, he suddenly saw the _Zobisha_, as Hassan -called it--several lofty pillars of sand travelling over the waste -with wondrous swiftness. The tallest was vertical, the others seemed -to lean towards it, and, at the bases of all, the sand rose as if -lashed by a whirlwind into a raging sea, amid which tough mimosa -bushes were uprooted and swept away like feathers. - -The whirlwind subsided, but the mighty cloud of sand and small -pebbles which it had raised high in the darkened heavens, almost to -the zenith, continued to tower before the two sojourners in the -desert for more than an hour--purple, dun, and yellow in hue at -times, and anon all blended together. - -Brave though he was, a nameless dread such as he had never felt -before possessed the soul of Skene at a sight so unusual and -terrific; and there flashed upon his mind the recollection of his -letter to Hester, and how true his presentiment seemed to be proving -now, for he felt on the verge of suffocation. - -Hassan Abdullah, who in his prayers usually sighed for the Paradise -of the Prophet, with his seventy houris awaiting him in their couches -of hollow pearl, the fruits of the Tree of Toaba, and springs of -unlimited lemonade, now prayed only for his own safety, while both -their camels forgot their usual docility, and became well nigh -unmanageable with terror. - -The air was full of impalpable dust. To avoid suffocation or -blindness therefrom, Skene dismounted, tied his gauze pugaree tightly -over his face, and placing his camel between him and the skirt of the -blast, which now developed into a wind-storm, sweeping the column of -sand with wondrous speed before it, stooped his head close to the -saddle and held on to a stirrup-leather. - -On came the wind-storm, and before he had time to think, to express -wonder to Hassan as to what it could be, the tornado swept over the -desert, carrying before it mimosa bushes and cacti, clouds of shining -pebbles, the withered fragments of an old gum-tree, and the white -bones of a dead camel. - -How his animal withstood the sharp and sweeping blast that darkened -all around them, Malcolm Skene knew not; but he found his hands torn -from the stirrup-leather, and himself flung furiously and helplessly -amid the sand, which half covered him. - -After a time, gasping, with his throat, nostrils, and ears full of -dust, he struggled to his feet and looked around him, and saw, -already far distant, the sand-cloud borne away by the mighty wind, -then in its wild career to some other quarter of the desert. - -Above him the sky was again cloudless; the air all still and clear; -the awful and angry rush of the wind-storm was past. - -But where was Hassan Abdullah? - -A speck vanishing away in the far distance showed but too plainly -where he had gone with all the speed his camel could achieve--a -natural swiftness now accelerated by the extremity of fear; and in -another minute even that moving speck disappeared, and Malcolm Skene -found himself alone--guideless and ignorant of which way to turn his -steps in the appalling solitude of the desert. - -What was he to do now? - -Follow in the route Hassan had taken, and which that wily personage -no doubt knew led to some haunt of men, or abode of such civilization -as existed there? - -Even that he could not do. The horizon showed no point to indicate -where the speck he knew to be Hassan and his camel had vanished. - -Malcolm's alarm for the future exceeded his just anger and -indignation for the present at this sudden and unexpected desertion; -but action of some kind became necessary, and though apparently he -could not be worse off than where he was, every step he took might be -leading further from the path he should pursue to -Dayr-el-Syrian--further from a well or succour, and nearer to 'dusty -death.' - -After glancing at the trappings of his camel, he remounted and rode -forward slowly, fain to suck for a moment even a hot pebble of the -desert in hope to produce a little moisture in his mouth, while -consulting a small pocket map he possessed. - -If Hassan had not misled him wilfully, and they had not overshot the -proper distance, to judge by the position of the sun, he supposed -that Dayr-el-Syrian, where the Amir-Ali's command was encamped, -should be somewhere on his right; but, if so, ere this he should have -come to the sequestered Macarius Convent--so called from St. Macarius -the Elder, of Egypt, a shepherd of the fourth century, who (so runs -the story) dwelt for sixty years in the desert; but of that edifice -he saw no sign or vestige, and he saw, by the same map, that if he -had _passed_ it and gone through the extreme end of the Wady Faregh, -then before him must lie the 'Petrified Forest,' of which he knew -nothing, and of which he had never heard before, lying apparently -more than a hundred miles westward of Cairo--a distance which it -seemed almost incredible he had so nearly travelled, and the very -name of which was suggestive of something of horror and dismay. - -Again and again, with hollow and haggard eyes, he swept the desert -through his field-glass, seeking to note a bush or tree that might -indicate where a fountain lay; but in vain, and the pangs of thirst -increased till they became gnawing and maddening. - -He would certainly die soon! - -More than once he looked, too, in the desperate hope of seeing -Abdullah returning; but equally in vain. - -As he rode on under the scorching sun--scorching even while -setting--with his head nodding on his breast through weakness, there -came before him day-dreams of runnels of gushing water--their very -sound seemed to be in his ears--of 'a wee burnie wimpling under the -lang yellow broom,' in the shady woods of Dunnimarle, and the rustle -of their leaves seemed overhead! - -The poor old mother there, to whom he was as the apple of her -eye--Hester too--would never know of all he endured and would have to -endure inexorably till the bitter end came; and just then, more than -even his mother, dove-eyed Hester Maule seemed all the world to him! - -Well--'Time and the hour run through the roughest day.' - -With that appreciation of trifles peculiar to us all in moments of -dire perplexity or intense excitement, he was remarking the vast -length of shadow thrown across the level waste, by the light of the -now nearly level sun--the shadow of himself and his camel--when a -sudden acceleration in the speed of the latter attracted his -attention; it began to glide over the desert sand more swiftly than -ever, guided by some instinct implanted in it by nature, and in a few -minutes it brought him to a little spot of green--an oasis--amid -which, fenced round by stones and large pebbles, lay a pool of water! - -'A well--a well--water--water at last!' exclaimed Skene with a prayer -on his lips, as he threw himself beside it. Forgetting thoughts of -all and everything, past and future, in the mingled agony and joy of -the present, he crawled towards it on hands and knees, tossed aside -his tropical helmet and drank of it deeply, thirstily, greedily, -laving his face and hands in it often, and he was not sure that his -tears did not mingle with the water as he did so--tears of gratitude. - -By nature and its physical formation, less athirst than his rider, -the camel drank of the pool too, but scantily. Skene then filled his -water-bottle with the precious liquid, as if he feared the well might -dry up, even as he watched it; and then (after tethering his camel) -he stretched himself beside it, and, utterly worn out by all he had -undergone in mind and body, fell into a deep and dreamless slumber, -undisturbed alike by flies or mosquitoes. - -How long he slept thus he knew not, but day had not broken, and the -waning moon was shining brightly when he awoke. He was already too -much of a soldier to feel surprise on awaking in a strange bed or -place; but some of his surroundings there were sufficiently strange -to startle him into instant wakefulness and activity. - -'It is the Frenchi--the Infidel!' he heard the voice of Hassan -exclaim, and he found himself surrounded by a crowd of armed Arabs, -foremost among whom stood Pietro Girolamo--the rascally Girolamo of -Cairo, who, having made even that city too hot to hold him, had, for -the time, sought refuge with the denizens of the desert. - -Partly clad and partly nude, with plaited hair, forms of bronze -colour, their teeth and eyes gleaming bright as the swords and spears -with which they were armed, Malcolm Skene saw some twenty or more -Soudanese warriors, on foot or camel-back, around him, and gave -himself up for lost indeed, as his sword and revolver were -immediately torn from him. - -Uttering a yell, Girolamo was rushing upon him with upraised knife, -when he was roughly thrust back by a tall and towering Arab, who -dealt him a sharp blow with the butt-end of his Remington rifle--so -much as to say, 'I command here.' - -Clearly seen and defined in the light of a moon which was silvery, -yet brilliant as that of day, Skene saw before him in this personage -an Arab of the Arabs. - -His bronzed face was nearly black by nature and exposure to the -scorching tropical sun. His arms, legs, and neck were bare, and -their muscles stood forth like whipcord. His nose was somewhat -hawk-like; his eyes were keen as those of a mountain eagle, and his -shark-like teeth were white as ivory, in contrast to the skin of his -leathern visage. - -His hair, which flowed under a steel cap furnished with a nasal bar, -was black as night, and shone with an unguent made from crocodile fat -by the fishers of Dongola; and save for his shirt of Dharfour steel -and Mahdi tunic and trousers, he looked like a mummy of the Pharaohs -resuscitated and inspired by a devil. - -His arms were a long cross-hilted sword, a dagger, and a Remington -rifle. - -Such was the Sheikh Moussa Abu Hagil, kinsman of Zebehr Pasha--like -Zebehr, almost the last of the great slave-dealers--and whose -prisoner Malcolm Skene now found himself--whether for good or for -evil, he could not foresee; but his heart too painfully foreboded the -_latter_! - -'Sheikh,' said he, 'you will consider me as a prisoner of war, I -trust?' - -'We shall see--there are things that are as bad as death, and yet are -not death,' was the grim and enigmatical reply of Moussa Abu Hagil, -which Skene knew referred to torture or mutilation, by having his -hands struck off, like those of some prisoners he had seen. - -For many a day after, the friends of Malcolm Skene searched the -public prints in vain for further tidings of him than we have given -three chapters back. - -Applications to the War Office and telegrams to headquarters at Cairo -were alike unavailing, and received only the same cold, stereotyped -answer--that nothing was known of the fate of Captain Malcolm Skene -but what the news papers contained. - -His supposed fate and story were deemed as parallel with the Palmer -tragedy on the shore of the Red Sea; but more especially with that of -his countryman, Captain Gordon, an enthusiastic soldier, who, missing -Colonel Burnaby's party which he was to accompany with the desert -column, perished in the wilderness, far from the Gakdul track--but -whether at the hands of the Arabs, or by the horrors of thirst, was -never known. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII. - -THE FIRST QUARREL. - -In his anxiety to leave Earlshaugh, Roland writhed under his -convalescence, thus retarding in no small degree his complete -recovery, and keeping him chained to a sofa in his sitting-room, when -otherwise he might have been abroad in the grounds, though the brown -foliage and the falling leaves, with the piping of the autumn winds, -were not calculated much to raise the spirits of the ailing. - -The partridges had become wild; the pheasants were still in splendid -order, and cub-hunting was beginning in those districts where it was -in vogue; but no one in Earlshaugh House thought of any of these, yet -cub-hunting, as an earnest of the coming season, had been one of -Roland Lindsay's delights. - -However, he had other more serious and bitter things to think of now; -and for cub-hunting or fox-hunting, never again would he set out from -Earlshaugh and feel the joyous enthusiasm roused by seeing the hounds -'feathering' down a furrowed field with all their heads in the air, -or find himself crossing the fertile and breezy Howe of Fife, from -meadow to meadow, and field to field, over burns, hedges, and -five-foot drystone dykes, then standing erect in his stirrups and -galloping as if for life after the streaming pack, as they swept over -'the Muirs of Fife' which merge in the rich and extensive plains of -the famous East Neuk. - -Hunt he might elsewhere in the future, but never again where he and -his fathers before him had hunted for generations, though Mr. Hawkey -Sharpe was then actually doing so, and with horses from 'his -sister's' stables at Earlshaugh! - -During this period of convalescence and enforced idleness Roland -became conscious of a kind of change--subtle and undefinable--in -Annot. She--in a spirit of maidenly reserve--was apparently in no -hurry for the completion of arrangements about their marriage. - -She left all these _pro tem._ in the hands of 'mamma' in South -Belgravia; and the old lady's letters--changed in tone--were full of -suggested delays, doubts, and difficulties in finally fixing a period -to her daughter's engagement with Roland; the said letters, of -course, bearing on the all-important matter of settlements, which--as -circumstances now stood at Earlshaugh--he was utterly at a loss how -to make without the advice, more than ever, of the family agent, old -Mr. M'Wadsett of Thistle Court. - -Meanwhile, full of themselves and their own affairs, and of their -marriage, which was now fixed for an early day, and before Jack -Elliot's return to Egypt, Maude and the latter were less observant -than Hester of what transpired at Earlshaugh during Roland's -convalescence. - -Attended by old Buckle, Annot had gone to see the hounds throw off, -and in following the field for some little way contrived to lose her -venerable groom, whom no doubt she deemed a bore; and while he was -searching for her hopelessly over a Fifeshire muir she came home to -one of the park gates attended by a gentleman in hunting costume, -with whom she seemed on pretty intimate terms--a circumstance which, -when mentioned, she laughingly explained away. - -But at a subsequent period she was seen by Maude and Hester riding in -the park with one supposed to be the same stranger, but at a -considerable distance. - -The two girls could see that the pair were going slowly -together--perhaps their cattle were tired, but, as Maude said, that -was no reason why they should ride so near each other that his right -hand could rest on her saddle-bow. - -'Who is he? I don't like this,' said Maude. - -But Hester remained silent and full of her own thoughts. - -Other meetings between these two became whispered about, rather -intangibly, however, and then rumour gave the gentleman the name of -Hoyle. - -'Hoyle?' thought Hester, and she remembered Annot's confidence about -her Belgravian admirer, 'the Detrimental' Bob Hoyle. - -Annot blushed deeply and painfully with a suffusion that dyed her -snowy neck and face to the temples, and which was some time in -passing away, when questioned on this matter by Maude, who she knew -mistrusted her, and falteringly she asked: - -'How did you learn his name?' - -'It dropped from you incidentally when speaking to Elliot.' - -'Did it?' said she, with a pallid lip. - -'Yes, when hunting, at a house in the neighbourhood.' - -'I--I know no one--I mean no harm--and Roland cannot ride to hounds -just now,' urged Annot, a little piteously, and adopting her -child-like manner. - -'Then neither should you, Annot.' - -'I will do so no more, Maude--and I give you my word,' she added -emphatically, and with an air of perfect candour, 'that I shall never -again see Mr. Hoyle!' - -Then Maude kissed her, but, as she did so, it scarcely required so -close an observer as Hester to detect the actual dislike--all sweet -and lovely as her face was--that lurked under her cousin's affected -cordiality. - -But the latter's indignation returned when the pledge was broken. - -Deeming all this most unfair to Roland, his sunny-haired sister -consulted with Hester, but that young lady nervously declined to -involve herself in the matter, though Roland nearly took the -initiative one day (when Hester was arranging some fresh flowers in -his room) with reference to Annot's now frequent absences and seeming -neglect of him. - -'Does the dear girl shrink from me, Hester,' said he, 'because I am -pale and thin--wasted and feeble--after that cursed accident?' - -'Surely not, Roland!' - -'It seems very like it, by Jove!' he grumbled almost to himself. - -In the dark violet eyes of Hester there shone at that moment, as she -bent over the flower-vases, a strange light--the light that is born -of mingled anger and love. - -Maude thought it very strange that in all reports of the meets, -hunting and county packs, etc., the name of Mr. Hoyle never appeared -among others, nor were her suspicions allayed by the idea of Jack -Elliot, that 'he was probably a duffer whose name was not worth -mentioning.' - -But gossip was busy, and Roland's loving and tender sister's -complaints of Annot seemed to become the echo of his own secret and -growing thoughts, which rose unpleasantly now on Annot's protracted -absences from his society, and a new and undefinable something in her -manner that, in short, he did not like. - -The half-uttered hints of Maude--uttered painfully and reluctantly, -trembling lest she should become a mischief-maker--stung him deeply, -more deeply than he cared to admit. - -'What has Annot done now?' he asked on one occasion, tossing on his -sofa and flinging away a half-smoked cigar. 'It seems to me that if -a woman is popular with our sex she becomes intensely the reverse -with her own.' - -'Roland,' urged Maude, 'you are unnecessarily severe, on me at least.' - -'Well--perhaps the atmosphere of this place is corrupting her; I -don't wonder if it is so; we live here in one of deceit,' said he -bitterly. 'Poor little Maude,' he added more gently, 'home is no -longer home to you now.' - -'I shall soon have another,' said Maude, with brightness dancing in -her eyes of forget-me-not blue. - -'Bui I must have this matter out with Annot--ask her to come to me.' - -And when Annot came, with all her strange and flower-like fairness of -colour and willowy grace, how fragile, soft, and _petite_ she looked, -with her minute little face and wealth of golden hair, her bright -inquiring eyes, their expression just then having something of alarm -mingled with coyness in them! - -How could he be angry with her? What was he to say--how to begin? - -We say there was alarm in her expression, for she saw near Roland's -hand his powerful field-glasses, with which he was in the habit of -amusing himself in viewing the far stretch of country extending away -to the distant hills. He could also view the park, which was much -nearer. - -She knew not _whom_ he might have seen there, and the little colour -she had died away. - -'What is it, Roland?' she asked; 'you wish to speak with me.' - -How terrible it is, says someone, to confront direct and apparently -frank people! 'To state in precise terms the offences of all those -who incur our displeasure would occasion a good deal of humming and -hawing, and, it is to be feared, invention on the part of most of us -in the course of twelve months. We have wrought ourselves up to the -pitch of a very pretty quarrel, and it is dreadfully embarrassing to -be called upon to state our grounds for it.' - -So it was with Roland. He had worked himself up to a point which he -failed just then to sustain, while in her manner there was a curious -mixture of the caressing and the defiant; but when she tried some of -her infantile and clinging ways, Roland became cold and hard in the -expression of his mouth and eyes, though she hastened to adjust the -sofa-cushion on which his head reclined. - -'You wish to speak with me, Maude said,' remarked Annot, in a low -voice, while looking down and somewhat nervously adjusting a flower -in her girdle. - -Roland did not reply at once. She eyed him furtively, and then -laughed. - -'I do not understand your mirth,' said he coldly. - -'Nor I your gloom, Roland dear; but then you are far from well.' - -He sighed, as if deprecating her manner. - -'Am I to be scolded, like a naughty child?' she asked. - -'You seem to feel that you deserve it.' - -'But I won't be scolded--and for what?' - -'Acting as you ought not to do.' - -'How?' - -'Riding to see the hounds throw off, without my knowledge, and -escorted only by an old groom, whose place another has taken more -than once.' - -He paused, loth to say more. His proud soul revolted at the idea of -being jealous--vulgarly, grotesquely jealous of anyone; yet he eyed -her with pain and anger mingled. - -'Oh, you refer to Bob Hoyle--poor Bob! Hester knows about him,' said -Annot, after a little pause, in which she grew, if possible, paler, -and certainly more confused. - -'He is not a visitor here--and yet you have been seen with him in the -park and lawn.' - -'Yes. Can I be less than polite when he escorted me home from the -meet--in the dusk, too?' - -'And who the deuce is Bob Hoyle?' - -'I have mentioned him to Hester,' replied Annot, still evasively. - -'But who is he visiting in this locality?' - -'I do not know.' - -'Not know--how?' - -'Simply because I never asked him.' - -'Strange!' - -'Not at all, Roland dear, when I think and care so little about him.' - -She tried a tiny caress, but he turned from her, embittered and -humiliated. - -Disappointment, shame, sorrow, and mortification were all gathering -in his heart, as doubts of Annot grew there too; and in his then weak -and nervous state he actually trembled to pursue a subject so -obnoxious. Was it to be the old story; - - 'Of one that loved, not wisely, but too well; - Of one not easily jealous, but, being wrought, - Perplexed in the extreme.' - - -A little silence ensued, during which, as he looked upon her in all -her fair beauty, so unstable of purpose, and so humble in heart is -one who loves truly that he felt inclined to throw himself upon her -affection for him, and only beseech her to be careful. - -She was--he thought--young, artless, rash, and perhaps knew not how -unseemly, especially in a censorious country place, were these -mistakes of hers. But her manner repelled him. The half-grown -sensation of softness died away, and irritation came instead. So he -said bluntly: - -'Annot, I tell you plainly that there must be no more of this sort of -thing.' - -Her usually sweet little lips curled defiantly, and she eyed him -inquiringly now. - -'Dare you try to make me believe that what you admit is all that has -occurred?' - -'I do not wish to try and make you believe anything,' she replied -sullenly, yet in a broken tone. - -'This is worse and worse,' said Roland in a husky voice. - -'Are you jealous of him?' she asked, with a laugh that had no mirth -in it. 'Surely not; he is but a boy.' - -'I am, and shall be, jealous of no one, Annot!' - -'He speaks to me; it is not my fault--and is always polite. Do not -let us squabble, dearest Roland--I do so hate squabbling,' said she, -selecting a white bud from among the flowers at her waist and pinning -it in his hole; but Roland's blood was too much up to be propitiated -by a white bud, so Annot had recourse to a few tears; but, so far -from there being peace between them, matters waxed more unpleasant -still. - -'Why has this Mr.--ah--Hoyle--as you name him, never called here, nor -left even a card?' - -'I cannot tell.' - -Yet he is an old London friend, and has come almost to the house -door!' - -'I cannot tell,' repeated Annot. - -'Ycu have met him on the skirts of the park?' - -'By the merest chance.' - -'These chances would seem to have occurred too often,' interrupted -Roland, greatly ruffled now, yet feeling sick at heart; 'so let us -come to an end!' - -'By--by parting?' she asked, with pale lips. - -'It is easily done; I am going back to the regiment in a little time, -and gossips will soon cease to link my name with yours, when you----' - -'How cruel of you, Roland!' she said, and she looked at him -entreatingly for a moment with her small hands clasped, and then -turned away her face. - -'It may be merely flirtation or folly that inspires you; but beware, -Annot, how you treat me thus, and remember that lovers' quarrels are -not _always_ love renewed.' - -He felt and feared that a gulf which might never be bridged over was -widening suddenly between them. Had she asked him just then, with -all his anger, to kiss her once and forgive her, he would have -yielded too probably; but the little beauty, all unlike her usually -pliant, soft, and clinging self, held haughtily aloof and said: - -'Am I to give you back your ring, and relinquish all that it -involves?' - -'No, Annot, no, no,' exclaimed Roland, not yet prepared for such a -climax. - -With an angry sob in her slender throat she tried to twist it off, -but in vain; and they regarded each other with a curiously mingled -expression which they never forgot--he sorrowfully and indignantly; -she saucily and defiantly. - -'Have you anything more unpleasant to say to me, Roland?' she asked. - -'Only that I begin to wish, Annot--oh, my God--that we had never, -never met!' - -'Indeed! Good-bye.' - -'Good-bye.' - -She swept away. What a change--was it witchcraft?--had come ever the -once playful, childlike, and winning little Annot! Roland's heart -was sick and crushed, and he began to have a growing and unpleasant -suspicion that he had made, as he thought, 'a confounded fool of -himself.' - -'Thank Heaven, Hester! I shall soon have the sea rolling between me -and this place,' said he, when, after a time, he told his cousin, the -early playmate and sweetheart of other days, the story of this -interview and his complaint against Annot. 'Regrets are useless; we -cannot change the past; but I have neither the inclination nor the -capacity to face all the circumstances that seem to surround me in -Earlshaugh now.' - -'Why has he addressed me in his distress, and on this subject?' -thought Hester almost angrily; 'how can I sympathize with him in the -matter? And he comes to me at a time, too, when I know we may be -soon parted for ever, and when my thoughts are as full of him as they -were in that old time that can return no more.' - -Piqued at and disappointed with Annot, a curious and confusing -emotion came more than once into the mind of Roland--one described by -a Scottish writer as feeling 'that had he not, and had he been, and -if he could he might--in line, he thought the medley which many a man -thinks when he knows that he loves one, and only _one_; but under -suasion and pressure would find it just possible to yield to _other_ -distractions.' - -Annot did not afford him many opportunities of recurring to their -first quarrel or effacing its memory; and from that hour she kept -indignantly and sullenly aloof, as much as she could in courtesy do, -from Maude and Hester--to their surprise--spending most of her time -in the apartments and society of Mrs. Lindsay. - -But once again, in the long shady avenue near the Weird Yett, when -Maude was idling there, under the cold blue sky of an October -evening, with Jack Elliot--idling in the happiness a girl feels when -on the brink of her marriage with the man she loves with all the -strength of her warm heart--the man whose voice and the mere touch of -whose hand gives joy--she felt that heart turn cold when she detected -Annot--her brother's _fiancée_--bidding a hasty adieu to the stranger -before referred to--clad in a red hunting coat, and leading his horse -by the bridle. - -So a crisis of some kind was surely at hand now! - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII. - -THE CRISIS. - -What did, or what could, Annot mean by this studied duplicity and -defiance of propriety? thought Maude; but ere she could reflect much -on the subject, or consider how to speak to Roland about it, or -whether she should simply let him discover more for himself, the -crisis referred to in our last chapter came to pass, and the possible -'_other_ distractions' that had occurred, in his irritation, to -Roland's mind were forgotten by him then. - -Notwithstanding what had passed between them, the charm of Annot's -manner, her graceful and piquant ways, impelled or allured him again, -and his passionate love for her swelled up at times in his breast. -Was he not to make one more effort, or was it too late to win her -love again? - -Like one who when drowning will cling to a straw, Roland, with all -his just indignation at Annot, clung to his faith in her; but they -had parted with much apparent coldness; and, as we have said, in that -huge old rambling mansion of Earlshaugh, as it was easy for people to -avoid each other it they wished to do so, he had not again met her -alone. - -Thus any explanation was deferred, and, with all his love, he felt -painfully that if he once began fully to doubt her and surrendered -himself to that idea, all would be lost; and yet he had little cause -for confidence now, apparently. - -From her own lips again he resolved--however galling to his pride--to -hear his fate, of her wishes and of her love, if the latter still was -his; and thus he asked her by note to meet him in the library, at a -time when they were sure to be undisturbed, as Mrs. Lindsay was -usually indisposed at the hour he selected, and Maude, Jack, and -Hester would be, he knew, absent riding. - -From his own lips Annot had been fully informed of how his father's -will was framed, but her ambition went far beyond that of Becky Sharp -when the latter thought she would be a good woman on five thousand a -year, would not miss a little soup for the poor out of that sum, and -could pay everybody when she had it. - -Annot, though apparently passive no longer, feigned a desire to -continue 'the entanglement,' for such she deemed it--this engagement -to Roland, begun at Merlwood. She had a secret gratitude for the -information that had come to her in time of his future prospects. -She could have continued to love him after a fashion of her own, and -perhaps as much as it was in her selfish nature to love anyone; but -it must be as proprietor of Earlshaugh, of which she had an -overweening desire to be mistress, and, moreover, she never meant to -form or face 'a moneyless marriage.' - -And now in this meeting with Roland she felt that a crisis in her -fate had come; that the sooner it was over and done with the better; -and with a power of will beyond what anyone could have conceived a -girl so soft and fair, so small in stature and lovely in feature -might possess, she kept her appointment; but, without referring even -to Lucrezia Borgia, who was a golden-haired little creature, with a -feeble and vapid expression of face (as Mrs. Jameson tells us), does -not history record how often fair little women have been possessed of -iron will and nature? - -Annot accorded her soft cheek to Roland's lip so coldly that he -scarcely touched it! - -Both looked pale, though they stood, when regarding each other, in -the red light of the October sunset, that streamed like a crimson -flood through a deeply embayed old window near them. - -Annot wore a dark dress, and round her slender throat a high ruffle -of black lace, which, like the jet drops in her tiny ears, enhanced -the marvellous fairness of her skin, as Roland remarked, for even -such trifling details failed to escape him in that time of doubt and -exceeding misery. - -'You have not kept me waiting,' said she with a smile, and as if -feeling a dire necessity for saying something. - -'Was it likely I should do so, Annot, when I have counted every -moment of time since I sent my little note to you?' replied Roland, -feeling instinctively from what he saw in her eye and manner that the -dreaded time had come! - -'How silly--useless I mean, such impatience, when we meet daily -somewhere--at meals and so forth!' said she, looking out upon the far -expanse of green park, steeped in the hazy sunshine of one of the hot -evenings of October. - -'Annot,' said Roland impatiently, and striking a heel on the floor as -he spoke, 'after what passed between us last--a conversation alike -distasteful and painful--I can no longer endure the suspense, the -agony your conduct and bearing cause me. Do you really wish all to -be at end between us?' - -His eyes were bent eagerly upon her face, the muscles of which -certainly quivered with emotion--either love or shame, he knew not -which--and he took her hands in his, but relinquished them; his own -were hot and trembling as if he had an ague, white hers were firm and -cold as they were white and beautiful. - -'It was a joke--a petulant joke, your proposal to give me back your -ring and break our engagement--was it not, darling?' he asked after a -brief pause. - -'It was _no_ joke,' replied Annot, with still averted eyes, in which, -however, there was not a vestige of those sympathetic tears, which, -fur effect, she had usually so near the surface on trivial occasions; -'it cost me much to utter the few words I said--but I meant them.' - -'You did?' - -'Yes--Roland.' - -'And that was to be your only reply to my remonstrances?' - -'Made as these remonstrances were--yes. You are too exacting, -Roland; and--and--' she added with a bluntness that jarred on his -ear, 'it is so tiresome being long engaged, mamma says.' - -'I am sorry you quote her; but we can end it without an unseemly -quarrel, surely.' - -She shook her head, and all her hair shone like a golden aureole in -the sunlight; and with all his just anger Roland looked at her as if -his mind were leaving him. - -'In short, mamma also says----' - -'Mamma again!--says what?' - -'That we are evidently unsuited for each other.' - -'When did she discover this? Her letters to me have never breathed a -suspicion of it.' - -Annot did not reply, but continued to trace the pattern of the carpet -with a foot like that of Cinderella. - -'When did she adopt this new view?' asked Roland, almost sternly. - -'Recently, I suppose.' - -'We know our own minds, surely, so what can her capricious ideas -matter to us? If you love me, Annot, they can make no difference.' - -She only winced a little, and averted her face still more, as if she -dared not meet his dark, earnest, and inquiring eyes. - -'Speak!' he exclaimed. - -'Women change their minds often, it is said--why may not I, by -advice?' - -'God keep me, Annot! Then the change is with yourself? Has our -past, so far as you are concerned, been all duplicity and falsehood?' - -'As when last we spoke on this matter, your language is unpleasant, -Roland,' said Annot, as if seeking a cause for indignation or -complaint. - -'Is this a time to mince matters? Surely you loved me?' - -'You--you were so fond of me, that I could not help liking you in -return, Roland,' said she, trembling and confusedly; 'we were thrown -so much together, and--and you see----' - -'That I have been befooled!' he interrupted her with bitterness and a -gust of anger. - -'Do not use such a rough expression,' said she, recovering herself; -'and please don't allow listeners to think we are rehearsing for -amateur theatricals.' - -For a moment concentrated fury flashed in Roland's dark eyes. - -Then he regarded her wistfully again, and his gust of anger gave way -to an emotion of infinite tenderness. - -'Annot,' he exclaimed, caressing her hands, on which, truth to tell, -his hot tears dropped. 'Oh, my darling, tell me that you do not mean -all this--that you are not in cruel earnest and oblivious of all the -past.' - -'I never loved you----' - -'Never loved me?' said he hoarsely, - -'As you wished to be; it was to serve my own ends--my own purpose -that I simulated--then--so hate me if you can!' - -'Hate you,' he faltered, utterly crushed and bewildered by her words. -His eyes were lurid now, for anger again mingled with love in them. -'Surely this is all some bad dream, from which I must awaken.' - -'It is no dream,' said Annot, turning with an unsteady step as if she -would pass him; but he barred her way. - -'Do you mean that you loved some one else?' he asked. - -'Do not ask me.' - -'I have the right to do so!' - -'No, Roland--you have not.' - -'You surely did at one time love me, Annot, or your duplicity is -monstrous, till--till this fellow Hoyle came upon the tapis? Was it -not so?' he asked, almost piteously, for his moods varied quickly. - -'Not quite; and I can't be poor, that is the plain English of it; I -can't be a struggling man's wife, as I now know yours must be, as -Earlshaugh----' - -'Belongs to another, and not to me, you mean?' - -She was silent. Selfish though she was to the heart's core, a blush -crossed her cheek, a genuine blush of shame at her own blunt -openness, and it was but too evident that she had schooled herself -for all this--had screwed her courage to the sticking point. - -'Then I have only been a cat's-paw, and you have loved, if it is in -your nature to love, another all the time?' said Roland hoarsely, as -he drew back a pace with something of horror and disgust in his face -now. - -Almost pitifully did this cruel girl regard his face, which had -become ashy gray, the wounded and despairing love he felt for her -passing away from his eyes, while his figure, she could not but -admit, was straight, handsome, and proud in bearing as ever, when -compared with that of the _other_, who was in her mind now. - -'All is over, then, and there is no need to torture or humiliate me -further,' said he. - -'All is over--yes,' she replied, with a real or affected sob; 'and -you will, I hope, bless the day when I left you free to win a richer -bride than I am, Roland. Forgive me, and let us part friends.' - -'_Friends!_' he exclaimed, in a low voice of reproach, bitterness, -and rage curiously mingled. - -Resolute to act out the scene to the last detail, she slowly drew her -engagement ring off her finger--like the marriage ring, the woman's -badge of servitude according to the old English idea, but of eternity -with every other people, past or present--laid it on a table near -him, and gliding away without another word or glance, they separated, -and Roland stood for a minute or so as if turned to stone. - -Then, like one in a dream, he found himself walking slowly to and -fro, forgetful even of his temporary lameness, on the terraced path -beneath the towering walls of the old house. - -The engagement ring--how tiny it looked!--was in his hand, and with -something like a malediction he tossed it into a sheet of deep -ornamental water that lay thereby, and there too, perhaps, he would -have tossed all the other beautiful and valuable presents he had -given her; but these the fair Annot did not as yet see her way to -returning, and, sooth to say, he never thought of them. - -So--so he was 'thrown over' for one who seemed most suddenly and -unaccountably to have come upon the tapis, but chiefly because he was -a kind of outcast--a disinherited man. Had she not told him so in -the plainest language? - -The situation was a grotesquely humiliating one. - -'Oh, to be well and strong and fit to march again!' he sighed. - -In the expression of his dark eyes there was now much of the -bitterness, keenness, and longing of a prisoner looking round the -cell which he loathed, and from which he desired to be gone; and more -than once, in the solitude of his room, he closed his eyes and rested -his head upon his arms, as if he wished to see and hear of his then -surroundings no more. - -Even the caresses of Maude--even Hester's gentle voice and soft touch -failed to rouse him for a time. - -Some days elapsed before Roland--after thinking over again and again -all the details of this most singular episode, the strangest _crisis_ -in his life--could realize that it was not all a dream, and that the -relations between himself and Annot had undergone such a complete -revolution that their paths in life must lie apart for ever, now. - -But he was yet to learn the more bitter sequel to all this. - -Roland naturally thought that as the doctors would scarcely yet -permit him to quit Earlshaugh and travel, now Annot Drummond would -take her departure to Merlwood or London; but this she did not do, -and seemed, with intense bad taste, to adopt the rôle of being his -stepmother's guest, while sedulously avoiding him, so he began to -make his arrangements for decamping without delay. - -In bidding adieu, out of mere courtesy to Mrs. Lindsay, Roland never -referred to the existence of Annot. Neither did she. - -Was this good feeling, or was she endorsing the new situation adopted -by Annot? - -He cared not to canvass the matter even in his own mind; but ere he -quitted Earlshaugh he was yet, we have said, to learn the sequel to -all this. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX. - -TURNING THE TABLES. - -His sword and helmet cases, his portmanteau and travelling rugs were -duly strapped and placed in the stately old entrance-hall in -readiness, as Roland was to be off by an early morning train, and -never again would he break bread in the home of his forefathers. -Every link that bound him to Earlshaugh was broken now, and he felt -only a feverish restlessness to be gone! - -Ere that came to pass, Roland's eyes were fated to be somewhat -roughly opened. - -All that day the nervous quivering of his nether lip, his unusual -paleness--notwithstanding his apparent calm--showed to his sister -that he was deeply agitated, and was suffering from passionate, if -suppressed, emotion. - -In the deepening dusk of his last evening at Earlshaugh he had, cigar -in mouth, strolled forth alone to con over his own bitter thoughts, -and nurse his wrath 'to keep it warm,' or inspired by a vague idea -that he would sort his mind, which was then in a somewhat chaotic -condition. - -The evening--one of the last in October--was cool, and the wind -wailed sadly in the task of stripping the trees of their withered -leaves, though at no time of the year do they look so beautiful in -the Scottish woods as in autumn, save, perhaps, when they first burst -forth in their emerald greenery. - -Round the tall old mansion, down the terraced walks, past the lakelet -and through the grounds he wandered till he reached a kind of kiosk -or summer-house, built of fantastic, knotty branches, roofed with -thatch, and furnished with a rustic seat--a damp and gloomy place -just then. He threw himself upon the latter, and, resting his head -upon his hand, proceeded to chew the cud of bitter fancy that had no -sweet in it. - -The period had vanished when existence seemed full of joyous dreams -and a course of glowing scenes. The world was still as beautiful, no -doubt, but it sparkled no more with light and colour for him; idols -had been shattered--ideals had collapsed, and it seemed very cold and -empty now. - -How long he had been there he scarcely knew--perhaps half an -hour--when in the gloom under the half-stripped trees he heard -voices, and saw two figures, or made out a male and female lingering -near the summer-house, which he dreaded lest they should enter, when -he discovered them to be Annot--Annot Drummond, muffled in a cosy -white fur cloak of Maude's--and, Heaven above!--of all men on -earth--Hawkey Sharpe! - -For a moment or two Roland scarcely respired--his heart seemed to -stand still. Intensely repugnant to him as it was to act as -eavesdropper on the one hand, on the other he was proudly and -profoundly reluctant to confront those two. There he remained still, -hoping every moment they would move on and leave the pathway clear; -but they remained, and thus he heard more than he expected to hear -from such a singular pair. - -He had now a clue to the reason of Annot's reluctance to leave -Earlshaugh, of her protracted visit as the guest of Mrs. Lindsay, and -why latterly she had so mysteriously and sedulously cultivated the -friendship of that lady. - -The question, was it honourable to remain where he was, flashed -across Roland's mind! It was not incompatible with honour under the -peculiar circumstances, so he heard more. - -'That nonsense has surely come to an end, or are you still engaged to -him?' said Hawkey, who held her hands in his. - -Annot was silent. Could she be temporizing yet? - -'Do you think he loves you as well as I do?' urged Hawkey Sharpe, -bending over her. - -Still she was silent. - -'If so, why has he ever left you, even for an hour, to shoot and so -forth, as he has often done? Speak, Annot. Surely I may call you -Annot now.' - -Still there was no reply. It seemed as if she was thinking -deeply--thinking how best to reply, to play her cards or to -temporize; but to what end, when all was over between her and Roland -now? - -'You _were_ engaged to him?' said Hawkey again, with a little -impatience of manner. - -'By a chain of circumstances over which I had no control,' replied -Annot in a faltering voice; 'in his uncle's house at Merlwood I -was----' - -'Was--is it ended?' - -'Yes--for ever.' - -'Thank God for that! Did you think you loved him?' asked Hawkey with -a grin. - -'I believe that I did--or ought--I was so silly--so simple--so----' - -'There--there--I don't want to worry you.' - -'But he loves me, I know that,' said Annot in a low voice--true to -her vanity still. - -'That I can well believe--who could see you and not love you?' said -Hawkey gallantly. - -'I could never marry a poor man,' said Annot candidly. - -'Well--he is poor enough.' - -'And live on, eating my heart out in struggles such as some I have -seen,' continued Annot as if to herself. - -'Though here in Earlshaugh just now, what is he, this fellow Lindsay, -but a penniless pretender!' exclaimed Sharpe, fired with animosity -against Roland; who thus heard his name, his position, and the -dearest secrets of his heart openly canvassed by this presumptuous -and low-born fellow, and with Annot too--she who, till lately--but he -could not put his thoughts in words--they seemed to choke him; and -the whole situation was degrading--maddening! - -'Well,' chuckled Sharpe, 'he is out of the running now; and then you -and I understand each other so well, my little golden-haired pet! so -true it is that "when a woman of the world and a man of the world -meet, whatever the circumstances may be, or the surroundings, in a -moment there is rapport between them, and all flows along easily." I -thought when Lindsay fell into the Cleugh,' he added, with a coarse -laugh, 'that he had betaken himself off to something that suited him -better than fighting the Arabs. But it is long ere the deil -dies--now he is well and whole again, and looks every inch like the -Lindsay in the gallery, with the buff coat and a dish-cover on his -head, that led a brigade of horse against the English at Dunbar. -Well, the old place has done with that brood now; and after Deb, -Earlshaugh must be mine--mine--shall be _ours_, Annot, for ever and -aye!' - -The breeze caught the lace of her sleeve, and, lifting it, showed the -perfect and lovely contour of her soft white arm, on which Hawkey -Sharpe fastened his coarse lips with a fervour there could be no -doubting. - -Kissed by him? Roland felt perfectly cured. The desecration, the -dishonour, seemed complete! It is but too probable that Mr. Hawkey -Sharpe felt the exultation of revenge and triumph in every kiss he -took, even though he believed them to be unseen. - -Though it was now apparent that she had thrown 'dust' in Roland's -eyes by using the name of _another_, and had thus doubly lied to him, -the blow did not fall so unexpectedly, yet the degradation of it was -complete. - -Hoyle was a myth--a blind to throw him off the right track--and he -had been discarded, not for that personage, but for Hawkey Sharpe. -This was truly to find - - 'In the lowest deep a lower deep' - -of utter humiliation! - -At last they passed onward, and he was again alone. - -'I have undergone something like the torture of the rack,' said he -with a bitter laugh, when he related to Maude and Hester what he had -been compelled to overhear in the summer-house, and the latter -thought of that eventful evening at Merlwood, when she so unwittingly -had in like manner been compelled to lurk in the shrubbery and hear a -revelation that crushed her own heart to the dust. - -Thus, though he knew it not, the tables were turned on Roland with a -vengeance. - -Like Hester, he could not agree with Romeo-- - - 'How sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,' - -when the said tongues addressed all their sweetness to others. - -'She is an ungrateful, selfish, horrible girl--I'll never forgive -her--never!' said Maude, almost sobbing with anger. - -'How filthy lucre rules the world now!' exclaimed Roland. 'Do such -girls as she ever repent the mischief they make--the hearts they have -broken?' - -'As if hearts break nowadays? she would ask,' said Hester with -something of a smile. - -'Likely enough--it is her style, no doubt. But can you, Hester, or -anyone, explain this cruel duplicity? To me it seems as if I were -still in the middle of a horrid dream--a dream from which I must -suddenly wake. That she, so winsome and artless apparently--so -gentle and loving, should become so cold, so calculating, so -mercilessly cruel now!' - -'I always mistrusted her,' said Maude bitterly. 'People call her -eyes hazel--to me they always seemed a kind of vampire-green.' - -Roland made no reply, but he was thinking with Whyte-Melville: - -'Who shall account for the fascination exercised by some women upon -all who approach their sphere? The peculiar power of the -rattlesnake, whose eye is said to lure the conscious victim -unresistingly to its doom, and the attractive properties possessed by -certain bodies, and by them used with equal recklessness and cruelty, -are two arrangements of Nature which make me believe in mesmerism.' - -'Well--to-morrow I quit this place without beat of drum!' exclaimed -Roland. - -'For Edinburgh?' - -'Yes--to the Club.' - -'And then?' - -'For Egypt. There I shall live every day of my life as if there were -no to-morrow.' - -'Nonsense!' said Jack. 'You'll get over all this in time--a hit in -the wing, that is all!' - -Old Johnnie Buckle, who had forebodings in the matter of Roland's -departure, had tears in his eyes as he drove him in the drag to the -railway station next morning, and as he wrung his hand at parting he -said--showing that he knew precisely of the double trouble that had -fallen on the young Laird: - -'Better twa skaiths than ae sorrow, Maister Roland,' meaning that -losses can be repaired, but grief may break the heart; 'and mind ye, -sir,' he added, as the train started, 'a' the keys o' the country -dinna hang at ae man's belt, and ye'll wear your ain bannet yet!' - -And on this _bouleversement_ we need scarcely refer to the emotions -of those who loved Roland best. - -Jack Elliot, as he selected a cigar to smoke and think the situation -over, deemed that Roland was well out of the whole affair; Maude, who -was preparing for her departure from Earlshaugh, like Hester, was -furiously indignant; but, for reasons of her own, the thoughts of the -latter were of a somewhat mingled nature. - - - - -CHAPTER XL. - -THE NEW POSITION. - -Though, by her own admission, not entirely ignorant of Annot's secret -springs of action, that social buccaneer, Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, was -exultantly defiant about his victory over, and revenge on, Roland -Lindsay, for such he deemed the new position to be; and in his pale -gray eyes, as he thought over it, there gleamed a savage light, such -as it is said 'men carry when the thirst for blood possesses them.' - -Roland, whom latterly Mrs. Lindsay had learned to like better than -was her wont, was now gone, and would nevermore, she was assured, -repass the door of Earlshaugh, and she actually felt as much regret -for him as it was in her hard, cold nature to feel. He had been -kind, her heart said to herself, and his soft, gentle, and polished -manners contrasted most favourably with those of the few men she met -now, and especially with those of her brother Hawkey. - -'The self-contained bearing, the habitual repose of one who mixes in -good society, invariably displays,' it is said, 'a striking -dissimilarity to those who, immersed in the business of life, have -not such opportunities. Women note these things keenly; especially -do they regard the carriage of those whom they believe to move in -circles above their own.' - -With regard to Annot, as one connected by marriage with the Lindsay -family, she was not sorry at the turn affairs had taken with regard -to that enterprising young lady and her brother, Hawkey Sharpe. -Socially, Annot was far beyond, or above, the bride he could ever -have hoped to win, and she might be the means of raising him, -steadying and curing him of his horsy, low, and gambling -propensities, which had made him prove a great anxiety in many ways, -with all his usefulness to herself, since, on her husband's death, -she became mistress of Earlshaugh. - -'Thanks, Deb, old girl,' said he, as he pocketed a cheque of hers for -fifty pounds, and thought gloomily over the two thousand that would -in time become inexorably due and must be paid, or see him -stigmatized as a _welsher_! - -'Little does the outer world know of all I have to put up with from -you, Hawkey,' said she, with a sigh, as she locked away her -cheque-book, and he surveyed her with a cool and discriminating stare -through his eyeglass--the use of which be affected in imitation of -others--screwed into his right eye. - -'It is too bad of you to talk to me in that way, Deb,' said he, 'when -I have cut out and relieved you of the presence of that impudent -beggar, Lindsay. Miss Drummond, as an only daughter, must, I -suppose, be the heiress to something or other.' - -'I thought she would never look with favour on you--but treat you as -Maude did,' said Mrs. Lindsay, slowly fanning herself with a large -black lace fan. - -Hawkey laughed maliciously; then he suddenly set his teeth together -and exclaimed: - -'Maude! I'll pay _her_ out yet--she and I have not squared our -accounts--I shall be even with her before long. As for little Annot -not looking at me--by Jove, she has looked and said all I could have -wished. She is not so "stand-off" and unapproachable as you may -think all her set to be, when a fellow knows the way to go about -it--as I rather flatter myself I do,' he added, caressing his -straw-coloured and tenderly-fostered moustache, and pulling up his -shirt-collar. - -'But where have you and she met, since you ceased to occupy your -rooms here?' - -'Oh--with the hounds--in the park--wherever I wished, in fact. You -and she, Deb, will get on excellently together, if we all play our -cards well now--I marry one of the family, don't you see? Then, I -haven't a doubt that Annot has money.' - -'Did she give you reason to suppose she has?' - -'N--no--not exactly--well?' - -'She will succeed to whatever her mother may have--little, probably.' - -'Will have, or _may_ have--shady that! Well, unlike most heiresses, -she's a deuced pretty little girl, Deb, and suits my book exactly. -So, with your assistance, we shall be all right.' - -'My assistance?' - -'Of course.' - -'Bright, soft, and girlish as she seems, I suspect there is not a -more artful damsel in London,' said Mrs. Lindsay shrewdly. - -'Oh bosh, Deb! Well, if it be so, two can do the artful game; but -does not your own knowledge of human nature lead you to see,' he -added sententiously, 'that art and prudence too give place when love -comes on the scene?' - -'Love--yes--are you quoting a play? Will this fancy of hers last--if -fancy it is?' - -'Why not?' - -'You are not a gentleman in her sense of the word.' - -'You are deuced unpleasant, Deb!' said he, contemplating his spiky -nails. - -'And her sudden quarrel with Roland Lindsay--if quarrel it was--I do -not understand.' - -'I do. He is a poor beggar--dropped out of the hunt--and I--I am----' - -'What?' - -'Supposed to be your heir,' said he, putting the suggestion gently; -'long, long may it be only supposition, Deb; but a few thousands -yearly--say five--would make us all right, and then we have the run -of the house here--what more do we want? So all will be right, even -with the county, I say again, if we only play our cards well.' - -She had played _her_ cards well in the past time, she thought, as -Hawkey, whom conversation always made thirsty, left her in quest of a -brandy and soda. - -Seated in her luxurious boudoir, her memory went back to the days of -her early life, as an underpaid and hard-worked governess; and then -to those when she became the humble and useful companion to Roland's -mother, and, after her death, a kind of guardian to Maude on the -latter leaving school. Then came the accident that befel the old -Laird in the hunting-field at Macbeth's Stank--a wet ditch with a -'yarner' on each side, the terror of the Fife Hunt, but said to have -been leapt by the usurper's horse when he returned from Dunnimarle -after slaying the family of Macduff; and how necessary she made -herself to the suffering invalid; how (artfully) she seemed to -anticipate his thoughts, to understand all his wants, his favourite -dishes and so forth; and how grateful he became to her, and how she -clung to him like a barnacle or octopus, without seeming to do so. -How necessary he soon found it to have a clever, sensible, and loving -woman--one rather handsome, too--to look after him, when his two -sons--especially that spendthrift in the Scots Guards--seemed to -regard him as only a factor or banker to draw upon without mercy; and -so he married her one morning when the weather was very cold; when -the early snow was on the Ochil summits and powdering the Lomonds of -Fife, and _then_ she knew that she was the wife of a landed gentleman -of old and high descent--Colin Lindsay, Laird of Earlshaugh! - -She was, of course, to be a second mother to Maude (who declined to -view her as such) and to his two sons if they became careful; and -meantime, ere dying, he handed over to her, by will, as stated, -beyond all hope of disputing it at law, every wood, acre, and tree he -possessed, causing much uplifting of hands and shaking of heads in -ominous wonder throughout the county, and more especially in the East -Neuk thereof. - -But she bore herself well, dressed richly as became her age and new -station--kept a handsome carriage with her late husband's arms--the -fesse chequy argent and azure for Lindsay--thereon in a lozenge; but -was rarely seen in the company of Maude, who did not, would not, and -never could, approve of the position so ungenerously assigned to -herself and her only surviving brother Roland, who had been much less -to blame than his senior of the Household Brigade. - -And Mrs. Lindsay was just then beginning to discover that she was -likely to have--in the person of her brother, as an intrusive, if -sometimes necessary factotum--something of a skeleton in her cupboard -at Earlshaugh. - -Since the Laird's death, Hawkey Sharpe had loved well to pose as a -man of influence and importance--more than all, as the probable and -future proprietor of Earlshaugh; and liked to imagine how all would -look up to him then and seek his favourable notice. - -His sister's secret and deadly ailment was to him a constant source -of anxiety that was _not_ borne of affection; he dreaded, also, her -'kirk proclivities,' and the influence possessed over her 'by that -old caterpillar, the minister.' 'I'll have to look sharp now after my -own interests--old Deb is getting rather long in the tooth for me,' -he would think at times. - -Treated as she had been by Maude and others of the family since her -marriage, she could not have a very kindly feeling to the Lindsay -line. 'Blood is warmer than water,' says our Scottish proverb; and -Hawkey was the only kinsman she had in the world that she knew of; -but, a scapegrace, a spendthrift, and toady to herself, as she knew -him to be, some of her sympathies were just then rather more with the -disinherited Roland Lindsay than Mr. Hawkey Sharpe would have -relished, had he in the least suspected such a thing. - -And Annot's thoughts on reviewing her new position were rather of a -mingled sort, and something of this kind: - -'I am going to marry this man Hawkey Sharpe. Odious man! I cannot -pretend, even to myself, to be much in love with him--if at all; yet -I am going to marry him--and why? Because I love the splendid -patrimony that, in time, will become his; this beautiful estate, this -grand old house, the parure of family diamonds, and the settlements -that must be made upon me. I always meant to marry the first wealthy -man who asked me, and now I am only true to my creed--the creed mamma -taught me. Can anyone blame me for that? Of course I would rather a -thousand times have had poor Roland with Earlshaugh, because he is a -man that any woman might love and be proud of; but failing him, I -must put up with the person and name of--Hawkey Sharpe. Can anyone -think it very wicked that I--a penniless little creature--should -prefer such a well-feathered nest as this to that gloomy and small -poky house in South Belgravia, with its one drab of a servant, cold -meat, shabby clothes, and all its sordid concomitants? No; give me -the ease, the prosperity, the luxury, and the flesh-pots of -Earlshaugh, with its manor and lands, wood, hill, and field.' - -But it was a considerable relief to her mind--shamelessly selfish -though she was--when within twenty-four hours after Roland's -departure her two cousins and Jack Elliot (whose faces she cared -never to see again) also left for the capital, and she remained -behind the guest of--Mrs. Lindsay. - -'As for Roland,' Annot thought, '_he_ will get over our little affair -easily. He loved me, no doubt, but love we know to be only a -parenthesis in the lives of most men.' - - - - -CHAPTER XLI. - -THE CAPTIVE. - -We must now change the scene to the Soudan--_Beled-es-Soudan_, or -'The Land of the Blacks,' so called by ancient geographers--whither a -single flight of imagination will take us without undergoing a -fortnight's voyage by sea to Alexandria, _viâ_ the Bay of Biscay, -with its long, heavy swells, and the Mediterranean, which is not -always like a mill pond; and then a long and toilsome route across -the Lower and Upper Provinces to where the Sheikh Moussa Abu Hagil -was journeying towards his remote home, with the luckless Malcolm -Skene in his train--a place on the borders of the Nubian Desert, not -far from the Nile, in the neighbourhood of the third cataract, and -situated about midway between Assouan, the name of which had not, as -yet, become a 'household word' with us, and Khartoum, where then the -well-nigh despairing Gordon was still waging his desperate defence -against the Mahdi. - -By this time how weary had the eye--yea, the very soul--of the -luckless captive become of the desert scenery, in a land visited only -by a few bold travellers, who in times past had accompanied the -caravans from one valley to another. There the desert sand is deep -and loose, with sharp flinty stones, in some places sprinkled with -glistening rock salt, and showing here and there a grove of dwindled -acacias or tufts of colocynth and senna, to relieve the awful -dreariness of its aspect. - -The water in the pools, even in the rainy season, is there black and -putrid; hence the Arabs of the district remove with their flocks to -better regions, where the higher mountains run from Assouan to -Haimaur. - -Steering, as it were, unerringly by landmarks known to themselves -alone, the Sheikh Moussa Abu Hazil and his followers made progress -towards his home--or zereba--in the quarter we have mentioned. - -Malcolm Skene had now been conveyed so far inland by his captors that -escape seemed hopeless; yet, buoyed up by the secret chance that such -_might_ come, he struggled on with the party day by day, ignorant of -the fate that awaited him, though he could never forget that of -Palmer and his companions on the shore of the Red Sea. - -More than once Hassan Abdullah mockingly held before him the pocket -compass, which, of course, he had contrived to abstract on some -occasion. Its loss did not matter much now, but it was eventually -appropriated by the Sheikh Moussa, whether it were _efrit_ or not; -and Hassan, who seemed inclined to resent this, received in reward a -blow from their leader's lance. - -The latter, who, in some respects, was not unlike the published -portraits of his kinsman Zebehr, was at the head of a body of -Bedouins, not Soudanese. Each tribe of these wild horsemen is -considered to have an exclusive property in a district proportioned -to the strength and importance of the tribes, but affording room for -migration, which is indispensable among a people whose subsistence is -derived from cattle, and the spontaneous produce of the sterile -regions they inhabit. Thus they often join neighbouring tribes, -Emirs and Sheikhs, in the hope of an advantageous change. In this -manner were this Bedouin troop under the banner of Sheikh Moussa. - -All were thin and hardy men, with the muscles of their limbs more -strongly developed than the rest of the body; their strength and -activity were great, and their power of abstinence such that, like -their own camels, they could travel four or five days without tasting -water. Their deep black eyes glared with an intensity never seen in -Northern regions, and gave full credence to the marvellous stories -Skene had heard of their extraordinary powers of discriminating -vision and the acuteness of their other senses. - -Unlike the nearly nude warriors of the Mahdi, these Bedouins under -their floating burnous wore shirts of coarse cotton with wide and -loose sleeves--a garment rarely changed or washed. Over this some -had a Turkish gown of mingled cotton and silk, but most of them wore -a mantle, called an _abba_, like a square, loose sack, with slits for -the arms, woven of woollen thread and camel's hair, girt by a girdle, -and showing broad stripes of many colours; but trousers of all kinds -seemed superfluities unknown. Picturesque looking fellows they were, -and reminded Skene of the descriptive lines in Grant's 'Arabia': - - 'Freedom's fierce unconquered child, - The Bedouin robber, nursling of the wild, - With whirlwind speed he guides his vagrant band, - Fire-eyed and tawny as their subject sand: - On foam-flecked steeds, impetuous all advance, - Whirl the bright sabre, couch the quivering lance, - Or grasping, ruthless, in the savage chase, - The belt-slung carbine and spike-headed mace, - Ardent for plunder, emulate the wind, - Scorn the low level, spurn the world behind; - While the dense dust-cloud rears its giant form, - And, rolled in spires, revealed the threatening storm.' - - -Malcolm Skene found that he was rather a favourite with these wild -fellows from the facility with which he could converse with them in -Arabic; and though he knew not the _thousand_ names that language is -said to possess for a sword, he could repeat to them the _Fatihat_, -or short opening chapter of the Koran, called that of prayer and -thanksgiving; and they accorded him great praise accordingly. And, -sooth to say, any Christian may repeat it without evil, as it simply -runs thus in English: - -'Praise be to God, the Lord of all creatures; the Most Merciful; the -King of the Day of Judgment! Thee do we worship, and of Thee do we -beg assistance. Direct us in the right way of those to whom Thou -hast been gracious; not of those against whom Thou art incensed, nor -of those who go astray.' - -But he knew the hostility of the slimy and savage Greek, Pietro -Girolamo, and of the cowardly and false Egyptian, Hassan Abdullah, -was undying towards him, and that they only waited for the -opportunity to take his life, if possible unknown to the Sheikh, and -then achieve their own escape from the latter. - -On every occasion that suited they reviled him, spat on him, and -hurled pebbles at him; but if their hands wandered instinctively to -pistol or poniard he had but to utter the magic words to the Sheikh -Moussa, 'Ana dakheilak!' (I am your protected), and the lowering of -the lance-head in threat sufficed to send them cowed to the rear. - -Moussa now made Skene acquainted with a fact which, though -explanatory as to the reason why his life was spared, did not prove -very soothing or hopeful; that he meant to retain him at his zereba -as a hostage for his kinsman Zebehr Pasha, 'then under detention at -Cairo by those sons of dogs the English--_Allah bou rou Gehenna_!' - -Hence, as yet, Malcolm knew that his life was deemed of some value to -his captors, who did not then foresee the future deportation of the -king of the slave dealers, by Lord Wolseley's orders, to Gibraltar. - -To escape, on foot or horseback, or in any way elude the Bedouin -guard, seemed to him a greater difficulty than to achieve the same -thing from Soudanese, so well were the former mounted, so amply -armed, so fleet and active in movement, and every way so acute, -eagle-eyed, serpent-like in wile and wisdom and relentless as a tiger -in fury and bloodshed. - -Even if he could successfully elude them, what lay before him--what -behind, the way he must pursue, if ever again he was to reach the -world he had been reft from! The desert--the awful, trackless desert -he had traversed in their obnoxious company, but could never hope to -traverse it alone--the desert, where water is more precious to the -traveller than would be the famous Emerald Mountain of Nubia itself! -It barred him out from civilization as completely as if it had been -the waves of a shoreless sea. - -The Sheikh often rode by his side, and asked him many perplexing -questions about Europe and the land of the French, of which the -inquirer had not the most vague idea, or of how the red soldiers Of -the mysterious Queen reached Egypt, or where they came from; of -Stamboul, which he thought was in Arabia; of India, which he thought -was in Russia--of who were the English, and who the British that -always aided them; adding, as he stroked his great beard, that 'it -mattered little, as they must all perish--_Feh sebil Allah_!' (for -the cause of God). - -He hated them with a bitterness beyond all language, as interferers -with the traffic in _djellabs_, as the slave-dealers term their human -wares; and for the losses he had sustained at their hands, like Osman -Digna, when some of his dhows were captured on their voyage to Jeddah -by British cruisers; and ultimately even Suakim became so closely -watched by the latter that his caravan leaders had to deposit their -captives by twos and threes at lonely places on the shore of the Red -Sea, to transmit them across it when occasion served. Then when he -came to speak of the Anglo-Egyptian slave convention, which was the -ruin of the traders in human flesh, he gnashed his teeth, his black -eye-balls shot fire, and he looked as if with difficulty he -restrained himself from pinning Skene to the sand with his lance. - -It was the ruin of the Soudan, he declared, as the Christians only -wished to liberate all slaves that they might become their property. -He had struggled against this, he said, with voice and sword till the -summer of 1881, when the Mahdi, Mahommed Achmet Shemseddin, issuing -from his cave on the White Nile, proclaimed himself the New Prophet. -Then he cast his lot with the latter, and in two years after served -with him at the capture of El Obeid, and the slaughter of the armies -of Hicks and Baker, when they won together a holy influence and a -military reputation, which were greatly enhanced by subsequent -conflicts and events. - -Such was the stern, unpleasant, and uncompromising individual in -whose hands Malcolm Skene found himself retained as a hostage, in a -trifling way it seemed, for Zebehr-Rahama-Gymme-Abel, better known as -Zebehr Pasha, whilom the friend of General Gordon, but in reality the -most slippery, savage, and bitter enemy of Britain in the present -time. - -And full of the heavy thoughts his entire circumstances forced upon -him, somewhere about the first of November he found himself, with his -escort, approaching a zereba which had been one of the headquarters -of Zebehr, but latterly assigned to his kinsman, Sheikh Moussa, and -the very aspect of it made even the stout heart of Malcolm Skene sink -within him, as he had been prepared for a tented camp, or wigwam-like -village, but not for the place in which he found himself, and which -was one of those described by Dr. Schweinfurth, the great German -traveller, when he visited Zebehr Pasha a short time before. - - - - -CHAPTER XLII. - -THE ZEREBA OF SHEIKH MOUSSA. - -At some little distance from the Nile, but what distance, whether one -or ten _shoni_, Skene could not then discover, stood the zereba to -which the Sheikh had lately fallen possessor after Zebehr (who had -been lord of thirty exactly similar), in a strip of green, where a -few palms, lupins, and beans grew in an amphitheatre of small -mountains--rocky, jagged, volcanic in outline and aspect. A few -camels and donkeys grazed spectral-like in the vicinity amid a -silence that was intense, and in a district where there were no -flights of birds as in Egypt, and no wide reaches of valley covered -with green and golden plenty. - -Through a gorge in the steep rocky mountains, whose sides were -blackened by the sun of unknown ages, and broken into fragments by -some great convulsion of nature, the zereba was entered. - -It was a group of well-sized huts, enclosed by tall hedges, in the -centre of which stood the private residence of Sheikh Moussa, having -various apartments, wherein usually armed sentinels, black or -swarthy, half-nude, with glowing eyes and bright weapons--swords and -spears or Remington rifles--kept guard day and night. - -Through these, as one who was to be treated, as yet, with hospitality -at least, Malcolm Skene was conducted by a couple of handsomely -attired slaves (for here the power of the Anglo-Egyptian Convention -was _nil_), who gave him coffee, sherbet, and a tchibouk, all most -welcome after the last day's toilsome march; and, throwing himself -upon a carpet and some soft skins, he strove to collect his thoughts, -to calculate the distance and the perils that lay between him and -freedom, and to think what was to be done now! - -Meanwhile the Bedouins were grooming their horses outside, laughing, -chatting, smoking, and drinking long draughts of _bouza_ from stone -jars--a kind of Nubian beer made from dhurra. - -'People always meet again,' said Pietro Girolamo with a savage grin, -showing all his sharp, white teeth beneath a long and coal-black -moustache. 'The world is round, you know, Signor, though the Sheikh -thinks it flat--flat as my roulette-table at Cairo. Ah, Christi! we -have not forgotten that; sooner or later people always meet again, -and so shall we.' - -And with these words, which contained a menace, the Greek withdrew to -some other part of the zereba, where he seemed to be somewhat at -home, as he was--Skene afterwards discovered--father of the third and -favourite wife of Sheikh Moussa. - -The chambers, or halls--for such they were--seemed silent--save a -strange growling and the rasping of iron fetters--and empty now, -though there sometimes, in the palmy days of the slave trade, as many -as two thousand dealers in _djellabs_ gathered with their chained and -wretched victims every year. - -'The regal aspect of these halls of State,' says Dr. Schweinfurth, -'was increased by the introduction of some lions, secured, as may be -supposed, by sufficiently strong and massive chains.' - -It was the rattle of the latter and the growling of the lions that -Malcolm Skene heard with more bewilderment than curiosity on the -subject. - -Here in his favourite abode, Zebehr, says the doctor, was long 'a -picturesque figure, tall, spare, excitable, with lions guarding his -outer chamber, and his court filled with armed slaves--smart, -dapper-looking fellows, supple as antelopes, fierce, unsparing, and -the terror of Central Africa; while around him gathered in thousands -infernal raiders, whose razzias have depopulated vast territories. -Superstitious, too, was Zebehr, for in his campaign against Darfour, -he melted down two hundred and fifty thousand dollars into -bullets--for no charm can stay a silver bullet--and cruel as death -itself! A word from him here raised the Soudan in revolt against -Gordon in 1878; and it was only after some fierce righting that Gessi -Pasha succeeded in breaking the back of the revolt. After hunting -the slave raiders like wild beasts, he captured and shot eleven of -their chiefs, including Suleiman, the son of Zebehr. Hence the -blood-feud between Gordon and Zebehr which led the latter to refuse -to accompany the former to Khartoum. The slave-dealers were slain in -hundreds by natives whom they had plundered. Zebehr's letters were -found, proving that he had ordered the revolt; but no action was -taken against him, and he continued to live in luxurious detention at -Cairo.' - -When Baker Pasha was organizing his forces to relieve Tokar, he asked -that Zebehr might go with him at the head of a Nubian division. -Zebehr and Sheikh Moussa Abu Hagil raised the blacks, but the -Anti-Slavery Society protested against the employment of the former -as improper and in the highest degree perilous. Sir Evelyn Baring -pleaded for Zebehr and Moussa, but Lord Granville was inexorable. He -wrote: 'The employment of Zebehr Pasha appears to her Majesty's -Government inexpedient both politically and as regards the slave -trade.' - -Thus far some of the history of yesterday, which, nevertheless, may -be new to the reader. - -On his first entering the zereba Skene had returned the formal -welcome or greeting of Sheikh Moussa--touching his forehead, lips, -and breast--a symbolic action signifying that in thought, word, and -heart he was his. - -Pietro Girolamo, the Greek Islesman from Cerigo, was--we have -said--the father-in-law (at least one of them) to Moussa Abu Hagil. - -Malcolm Skene came to the knowledge of that connection through a -stray copy of the now pretty well-known Arabic newspaper, the -_Mubashir_, which he found in the zereba; and the columns of which -contained a memoir of that enterprising Sheikh, and in retailing some -startling incidents in his life gave a little light on certain habits -of the dwellers in the desert. - -Girolamo had been the skipper of one of his slave dhows, or armed -brigs, in the Red Sea, during the palmy times, when as many as five -thousand head of slaves were exposed annually in the market place of -Shendy--a traffic in which Moussa, like his kinsmen, Zebehr Pasha, -had grown enormously rich; and, for a suitable sum, he bought a -daughter of Girolamo, a beautiful Greek girl. She became his third -wife, and died in giving birth to a daughter, the inheritor of her -pale and picturesque beauty, though shaded somewhat by the Arab -mixture in her blood; but in her fourteenth year--a ripe age in those -regions of the sun--her charms were said to surpass all that had seen -before and had become the exaggerated theme of story-tellers and -song-makers, even in the market places and the cafés of Damanhour and -Cairo. - -The girl was named Isha (or Elizabeth) after her mother, and educated -in such accomplishments as were deemed necessary to the wife of a -powerful and wealthy Emir, for such Moussa destined her to be, if not -perhaps of his friend and leader the Mahdi Achmet when the time came; -but the old brigand--for the slave dealer was little better in spirit -or habit when not absent fighting, plundering, and raiding in search -of _djellabs_--seemed never happy save when in the society of this -daughter, his only one, his other children being sons, four of whom -had fallen in battle against Hicks on the field of Kashgate. - -Notwithstanding all the care with which the women of the East are -secluded in the _Kah'ah_, or harem, Isha had a lover, a young Bedouin -warrior named Khasim Jelalodeen, who, though he had no more hope of -winning her to share his humble black tent than of obtaining the -moon, loved her with all the wild passion of which his lawless Arab -nature was capable. - -To have whispered of this passion to the Sheikh Moussa, whom we have -described as resembling a mummy of the Pharaohs' time resuscitated, -would have ensured the destruction of Khasim, who had only his sword, -his rifle, and a horse with all its trappings. - -Yet Isha was not ignorant of the love the Bedouin bore her, as he had -a sister named Emineh, who was a kind of companion and attendant of -the former, and went between the lovers as carefully and subtly as -any old _Khatbeh_, or betrother in the Abdin quarter in Cairo in the -present hour--thus freely bouquets, symbolically arranged--the simple -and beautiful love-letters of Oriental life, were exchanged between -them through the kind agency of Emineh. - -Sheikh Moussa loved his brilliant little daughter, but he loved money -more; and when a caravan, under an old business friend of his named -Ebn al Ajuz (or 'the son of the old woman,' obtained by his mother's -prayers in the mosque of Hassan at Cairo) passed _en route_ from -Darfour for the capital and Assiout, laden with ivory, gum, and -slaves--chiefly women and girls, the dealer, having heard of the -beauty of Isha, applied to the Skeikh, and made him an offer which, -as both were in the trade, he found himself--filial regard and -affection apart--bound to consider. - -Moussa, to do him justice, had no great inclination to sell his -daughter, the light of his household, though he had remorselessly -sold the daughters of others by the thousand; yet he was curious to -know her value, as prices had gone down even before the arrival of -Gordon at Khartoum, especially when Ebn al Ajuz spoke of the sum he -was prepared to give, and that the purse-holder was no other than -that generally supposed misogynist, the Khedive himself. - -He introduced the merchant to her apartments in order to show her -merits and discover the price, of which he could judge, however, by -his own business experience. - -Her rooms, covered with soft carpets, having luxurious divans, -decorated ceilings, and tiled floors, with beautiful brackets -supporting finely wrought vessels, and having large windows of -lattice work, others of stained glass, representing floral objects, -bouquets, and peacocks, Arabic inscriptions and maxims written in -letters of gold and green, received no attention from the turbaned -and bearded slave-dealer, whose attention was at once arrested by -Isha, who had been clad, she knew not why, in her richest apparel, -with her eyebrows needlessly blackened and her nails reddened by -henna. - -Ebn al Ajuz, whom long custom had rendered a dispassionate judge of -beauty in all its stages, from the fairest Circassian with golden -hair to the dark and full-lipped woman of Nubia, was struck with -astonishment by the many attractions of the half-Greek girl. - -'Allah Kerim!' he exclaimed. 'With her face, form, and entire -appearance I have not the slightest fault to find,' he frankly -acknowledged; 'every motion, every attitude, every feature display -the most beautiful grace, symmetry, and proportion. Allah! she -should be named Ayesha, after the perfect wife of the prophet!' - -On hearing this a blush burned in the face of the girl, and she -pulled down her yashmac or veil. - -The merchant pressed Moussa to name her price, as they sat over their -pipes and coffee; and so greatly did avarice exceed affection, that -Moussa, who--said the writer in the _Mubashir_--it was thought would -not have exchanged his daughter for the Emerald Mountain itself, was -so dazzled by the offer made that he agreed to sell her, and -preparations even were at once made for her departure, despite her -tears, her entreaties, and her despair. - -Khasim Jelalodeen was filled with grief and consternation. Oh for -Jinn or Efrits, the spirits born of fire, to aid him! - -He had his fleet horse corned, refreshed by a bitter draught of -_bouza_ (not water), saddled, and in constant readiness for any -emergency; and in the night, well armed, with his heart on fire and -his brain in a whirl, he made his way secretly and softly to that -part of the zereba in which the _Kah'ah_, or women's apartments, were -situated--an act involving his death if caught, and caught he was by -the guards of Moussa, who were about to slay him on the spot; but -immemorial usage has established a custom in the Desert that if a -person who is in actual danger from another can in anticipation claim -his protection, or touch him barehanded, his life is saved. - -He passed himself as a _Karami_, or mere robber, and as such was made -a close prisoner, destined to await the pleasure of Moussa, who had -just then a good deal to occupy his mind. - -Meanwhile Emineh, having ascertained exactly where her rash, bold -brother was in durance, contrived to introduce herself there next -night with a ball of thread, and tying an end thereof to his right -wrist she withdrew, winding it carefully off as she went, till she -penetrated to the sleeping apartment of Moussa, and applying the -other end to his bosom woke him, saying in Arab fashion: - -'Look on me, by the love thou bearest to God and thy own self, for -_this_ is under thy protection!' - -Then the startled and angry Sheikh arose, took his sword, and -followed the clue till it guided him to where Khasim, the supposed -_Karami_, was confined, and he was compelled to declare himself the -protector of the latter. His bonds were taken off; the thongs with -which his hair, in token of degradation, had been tied were cut with -a knife; he was entertained as a newly-arrived guest, and was then -set at liberty. - -Emineh gave him his horse and arms, and he took his departure from -the vicinity of the zereba, but only to watch in the distance. - -'In due time the caravan of Ebn al Ajuz came forth from the gates and -boundaries of thorny hedge, and the lynx-eyed Arab, Khasim, with his -heart beating high, watched it from the concealment of a mimosa -thicket, and knew the curtained camel litter which contained the -object of his adoration, as the flinty-hearted Moussa was seen to -ride beside it for a time. - -The love of Khasim was not that of the educated, the cultivated, as -it is understood in other parts of the world--the cultivated in -music, art, and literature--but of its kind it was a pure, ardent, -and passionate one, and in its fiery nature unknown to 'the cold in -clime and cold in blood.' - -He would bear her away, he thought; she would yet be his bride, won -by his spear and horse, like the bride of many an Arab song and -story; they would have a home among the fairy-like gardens of -Kordofan and beyond the mountains of Haraza. Was he not -invulnerable? Had he not an amulet bound to his sword-arm by the -Mahdi himself--an amulet before which even the bullets and bayonets -of the British had failed? - -So the caravan with Isha wound on its way towards the Desert! - -How dark the red round sun had suddenly become. Khasim looked up to -see if it still shone, and it was setting fast, amid clouds of -crimson and gold, throwing long, long purple shadows far across the -plain, and there in its sheen the Nile was running swiftly as -ever--swift as life runs in the Desert and elsewhere! - -Out of the latter arose a cloud of dust, with many a glittering point -of steel! The caravan was suddenly attacked, its column broken and -pierced by a band of wild Kabbabish Arab horsemen, fifty in number at -least, and led by that slippery personage, the Mudir of Dongola, on -whom the British Government so grotesquely bestowed the Cross of St. -Michael and St. George--a gift ridiculed even by the _Karakush_, or -Egyptian _Punch_. - -A conflict ensued; revolvers and Remington rifles were freely used; -saddles were emptied, and sabres flashed in the moonlight. General -plunder of everything was the real object of the Mudir and his -Kabbabishes; to rescue Isha was the sole object of Khasim, who -charged in among them. - -Amid the wild hurly-burly of the conflict, the shrieks of the women, -their incessant cries of _walwalah!_ the grunting of the camels, the -yells of the Arabs, and amid the dense clouds of dust and sand raised -by hoofs and feet, Khasim Jelalodeen speedily found the litter in -which the daughter of Moussa was placed, and was in the act of -drawing forth her slight figure across his saddlebow--horror-stricken -though the girl was, albeit she had seen death in more than one form -before--when the merchant, Ebn al Ajuz, exasperated to lose her after -all the treasure he had spent, shot her dead with his long brass -pistol; but ere he could draw another Khasim clove him to the chin, -through every fold of the turban, by one stroke of his long and -trenchant Arab sword, and, with a wild cry of grief and despair, -spurred his horse into the desert and was seen no more, though rumour -said he joined the banner of Osman Digna before Suakim. - -So this was a brief Arab romance of the nineteenth century as acted -out in a part of the world which changes not, though all the world -seems to change elsewhere. - - -Most wearily passed the time of Malcolm Skene's captivity in the -zereba of Moussa Abu Hagil. Weeks became months, and the closing -days of the year found him still there, and necessitated to be ever -watchful, for both Pietro Girolamo and Hassan Abdullah had, he knew, -sworn to kill him if an opportunity were given them; and nothing had -as yet stayed their hands but the influence of the Sheikh, who -protected him for purposes of his own. - -Thus his life was in hourly peril; the bondage he endured was -maddening, and he could not perceive any end to it or escape from it -save death. As for escape, a successful one seemed so hopeless, so -difficult to achieve, that it gradually became useless to brood over -it--without arms, a horse, money, or a guide. - -He knew that he must now be deemed as one of the dead by his -regiment, by the authorities, and, more than all, by his widowed -mother and dearest friends, and have been mourned by them as such. - -Rumour had said ere he left Cairo that a relieving column was to -start for Khartoum. How that might affect his fate he knew not; it -might be too late to help him in any way, and to be _too late_ was -the order of our affairs in Egypt now. - -So time passed on, and he was in darkness as to all that passed in -the outer world. - -At last there came tidings which made the Sheikh Moussa eye him -darkly, dubiously, and with undisguised hostility--tidings which -Malcolm Skene heard with no small concern and alarm. - -These were the close arrest of Zebehr Pacha as a traitor to the -Khedive Tewfik, and his sudden deportation from Cairo beyond the sea -to Gibraltar, by order of Lord Wolseley. - -This event, thought Skene, must seal his own fate as an enforced and -most unwilling hostage now! - -The golden grain, the full-eared wheat and bearded barley had been -gathered in every field and on every upland slope around his home; -the year had deepened into the last days of autumn; the woods and -orchards of ancient Dunnimarle were odorous of autumnal fruit and -dying leaves; the skies were gray by day and red and gloomy at eve. - -White winter had come, and every burn and linn been frozen in its -rocky bed; the thundering blasts that swept the bosom of the Forth -had rumbled down the wide chimneys of Dunnimarle and swept leaves and -even spray against the window panes; while the aged trees in the glen -below had shrieked and moaned ominously in the icy winds till winter -passed away, and people began hopefully to speak of the coming -spring, but still a lone mother mourned for her lost son--her -handsome soldier son, ever so good, so tender, and so true to her, -now gone--could she doubt it?--to the Land of the Leal! - - - - -CHAPTER XLIII. - -A MARRIAGE. - -While Malcolm Skene was counting the days wearily and anxiously, and, -in common parlance, 'eating his heart out,' in that distant zereba, -near the Third Cataract of the Nile, time and events did not stand -still with some of his friends elsewhere; among these certainly were -Roland Lindsay and Hester Maule, and the latter did indeed mourn for -the hard and unknown fate of one whose love she never sought but -surely won. - -Roland did not start immediately for Egypt after turning his back in -mortification and disgust on Earlshaugh, but for a brief time took up -his quarters at the United Service Club in Edinburgh with Jack -Elliot. The speedy marriage of the latter and Maude, who had gone to -Merlwood with Hester, was then on the tapis, and fully occupied the -attention of all concerned. - -It was impossible for anything like love to exist long, after the -rude shock--the terrible awakening--Roland had received; yet ever and -anon he found himself rehearsing with intense bitterness of spirit -the memory of scenes and passages between himself and -Annot--drivelling scenes he deemed them now! How had he said to her -more than once: - -'My darling--my darling! Be true to me; the day when I cease to -believe in you will kill me--you are such a child--you know so little -of the world, sweet one!' - -'So little of the world--a child!' thought he. 'What an ass I was! -I am not killed by it, and she has been false as the devil. How came -I to say things that seemed so prophetic?' - -Thus, as he thought over all the love and blind adoration he had -lavished on her, he felt only rage and sickness at his own folly. He -saw it all now, when it was too late--too late! - -What human heart has not learned the bitterness of these two bitter -words, in many ways, through life? - -Yet, tantalizingly, she would come before him in dreams, and thus -recall him to the words of an old sonnet-- - - 'Half pleading and half petulant she stands; - Her golden hair falls rippling on my hands; - Her words are whispered in their old sweet tone. - But neither word nor smile can move me now-- - There is an unseen shadow on her brow. - I cannot love, because all trust is gone!' - - -It was a very awkward subject for Hester to approach, yet, seeing him -so moody, so silent and trist, when first again he came to Merlwood, -she said to him timidly and softly: - -'Forget the past, Roland. She made no real impression on your heart, -but affected your imagination only.' - -And now he began to think that such was indeed the case; while to -Maude it seemed strange indeed that Annot Drummond should be at -Earlshaugh, posing as the future mistress thereof, while she and her -disinherited brother were a species of outcasts therefrom. - -Earlshaugh--the old house of so many family traditions and -memories--was very dear to Maude in spite of all the dark and -mortifying hours she had lately spent under its roof. What races and -frolics and fun had gone on there in the past time, when she, her -brothers, and Hester Maule were all happy children, in the long -corridors and ghostly old attics, under the steep roofs and pointed -turrets where the antique vanes creaked in the wind; and how greater -seemed their fun when the rain storms of winter or spring came -rattling down on the old stone slates, and they all nestled together -under the slope, with a sense of protection and power unknown in -future years--so the girl's heart clung to the old roof-tree with a -love that nothing in the future could destroy. - -There was no use thinking of all these and a thousand other things, -as her home was now to be wherever that of Jack Elliot was. - -Some of her regrets at times were shared by Roland, for they were a -race peculiar to--but not alone in--Scotland, these Lindsays of -Earlshaugh. - -They had ever been high in pride and strong in self-will, lording it -over their neighbours in the Howe and East Neuk of Fife, in the days -when many a barbed horse was in stall, and many an armed man, 'boden -in effeir of weir,' sat at the Laird's table; proud of their ancient -pedigree and many heroic deeds, all unstained by timidity in war, and -foreign gold in time of peace--a stain few Scottish noble families -are without; proud of the broad lands that had come to them not by -labour or talent certainly, but by the undoubted right to be lords of -the soil by inheritance, when the soil was not held by a mere -sheepskin, but by the sword and knight-service to the Scottish Crown. - -And now to return to more prosaic times. We have said that there was -a chronic antagonism between Maude and her stepmother, Mrs. Lindsay; -then, when Roland hurried to quit Earlshaugh, she and Jack resolved -to get married, and married they were, quite quietly, as Roland was -in haste to be gone to Egypt, and they were to pass a brief honeymoon -ere Jack followed him--as he had inexorably to take his turn of -service there too. - -Of the Earlshaugh will, and Maude's small inheritance under it, Jack -made light indeed. - -'What matters it?' said he; 'I am Elliot of Braidielee, and there -will be our home-coming, when we have smashed up the Mahdi, and I can -return with honour!' - -At this marriage Annot Drummond was not present--no invitation was -given to her, and Mrs. Lindsay excused herself through illness. -Maude laughed at her apology. - -'Though we were grown up, and so beyond her reach in some respects, -she has been like the typical stepmother of the old fairy tales,' -said the girl, who, sunny-haired, blue-eyed, and bright, looked -wonderfully beautiful, apart from t lat strange halo which surrounds -every bride on her marriage day. - -'All weddings are dull affairs, and we are well out of this -one--don't you think so?' said Annot coyly to her new lover. - -'Perhaps, but ours won't be so,' replied Hawkey Sharpe with a knowing -wink. 'I expect it will be rather good fun.' - -She shivered a little at his bad style. The visits that are usually -paid and received, the letters that are usually written, the choosing -of much useless millinery, furniture, plate, and equipages, and the -being 'trotted out' for the inspection of mutual friends were all -avoided or evaded by the quiet mode in which Jack Elliot and Maude -were made one, and their nuptials a fact accomplished; but there was -no time for 'doing' Paris, Berlin, the Riviera, or Rome, as Jack was -bound for Egypt within a tantalizingly short period, so he secured a -charming little villa for his bride in the southern and perhaps most -pleasing quarter of the Modern Athens till he could return--if he -ever did return--from that land of disease and death, where so many -of our young and brave have found their last home. - -Mr. Hawkey Sharpe at Earlshaugh laughed viciously when he read the -announcement of the marriage in the newspapers. It was not a -pleasant laugh, even Annot thought, and boded ill to some one. - -Maude seemed beyond his reach now, so far as he seemed concerned; but -there remained to him still hatred and revenge, as we may have to -show. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIV. - -THE TROOPSHIP. - -So while Jack and Maude were absent on their brief honeymoon Roland -bade adieu to Hester, his old uncle Sir Harry, and to pleasant -Merlwood ere turning his steps to the East. - -As he looked on the refined face of the girl, with her long-lashed -gentle eyes, for the last time, something of the old tenderness that -Annot had clouded, warped, or won away, came into his heart again, -and he longed to take her kindly in his arms ere he went, but stifled -the desire, and simply held forth his hand when she proffered her -pale and half-averted cheek. He dared not kiss away the quiver he -saw upon her lips. - -'Good-bye, dear Hester,' said he. 'Have you not a word or two that I -may take with me--such as a dear sister might give?' - -But her still quivering lips were voiceless; the forced smile on them -was gone, and the soft light of her violet-blue eyes was quenched as -if by recent tears; sweet eyes they were, dreamy and languid, their -white lids fringed by lashes long and dark. - -Roland noted this with a heavy heart, and thought his gentle cousin -never looked so beautiful or attractive as then, when her little -hand, which trembled, was clasped for the last time in his, and she -withdrew to the end of the room. - -'Good-bye, nephew,' said Sir Harry, propping himself on a stout -Indian cane. 'God keep you from harm, and may every good attend you; -but,' he added, his keen eyes glistening angrily through the film -that spread over them, 'does your conscience quite absolve you?' - -'In what, uncle?' - -'What? Why, your conduct to my girl--your cousin Hester,' said Sir -Harry, in a low voice. - -'Uncle?' - -'Did you make no effort when last at Merlwood here to win her -admiration, her regard, her love? Did you not simply play with her -heart, and deem it perhaps flirting?--hateful word! In all her -anguish--and I have seen it--she has never had a word of reproach for -you, whatever her thoughts, poor child, may be; but please to think -another time, Roland, and not attempt your powers of fascination and -to act the lady-killer, lest you crush a heart that might be a happy -one.' - -Roland felt himself grow pale as he listened wistfully, half -mournfully, to these merited but most unexpected remarks from the -abrupt old gentleman, to whom he was sincerely attached. Knowing -their truth, an emotion of shame, with much of reproach or -compunction, gathered in his heart, and he muttered something -apologetic--that he had no longer the position or prospects he once -had--that Earlshaugh was no longer his--and felt in some haste to be -gone, though he was shocked to see that the old man appeared to be -suddenly and sorely broken down in health. The Jhansi bullet had -worked its way out at last, but left a wound that would neither heal -nor close; and hence, perhaps, the irrepressible irritability that -led to these reproaches, some part of which reached the ear of -Hester, and covered her with the deepest confusion, and made her -welcome the moment of Roland's final departure; and then she said: - -'Oh, papa, how could you speak as you did? Roland made me no -proposal, asked me for no regard, and I gave him--no promise. I have -known him, you are aware, all my life, and I do love him very -dearly--but as a brother--nothing more,' added poor Hester with a -very unmistakable sob in her slender throat. 'You do him -injustice--he has not wronged me; but you know well how others have -wronged him.' - -But her father only resumed the amber mouthpiece of his. hookah, and -continued to smoke in uncomfortable silence. - -So Roland was gone, and apparently out of her life more than ever now. - -Notwithstanding that he certainly had not treated her well at -Merlwood, Hester was for a time quietly inconsolable for his -departure, which he had taken in a mood of mind rendered so stern and -reckless by the episode of Annot, that she pitied him. - -He would, she knew, court danger and wounds; seek perhaps every -chance of being killed--dying far away from friends and -kindred--dying a soldier's death without getting, perchance, even a -grave in the hot sands of the desert. - -He would, she feared, rush on his fate; 'but men often make their own -fate; they are weak who are blindly guided by circumstances,' she had -read. 'It is given us to distinguish right from wrong; and if men -persist in wrong when the right is before them, then be the -consequences on their own head.' - -The necklet--the gift he had given her at Merlwood--was clasped -lovingly round her throat now, and its pendant nestled in her breast. - -'The future is vague!' thought Hester; 'but one thing is sure, we -shall never be as we have been--what we were to each other at one -time--he and I. Shall we ever meet again--who can say? The sea is -treacherous with its storms and other perils--the war is too dreadful -to think of! We may never, never see each other more, and the last -hour he passed here may have been the last we shall have spent -together in this world.' - -If he survived everything and came back again, could she be like the -Agnes of 'David Copperfield'? She feared not. Therein she had read -the story of a noble woman who had secretly loved a man all her -life--even as she had loved Roland, and who yet showed no sign of -sorrow when he married another woman. Agnes was David's counseller -and friend until he was nearing middle age, and it was only when he -asked her to be his wife that she made the simple confession of her -lifelong love. - -She pondered over all these things as she wandered alone by the -wooded Esk, the placid murmur of whose flow as it lapped among the -pebbles was the only sound that broke the silence of the rocky glen, -while at the same hour Roland was amid a very different scene--one of -high excitement, noise, and bustle, almost uproar. - -Alongside a great jetty in Portsmouth Harbour H.M. troopships -_Bannockburn_ and _Boyne_ were taking troops and stores on board for -Alexandria, and on the poop of the former, a floating castle of 6,300 -tons, Roland stood amid a group of officers, whose numbers were -augmenting every few minutes, and the interest and excitement were -increasing fast, as it was known that when the great white-hulled -trooper cleared out the Queen had sent special orders that the ship -was to keep well to the westward, that she might meet her in her own -yacht and pay farewell to the troops on board, mustering about six -hundred men of various arms of the service, and a host of staff and -other officers, including some of Roland's regiment. - -A handsome fellow the latter looked in his blue braided -patrol-jacket, and white tropical helmet, with his sword clattering -by his side. - -'When shall I be again in mufti?' thought he with a laugh (using that -now familiar term that came back from Egypt of old with the soldiers -of Abercrombie), and hearty greetings met him on every hand. - -'Lindsay--it is! I didn't know you were rejoining,' exclaimed a -brother officer, whose wounded arm was still in a sling. 'I thought -your leave was not up till March.' - -'I have resigned more than two months of it, Wilton,' replied Roland. - -'What an enthusiast, by Jove!' - -'Not more than yourself, whose wound must be green yet.' - -'Welcome--Roland,' cried another, a cheery young sub. with a hairless -chin like an apple; 'you are just the man we want for the work before -us.' - -'That is right--jolly to see you again!' said a third. - -'We missed you awfully, old fellow!' exclaimed a fourth. - -Flattering were the greetings on every side as he stood amid the -circle of Hussars, Lancers, Artillery, and others, neither perhaps -the handsomest nor the tallest amid that merry and handsome group, -but looking a soldier every inch in his somewhat frayed and faded -fighting kit, which had seen service enough a short time before. - -'Here comes Mostyn of ours,' said Wilton, as a very -devil-may-care-looking young fellow, in the new khakee uniform, with -a field-glass slung over his shoulder, came up. 'How goes it, -Dick?--heard you had committed matrimony.' - -'Not such a fool, Wilton.' - -'We heard you were rather gone with that elderly party at Dover--the -lass with all the rupees,' he added in a would-be _sotto voce_. - -'On the War Office principle that an old girl makes a young widow? -No, Wilton, my boy,' said Mostyn as he lit a cigarette, 'I leave -these little lollies for such as you. Her rupees were all moonshine, -and her _poudre de riz_ was a little too plain; but I shouldn't like -to have a wife who pays her milliner's bills out of her winnings at -Ascot.' - -'Ah, Lindsay,' said an officer of another corps who had just marched -his little detachment on board, and gave Roland, familiarly, a slap -on the shoulder, 'how are you--going out again to the land of the -Pyramids? Just keep your eye on my fellows for a minute, will you, -while I get some tiffin below--hungry as a hawk--tore through London -to reach the Anglesea Barracks to-day; had only time to get a glass -of sherry and a caviare sandwich at the Rag, then to get goggles and -gloves, etc., in Regent Street--ta-ta--will be on deck in a minute.' - -The old familiar rattling society was delightful again, even with its -rather exaggerated gaiety and banter, and all about him were so -heedless, so happy, and full of the highest spirits, that it was -impossible not to feel the contagion. - -The bustle, though orderly, was incredible, and the shipment of -stores of all kinds seemed endless, including ammunition, carts and -waggons, draught and battery horses, with thousands upon thousands of -rounds of Martini-Henry ball-cartridges, and innumerable rounds of -filled shells for thirteen and sixteen-pounder guns. - -As senior officer of the mixed command going out, Roland certainly -found that he had work cut out for him just then, and no time for -farther regretting or thinking of the past, amid all the details -consequent on embarkation for foreign service. - -The medical examinations were over elsewhere; but there were -'returns,' endless, as useless apparently, to be made up and signed -in duplicate; inspection of equipments; extra kits at sea to be seen -to, and dinner provided for the embarking soldiers, the arms racked -and two men per company told off to look after them, extra dogs on -the upper deck to be pursued, caught, and sent ashore despite the -remonstrances of owners, with the excess of baggage; chests piled -upon chests were being sent down below, with bedding, valises, -uniform cases, bullock trunks, and tubs; the knapsacks to be stowed -away over the mess-tables, sentries posted on the baggage-room and -elsewhere. - -Amid all this a buzz of conversation was in progress at the break of -the poop among soldiers and their friends, some of whom had contrived -to get on board, and to one of these in which there was something -absurd he could not help listening. - -'Sorr, is Tim Riley aboord?' asked a young Irish labourer, looking -anxiously and with a somewhat scared look about him. - -'Who the devil is Tim Riley?' asked a petty officer in charge of the -gangway. - -The Irishman slunk back and addressed a somewhat _insouciant_-looking -English recruiting sergeant, with ribbons fluttering from his cap, -and whose business then could only be to get a few stray 'grogs' -before the bell sounded for 'shore.' - -'Sergeant, dear, may be you know Tim Riley who inlisted into the -sogers?' - -'Tim Riley? How do you spell his name?' - -'Devil a one of me knows, but he was a boy from Dublin.' - -'Oh, I knewed him well. He's a colonel now,' replied the sergeant. - -'A colonel--oh, glory be to God! Is it Tim, whose ears I've warmed -many a time for stealing the ould man's Scotch apples? Where is the -shilling, sergeant?' - -'Now be off and make an _omadhaun_ of yourself,'said one of the 18th. -'I knew Thady Boyle; he 'listed as a captain--devil a less--in the -Royal County Down, and when he joined he was put in the black-hole by -a spalpeen of an English corporal.' - -The bustle of the embarkation seemed endless, but at last the bugle -sounded, and a bell clanged for all visitors to quit the ship; the -various gangways were run ashore, the screw began to revolve, and -H.M.S. _Bannockburn_ was off. - -While the air seemed to vibrate with cheers, the great white trooper, -slowly and stately in aspect, came out of the harbour between the -Blockhouse Fort and the Round Tower, and steamed abreast of the -crowded Clarence Esplanade, which was gay with people even at that -season, and there the soldiers, as they clustered like red bees on -the vessel's side and in the lower rigging, could see the troops of -jolly children with frocks and trousers tucked up paddling in the -water, so far as they dared venture, or making breakwaters and -fortifications of sand as actively as if they had to defend the -shores of old England. - -Portsmouth, its spires, batteries, and ultramural line of -magnificent, but now obsolete, batteries and casemates, its masts and -shipping, was becoming shrouded in the golden haze of evening, and -the farewell greetings of the women on board the harbour craft and -those of the youthful tars of the old _St. Vincent_ had died away -astern; but cheers rose in volleys, if we may use the term, when the -_Bannockburn_ neared Cowes, where the Queen--the Queen herself--was -known to be in the _Alberta_ yacht, which had the Royal Standard -floating at her mainmast head, and every heart beat high as the -vessels neared each other, and the Queen--a small figure in -black--was seen amid a group waving her handkerchief. - -Roland had only two buglers on board, but these poured forth the -Royal Anthem with right good will from their perch in the foretop, -while instead of the boatswain's shrill whistle the steam siren was -sounded. The Royal yacht steamed round the towering trooper, which -slackened speed, and the signal fluttered out, 'You may proceed.' - -Once more the hearty cheers responded to each other over the water; -again the little white handkerchief was seen to wave as the yacht led -the way down the Solent and through Spithead, that famous reach and -roadstead, the rendezvous of our fleets in time of war. - -'Farewell, God speed you!' came the signal from the yacht once more, -and the _Bannockburn_ stood out to sea under the lee of the beautiful -Isle of Wight. - -The boats were all finally secured; the anchors hauled close up to -the cat-heads by the cat-fall; the forecourse and maintopsail were -set to accelerate her speed, and the troop-ship stood on her voyage -down the Channel. - -The high excitement of the last few hours had now completely passed -away. On deck the half-hushed groups of soldiers in their gray -greatcoats were lingering, watching the occasional twinkling of the -shore lights, taking their last look of old England; and when night -had completely fallen, and the bugles had blown tattoo, the Mother of -Nations had faded out in the distance as the ship gave the land a -wide berth. - -Weary with the unintermitting toil and bustle of the day, Roland, -after mess, betook himself with a cigar to his own little cabin; a -small substitute certainly for the luxuries of Earlshaugh, as was his -sole retinue now, for the staff there; his single soldier-servant by -this time had made his bed, arranged his toilette and sea-going kit, -and put the entire place in the most perfect order; and of old, -Roland knew well how invaluable a thorough soldier-servant is. - -'What cannot he do with regulation pipe-clay?' it has been asked. -'In his hands it is omnipotent over cloth. He can charm stains and -grease-spots thereout, even as an Indian juggler charms snakes; and -what sleight of hand he exercises over your garments generally. The -tunic, grimed and mud-bespattered, he can switch and cane, and, when -folded away, it comes out as from a press. Trousers baggy at the -knees as the historical parachute of old Mrs. Gamp, are manipulated -into their former shape. Compared to the private valet, always -expensive and frequently mutinous, he is a pearl of the greatest -price. His cost is a dole, and, thanks to the regimental guard-room, -he can always be kept within control.' - -In the great cabin, which was brilliantly lighted still, Roland heard -the loud hum of many voices where the jovial fellows he had left were -lingering over their wine and talking unlimited 'shop'--discussing -everything, from Lord Wolseley's supposed plan of the Soudan campaign -to the last fashion in regimental buttons. - -How he envied the jollity and lightheartedness of his -brother-officers--Dick Mostyn in particular. - -Dick had not lost an inheritance nor a false love to boot, certainly; -but it was nothing to him that his pockets were well-nigh empty, his -banker's account over-drawn, and that he had debts innumerable, all -but paid by the proverbial 'a roll on the drum;' his talent for -soothing irate tailors had failed him; still his wardrobe was -faultless; he still wore priceless boots and irreproachable lavender -kids as steadily as he retained his step in the waltz and his seat in -the saddle, which would be of good service to him if he joined the -Mounted Infantry. He could take nothing deeply to heart, and even -now, leading the van in Bacchanalian noise and jollity--a verse of -his song--it was from poor 'Tilbury Nogo,' ran through the cabin, and -just then it seemed exactly to suit Roland's frame of mind as he -lounged on a sofa with his uniform jacket unbuttoned: - - 'I sigh not for woman, I want not her charms-- - The long waving tress, the melting black eye-- - For the sting of the adder still lurks in her arms, - And falsehood is wafted in each burning sigh; - Such pleasure is poisoned, such ecstasy vain-- - Forget her! remembrance shall fade in champagne!' - - - - -CHAPTER XLV. - -THE DEATH WRESTLE. - -Tidings had come, as stated, to the zereba of Sheikh Moussa of the -deportation of his kinsman Zebehr in a British ship of war as a State -prisoner to Gibraltar, and Malcolm Skene--no longer cared for as a -hostage--found himself in greater peril than before among his -unscrupulous captors. - -He was conscious that his movements by day were watched more closely -than ever now, and by night he was always placed in a close prison -beyond the court wherein the lions were chained. - -Other Sheikhs came and went, with their standard-bearers and -horsemen; conferences were evidently held with Moussa Abu Hagil; -Skene found himself an object of growing hostility, and suspected -'that something, he knew not what,' was in progress; that Gordon had -actually been victorious or rescued at Khartoum, or some great battle -had been lost by the Mahdi. - -He could gather from his knowledge of the language, and the remarks -that were let fall unwittingly in his hearing that the zereba was to -be abandoned for a general movement on Khartoum, or for another -fortified post farther up the country--a move worse for him; and the -consequent preparations, therefore, packing tents, provisions, and -spoil, had begun. - -To save further trouble, and gratify the lust of blood which forms a -part of the Oriental nature, he might be assassinated after -all--after having found protection under the roof and eaten the salt -of Moussa--killed as poor Hector MacLaine was killed after the battle -of Candahar, two or three years before this time. - -The expression of Moussa's face as he regarded him occasionally now, -was neither pleasant nor reassuring; his deep set eyes, when he was -excited, glared with fire, like lights in the sockets of a skull; and -Malcolm Skene never knew when the supreme moment might come. - -In the morning he had no assurance that he should see night--in the -night that he would be a live man in the morning. - -Anything--death itself--were better than this keen and cruel suspense. - -One evening about sunset there was a vehement beating of tom-toms, -and a body of Baggara Arabs, some on horseback, others on camels, but -many on foot--a fierce and jabbering mob, all but nude--though -well-armed with bright-bladed Solingen swords and excellent Remington -rifles, passed the zereba, bound for some point of attack; and the -Sheikh Moussa, with every man he could muster, joined them in hot -haste. - -So great had been the bustle and hurry of their departure that -Malcolm Skene, to his astonishment, found himself forgotten, -overlooked; and, full of hopeful thoughts, he lay quiet and still in -the poor apartment allotted to him, watching the strange -constellations and stars unknown to Europe through the unglazed -aperture that served as a window, and listening to the silence--if we -may use such a paradox--a silence that seemed to be broken only by -the pulsations of his own heart, as hope grew up in it suddenly, and -he thought that, considering a kind of crisis that had come in his -fate, now or never was the time to make a stroke for liberty, and to -elude, if possible, the few Arabs who were left to watch the gates in -the dense mimosa hedge that surrounded the zereba. - -To elude them--but how? - -The stars were singularly bright even for that hemisphere; but there -was no moon as yet, fortunately, and softly quitting his hut, he -looked sharply about the 'compound,' as it would be called in India, -and found himself alone there, unnoticed and unseen. He drew near -the hedge in the hope of finding, as he ultimately did, an opening in -that barrier, a thinner portion of its dense branches, close to the -ground, and at once he proceeded to creep through. - -How easy it seemed of accomplishment just then; but when the zereba -was full of armed men, and watchers and sentinels were numerous, the -attempt would have been useless. - -Slowly, softly, and scarcely making a twig or a thorn crack, he drew -himself through on his hands and face ere many minutes passed; -minutes? they could not have been more than five, if so many; but -with life trembling in the balance, to poor Skene they seemed as ages. - -At last he was through! - -He was outside that hated place of confinement, every feature of -which he knew but too well, and every detail of which he loathed; and -yet he was not quite free. Keen eyes might see him after all, and -every moment he expected to hear an alarm. - -He thanked Heaven for the absence of the moonlight, and, favoured by -the obscurity, crept on his hands and knees for a considerable -distance ere he ventured to stand erect, to draw a long breath, and -with a prayer of hope and thankfulness on his lips, set out at a run -towards the Nile. - -By the oft-studied landmarks he knew well in what direction the great -river lay, a few miles off, however. - -A boat thereon, could he but find one, might be the means of ultimate -escape, by taking him lower down the stream to more civilized regions. - -Anyway, he could not be worse off, be in greater hourly peril, or -have a more dark future, than when in the zereba, unless, too -probably, thirst and starvation came upon him. - -While the darkness of night lasted, he had a certain chance of safety -and concealment, and he dared scarcely long for day and the perils it -might bring forth in a land where every man's hand was certain to be -against him. - -He was totally defenceless, unarmed--oh, thought he, for a weapon of -any description, that he might strike, if not a blow for liberty or -life, at least one in defiance and for vengeance! - -So, full of vague and desperate yet hopeful ideas, he pushed in the -direction to where he knew the river lay. On its banks he hoped to -obliterate or leave behind all trace of his footsteps, for he knew -but too well the risk he ran of recapture on his flight or absence -being discovered; and that there were Arabs in the zereba who had -applied themselves diligently to the study of tracking or tracing the -human foot. - -So acute are these men of vision that they can know whether the -footsteps belong to their own or to another tribe, and consequently -whether a friend or a foe has passed that way; they know by the depth -of the impression whether the man bore a load or not; by the -regularity of the steps whether the man was fatigued or fresh and -active, and hence can calculate to a nicety the chances of overtaking -him; whether he has trodden in sand or on grass, and bruised its -blades, and by the appearance of the traces whether the stranger had -passed on that day or several days before. - -Malcolm Skene knew all this, and that with dawn they would be like -scenting beagles on his trail, hence his intense anxiety to reach the -river's bank. - -Swiftly the dawn came in, red and fiery, and his own shadow and the -shadows of every object were cast far behind him. He looked back -again and again; no sign of pursuit was in his rear. In the distance -he saw a few Arab huts with _sakias_ or water-wheels, and then with -something like a start of joy that elicited an exclamation, he got a -glimpse of the river, rolling clear and blue, its banks a stripe of -narrow green, between the rocky, rugged, inexorable black mountains; -but there no boat floated on and no sail whitened the yellowish blue -of the Nile. But the morning light was vivid, the breeze from the -river was pleasant and exultant, the glories of Nature were around -him, yet anxiety made him gasp for breath as he struggled forward. - -Not a bird or other living thing was visible. The silence was -intense, and not even an insect hummed amid the scrub mimosas; the -hot, red sun came up in his unclouded glory. All seemed sad, -solitary, yet intensely sunny. - -Ere long he did hear a sound of life; it was the shrill cry of a -little naked boy attending on a _sakia_ wheel. Irrigation is done by -the latter, which is driven by oxen turning a chain of water-jars, -which admits of being lengthened as the river falls. It is usually -enclosed in an edifice like an old tower, green with creeping plants, -and as the boy drives the oxen, his cry and the creaking of the great -wheel are sounds that never cease, day or night, by the Nile. - -To avoid this _sakia_ and its too probable surroundings or adjuncts, -Malcolm Skene turned aside into a rocky chasm that overhung the river -at a considerable height, and then, far down below, on the blue -surface of the stream and between its banks, which in some places -were barred in by rocks, blackened by the sun and rent by volcanic -throes into strange fragments, and which in others, where the desert -touched the stream, was bordered by level sand, he saw a sight which, -were he to live a thousand years, he thought he could never, never -forget! - -There, about half a mile distant, was a regular flotilla of boats, -manned by redcoats, with sails set and oars out--broad-bladed oars -that flashed like silver as they were feathered in the sunshine, -pulled steadily against the downward current of the river, and all -apparently advancing merrily within talking distance--a sight that -made his heart leap within his breast, for he knew that this was a -relieving column, or part of it, _en route_ for Khartoum! - -For a minute he stood still, as if he could scarcely believe his -senses, or that he was not dreaming--paralysed, as it were, with this -sudden joy and sight--one far, far beyond his conception or hope of -ever being realised. - -He stretched his tremulous hands towards these advancing boats; he -fancied he could hear the voices and see the faces of the oarsmen in -their white helmets and red coats; and never did 'the old red rag -that tells of Britain's glory' seem more dear to his eye and more -dear to his heart than at that supreme moment! - -What force might already have passed up? - -How many days had they been passing, and if so, how narrowly had he -escaped being left behind? This was assuredly the Khartoum -Expedition, or part of it, and the recent bustle, consternation, and -excitement at the zereba of Moussa Abu Hagil were quite accounted for -now. - -The sight of his comrades imbued him with renewed strength of mind -and purpose, and his whole soul became inspired with new impatience, -hope, and joy--hope on the eve of fulfilment. - -While looking about for a means of descent to the river bank, from -whence to attract the attention of the nearest crew, he heard a sound -like a mocking laugh or ironical shout. He turned and looked back, -and--with what emotions may be imagined, but not described--he beheld -a man clad like an Arab, and covering him with a levelled rifle, at -about a hundred yards' distance. - -The condition of his uniform--in tatters long since--had not been -improved by the thorns of the prickly zereba hedge in his passage -through it; his helmet had since given place to a tarboosh, and, all -unkempt and unshorn, his aspect was somewhat remarkable now, but -quite familiar to Pietro Girolamo--for Girolamo it was--who knew him -in an instant. - -Whether the revengeful Greek had tracked him or not, or whether -Moussa's followers were within hearing of a musket-shot, Skene might -never know; the fact was but too evident that, intent on death and -dire mischief, the Ionian Isleman and _ci-devant_ gambling-den keeper -was there, with his white, pallid visage, fierce hawk nose, long -jetty moustache, and gleaming black eyes. - -Every detail of his tantalising and most critical position flashed on -the mind of Malcolm Skene. - -On one hand were the boats of the River Column--life and freedom! - -On the other, death--no captivity, but death, certain and sure; for -even if he escaped Girolamo, in the direction where the zereba lay he -could now see a cloud of dust, and amid it the dusky figures of men -and camels, with the gleam of burnished steel, and then within almost -his grasp, was Girolamo, rifle in hand, arresting his path to the -boats. - -With another mocking laugh, the Greek levelled his weapon more -surely, took aim, and fired. - -Skene heard--yes, felt--the bullet whiz past his ear. Powerless, -defenceless, unarmed, his heart burned with rage and desperation at -the narrow escape his life had; but discretion and scheming were then -the better part of valour, and, with thought that came upon him quick -as a flash of lightning, instead of risking another discharge, he -resolved to feign death, and, after reeling round as if shot, he fell -on the ground. - -Then he heard the steps of his would be assassin approach ing him -slowly and steadily, to give a _coup de grace_ if requisite with his -knife, perhaps, rather than to seek plunder, as Skene, he knew, would -possess nothing worth taking. - -Restraining his breath till the Greek was close upon him, Skene lay -still; and then, as the former was about to stoop, he sprang to his -feet and confronted him. So startled was Girolamo by this unexpected -movement that the rifle dropped from his hand, slipped over the -rocks, and the two enemies were face to face on equal terms, for -Girolamo was minus knife or poniard. - -He clenched his teeth; his glittering eyes blazed; his long, lean -fingers were curled like the claws of a kite; and he uttered strange, -guttural sounds of astonishment and rage; but Skene had no time to -lose. - -Straight out from the shoulder he planted his left fist, clenched, -with a dull thud on the hooked beak of Girolamo, followed by a -similar application of his right, and knocked him with a crash on the -rocks. - -Agile as a tiger and blindly infuriated like one, the Greek sprang -again to his feet, and was rushing forward like a mad thing to get -Skene's throat in the grasp of his long and powerful fingers, which -would speedily have strangled the life out of him, but the latter -bestowed upon his antagonist another 'facer,' which sent more than -one of his sharp teeth rattling down his throat and loosened many of -the rest, covering his pale face with blood; but, blinded by fury--a -fury that endowed his wiry form with double strength--he closed in, -and contrived to encircle Skene in his grasp--an iron one; for, long -accustomed to a seafaring life, his muscles and nerves were like -bands of steel, and now came the tug of war, even while distant cries -came to the ears of the wrestlers. - -No sound escaped either now, but hard and concentrated breathing; it -was a struggle for death or for life, and each scarcely paused a -moment to glare into the other's eyes. Fiercely as the first of his -race and name is said to have grappled with the wolf in the wilds of -Stocket Forest, did Skene grapple with his athletic adversary. - -Near the edge of the rocks that overhung the river at the end of the -chasm, backwards and forwards they swayed, locked in a savage and -deadly grasp. Finding that every effort to uproot Skene, to get him -off his legs and throw him, so that he might resort to strangulation, -proved unavailing, he strove to drag him towards the Nile, in the -hope of flinging him down the bank; but whether the said bank was a -precipice of a hundred feet or only the drop of a few yards Skene -knew not, and in the blind fury of the moment, with pursuers coming -on, never thought of it. - -Nearer and nearer the verge, by sheer strength of muscle and weight -of limb, the Greek was dragging him, and already some shouts in -English ascending from the bosom of the river evinced that the -struggle was visible from the boats; but Skene now gave up all hope -of being able to conquer his opponent or free himself from his -terrible grasp, and had but one thought--that if he perished, Pietro -Girolamo should perish too! - -Now they were at the edge, the verge of what was evidently a -precipice of considerable height, and more fiercely and breathlessly -than ever did they wrench, sway, and grasp each other, their arms -tightening, as hatred, rage, and ferocious dread grew apace -together--the clamorous dread that one might escape the doom he meant -to mete out to or compel the other to share with him. - -As last a species of gasping sigh escaped them. Both lost their -footing at once and fell for a moment through the air; they then -crashed upon bushes and stones, and without relaxing their grasp -rolled over and over each other with awful speed down a precipitous -steep, sending before and bringing after them showers of gravel and -little stones, crashing through mimosa bushes and other scrub, -maimed, bruised, and covered with each other's blood, for some forty -feet or so. - -Mad was the thirst for each other's destruction that inspired these -two men; for Malcolm Skene, by the peril and circumstances of the -time, was reduced to the level of the Ionian savage with whom he -fought--if fighting it could be called. - -Another moment and they had rolled into the Nile--a fall, ere it was -accomplished, that in a second seemed to compress and contain the -epitome of life, and down they went under the surface, cleaving the -water at a rate that seemed to take all power out of heart and limb, -and, parting, they rose at a little distance from each other. - -Faint and breathless Skene went down again, water bubbling in his -eyes, choking in his throat, and all breath had left him ere he rose -to the surface again, and saw Girolamo clinging to a rock round which -swept the beginning of a rapid. He was visible for a moment only; -exhaustion made him relax his hold. He sank, rose again only to -sink; then a hand was visible once or twice above the water as he was -swept away into eternity by the fierce current that bubbled round the -sun-baked rocks. - -Then Skene felt hands laid upon him, and while English voices and -exclamations came pleasantly to his half-dulled ears, he was dragged -by soldiers on board one of the boats, where he lay so completely -exhausted as to be almost insensible; and he had not fallen into the -river a moment too soon, for, just as he did so, a group of armed -Arabs, the followers of Moussa Abu Hagil, crowned with a spluttering -fire of musketry, and with wild gesticulations, the rocks above the -Nile. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVI. - -MAUDE'S VISITOR. - -'The lives of some families,' it is said, 'are exactly like a pool in -which--without being exactly stagnant--nothing occurs to ruffle the -surface of the water from year's end to year's end, and then come a -series of tremendous splashes, like naughty boys throwing stones.' - -So it was with the Lindsays of Earlshaugh latterly, as we will soon -have to show. - -The few weeks of his leave of absence that intervened before Jack -Elliot would have inexorably to start for Egypt, glided happily and -all too swiftly away, when he and Maude took up their residence at -the pretty villa in the southern quarter of Edinburgh, near the -ancient Grange Loan; and often if they sat silent, or lingered hand -in hand amid the faded flower-beds of the garden, they seemed to be -only listening--if one may say so--to the silent responses of their -own hearts, and that language of instinct understood only by kindred -souls. - -'We have not exactly Aladdin's lamp in the house, Maude,' said Jack -laughingly, 'nor have we all the luxuries of our future home at -Braidielee, where now conservatories are springing up, a -billiard-room being built, and gardens laid out, all for you; but we -are happy as people can be----' - -'Who have a coming separation to face and to endure, Jack,' she -interrupted, with a break in her voice. - -In the newspapers they read the announcement of the marriage, at -Earlshaugh, of 'Hawkey Sharpe, Esq., to Miss Annot Drummond, of South -Belgravia,' at which Jack laughed loud and long. - -'Well, Roland _is_ lucky to be out of the running there!--Sharpe, -Esq.--I wonder he did not add "of Earlshaugh," and doubtless the -creature would figure in all Roland's splendid jewels and gifts. -Pah!' said he; but the gentle Maude had a kind of pity for the girl, -and her views of the matter were somewhat mingled. - -Annot's mother had toiled always in the matrimonial market--long -unaided by the young lady herself--and now the latter had landed a -golden fish at last, as she thought, in the future heir of -Earlshaugh--Mr. Hawkey Sharpe! - -No longer was she to be perplexed by questions how few or how many -thousand a year had such as Bob Hoyle, and on other delicate matters -dear to the Belgravian mater, and concerning 'detrimentals.' After -more than one season spent in the chase, after dinners that were too -costly for a limited exchequer, handsome dresses and much showy -appearance, laborious days and watchful nights, snubs and -disappointments--_homme propose, femme dispose_--Annot was fairly off -her hands, and to be a 'Lady of that Ilk.' - -She had played her cards in Scotland beautifully! - -And now came to pass the event which ruffled the calm pool of Maude's -existence, when within three days of Elliot's departure to rejoin the -army in Egypt. The crisis from which she ever shrank seemed now to -have come! - -Oftentimes before this had she wondered whether it were possible such -unbroken happiness as her present life would ever come again, despite -the tender, earnest, and trusting love that glowed in her breast; and -on one particular evening, when Jack Elliot was absent making some -final preparations, and would not be home till late, she sat alone, -striving to prepare herself for the change, the solitude and anxiety -that were to come, and praying tearfully for strength to pass the -bitter ordeal--the wrench that was before them both. - -This happy, happy honeymoon of a few weeks was drawing to its close, -and her soft blue eyes grew very full as she thought over the whole -situation, when a visitor was suddenly announced. - -A showily-dressed and smart-looking little woman, about thirty years -of age apparently, rather pretty, but flippant and nervous in manner, -and having a slight _soupçon_ of 'making-up' about her cheeks and -eyelashes, was ushered in, and eyed, with some boldness and -effrontery (to conceal the nervousness referred to), Maude, who, by -force of habit, bowed and indicated a seat, which her visitor at once -took, and threw up her veil. - -Maude saw that her features were good, but this colouring and -expression made them cunning and daring, if somewhat remarkable and -attractive. - -Maude then remembering that this person had not sent in a card or -announced herself, inquired to what she owed the occasion of her -visit. - -'The occasion--you'll soon know that--too soon for your own peace of -mind, poor girl! You are--Miss Lindsay?' - -'I was Miss Lindsay,' replied Maude. - -'And who are you now?' - -Maude stared at her visitor with some alarm. - -'If you take an interest in Captain Elliot, it is a pity,' continued -the latter. - -'Interest--pity?' questioned Maude, rising now, and drawing near to -the handle of the bell. - -'Take my advice in time, and don't touch that!' said her strange -visitor with sudden insolence of manner, while something of -malevolence and triumph sparkled in her dark eyes. - -'You must be mad, or----' - -'Tipsy, you would say--I am neither; but I have that to say which you -may not wish to furnish gossip for your servants, so do not summon -them until I am gone.' - -'Will you be so kind as to state at once the object of your visit?' -said Maude, with as much hauteur as she could summon to her aid. - -'So you are his wife--a doll like you! Mrs. Elliot of Braidielee, -you think yourself!' said the woman mockingly; 'I fear I have that to -tell which your dainty ears will not find very pleasant. But "gather -ye rosebuds while ye may;" for ere long only the leaves, dead and -without fragrance, will be left you!' - -Maude felt herself grow pale and tremble; she knew that there was a -great lunatic asylum somewhere in that quarter of the city, and began -to fear that her visitor was an escaped patient. She moved a step -towards the bell again, and cast a lingering, longing glance at it, -on which the woman again said sharply: - -'Don't! Listen to me, I tell you!' - -Placing her elbows on a small Chippendale table, off which, without -ceremony, she thrust a few books, she rested her chin upon her left -hand, and looking at the shrinking Maude steadily and defiantly--for -the perfect purity of the girl, her position in life, her whole -aspect and bearing filled this fallen one--for fallen she was--with -rivalry, envy, and hatred, she asked: - -'Now, who do you think I am?' - -'That I have yet to learn,' replied Maude, who was moving towards the -door, when the next words of the woman arrested her steps. - -'Learn that I am Captain John Elliot's--lawful wife!' - -'Oh--she is mad!' thought Maude, who neither tottered, nor fainted, -nor made any outcry, deeming the bold assertion as totally absurd. - -'You don't believe me, I suppose?' - -'You must hold me excused if I do not,' replied Maude, thinking that -she must temporise with a woman who, for all she knew, might bite her -like a rabid dog; for poor Maude had very vague ideas of the ways and -proclivities of lunatics in general. - -She had but one desire, to rush past, to gain the door and escape; -but was baffled by the expression of the woman's watchful black eyes. -That she was not and never had been a lady was evident; neither did -she seem of the servant class; so Maude's inexperienced eye was -unable to fix her place in the scale of society, though her costume -was good--if showy--even to her well-fitting gloves. - -'You would wish to see my marriage-lines, I doubt not,' said the -visitor with a smile, drawing a couple of folded papers from her -bosom; 'but perhaps you had better read this first. I am a great -believer in documentary evidence, and hope you are so too.' - -Somewhat ostentatiously she flattened out a letter on the table, but -carefully kept her hands thereon, as if in fear that it might be -snatched away by Maude; and impelled by an impressible but hideous -emotion of curiosity the latter drew near, and the woman with a -slender forefinger traced out the lines she wished her to read--lines -that seemed to seal the fate of Maude, whose dull eyes wandered over -them like one in a dreadful dream--for the letter, if a forgery, was -certainly to all appearance in the handwriting of Jack Elliot, and -some of its peculiarities in the formation of capitals and certain -other letters seemed to her too terribly familiar and indisputable. - -They seemed to sear the girl's brain--the words she read--but -summoning all her self-control, and seeming scarcely to breathe, she -permitted as yet no expression of sorrow, of passion, or emotion of -any kind to escape her. - - -'DEAREST LITTLE WIFE, - -'I write you, Maggie, as I promised, as I cannot see you before -leaving for Egypt, and fear the sorrow of such another parting as our -last may kill me, for you know that all the love of my heart is -yours, though I have been entrapped into a marriage with Maude -Lindsay--a mad entanglement, for which I ask your forgiveness and -pity, that you may not bring me to punishment and shame. I will buy -your silence at any price; let me have back the marriage certificate -and all letters, and I herewith enclose a blank cheque for you to -fill up at your pleasure. This I do, dear little one, for the sake -of our old----' - - -Here Maude reeled, for the room seemed to revolve round her. - -'There!' said this odious woman exultingly, as she hastened to refold -the letter and replace it in her breast, 'will you deny it longer?' - -The speaker showed neither the certificate nor the blank cheque; but -poor Maude had seen enough. She fainted, and when she recovered her -obnoxious visitor was gone--gone, but had left a dreadful sting -behind. - -Had her presence and her story been all a dream? No! There was the -chair in which she had been seated; there was the little Chippendale -table on which she had spread the terrible letter that told of Jack's -perfidy; and there on the floor, just where she had thrown or thrust -them, lay the scattered books--his presents in the past time. - -She cast herself on the sofa--she could neither think nor weep; her -heart beat painfully--every pulsation was a pang! What was she to -do--whither turn for advice before madness came upon her? - - -'Well, my old duck, Maggie, you have earned your money fairly, by all -accounts--and my wonderful caligraphy was quite a success!' said -Hawkey Sharpe, exploding with laughter, when he heard the narration -of his 'fair' compatriot or conspirator, as he handed her a -twenty-pound note, and drove with her townward in the cab with which -he had awaited the termination of her visit at the Grange Loan. 'By -Jove! a pleasant home-coming that fellow will have! "All men are -brothers," says the minister of Earlshaugh; Cains and Abels, say I.' - -'I don't care about him or what he may suffer--you men are all alike, -a bad, false, cruel lot,' replied the woman; 'but, with all her airs -and graces, her haughtiness and her touch-me-not manner, I _am_ sorry -for what that poor girl may be--nay, must be--enduring now.' - -'The devil you are! all things are fair in love and war--and this is -_war_!' said Hawkey, still continuing his bursts of malignant -laughter; 'would she care for what you might endure?' - -'I am sure she would--her face and her voice were so sweet and -gentle.' - -'For all that she would draw aside her skirt if it touched yours, as -though there was a taint in the contact.' - -The woman made no reply, but glared at him with defiant malevolence -in her bold black eyes, and now seemed shocked at the very act which, -a few minutes before, had given her much malignant satisfaction. - -But we have not heard the last of Mr. Hawkey Sharpe's skill in -caligraphy. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVII. - -THE RESULT. - -Sense returned to the unhappy creature ere her servants discovered -her or knew that the mysterious visitor had departed. - -'It cannot be! It cannot have happened--it is too dreadful--too -cruel!' she repeated to herself again and again; but could she doubt -the tenor of the letter she had seen and read--the letter in her -husband's own handwriting? 'Oh, Heaven!' she murmured; 'our days -together have been so blithesome and so happy, even when their -brightest hours were clouded by a separation to come; but Oh, not -such a separation as this! What have I done that God deems me so -unworthy--that I am tortured, punished thus?' - -'There is scarcely in the whole sad world,' it is said, 'and in the -woeful scale of mental suffering, aught sadder than the helpless -struggle of a poor human heart against a crushing load of misery, -strengthening itself in its despair, taking courage from the -extremity of its wretchedness in the frenzied whispers of -reassurance.' - -Thus did Maude continue to whisper to herself: 'It cannot be--it -cannot be!' - -She passed her hot hand several times across her throbbing forehead; -her brain was too confused--too unable yet to grapple with this -disillusion, the miserable situation, and with all the new and sudden -horrors of her false and now degraded position in the world--in -society, and in life! - -She had heard stories; she had vague ideas of the temptations to -which young men--young officers more than all--are subjected; and -Jack might have been the victim of some hour of weakness, or evil, or -treachery. - -Holding by the bannisters, she ascended to her bedroom--_their_ room, -as it was but one short hour ago--and there on every hand were -souvenirs of Jack which had once seemed so strange amid the -appurtenances of her toilet; the slippers she had worked for him were -under the dressing-table; his razors and brushes lay thereon; his -pipes littered the mantelpiece; and his portmanteaux and helmet-case, -ready for Egypt, stood in a corner. - -Novels Maude had read, plays she had seen, stories she had heard of, -in which concealed marriages and other horrors had been amply -detailed; and in the heart of one of these episodes she now found -herself, as they crowded on her memory with bewildering force and -pain. - -She strove to think, to gather her thoughts, in vain. Jack could not -be so vile, and yet there was that letter--that horrible letter! - -'If this woman is his wife--what then am I? Oh, horror and -misery--horror and misery!' thought Maude, covering her face with her -tremulous hands, while the hot tears gushed between her slender -fingers. - -Was all this happening to her or to some one else? She almost -doubted her own identity--the evidence of her senses. A moment or -two she lingered at a window wistfully looking over the landscape, -which she had often viewed from thence with Jack's arm round her, and -her head on his shoulder, watching dreamily the light of the setting -sun falling redly on the long wavy slope of the lovely Pentlands, or -the nearer hills of Braid, so green and pastoral, the scene of -Johnnie of Braidislee's doleful hunting in the ancient time, and -where in a lone and wooded hollow lies the dreary Hermitage beside -the Burn, haunted, it is said, in the present day by the unquiet -spirit of the beautiful Countess of Stair, the victim of a double and -repudiated marriage, and whose wrongs were of the days when George -IV. was king; and now as Maude looked, the farewell rays of the sun -were fading out on the summit of bluff Blackford, the haunt of -Scott's boyhood, and then the sober hues of twilight followed. Of -the hill he wrote: - - 'Blackford! on whose uncultured breast - A truant boy I sought the nest, - Or listed as I lay at rest; - While rose on breezes thin - The murmur of the city crowd: - And from his steeple jangling loud - St. Giles's mingling din.' - - -'All is over and ended--God help me!' wailed the girl many times as -she wrung her white and slender hands, and yet prepared nervously and -quickly to take measures that were stern and determined. There -seemed to be a strange loneliness in the sunset landscape as she -turned from it, and thought how beautiful, yet cruel and terrible, -the world of life can be, and choking sobs rose in her throat. - -Should she await Jack's return--face him out and demand an -explanation? No, a thousand times no; there seemed degradation in -receiving one. Her resolution was taken; she would leave now and for -ever, and now with the coming night a long journey to London was to -be faced--to London, where she would quickly be lost to all the world -that knew her once. - -Jack would not be home (home!) for hours yet, but no time was to be -lost, and action of any kind was grateful to her tortured spirit. - -She quickly dressed herself for travelling; reckoned over what was in -her purse, and what was in her desk, and for more than an hour sat -writing--writing endless and incoherent letters of farewell and -upbraiding--letters which she tore in minute fragments by the score, -as none of them seemed suitable to the awful occasion. At last she -feverishly ended one; placed it in an envelope, addressed it--oh how -tremulously!--and placed it on the toilet table, where he was sure to -find it when she would be far away. - -'I now know all--all about "Maggie!"' ran the letter. ('Who the -devil is Maggie?' thought the terrified and bewildered Jack when he -_did_ come, to peruse it.) - -'You cannot forget that I once loved you--that I love you still, -when--oh, my God!--I have no right to do so, nor can you forget the -misery that obliges me to take this step and leave you. Oh, Jack! -Jack! - -'God forgive you, but you have broken my heart! - -'When you read this, Jack, I shall be gone--gone to London or -elsewhere--to where you shall never be able to follow or to trace me -in my hiding place. - -'The horrors of a public scandal must be avoided; but how, and -however cautious our mode of action?' - -'I shall never see you more--never from this evening; never again -hope for a renewal of happiness; and yet with all your perfidy, Jack, -your memory will always be most precious to me, and I only fear I -shall always love you too well!' - -Much more in the same incoherent style followed. - -Time was short; she moved about noiselessly. She drew sharply off -her bracelet and brooch, which were gifts of Jack's; she did more; -she drew off her wedding ring with its keeper, her engagement ring -also, and placed them in another envelope; she put a few necessary -garments and toilet appurtenances into a travelling-bag, stole from -the house, found a cab, and ordered the man to drive her at once to -the railway station for London. - -It was night, now, and the silent suburbs had been left behind, and -the cab, swift and well-horsed, and all unlike a London 'crawler,' -bowled through the busy streets that were flooded with light. - -She was off--the die was cast! Nothing occurred to hinder or delay -her, nor did she wish for any such thing at that time. - -It was not too late to return; but why should she return--and to -_whom_?--'Maggie's' husband? and she set her little teeth firmly and -defiantly, as she was driven along the platform of the Waverley -Station, with the city lights towering high in the air above her, and -where the train that was to bear her away was all in readiness for -starting. - -A new but unnatural kind of life seemed opening up to her, and under -her thick Shetland veil her hot tears welled freely. Until she was -quite alone now, she knew not what a feature Jack had been in her -life, what an influence his presence had upon her; and now their days -of earnest and peaceful love were over, and his whispers of -endearment would fall upon her ear no more. Withal, she had a -stunned feeling, and she began to accept her present position as if -it was the result of something that had happened long, long ago, with -a kind of desperate resignation and grim indifference as to what her -own future might bring forth. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVIII. - -'INFIRM OF PURPOSE!' - -The night, one of the last of autumn, was very cold. She had secured -a compartment to herself, fortunately; but there was no kind hand to -adjust her rugs, to see that the foot-warmer was hot, to provide her -with amusing periodicals, or attend to her little comforts in any -way. She did not miss them, but she missed Jack. - -All her actions were mechanical, and it was not until she was fairly -away in the last train for the South, and had emerged from the Gallon -Tunnel, leaving Edinburgh with all its lights and lofty mansions -behind, that she quite knew she was--vague and desperate of -purpose--on her way to London. - -As the hours dragged slowly on--so slowly in strange contrast to the -lightning-like speed of the clanking train that bore her away--she -thought, would she ever forget that dreadful and hopeless night -journey--in itself a nightmare--fleeing from all she loved, or had -loved her, with no future to realise? Would she ever forget that -dreadful, mocking woman, with her painted cheeks and cunning black -eyes--her letter and her visit, every incident and detail of which -seemed photographed in her heart and on her brain? - -Mentally she conned over and thought--till her head grew weary--of -the letter she was to write Roland on the subject, and how this new -distress must pain and shock him. - -On, on went the train; the stars shone bright in the moonless sky; -the smoke of the engine streamed far behind, and strange splashes of -weird light were cast on hedges, fields, and trees, on bank cuttings -and other features on either side of the way. - -Now she had a glimpse of Dunbar, with its square church tower of red -sandstone; now it was Colbrands-path, with all its wild woods and -ravines; anon it was the German Sea, near Fast Castle, rolling its -free waves in white foam against steep and frowning precipices; and a -myriad lights gleaming on the broad river far down below announced -the bordering Tweed at Berwick, and Scotland was left behind. - -She lowered the windows from time to time, for her temples felt hot -and feverish. She seemed to have nothing left her now but light and -air, and just then the former was absent and the latter choking; and -to her tortured soul life had but lately seemed so beautiful. - -'How proud I was of his love! oh happy, happy days that can return no -more!' were her ever recurrent thoughts. - -Yet such love as he had professed for her had been but a disgrace and -a sham! With all her affection, earnest and true, when she reflected -how far he must have gone, and so daringly, out of his way to deceive -her, and to throw dust in the eyes of her and her brother Roland, she -felt one moment inclined to hate and scorn him, and the next her -heart died within her at such a state of matters; and, with all her -shattered trust, love came back again--but love for what--for _whom_? - -Then came other thoughts. - -Why had she been so precipitate? What if the whole apparent -catastrophe was some dire but explainable mistake? Why had she not -consulted Hester, who was so clever, so gentle, and loving, and her -old uncle, Sir Harry? But he was old and sorely ailing now. - -_Infirm of purpose_, she began to fear that she had been perhaps too -rash, and starting up, as if she would leave the carriage, she began -to think--to think already--that to undo all she had done, she would -give her right hand. - -Her left--it bore no wedding-ring now. She looked at her -watch--midnight; long ere this Jack must have known that she had -discovered all! - -Morning drew on, and in its colder, purer air and atmosphere her -thoughts seemed to become clearer, and as the train glided on through -the flat and monotonous scenery of England she began to consider the -possibility that she might have been deceived--that she had been too -swift in avenging her wrongs, or supposed wrongs--and this impression -grew with the growing brightness of the reddening dawn, and with that -impulsiveness which was characteristic of her, an hour even before -the dawn came, she resolved that she would return--she would face the -calamity out; she would cast herself upon her friends--not on the -world; but how to stop the train, which flew on and on, inexorably on -past station after station, every one of which seemed almost dark and -deserted. - -The steam was let off suddenly; the speed of the train grew slower -and slower; it stopped at last in an open and sequestered place, on -an embankment overlooking a great stretch of darkened, dimly seen, -and flat country, half shrouded, as usual, in haze and mist. - -Heads in travelling caps and strange gear were thrust from every -window; inquiries were made anxiously and angrily; but no answer was -accorded; the officials seemed all to have become very deaf and -intensely sullen, while no passenger could alight, as every door was -securely locked, to their alarm and indignation. - -There was evidently an accident or a breakdown--a block on the line -somewhere, no one knew precisely what. Signals were worked and -lights flashed to avert destruction from the front or rear, and when -the rush of a coming train was heard, 'the boldest held his breath -for a time,' till it swept past--an express--on another line of rails. - -If she were killed--smashed up horribly like people she had often -read of in railways accidents, would Jack be sorry for her? There -was a kind of revengeful pleasure in the thought, the conviction that -he would be, even while she dropped a few natural tears over her own -untimely demise. - -The excitement grew apace. The next train might _not_ be on the -other line, and the mental agony of the travellers lasted for more -than an hour--an hour of terror and misery, and of the wildest -impatience to Maude, who in the tumult of her spirits would have -welcomed the crash, the destruction, and, so far as she was -personally concerned, the death by a collision, to end everything. - -At last the steam was got up again, and slowly the train glided into -the brilliant station at York just as dawn was reddening the square -towers of its glorious minster, and the pale girl sprang out on the -platform to find that the train for Edinburgh had passed nearly two -hours before, and that she would have to wait--to wait for hours with -what patience she could muster. - -Great was the evil and distress Hawkey Sharpe, in a spirit of useless -revenge, had wrought her. - -How slow the returning train was--oh, how slow! It seemed to stop -everywhere, and to be no sooner off than it stopped again. Stations -hitherto unnoticed had apparently sprung up like mushrooms in the -night, and the platforms were crowded with people perpetually getting -in or going out. - -How long ago it seemed since last night--since that fatal visit, and -since she left her pretty home, if home it was. - -Even then, in the dire confusion and muddle of her thoughts, they -lingered lovingly on the apparently remote memory of the happiest -period of her young life--the day when Jack Elliot first said he -loved her, and she had the joy of believing him to be entirely her -own, to go hand-in-hand with through the long years that were to -come--and now--now! - - -Looking forward to ample explanations from him, perhaps an entire -reconciliation with him if these explanations were complete--or she -knew not what--how the revolving wheels of the train seemed to lag! -Then she would close her tear-inflamed eyes and strive not to think -at all. - -Already the Lion mountain of Arthur Seat, and the Gallon with its -Grecian columns, were rising into sight, and she would soon be at her -destination. - -To save appearances even before her servants--a somewhat useless -consideration then--as even without the usual sharpness of their -class they must now be aware of the fact that something unpleasant -was on the _tapis_, and that their mistress had, unexplainedly, been -absent from her own home for a whole night and longer; as the train -approached the capital, Maude smoothed her sunny-brown hair, adjusted -her laces, and bathed her pale face with _eau-de-cologne_. Oh, how -grimy the process made her handkerchief after the dust of her long -and double journey! - -The afternoon of the day was well advanced when Maude, still paler, -weary, unslept, and unrefreshed, faint from want of food and the wear -and tear of her own terrible thoughts, arrived once more at the -pretty villa Jack's love had temporarily provided for her. - -The blinds were all closed as if death were in its walls, and her -heart died within her. - -She rushed up to her room; it might just be the case that Jack might -not have returned, and she might still find the packet she had -addressed to him and her incoherent letter of farewell. - -Is she in time? Yes--a letter is there--a packet on her -toilet-table; she _is_ in time--and makes a snatch of it. It is -addressed not to her but to Hester Maule at Merlwood; so Jack had -been there and was gone, as were also his portmanteaux, his sword, -and helmet-case. - -In wild and vague search she moved swiftly from room to room. - -'Jack--Jack!' she called in a low voice that sounded strangely -resonant in the silent rooms; but there was no answer, nor did any -sound evince that he was in her vicinity. A chill crept over her, -and she strove in vain to shake it off as her wondering servants -gathered round her, and from them she soon learned all. - -Their master had returned late last night--had got her letter, and, -after a time, had driven away to catch the first early train for -London--on his way to Egypt, he simply said. Egypt! His train must -have passed her somewhere on the line. Where was she to seek -him--where telegraph to him? Who was to advise her now? - -He had made up a packet of her letters, her rings, and other little -mementos she had left, with a brief and certainly incoherent note to -Hester Maule; addressed it with a tremulous hand and carefully sealed -it with his familiar signet, bearing the baton or on a bend engrailed -of the Elliots of Braidielee; and then, throwing himself into a cab, -had driven away with no other trace than his farewell words given to -the startled domestics. - -Apart from the humiliation of uselessly attempting to explain matters -to them, it was somewhat gratifying to Maude to learn that after his -return 'the poor master' had been for a time quite quiet, as if -stunned; then that he had been like 'a tearing lunatic'; had -telegraphed to Merlwood, to Braidielee, and even to Earlshaugh for -tidings of her, but in vain; and in the latter instance, fully -informing Hawkey Sharpe that the train the latter had laid was ending -in an explosion; and then that 'the master' had set off by daybreak. - -He was not at his club in Queen Street. - -Could he have taken London _en route_ to Southampton, in the wild, -vague hope of tracing her? - -Eventually she was made aware that he had written to his own agents, -and to Mr. M'Wadsett, to endeavour to elucidate the mystery which -hung over the actions of Maude, the author of the forged letter, and -to look after her during his probably prolonged absence in Egypt. - -Thus, in rage and bewilderment, grief and anxiety, had Jack Elliot -taken his departure, never doubting that they were both the victims -of some nefarious plot, which he had not then time to unravel. - -He was indignant, too, that Maude should so cruelly mistake and doubt -him. He started for Egypt some twenty-four hours sooner than he need -have done, and hence came fresh complications. - -'Oh, what new and unexpected worry is this, Maude?' exclaimed Hester -Maule, when a few hours later the girl threw herself speechless and -in a passion of tears into her arms. - -And now, or eventually, three lives they were interested in beyond -all others (if Malcolm Skene survived), would be involved in the -terrible risks of the war in the Soudan. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIX. - -CHRISTMAS DAY IN CAMP AT KORTI. - -The last days of December saw Roland Lindsay with his regiment--the -1st Battalion of the South Staffordshire--of old, the 38th--a corps -of the days of Queen Anne--the corps of the gallant old Luke -Lillingston, who led the troops in Wilmot's West Indian Expedition of -1695--toiling in the boats up the great river of Egypt against strong -currents by Kodokal, and within sight of the ruins of old -Dongola--ruins of red brick covering miles--by Debbeh, where the -currents were stronger still, and awnings could not be used, though -the heat was 120 degrees, and the men became giddy and distracted by -the white glare and the hot simmering atmosphere, with lassitude and -thirst, and where it was so terrible at times, to emerge from the -shadow of some impending rock, once more to plod and pull the heavy -oar under the fierce and fiery sun. Though occasionally spreading -the big sails like wings on each side of the boats, they would have a -pleasant hour's run in the evening ere darkness or a rapid barred -their upward way. - -Then, on the redly-illuminated waters of the mighty and mysterious -river, the white sails of the squadron would show up pleasantly in -the twilight, after the landscape had been ablaze with that rich -profusion of colour only to be seen where dark rocky hills, yellow -desert sand, and patches of verdant vegetation border, as they do on -the upper reaches of the Nile. - -Then, when darkness came, the boats would close in with the shore, -where they were moored to a bank, and the sails were lowered and -stowed on board; while under the feathery palms, or date trees, fires -were lighted, the frugal ration of bully-beef, onions, and potatoes -was cooked and eaten amid the jollity and lightness of heart which -are ever a characteristic of our soldiers, and then the poor fellows -would coil themselves up to sleep and prepare for the coming toil of -the morrow. - -On the 22nd of December the camp at Korti was reached at 9.30 in the -evening, after a hard struggle amid a labyrinth of sand banks. -Roland found the camp to be prettily situated on the edge of the -river, and surrounded by mimosa trees, and there the advanced guard -of the expedition, detailed to relieve Gordon and raise the siege of -the doomed city, was now assembling fast. - -It was a spot never trod by Britons before. There the caravans from -Egypt to Sennar quit the Nile and proceed across the Bayuda Desert, -the route from Dongola being easy for travelling, and the land on -both banks of the river rich and fertile. - -At Korti, where now every hour or so our bugles were blown, there -stood in the days of Thothemus III. a great temple dedicated to Isis, -whose tears for the loss of Osiris caused the regular inundations of -the Nile. - -Under some wide spreading trees the tents of the Camel Corps were -pitched along the western bank of the latter; and the whole scene -there was most picturesque. The leafy shade tempered the fierce heat -of the sun, and, after their long toil in the boats and over the -burning sands and glittering rocks, our soldiers were charmed for a -time with the place; but some wrath was excited when it was -discovered that a correspondence between a French journalist in the -camp of the Mahdi before Khartoum, and a clique in Cairo, supplied -the former with the fullest information of Lord Wolseley's -proceedings, with hints as to the best means of baffling them. - -Though the enemy were at some distance, every precaution was taken -against a surprise by night. Cavalry vedettes were posted out beyond -the camp by day, and strong outlying pickets, with chains of advanced -sentries by night; but, as Christmas Day drew near, considerable -anxiety was felt in the camp at Korti at the total cessation of all -news from blockaded Khartoum, which was two hundred and sixty miles -distant by the desert, and by river where the former touched the -latter at Gubat or Abu Kru. - -The total strength of the advanced force at Korti, after the -departure of Roland's regiment, was under two thousand five hundred -men, with six screw guns, two thousand two hundred camels and horses, -two pinnaces, and sixty-four whale boats, while the 19th Hussars, -when the advance began, had orders to ride by the western bank of the -Nile and act as scouts to the Khartoum relief column. - -By this time there was not a single sound garment in the latter--the -result of fifty days' river work from Sarras. The mud-stained -helmets were battered out of all shape; the tunics and trousers were -patched with cloth of every kind and hue; officers and men had beards -of many days' growth, and the skin of their faces was peeled off in -strange and uncouth patches, the result of incessant exposure to the -fierce sun by day and the chill dews by night. - -Christmas morning, 1884, was ushered in by a church parade, and by -prayer, when the whole force--slender though it was--was present, -under the feathery palms, by the banks of the Nile, that river of -mystery, which has its rise in a land unknown; and at night the -soldiers gathered round two great camp-fires and made merry, singing -songs, and doubtless thinking of those who were far away at home. - -It was on this occasion that the South Staffordshire, under the -gallant Eyre, raised three hearty cheers, when, from the rear, a -telegram was brought, sent all the way from their second battalion in -England, wishing 'all ranks a happy Christmas and a brilliant -campaign.' - -And happy and jolly all certainly were, though they were now in the -region of bully-beef, for they fared on hard biscuits and coffee in -the morning, with bully-beef for tiffin, and bully-beef for dinner. - -As the evening of Christmas Day closed in, Roland, with a cigarette -in his mouth, reclined on the grass under a mimosa bush, watching the -picturesque groups of tanned and tattered soldiers that hovered round -the two great watch-fires, which cast weird patches of light on the -feathery palms, the glittering piles of arms, the few white tents -occupied by Lord Wolseley's staff and officers of rank; on the long -rows of picketed camels; on the distant figures of the advanced -sentinels seen darkly against the sky of pale green and orange that -showed where the sun had set beyond Gebel Magaya in the Bayuda -Desert; on the quaint boats and barges moored in the Nile; and on the -broad flow of that majestic river, reddened as it was by the flames, -to which the active hands and sharp bill-hooks of the soldiers added -fuel every moment; while the high spirits of the troops--seldom wont -to flag--were irrepressible then in the great hope of getting -on--getting on and reaching Khartoum--to shake hands with Gordon ere -it might be--too late! - -In three days the South Staffordshire were to start and take the lead -in that eventful expedition, and led by jovial Dick Mostyn, Wilton, -and other kindred spirits; already the soldiers were chorusing a song -with which they meant to bend their oars; and more than once, as they -sang, they turned to where their favourite officer, Roland Lindsay, -lay looking on, for he was one of those men who are by nature and -habit born to be the leader of others, and possessing that kind of -magnetic influence which inspires confidence. - -Roland had plenty of spirit, bodily vigour, and perseverance; but -when a halt came, and with it a brief term of rest, he could not help -indulging in occasional regretful thoughts, haunting memories, and -wishes that were hopeless. He had, as Annot anticipated, got over -his rudely-dispelled passion for her, true love it could not have -been, he flattered himself now, and he was fully justified in -dismissing _her_ from his mind; and in that matter he was disturbed -by the fact no more 'than a nightmare disturbs the occupations of the -dreamer, as he goes about his business on the following day in the -full light of heaven, and with his brain clear of the idle fantasies -of the darkness.' - -But now he could not help thinking of Hester Maule, especially as he -had seen her last, when she stood at the door of Merlwood, and -murmured good-bye, her hand in his, her dark blue eyes dimmed with -gathering tears--the tears that he knew would fall when he was -gone--her graceful head drooping towards him, and how he now, as -then, longed to whisper in her little white ear the words he scarcely -knew how to utter, and which were withheld through very shame of -himself. - -Earlshaugh he deemed, of course, now gone from his family for ever; -well, it was only one more case of the now daily sinking out of -sight, the decay or destruction of good old Scottish families, while -mushrooms came up to take their place in the land, though seldom in -history. - -Roland had and still loved Hester, and in his heart believed in her -as an embodiment of all that is good and pure in womanhood; but -rather unwisely had allowed the fact to be guessed at by her, -thinking that she understood him, and that his declaration might be -made at any time; and, as we have shown, he was quite upon the point -thereof, when Annot Drummond came with her wiles and smiles to prove -the evil genius of them both. - -In connection with Annot's name he almost let his scornful lips form -a malediction now--that name once linked with the dearest and fondest -terms his fancy could frame. Yet he could not even now class all -women under her category, and believe that beauty was given them for -the sole purpose of winning men's hearts without losing their own. -But his reflections at times on his own folly were fiery and bitter -for all that; and as a sedative he enjoyed to the utmost extent the -daily excitement of active service now in that remarkable land, the -Soudan. - -Christmas-night in the camp at Korti was indeed a merry one, and -although under the eyes of Lord Wolseley and his staff, the soldiers -were in no way repressed in their jollity and fun--for a little of -the latter goes a long way in the army--and, all unlike the Northern -Yule to which they were accustomed, it was without snow or icicles, -holly-berries, mistletoe, and plum-pudding; but those who lingered -round these watch-fires on the arid sand of the Soudan had many a -kindly and tender thought of the bright family circles, the loved -faces, and household scenes of those who were dear to them, and were -so far, far away beyond the drear Bayuda Desert, and beyond the seas, -in many a pretty English village, where the Christmas carols were -being sung while the chimes rang joyously in the old ivied steeple, -in memory of the star that shone over Bethlehem--the herald of peace -and goodwill to men. - -Ere that festival came again more than one battle had to be -fought--Khartoum would be lost or won--Gordon saved or abandoned and -betrayed--and many a young heart that was full of joy and hope would -be as cold as inexorable death could make it; but no thought of these -things marred the merry night our soldiers spent as they turned into -the bivouac at Korti--for though called a camp, it was scarcely a -complete one. - -Dick Mostyn had procured some wine from an enterprising Greek sutler; -and this he shared freely with Lindsay and others while it lasted. - -Though poor, and such as was never seen on the mess-table, it was -voted 'capital stuff,' in that part of the world, and Dick--with a -sigh--wished his 'throat was a mile long,' as he drained the last of -it. - -'Such a wonderful flow of spirits you always have, Dick!' said -Lindsay. - -'Well--I have made up my mind to be jolly, remembering Mark Tapley -and his Eden,' replied Mostyn. - -'Jolly on your couch--the sand?' - -'Jolly as a sandboy--yes; yet not disinclined to pray for the man who -invented a good feather-bed, even as Sancho Panza did for him who -invented sleep.' - -Indeed, Mostyn admitted that he was happier in the Soudan than he had -been in England. - -He had fluttered the dovecots of the West End with tolerable success, -and might have 'bagged an heiress,' as he phrased it; but high stakes -at his club, bets on every possible thing; a bad book on the Derby, -ditto on the Oaks; unpaid accounts--St. John's Wood and 'going to the -devil on all fours,' marred his chances; then his gouty old governor -had come down upon him with his 'cut-you-off-with-a-shilling face;' -and Dick thought he was well out of all his troubles, and had _only_ -the Arabs to face in the Soudan. - -Next day the regiment was inspected and highly complimented by Lord -Wolseley, as 'the first to come up with the boats,' adding, 'I know -you will do credit to the county you are named after and to the -character you have won. I am proud to have such a battalion on -service with me.' - -This ceremony was scarcely over and the soldiers' dinner drum been -beaten as a summons once more to bully-beef and hard biscuits, when a -few boats brought up a detachment that marched at once into camp, -where crowds gathered round them, as newcomers, to hear the last news -from the rear, as letters were becoming scarce and newspapers just -then still more so. - -A tall officer who was in command, with his canvas haversack, -water-bottle, revolver-case, and jack-knife dangling about him, and -whose new fighting suit of gray contrasted with the tattered attire -of Roland and others, came towards them with impatient strides. - - - - -CHAPTER L. - -THE START FOR KHARTOUM. - -'Elliot, can this be Jack Elliot?' exclaimed Dick Mostyn as he -screwed an eyeglass into his left eye. 'By Jove, he looks as if he -had a bad toothache! What's up, Jack--lost your heart to some fair -Cairene on the Shoubrah road--eh?' - -'Jack Elliot it is!' said Roland, as the officer in question, after -'handing over' his detachment, made his way to the quarters of the -South Staffordshire, 'you are just in time to go up the river with -us. We are on the eve of starting for Khartoum.' - -'At last!' - -'Yes, at last,' continued Roland, as they grasped each other's hands, -and the latter, when looking intently into his brother-in-law's face, -detected a grave, grim, keen-eyed, harassed, and even haggard -expression, which was all unlike the jovial, free, and open one he -was wont to see there. 'Why, Jack,' said he, 'what the devil is up? -Are you ill with fever, or what? Did you leave all well at home?' he -added as he drew him aside. - -'Well--yes--I suppose; but ill or well, thereby hangs a tale--a devil -of a tale; but ere I can tell it, give me something to drink, old -fellow--my water-bottle is empty--flask ditto, and then I shall -relate that which you would rather not hear.' - -Jack unbuckled and flung his sword aside, while Roland hastily and -impatiently supplied his wants, and then heard his brief, rapid, and -startling story, winding up with the disappearance of Maude from the -villa, and the incoherent and mysterious letter of farewell she left -for him. - -'After this--the deluge!' exclaimed Roland in the direst perplexity. - -'God and my own heart only know what it cost me to start for the seat -of war, leaving Maude, as I did, untraced, unfollowed, and -undiscovered; but I had neither time nor an address to follow up,' -sighed Elliot; 'and God only knows, too, how all this has cut her as -it must have cut her--my poor darling--to the soul!' - -The meeting of Roland and Jack Elliot was one of perplexity, gloom, -and genuine distress. Far away from the land where they could be of -help or use in unravelling the mystery, or succouring Maude, whom -they deemed then a houseless fugitive, they felt themselves miserably -powerless, hopeless, and exasperated; but curiously, perhaps, they -never thought of suspecting the real author of the mischief, and were -utterly at a loss to conceive how such a complication and accusation -came about in any way. - -Neither Jack nor Roland could know or conceive that she was safe -under her uncle's wing at Merlwood. Thus they had to endure the -anxiety of supposing her, with all her beauty, refinement, and -delicacy, to be adrift in some homeless, aimless, and despairing way -in London--haunted by anger and terror of an injury and irreparable -wrong. The contemplation of this state of affairs filled the minds -of both with incessant torture--a torture for which there was no -relief, and would be none, either by letter or telegraph, for a long -time, if ever, to them, as inexorably--in two days now--the regiment -would be again on the Nile. - -'Reason how we may,' was the ever-recurring and gloomy thought of -Roland now, 'it has been said that Fate does certainly pursue some -families to their ruin and extinction, and such is our probable -end--the Lindsays of Earlshaugh!' - -And so, apart from their brother officers, these two conversed and -talked of the mysterious episode of the woman and her claims again -and again, viewing it in every imaginable way, till they almost grew -weary of it, in the hopelessness of elucidating it while in the -Soudan; and as for poor Malcolm Skene and _his_ fate, that was -supposed to be a thing of the past, and they ceased to surmise about -it. - -At 2 p.m. on the 28th of December the start for Khartoum began! - -It was made by the South Staffordshire, under the gallant Eyre, with -exactly 19 officers and 527 men of the Regiment, and 2 officers and -20 men of the Royal Engineers in 50 boats, having the Staffordshire -Knot painted on their bows, the badge of the old '38th.' - -The sight was a fine and impressive one; the band was playing merrily -in the leading boat, as usual, Scottish and Irish airs, as England, -apparently, has none for any martial purpose. Thus it is that -Scottish and Irish quicksteps are now ordered by the Horse Guards for -nearly all the English regiments, with Highland reels for the -Cavalry, and one other air in the 'Queen's Regulations,' with which -we bid farewell to the old colours, is 'Auld Lang Syne.' - -Steadily the whole battalion moved up stream, cheering joyously--the -first away for Khartoum--exhibiting a regularity and power of stroke -as they feathered their oars, and showing how much recent practice -had done to convert them into able boatmen, and soon the camp was -left behind, and the boats had the bare desert on both sides of the -stream; but on and on they went, stemming the current of the famous -Nile, famous even in the remotest ages, when the Egyptians worshipped -the cow, the cat, the ibis, and the crocodile, and when King -Amenchat, sixth of the Twelfth Dynasty, cut his huge river-like canal -to join Lake M[oe]ris, 250 miles lower down. - -On the 29th the Staffordshire boats were off the island of Massawi, -where the atmosphere was grilling, being 120 degrees in the shade; -but the soldiers were in the highest spirits, their regiment being -the leading one of the whole army. - -One scorching day followed another, yet on and on they toiled -unwearyingly, passing Merawi and Abu Dom amid date-trees and rank, -gigantic tropical vegetation, till the New Year's Day of 1885 found -them nearing the foot of a cataract, after passing which the River -Column was to form for its final advance on Khartoum. Already the -uniforms were more than ever ragged, and scarcely a man had boots to -his feet. - -Roland and Elliot had command of different boats, so they could -commune no more, even when they moored for the night by the river's -bank, when the crimson sun had set in ruddy splendour beyond the gray -hills of the Bayuda Desert, and the dingy yellow of the Nile was -touched by the afterglow, in which its waves rippled in purple and -silver sheen, while the dark, feathery palms and fronds swayed slowly -to and fro in the friendly breeze, and the great pelicans were seen -to wade amid the slime and ooze where the hideous crocodiles were -dozing. - -In some places the boats were rowed between islets which displayed a -wondrous tropical wealth of dhurra, sugar-canes, and cotton-trees, -with palms innumerable. - -Officers and men--even chaplains--worked hard at the oars in their -anxiety to get on. For days some never had the oar out of their -hands; on others they were hauling the boats over the rapids and up -cataracts, where at times they stuck in rocks and sandbanks, and had -to be unloaded and lifted bodily off. At times the pulling was -awful, and the hot sun scorched the back like fire, while the boats -seemed to stand still in places where the main stream forced itself -between masses of rock in a downward torrent, forming ugly -whirlpools, about which the only certainty was, that whoever fell -into them was drowned. - -'Pull for your lives,' was then the cry; 'give way, men--give way -with a will! Pull, or you'll be down the rapids.' - -Then might be seen the men with their helmets off, bare-headed, and -braving sunstroke under that merciless sunshine; steaming with -perspiration--their teeth set hard--their hearts panting with the -awful and, at times, apparently hopeless exertion of pulling against -that mighty barrier of downward rolling water against which they -seemed to make no head; yet ever and anon the cry went up: - -'Pull, my lads, cheerily--we'll shake hands with old Gordon yet!' - -And so they toiled on--now up to their knees in mud, now up to their -chins in water, in rags and tatters, their blistered and festered -hands swathed in dirty linen bandages, officers and men alike; often -hungry, ever thirsty and weary, yet strong in heart and high in -impulse, as our soldiers ever are when face to face with difficulty -or death. - -Then a little breeze might catch the sails, carry the boats ahead, -and then a cheer of satisfaction would make the welkin ring. - -Incredible was the amount of skill, care, and toil requisite for -getting the boats of the flotilla up the Nile, especially at these -places where with terrible force the rapids came in one sheet of -foam, with a ceaseless roar between narrow walls of black rock at a -visible incline, while at times the yells of thousands of wondering -natives on the banks lent a strange and thrilling interest to the -scene. - -'At low Nile,' says a writer, 'these rapids are wild and desolate -archipelagos, usually at least one or two miles in length, while the -river bank on either side presents a series of broken, precipitous, -and often inaccessible cliffs and rugged spurs. Their sombre and -gloomy appearance is heightened by the colour of the rock, which, -between high and low water-mark, is usually of a jet hue, and in many -places so polished by the long action of the water, that it has the -appearance of being carefully black-leaded. One or two big-winged, -dusky birds may suddenly flap across, with a harsh, uncanny cry, or -some small boy, whose tailor's bills must trouble him little, looks -up from his fish-trap and shrieks for backsheesh; but beyond these, -and the ceaseless rush of the water, sound or sight there is none.' - -Many of these islets are submerged at high Nile, creating a number of -cross currents which vary with the depth of the water, and render -navigation difficult to all, and impossible to those who are -unacquainted with each special locality; thus the troops of the -relieving column had before them such a task as even Britons scarcely -ever encountered before; but the Canadians, under Colonel Kennedy, of -the Ontario Militia; the Indians, under the great chief White Eagle, -and the soldiers, all worked splendidly together. - -The 3rd of January saw the Staffordshire reach the Bivouac of Handab, -in a wild and rocky spot, and in a position of peril between two -great bodies of the enemy; but cheerily the soldiers joined in the -queer chorus of a doggerel Canadian boat song adapted to the occasion -by the Indians, who, whilom, had made the poplar groves of the Red -River and Lake Winnipeg echo to it-- - - 'Pulley up the boat, boys, rolley up the sleeve, - Khartoum am a long way to trabbel! - Pulley up the boat, boys, rolley up the sleeve, - Khartoum am a long way to trabbel, I believe!' - - - - -CHAPTER LI. - -THE MARCH IN THE DESERT. - -We have stated that Roland and his comrades were left stationed at a -point where they were menaced by two forces of the enemy. - -'These were,' says Colonel Eyre, of the Staffordshire, in his -'Diary,' 'the tribes whose people murdered poor Colonel Stewart. -They are entrenched twenty-three miles in front of us up the river, -and sent word that they were to fight. They have a large force on -the Berber Road, forty miles on our flank; they were here two days -ago, and took all the camels in the district. We are encamped on a -wild desert, with ridges of rocky hills about two miles inland. We -have pitched our tents.' - -There we shall leave them for a time, and look back to Korti, where -some boats of troops arrived from Hannek, twenty-three miles lower -down the Nile, and in one of these, tugging manfully at an oar, came -the rescued Malcolm Skene! - -His disappearance many weeks before--nearly three months now--was -well known to the troops; hence--though in that fierce warfare, a -human life, more or less lost or saved, mattered little--his sudden -appearance in camp, when he reported himself at the headquarter tent, -did make a little stir for a time; and thus he was the hero of the -hour; but great and forward movements were in progress now, and there -was not much time to waste on anyone or anything else. - -Though he had missed his corps, the Staffordshire, by about -twenty-four hours, it was with a source of intense satisfaction that -he found himself among his own countrymen again--once more with the -troops and ready for active service of any kind. - -One thought was fully prominent in his mind, never again would he be -taken alive by the Soudanese. - -A horse, harness, and arms, belonging to some of the killed or -drowned, were speedily provided for him, and, by order of the General -commanding, he was attached to the personal staff--_pro tem._--of Sir -Herbert Stewart, as his great knowledge of the country and of Arabic -might prove of good service. - -Considering the treachery of Hassan Abdullah, his long detention in -the zereba of the Sheikh Moussa, and what his too probable end would -have been after the deportation of Zebehr Pasha, with the recent -close and deadly struggle he had for life in the grasp of Girolamo, -and how nearly he escaped recapture and slaughter, Malcolm Skene had -now a personal and somewhat rancorous animosity to the Soudanese. - -Now that he had not perished in the desert, in the river, by Arab -hands, or in any fashion as his troublesome presentiment had led him -to expect when he left Cairo guided by that rascal Hassan on his -lonely mission to Dayr-el-Syrian, he felt a curious sense of -mortification, compunction, almost of regret, concerning the very -tender and loving letter of farewell he had written to Hester Maule; -and began to think it would be somewhat remarkable and awkward -if--after all--he should again meet her face to face in society. - -Then again, as often before, he seemed to see in fancy the -conservatory at Earlshaugh, with its long and faintly lit vistas of -flowers, rare exotics, with feathery acacias and orange trees and -azaleas overhead; the gleam of the moonshine on the adjacent lakelet; -the tall slender figure and soft dark eyes of Hester; and to his -vivid imagination her words and his own came back to him, with the -nervous expression of her sad and parted lips as she forbade him ever -to hope, and yet gave him no reason why! - -How long, long ago, it seemed since then! Yet he often fancied -himself saying to her: - -'Is the answer you gave me then still the same, dear Hester?' - -Well--well--that was over and done with, as yet, and ere dawn came in -on the 29th of December he was roused by the bugles sounding 'the -assembly' for the advance. - -Lord Wolseley's orders were now that General Earle, with an Infantry -Brigade (including the Black Watch and Staffordshire), was to punish -the Monassir tribe for the murder of Colonel Donald Stewart; while -the Mounted Infantry and Guards Camel Corps, under Sir Herbert -Stewart, were to advance on a march of exploration to Gakdul, a -distance of ninety miles, with a convoy of camels laden with -stores--a route between the deserts of Bayuda and Ababdeh. - -A little after 3 a.m. on the 29th of December, the cavalry scouts, -under Major Kitchener, with some Arab guides, moved off, and then -Lord Wolseley gave his orders for the column to get into motion, and -strike straight off across the pebble-strewn desert, towards the -distant horizon, which was indicated only by a dark, opaque, and -undulating line, against which a mimosa tuft stood up, and above -which the rays of the yet unrisen sun were faintly crimsoning the -then hazy sky, which otherwise as yet was totally dark. - -To Sir Herbert Stewart the final orders were brought by Malcolm -Skene, his new aide-de-camp. - -'You are to advance, sir, in column of companies, with an interval of -thirty paces between each, the Guards Camel Corps and Engineers in -front, the convoy and baggage next, then the Artillery and Mounted -Infantry, the Hussars to form the advance and rear guards.' - -Malcolm saluted, reined back his horse, and betook him to the -inevitable cigarette, while the camels ceased to grunt, and stalked -off to the posts assigned them, and the column began to move, so as -to be in readiness to form a hollow square at a moment's notice. - -To Malcolm Skene, even to him who had recently seen so much, it was -indeed a strange sight to watch the departing camels, with their -long, slender necks stretched out like those of ostriches, and their -legs, four thousand pairs in number, gliding along in military order, -silently, softly, noiselessly, like a mighty column of phantoms, -beast and rider, until the light, rising dust of the desert blended -all, soldiers, camels, convoy, artillery, and baggage, into one gray, -uniform mass, which ere long seemed to fade out, to pass away from -the eyes of those who remained behind in the camp. - -In case of an attack the Guards were to form square, echeloned on the -left front of the column; the Mounted Infantry were to do the same on -the right rear; but the column was so great in length that it was -feared their fire would scarcely protect the entire line unless the -usually swift enemy were seen approaching in time to get the baggage -and convoy closed up; for, broad though the front of this strange -column, it was fully a mile long, and would have proved very unwieldy -to handle in case of a sudden onslaught. Thus on the march it -frequently halted, dismounted, and, for practice, prepared to meet -the enemy, and was so formed that if the latter got among the camels -they would be exposed to an enfilading fire from two faces each way. - -After a halt nine miles distant from Korti, and as many to the left -of the Wady Makattem, the march was resumed under a peculiarly -brilliant moonlight--one so bright that few present had ever seen -anything like it before. - -Not a cloud was visible in the far expanse of the firmament; there -were millions upon millions of stars sparkling, but their brightness -paled almost out in the brilliance of the moon. There were no leaves -to shine in the dew, but showers of diamonds seemed to gem the yellow -pebbles of the desert; and had birds been there, they might have sung -as if a new day had dawned; yet how all unlike the warm glow of an -Egyptian day was the icy splendour of the moonlight that mingled in -one quarter with the coming redness of the east. - -Every sword-blade, every rifle-barrel, every buckle and stirrup-iron, -glinted out in light, while the figures of every camel and horse, -soldier, and artillery-wheel were clearly defined as at noonday; and -no sound broke the stillness save the shrill voices of the Somali -camel-drivers. - -It was soon after this that Major Barrow, when scouting with some -Hussars, came upon a solitary messenger, bearer of a tiny scrap of -paper, no larger than a postage stamp--one of the last missives from -Gordon, dated 14th December, he being then shut up in Khartoum. - -The moonlight faded; the red dawn came in, and still the march of the -column went on; in front a dreary, sandy, and waterless desert; -behind, the narrow streak of green that indicated the course of the -Nile; and now our officers began to say to each other that 'if the -camel corps alone was from the first deemed sufficient to relieve -Khartoum, then why, at such enormous expense, exertion, and toil, -were 3,000 infantry brought blundering up the Nile? And anon, if -they were not sufficient, surely there was infinite danger in -exposing the corps, unsupported, to the contingency of an -overwhelming attack by the united forces of the Mahdi.' - -It was found that there were wells, however, at Hamboka, El Howeiyat, -and elsewhere, far apart, and that so far as water was concerned the -practicability of the desert route to Metemneh was proved by the -march to Gakdul; after reaching which Sir Herbert Stewart retraced -his steps to Korti; where two days afterwards, about noon, a cloud of -dust seen rising in the distance, almost to the welkin, announced the -return of his column, looming large and darkly out of the mirage of -the desert, in forms that were strange, distorted, and gigantic, -after leaving twenty broken-down camels to die, abandoned in the -awful waste. - -Just as Stewart came, the sound of Scottish pipes on the Nile -announced the arrival of the Black Watch in their boats off Korti. -All round the world have our bagpipes sounded, but never before so -far into the heart of the Dark Continent. - -On Thursday, the 8th of January, the second advance through the -desert began, and the natives looked upon the troops as doomed men. -Three armies, larger and better equipped, had departed on the same -errand to 'smash up' the Mahdi, but had been cut off nearly to a man, -and their unburied skeletons were strewn all over the country. - -All the officers in Sir Herbert Stewart's column were strangers to -Malcolm Skene, but such is the influence of service together, -_camaraderie_ and companionship in danger and suffering, that even in -these days of general muddle and 'scratch' formations, he felt -already quite like an old friend with the staff and many others. - -The pebble-strewn desert was glistening in the moonlight, when the -column _en route_ for Khartoum, _viâ_ Gubat and Metemneh, marched off -at two in the morning, and ever and anon the bugle rang out on the -ambient air, sounding 'halt,' that the stragglers in the rear might -close up, and then the long array continued to glide like a phantom -army, or a mass of moving shadows, across the waste. - -Three hours afterwards, there stole upon one quarter of the horizon a -lurid gleam--the herald of the coming day; then the bugles struck up -a Scottish quick-step--the silence was broken, and the men began to -talk cheerily, and 'chaff' each other, though already enduring that -parched sensation in the mouth, peculiar to all who traverse the -deserts that border on the Nile--a parched feeling for which liquor, -curious to say, is almost useless, and often increases the -torture--and all, particularly the marching infantry, in defiance of -orders, drank from their water-bottles surreptitiously, even when it -was announced that seventy more miles had to be covered ere a proper -supply could be obtained from wells. - -Those at Hamboka, forty-seven miles from Korti, were found full of -dry sand--destroyed by the horsemen of the Sheikh Moussa Abu Hagil, -who was in that quarter; those at El Howieyat, eight miles further -on, were in nearly the same condition, and already the soldiers were -becoming maddened by thirst. - -Day had passed, and again the weary march was resumed in the dark. - -At the well of Abu Haifa, eighty miles from Korti, the scene that -ensued was exciting and painful--even terrible. The orders were that -the fighting men were to be first supplied; and, held back by the -bayonet's point, the wretched camp-followers, Somali camel-drivers, -and others frantically tore up the warm sand with their hands in the -hope that a little water might collect therein, and when it did so, -they stooped and lapped it up like thirsty cats or dogs. Others -failed to achieve this, and with their mouths cracked, their entrails -shrivelled, their flashing eyes wild and hollow, they rolled about -with frenzy at their hearts, and blasphemy on their lips. There was -no reasoning with them--they could no longer reason. - -Even the resolute British soldier could scarcely be restrained by -habitual discipline from throwing the latter aside, and joining in -the throng that surged around the so-called well--a mere stony hole -in the desert sand--while in the background were maddened horses, and -even the ever-patient camels, plunging, struggling, unmanageable, and -fighting desperately with their masters for a drop of that precious -liquid. - -In the struggle here Malcolm Skene, as an officer, got his -water-bottle filled among the earliest, having ridden forward, and -with a sigh that was somewhat of a prayer he was about to take a deep -draught therefrom, when the wan face, the haggard eyes, and parched -lips of a young soldier of the 2nd Sussex caught his eye. Too weak -to struggle, perhaps too well-bred, if breeding could be remembered -in that hour of madness, or so despairing as to be careless, he had -made no effort to procure water, or if he did so, had failed. - -Skene's heart smote him. - -'Drink, my man,' said he, proffering his water-bottle, 'and then I -shall.' - -'Oh, may God bless you, sir,' murmured the poor infantry lad -fervently, as he drank, and returned the bottle with a salute. - -Gakdul--hemmed in by lofty and stupendous precipices of bare -rock--was reached on the 12th January, when, amid cheers and -rejoicings, a plentiful supply of water was obtained, after which -preparations were made for the march to Metemneh, where it was known -that thousands were gathering to bar our way to Khartoum. Yet -Stewart's total strength was only 1,607 men of all ranks, encumbered -by 304 camp followers, and 2,380 camels and horses. The halt of two -days at Gakdul did wonders in restoring the energies of men and -cattle. - -There Malcolm Skene's knowledge of Arabic was frequently in -requisition. As yet the leaders of this advanced column were utterly -without any trustworthy intelligence as to the movements of the -Mahdi's army, for bands of prowling robbers and the Bedouins of the -Sheikh Moussa infested every route in front and rear, keeping -carefully out of sight by day-time, but swooping down on the camping -grounds by night in the hope of finding abandoned spoil--perhaps sick -or wounded men to torture and slay. - -Sir Herbert Stewart arrived on the 16th of January within a few miles -of the now famous wells of Abu Klea, after a waterless march of -forty-three miles from those of El Faar, and already even the poor -camels had become so reduced in physique that as many as thirty -dropped down to die in one day; but the troops reached a line of -black sandstone ridges lying westward of Abu Klea, and a squadron of -Hussars, whose horses were suffering most severely from want of -water, cantered forward to inspect the country, and Malcolm Skene -rode with them. - -At mid-day they found the enemy in a valley, where long and reedy -grass was waving in the hot breeze--a place studded by several -camel-thorns and acacias. The Arab centre occupied a long and gentle -slope, like the glacis of an earthwork. - -Led by a Sheikh, about 200 mounted men advanced resolutely and in -tolerable order, opening fire with their Remingtons on the Hussars. - -In their leader, Malcolm, through his field-glass, recognised the -Sheikh Moussa Abu Hagil, who alone of all his band wore a suit of -that mail armour of the Middle Ages, which is thus described by -Colonel Colborne, who says 'it was in the Soudan' he first saw it, to -his amazement: 'Whether original or a copy of it, it was undoubtedly -the dress of the Crusaders. The hauberk was fastened round the body -by the belt, and formed a complete covering from head to foot. The -long and double-edged sword was worn between the leg and saddle.' - -Moussa wore a flat-topped helmet with a plume, and tippet of Darfour -mail; his horse's head was cased in steel, and covered by a quilt -thick enough to turn a spear; but, save their bodies, which were clad -in Mahdi shirts, his followers were naked--with their dark, -bronze-like legs and arms bare. - -Under their fire the reconnoitring force of Hussars fell back, an -operation viewed by Sir Herbert Stewart and his staff from the summit -of a lofty hill composed entirely of black and shining rock, from -whence he could see the whole country for miles, and from where he -ordered a general advance. - -By difficult defiles, and in serious distress owing to the want of -water, the troops advanced in steady and splendid order, the line -being led by the Brigade Major, David, Earl of Airlie, of the 10th -Hussars--one of a grand old historic race--round whose Castle of -Cortachy a spectre drummer is said to beat when fate is nigh--and he -had brought the whole into the valley by half-past two o'clock; then -Sir Herbert, having ascertained from Skene's report that the wells of -Abu Klea were too far in rear of the Arab position to be accessible -that night, resolved to fortify the ground he occupied, a ridge -rising gently from the Wady, but broken before it reached the hills, -while close in rear of it was a grassy hollow, wherein the baggage -animals were picketed. - -Hasty parapets of stones, gathered from the ground whereon the troops -lay, were constructed along the front of the position, flanked by -_abattis_ of thorny mimosa, while the great hill of black rock -referred to was occupied by a party of signallers, who built thereon -a redoubt; while a mile in its rear, on the brow of a precipice, -another fortlet was formed as a rallying point in case of a reverse. - -With his staff and a few Hussars Sir Herbert now rode to the front, -and saw, as the ruddy sun began to set and cast long shadows over the -swelling uplands of the scenery, the enemy in their thousands taking -possession of a lofty hill sixteen hundred paces distant on his -right--a position from whence they could completely enfilade his -lines. Thus ere darkness fell they secured the range, and from that -time no one could reckon on twenty minutes' sound sleep. - -Prior to that a couple of shells were thrown among them, exploding -with brilliant glares and loud crashes, on which they retired a -little or sank down, leaving two great white banners floating out -against the starry sky-line. - -All night long they 'potted' away with their Remingtons, keeping up a -desultory, but most harassing, fire, their long range and trajectory -placing every point in danger, and some of their bullets fell -whizzing downwards through the air upon the sleepers. - -Many men were wounded, and many camels, too, and all night long, -while their rifle shots flashed redly out of the darkness, they -maintained a horrible din on their one-headed war drums, making the -hours hideous. - -All through the dark and moonless night these savage sounds rose and -swelled upon the dewy air, and formed a fitting accompaniment to the -wail of their pestering bullets as they swept over the silent British -bivouac. - - - - -CHAPTER LII. - -THE PRESENTIMENT FULFILLED. - -So passed the night. - -On the morning of the 17th of January, early, and without blast of -bugle or beat of drum, a frugal breakfast--the last meal that many -were to have in this world--was served round, and had been barely -partaken of, when the Arab skirmishers came swarming over the low -hills on our right flank, and opened fire with their Remingtons at -eleven hundred yards' range. - -With a succession of dreadful crashes, our shrapnel shell exploded -among them, tearing many to pieces and putting the rest to flight; -and after more than one attempt to lure the enemy from their position -had failed, at 7 a.m. Sir Herbert Stewart began his preparations to -advance, and drive them from the wells of Abu Klea. - -Meanwhile the army of the Mahdi had been continually appearing and -disappearing in front, their many-coloured pennons streaming out on -the passing breeze, their long sword-blades and spear-heads flashing -brightly in the red rays of the uprising sun, while the thunder of -their battle-drums and their savage wild cries loaded the morning air. - -Five ranks deep, four thousand of them deployed in irregular lines -along a hollow in our front, led by mounted sheikhs and dervishes, -clad in richly-embroidered Mahdi camises, and posted at intervals of -twenty-five yards apart--conspicuous among them Moussa Abu Hagil, in -his Darfour shirt of mail. - -They were posted on strong ground westward of the wells, which our -soldiers, sorely athirst, were full of anxiety to reach; and as the -camels were mostly to be left in the rear, they were knee-haltered, -and their stores and saddles used to strengthen the parapets of the -detached fortlets. - -In the fighting square which now advanced were only one hundred -camels for carrying litters, stores, water, and spare ammunition. - -The Heavies on this eventful morning were led by Colonel Talbot; the -Guards by Colonel Boscawen; the gallant Barrow led the Mounted -Infantry, and Lord Beresford the slender Naval Brigade. - -Men were being knocked over now on every hand, and among the first -who fell was Lord St. Vincent, of the 17th Lancers, who received a -wound that proved mortal. Under Barrow the Mounted Infantry went -darting forward, and the Arab skirmishers fell back before them, -vanishing into the long wavy grass from amid which the smoke of their -rifles spirted up. Skene had the spike of his helmet carried away by -one ball; his bridle hand sharply grazed by another, but he bound his -handkerchief about the wound and rode on. - -By this time nearly an hour had elapsed since the zereba and its -fortlets had been left in the rear, and only two miles of ground had -been covered, and all the while our troops had been under a fire from -the sable warriors on the hill slopes. - -'Halt!' was now sounded by the bugles, and the faces of the square -were redressed and post was to be taken on a slope, which the enemy -would have to ascend when attacking. - -Their total strength was now estimated at 14,000 men! - -Our dead men were left where they fell; but frequent were the halts -for picking up the wounded. Yet steady as if on parade in a home -barrack square, our little band advanced, over stony crests, through -dry water-courses, like some hugh machine, compact and slow, firm and -regular, amid the storm of bullets poured into it from the front, -from the flanks, and eventually from the rear. - -At first the enemy swarmed in dark masses all along our front, and -for two or three miles on either flank groups of their horsemen, with -floating garments and glittering spears, could be seen watching the -advance of the hollow square from black peaks of splintered rock. -'There was no avenue of retreat now for us,' wrote one, 'and no one -thought of such a thing. "Let us do or die!" (in the words of -Bruce's war song) was the emotion of all; and Colonel Barrow, C.B., -with his "handful" of Hussars, became engaged about the same time as -the square.' - -He maintained a carbine fire, while General Stewart, with his -personal staff, including Major Wardrop, the Earl of Airlie, and -Captains Skene and Rhodes, galloped from point to point, keeping all -in readiness to repulse a sudden charge; but, with all their bravery, -it was a trial for our Heavy Dragoons to march on foot and fight with -infantry rifles and bayonets--weapons to which they were totally -unaccustomed. - -The keen, yet dreamy sense of imminent peril--the chances of sudden -death, with the spasmodic tightness of the chest that emotion -sometimes causes, had passed from Malcolm Skene now completely; he -'felt cool as a cucumber,' yet instinct with the fierce desire to -close with, to grapple, and to spur among the enemy _sabre à la -main_; and he forgot even the smarting of his wounded bridle hand as -the troops moved onward. - -A few minutes after ten o'clock, when the leading face of the square -had won the crest of a gentle slope on the other side of a hollow, a -column of the enemy, about 5,000 strong, was seen echeloned in two -long lines on the left, or opposite that face which was formed by the -mounted infantry and heavy cavalry, and looking as if they meant to -come on now. - -They were still marshalled, as stated, by sheikhs and dervishes on -horseback, and, with all their banners rustling in the wind, the -battle-drums thundering, and their shrill cries of 'Allah! Allah!' -loading the air, they advanced quickly, brandishing their flashing -spears and two-handed swords. Abu Saleh, Ameer of Metemneh, led the -right; Moussa Abu Hagil led the centre; and Mahommed Khuz, Ameer of -Berber, who had soon to retire wounded, led the left, and our -skirmishers came racing towards the square. - -Strange to say, our fire as yet seemed to have little effect upon the -foe; very few were falling, and the untouched began to believe that -the spells of Osman Digna and the promises of the Mahdi had rendered -their bodies shot-proof; and when within three hundred yards of the -square they began to rush over the undulating ground like a vast wave -of black surf. Now the Gardner gun was brought into action; but when -most required, and at a moment full of peril, the wretched Government -ammunition failed to act--the cartridges stuck ere the third round -was fired; the human waves of Arabs came rolling down upon the -square, leaping and yelling over their dead and wounded, never -reeling nor wavering under the close sheets of lead that tore through -them now. - -Like fiends let loose they came surging and swooping on, their -burnished weapons flashing, and their black brawny forms standing -boldly out in the glow of the sunshine, unchecked by the hailstorm of -bullets, spearing the horsemen around the useless Gardner gun, and -fighting hand to hand, Abu Saleh and the Sheikh Moussa leading them -on, and then it was that the gallant Colonel Burnaby, of the Blues, -fell like the hero he was. - -The wild and high desire to do something that might win him a name, -and make, perhaps, Hester Maule proud of him, welled up in the heart -of Malcolm Skene, even at that terrible crisis, and he spurred his -horse forward a few paces, just as Burnaby had done, to succour some -of the skirmishers, who, borne back by the Arab charge, had failed to -reach the protection of the square, which was formed in the grand old -British fashion, shoulder to shoulder like a living wall. - -By one trenchant, back-handed stroke of his sword, he nearly swept -the head off the yelling Arab, thereby saving from the latter's spear -a Foot Guardsman, who had stumbled ere he could reach the square; but -now Skene was furiously charged by another, who bore the standard of -Sheikh Moussa. - -Grasping his spear by his bridle hand, he ran his sword fairly -through the Arab, who fell backward in a heap over his horse's -crupper, and then Skene tore from his dying grip the banner, which -was of green silk--the holy colour--edged with red, and bore a verse -of the Koran in gold (for it was a gift from the Mahdi), and, -regaining the shelter of the square, threw his trophy at the foot of -the General. - -'This shall go to the Queen--in your name, Captain Skene!' said the -latter. - -'The Queen--no, sir--but to a girl in Scotland, I hope, whether I -live or not!' replied Malcolm. - -It was sent to the Queen at Windsor eventually, however, for Malcolm, -now, when the square, recoiling before the dreadful rush, had receded -about a hundred yards, and the Arabs were charging our men breast -high, and the Heavies, instead of remaining steady as infantry would -have done, true to their cavalry instincts were springing forward to -close with the foe, once more dashed to the front in headlong -fashion, and found himself beyond the face of the square, opposed to -a tribe of Ghazis, who were brandishing their spears, hurling -javelins, and hewing right and left with their two-handed swords--all -swarthy negroes from Kordofan, and copper-coloured Arabs of the -Bayuda Desert with long, straight, floating hair. - -Heedless of death--nay, rather courting it as the path to -paradise--with weapons levelled or uplifted, they came forward, with -blood pouring from their bullet wounds in many instances, some -staggering under these till they dropped and died within five paces -of the square, while the others rushed on, and the fight became hand -to hand, the bayonet meeting the Arab spear. On our side there was -not much shouting as yet, only a brief cry, an oath, or a short -exclamation of prayer or agony as a soldier fell down in his place, -and all the valour of the Heavies became unavailing, when their -formation was broken, when the foe mingled with them, and they were -driven back upon the Naval Brigade, with its still useless Gardner -gun, upon the right of the Sussex Regiment, which strove to close up -the gap. - -Then it was that Skene found himself opposed to Moussa Abu Hagil, -whose horse had been shot under him, and who, half-blinded by his own -blood streaming from a bullet-wound from which his Darfour helmet -failed to save him, fought like a wild animal, slashing about with -his double-edged sword, which broke in his hand, and then using his -spear. - -Dashing at Skene with a demoniac yell, he levelled the long blade of -the weapon at his throat. Parrying the thrust by a circular sweep of -his sword, Skene checked his horse and reined it backwards; but the -length of Skeikh Moussa's spear, nearly ten feet, put it out of his -power to return with proper interest the fury of the attack. Twice -at least his sword touched the Arab, thus making him, if more wary, -all the more eager and fierce, and there was a grim and defiant smile -on Skene's face as he fenced with Moussa and parried his thrusts; but -now he was attacked by others when scarcely his horse's length from -the face of the square. - -One wounded him in the right shoulder; Skene turned in his saddle and -clove him down. At that moment a soldier--the young lad of the 2nd -Sussex to whom he gave his water-bottle at the well of Abu Haifa--ran -from the ranks and attacked another assailant of Skene, but perished -under twenty spears, and ere the latter could deliver one blow again, -he was dragged from his saddle, covered with wounds in the neck and -face--ghastly wounds from which the blood was streaming--'each a -death to nature,' and literally hewn to pieces. - -So thus, eventually, was his strange presentiment fulfilled! - -Meanwhile the Ghazis had forced their way so far into the square that -one was actually slain in the act of firing the battery ammunition. -Despite the great efforts of a gallant Captain Verner and others, -'the Heavies were being massacred; and after the fall of Burnaby, -whom Sir William Cumming, of the Scots Guards, tried to save, Verner -was beaten down, but his life (it is recorded) was saved by Major -Carmichael, of the Irish Lancers, whose dead body fell across him, as -well as those of three Ghazis.' - -The Earl of Airlie and Lord Beresford, fighting sword in hand, were -both wounded, and so furious was the inrush of the Arabs, that many -of them reached the heart of the square, where they slew the maimed -and dying in the litters, and rushed hither and thither, with shrill -yells, streaming hair, and flashing eyes, until they were all shot -down or bayoneted to death. - -Fighting for life and vengeance, and half maddened to find that their -cartridges jammed hard and fast after the third shot, our -soldiers--in some instances placed back to back--fought on the summit -of a mound surrounded by thousands upon thousands of dark-skinned -spearmen and swordsmen, hurling their strength on what were -originally the left and rear faces of the square, till, with all its -defects, our fire became so deadly and withering, that they began to -waver, recoil, and eventually fly, while the triumphant cheers of our -men rent the welkin. - -Away went the Arabs streaming in full flight towards Berber, -Metemneh, and the road to Khartoum, followed by Barrow and his -Hussars cutting them down like ripened grain, and followed, to the -screaming, plunging, and crashing fire of the screw guns which now -came into action and pursuit with shot and shell. - -So the field and the walls of Abu Klea were won, but dearly, as we -had 135 other ranks killed, and above 200 wounded, including camel -drivers and other camp followers. - -The former were buried by the men of the 19th Hussars. Earth to -earth--dust to dust--ashes to ashes; three carbine volleys rang above -them in farewell, and all was over; while the native slain were left -in their thousands to the birds of the air. - -The column reached the city of Abu Klea in the evening, and then, -parched and choked with thirst after the heat and toil and fierce -excitement of the past night and day, all enjoyed the supreme luxury -of the cold water from the fifty springs or more that bubbled in the -Wady. Round these, men, horses, and camels gathered to quench their -thirst, that amounted to agony, by deep and repeated draughts, while -fires were lighted and a meal prepared. - -Next followed the battle of Gubat and the futile expedition of Sir -Charles Wilson, both of which are somewhat apart from our story. - -The death of Colonel Burnaby, of the Blues, created a profound -sensation in London society, where he was a great favourite; but -there were many more than he to sorrow for. - -Skene's fall made a deep impression among the Staffordshire, as he -was greatly beloved by the soldiers. - -'Poor Malcolm--killed at last!' said Roland, when the tidings came up -the river to the bivouac at Hamdab. He should never see his brown, -dark eyes again; feel the firm clasp of his friendly hand, or hear -his cheery voice say--'Well, Roland--old fellow!' - -'But it may be my turn next,' thought he. - -'Poor Malcolm!' said Jack Elliot; 'I have known him nurse the sick, -bury the dead, sit for hours playing with a soldier's ailing child, -and once he swam a mile and more to save a poor dog from drowning. - -And as he spoke, sometimes a tearless sob shook Elliot's sturdy -frame, and Roland knew that with his friend Malcolm - - 'All was ended now--the hope, the fear, and the sorrow; - All the aching of the heart, the restless, unsatisfied longing; - All the dull, deep pain and constant anguish of patience-- - His love and his life had ended together!' - - - - -CHAPTER LIII - -A HOMEWARD GLANCE. - -The action of one human being on another, by subtle means, it has -been said, is as effective as the action of light on the air: that -under the influence of Hawkey Sharpe and certain new circumstances, -Annot Drummond had visibly deteriorated already. - -Her high-flown ideas and undoubtedly better breeding had caused her -to experience many a shock when in the daily and hourly society of -her husband, with all his vulgar and horsey ways, and he was -certainly far below that young lady's high-pitched expectations and -her love of externals. - -Her life at Earlshaugh had at first been getting quite like a story, -she thought, and a perplexingly interesting story, too, with the high -game she had to play for--a game in manoeuvres worthy of Machiavelli -himself. - -Annot, we know, was not tall; but her slight figure was prettily -rounded. She carried herself well, though too quick and impulsive in -her movements for real dignity, and as Maude had said, she never -could conceive her at the head of a household, or taking a place in -society. Now, as the wife of 'a cad' like Hawkey Sharpe, the latter -was not to be thought of. - -Her pretty ways and glittering golden hair, which had misled better -men than the wretched Sharpe, were palling even upon him, now; and -her studied artlessness had given place to a bearing born of vanity -and her own success and ambition, the sequel of which she was yet to -learn, but withal she was not yet lady of Earlshaugh. But, as a -writer says of a similar character, 'a self-love, that demon who -besets alike the learned philosopher with his own pet theories; the -statesman with his pet political hobbies; the man of wealth with his -own aggrandisement; and the man of toil with his own pet -prejudices--that insidious demon had entire hold now of this silly -little girl's heart, and closed it to anything higher.' - -Married now, and safe in position as she thought herself, Annot was -no longer the coaxing and cooing little creature she had been to -Hawkey Sharpe; and rough and selfish though he was, a flash of her -eyes, or a curl of her lip cowed him at times. She treated him as -one for whom she was bound to entertain a certain amount of marital -affection, but no respect whatever, and when she contrasted him with -Roland Lindsay and other men she had known, even poor, weak Bob -Hoyle, her manner became one of contempt and, occasionally, disgust. - -But she had preferred the _couleur d'or_ to the _couleur de rose_ in -matrimony, and had now, as Hawkey said, 'to ride the ford as she -found it.' - -'Men like Roland,' said Annot to Mrs. Lindsay when discussing her -whilom lover, 'especially military men, see a good deal of life, and -experience teaches them how passing a love affair may be.' - -'You mean----' began Mrs. Lindsay, scarcely knowing what to say. - -'I mean that he must have played with fire pretty often,' said Annot, -laughing, but not pleasantly, 'and will forget me as he must have -forgotten others. I suppose our likes and dislikes in this world are -based upon the point that somebody likes or dislikes ourselves.' - -Hawkey Sharpe's debts and demands since his marriage had exhausted -the patience if not quite the finances of his sister: and now the -bill, erewhile referred to--the racing debt--was falling inexorably -due, and how to meet it, or be stigmatised as a 'welsher' on every -course in the country, became a source of some anxiety to that -gentleman. - -To meet his other requirements, all the fine timber in the King's -Wood was gone--a clean sweep had been made from King James's Thorn to -the Joug Tree, that bears an iron collar, in which for centuries the -offenders on the domains of Earlshaugh had suffered durance, and the -once finely foliaged hill now looked bare and strange; and for angry -remarks thereat, Willie Wardlaw, the gardener, and Gavin Fowler, the -head gamekeeper, aged dependants on the house of Earlshaugh, as their -fathers had been before them, had been summarily dismissed by Mr. -Hawkey Sharpe. - -A well-known firm of shipbuilders on the Clyde had offered for the -wood, and to the former the most attractive part of the transaction, -in addition to the good price, was the fact that the money was paid -down at once but it was far from satisfying the wants of Mr. Hawkey -Sharpe. - -'You know I disliked having that timber sold--that I hated the mere -thought of having it cut!' said Deborah to him reproachfully, as she -looked from the window into the sunshine. - -'Why?' he asked sulkily; 'what the devil was the use of it?' - -'It was the favourite feature in the landscape----' - -'Of whom?' - -'My dead husband.' - -'Bosh!' exclaimed Hawkey, who thought this was (what, to do her -justice, it was not) 'twaddle.' - -They were together in his sanctum, or 'den,' which passed -occasionally as his office; though the table, like the mantelpiece, -was strewed with pipes, their ashes were everywhere, and the air was -generally redolent of somewhat coarse tobacco smoke. - -Having a favour to ask, he had, in his own fashion, been screwing his -courage to the sticking-point. - -'You have been imbibing--drinking again?' said his pale sister, -eyeing him contemptuously with her cold, glittering stare. - -'"I take a little wine for my stomach's sake and other infirmities," -as we find in 1st Timothy,' said he with a twinkle in his shifty eyes. - -'The devil can quote Scripture, so well may you.' - -'That is severe, Deb,' said he, filling his pipe. - -'Come to the point.' - -'Well, Deb, dear, would it be convenient to you to--to lend me a -couple of thousand pounds for a few weeks? I have hinted of this -from time to time.' - -'Two thousand pounds! Not only inconvenient, but impossible,' said -she, twisting her rings about in nervous anger. - -'Why, Deb?' - -'I have not even a fifty-pound note in the house.' - -'But plenty lying idle at your banker's.' - -'Not the sum you seek to borrow just now. Borrow! Why not be -candid, and ask for it out and out? Two thousand----' - -'I must have the money, I tell you,' he said, with sudden temper, -'or--or----' - -'What?' - -'Be disgraced--that is all,' he replied, sullenly lighting his huge -briar-root. - -'Well, you must find it without my aid,' said she, coldly and -sullenly too. - -'Could you not raise it on some of your useless jewels? Come, now, -dear old Deb, don't be too hard upon a fellow.' - -Anger made her pale cheek suffuse at this cool suggestion, and she -became very much agitated. - -'Now, don't cut up this way. It is your heart again, of course; but -keep quiet, and let nothing trouble you,' said he, puffing -vigorously. 'You have a lot of the Lindsay jewels that are too -old-fashioned for even you to wear.' - -'But not to bequeath.' - -'To Annot?' said he, brightening a little. - -'I am sick of you and your Annot,' exclaimed Mrs. Lindsay, now all -aflame with anger, and trembling violently. - -'Sorry to hear it,' said he, somewhat mockingly. 'We have not yet -quite got over our spooning.' - -'Don't use that horrid, vulgar phrase, Hawkey.' - -'Vulgar! How?' - -'One no doubt derived from the gipsies, when two used one horn spoon. -Annot, with all her apparent amiable imbecility, is a remarkably -acute young woman.' - -'She is--and does credit to my taste, Deb.' - -'One whom it is impossible to dislike, I admit.' - -'Of course.' - -'And also quite impossible to love.' - -'Oh, come now, poor Annot!' said Hawkey, with a kind of mock -deprecation; and then to gain favour he said, 'I do wish, dear Deb, -that you would see the doctor again--about yourself.' - -'I have seen him; the old story, he can do nothing but order me to -avoid all agitation, yet you have not given me much chance of that -lately.' - -'But just once again, Deb--about this money----' - -'Another word on the subject and we part for ever!' she exclaimed, -and giving him a glance--stony as the stare of Medusa--one such as he -had never before seen in her small, keen, and steely-gray eyes, she -flung away and left him. - -He gnashed his teeth, smashed his pipe on the floor, then lit a huge -regalia to soothe his susceptibilities, and thought about _how_ the -money was to be raised. He knew his sister had thousands idle in the -bank, and have it he should at all hazards! - -He had meant, too, if successful, and he found her pliable, to have -spoken to her again about making her will; but certainly the present -did not seem a favourable occasion to do so. - -'Deb will be getting her palpitation of the heart, nervous attacks, -low spirits, and the devil only knows all what more, on the head of -this!' he muttered with a malediction. - -Hawkey had watched her retire through the deep old doorway (under the -lintel of which tall Cardinal Beatoun had whilom stooped his head) -and disappear along the stately corridor beyond. Then he dropped -into an easy-chair--stirred the fire restlessly and impatiently, and -drained his glass, only to refill it--his face the while fraught with -rage and mischief. - -He drew a letter or two from a drawer--they were from his sister--and -he proceeded to study her signature with much artistic acumen and -curiosity. - -'Needs must when the devil drives!' said he, grinding his teeth and -biting his spiky nails; 'I have done it--and that she'll know in -time!' - -Done what? - -That the reader will know in time too. - - - - -CHAPTER LIV. - -THE LONG-SUSPENDED SWORD. - -Sorrow is said to make people sometimes, to a certain extent, -selfish; thus sorrow in her own little secluded home was, ere long, -to render Hester, for a space at least, less thoughtful of the grief -which affected her cousin Maude. - -Hester was somewhat changed, and knew within herself that it was so. - -She found that her daily thoughts ran more anxiously and tenderly -upon her father, and about his fast-failing health, than on any other -subject now. - -She lost even a naturally feminine interest in her own beauty. Who -was there to care for it? she thought. - -So on Sundays she sat in her pew, in the kirk on the wooded hill, and -there listened to the preacher's voice blending with the rustle of -the trees and the cawing of the rooks in the ruined fane close by; -but with an emotion in her heart never known before--that of feeling -that ere long she would have a greater need of some one to lean -on--of something to cling to in the coming loneliness that her heart -foreboded to be near now. - -At last there came a day she was never to forget--a day that told her -desolation was at hand. - -Seated in his Singapore chair at breakfast one morning, her father -suddenly grew deadly pale; a spasm convulsed his features; his -coffee-cup fell from his nerveless hand; and he gazed at her with all -the terror and anguish in his eyes which he saw in her own. - -'Papa--papa!' she exclaimed, and sprang to his side. He gazed at her -wildly, vacantly, and muttered something about 'the Jhansi bullet.' -Then she heard him distinctly articulate her name. - -'Hester--my own darling--you here?' he said, with an effort; 'how -sweet you look in that white robe. I always loved you in it, dear.' - -'My dress is rose-coloured--a morning wrapper, papa,' said Hester, as -the little hope that gathered in her heart passed away. - -'So white--so pure--just like your marriage-dress, Hester! But you -wore it the first day I saw you, long ago--long ago--at Earlshaugh, -when you stood in the Red Drawing-room--and gave me a bouquet of -violets from your breast. My own Hester!' - -'Oh, papa--papa!' moaned the poor girl in dire distress, for she knew -he spoke not of her but of her mother, who had reposed for years -under the trees in the old kirkyard on the hill; and a choking sob of -dismay escaped her. - -It was a stroke of paralysis that had fallen upon the Indian veteran, -and he was borne to his bed, which he never left alive. - -Hour after hour did Maude hang over him, listening to his fevered -breathing, and futile moanings, which no medical skill could repress -or soothe; and the long day, and the terrible night--every minute -seemed an age--passed on, and still the pallid girl watched there in -the hopeless agony of looking for death and not for life. - -That long night--one of the earliest of winter--was at last on its -way towards morning. - -All was still in the glen of the Esk save the murmur of the mountain -stream and the rustle of the leaves in the shrubberies without, and -there was a strange loneliness, a solemnity, in Hester's mind as she -thought of Merlwood in its solitariness, with death and life, time -and eternity, so nigh each other under its roof; and the ceaseless -ticking of an antique clock in the hall fell like strokes of thunder -on her brain, till she stopped it, lest the sound might disturb the -invalid. - -And in that time of supreme anxiety and sorrow the lonely girl -thought of her only kinsman, Roland Lindsay--the friend of her -childhood and early girlhood--the merry, handsome, dark-haired -fellow, who taught her to ride and row and fish, and whom she loved -still with a soft yet passionate affection, that was strong as in the -old days, for all that had come and gone between them. - -Would he ever return--return to her and be as he had been -before--before Annot Drummond came? - -Another and a fatal stroke came speedily and mercifully; the -long-suspended sword had fallen at last, and the old soldier was -summoned to his last home! - - -A few days after saw Hester prostrate in her own bed and in the hands -of the doctors, her rich dark-brown hair shorn short from her -throbbing temples, feverish and faint, with dim eyes and pallid lips -that murmured unconsciously of past times, of the distant and the -dead--of her parents, of camps and cantonments far away; of little -brothers and sisters who were in heaven; of green meadows, of garden -flowers and summer evenings, when she and Roland had rambled -together; and then of Egypt and the war in the deserts by the Nile. - -After a time, when the early days of February came, when the -mellow-voiced merle and the speckle-breasted mavis were heard in the -woods by the Esk; when the silver-edged gowans starred the grassy -banks, and the newly-dug earth gave forth a refreshing odour, and -everywhere there were pleasant and hopeful signs that the dreary -reign of winter was nearly over, Hester became conscious of her -surroundings, but at first only partially so. - -'Maude,' said she, in a weak voice to a watcher, 'dear Maude--are you -there?' - -'Yes,' replied the cousin, drawing the sick girl's head upon her -bosom. 'Oh, Hester--my poor darling, how ill you have been!' - -'Ill--I ill? I thought it was papa,' she said, with dilated eyes. -'Is he well now?' - -'Yes,' replied Maude, in a choking voice, 'well--very well; but drink -this, dearest.' - -'Where is papa--can I see him? Will you or the doctor take me to -him?' - -'He is not here,' began the perplexed Maude. - -'Not here; where then?' - -'You must wait, Hester, till you are well and strong--well and -strong; you must not speak or think--but eat.' - -Then a feeble smile that made Maude's tender heart ache stole over -Hester's pale face. - -'Where _is_ papa?' the latter exclaimed suddenly, with a shrill ring -of hysterics in her voice. 'Ah--I know--I remember now,' she added, -with a smile, 'he is dead--dead!' - -'Born again, rather say, my darling,' whispered poor Maude, choked -with tears, as she nestled Hester's face in her neck. - -'Dead--dead; and I am alone in the world!' moaned Hester, as a hot -shower of tears relieved her, and she turned her face to the wall, -while convulsive sobs shook her shoulders. - -In time she was able to leave her bed--to feel herself well, if -weak--deplorably weak, and knew that she had resolutely and -inexorably to face the world of life. - -A pile of letters occupied her, luckily, for a time--letters that -were sad if soothing--all full of sympathy, tenderness, and sincere -regret, profound esteem, and so forth, for the brave old man who was -gone; even there was one from Annot, but none from Roland or Jack. - -Where were they? Far away, alas! where postal arrangements were -vague and most uncertain. - -We have said that Hester had the world to face. Her father's pay and -pension died with him, and suddenly the girl was all but penniless. -Her father had been unable to put away any money for her. People -thought he might and ought to have managed better; but so it was. - -Sir Henry's Indian relics, his treasured household gods, such as the -tulwar of the Amazonian Ranee of Jhansi, who fought and died as a -trooper when Tantia Topee strove to save the lost cause, all of which -had to Hester a halo of love and superstition of the heart about -them, were brought to the auctioneer's hammer inexorably, and with -the money realised therefrom she thought to look about for some such -situation or employment as might become one in her unfortunate -position. - -As the relics went, her conscience smote her now, for the -recollection of how often she had grown weary over the oft repeated -Indian reminiscences of the poor old man, who lived in the past quite -as much, if not more, than in the present. What would she not give -to hear his voice once again! And she remembered now how fond he was -of quoting the words of 'The Ancient Brahmin': - -'Happy is he who endeth the business of his life before his death.... -Avoid not death, for it is a weakness; fear it not, for thou -understandest not what it is; all thou certainly knowest is, that it -putteth an end to thy sorrows. Think not the longest life the -happiest; that which is best employed doth the man most honour, and -himself shall rejoice after death in the advantages of it.' - -Like other girls who are imaginative and impressionable, she had -built her _châteaux en Espagne_, innocent edifices enough, and -romantic too, but now they had crumbled away, leaving not one stone -upon another. Her future seemed fixed irrevocably; no idle dreams -could be there, but a life that would, too probably, be blank and -dreary even unto the end. - -We cannot be in the world and grieve at all times; but yet one may -feel a sorrow for ever. - -'I shall go and earn my living, Maude--be a governess, or something,' -she said, as her plans began to mature. 'It cannot be difficult to -teach little children; though I always hated my own lessons, I know, -even when helped by--Roland.' - -'Nonsense, Hester!' exclaimed Maude; 'you shall live with me and--and -Jack, if he ever returns, and all is well. You are too pretty to be -a governess; no wise matron would have you.' - -'Why?' - -'Because all the grown sons and brothers would be falling in love -with you. So you must stay with me.' - -But Hester was resolute. - -To the many letters of the former--letters agonising in -tenor--addressed to Jack Elliot and to her brother Roland, no answer -ever came, while weeks became months; for many difficulties just then -attended the correspondence of the troops that were on the arduous -expedition for the relief of Khartoum. - -Thus, amid all the sorrows of Hester, how keen and great was the -anxiety of Maude! - -Jack, her husband--if he _was_ her husband--was now face to face with -the enemy--those terrible Soudanese--and might perish in the field, -by drowning, or by fever, before she could ever have elucidated the -mystery, the cloud, the horrible barrier that had come between them. - -At times the emotions that shook the tender form of Maude were -terrible, since the night of that woman's visit, when the iron seemed -to enter her soul; and there descended upon her a darkness through -which there had come no gleam of light. - -The past and the future seemed all absorbed in the blank misery of -the present, and as if her life was to be one career of abiding -shame, emptiness, and misery, as a dishonoured wife--if wife she was -at all! - -Hawkey Sharpe had inflicted the revengeful blow; the woman, his -degraded tool, had disappeared, and her story remained undisproved as -yet. Jack, as we have said, might perish in Egypt, and the truth or -the falsehood of that odious story would then be buried in his grave! - -The pretty villa near the Grange Loan--the wood-shaded Loan that led -of old to St. Giles's Grange--she now went near no more; it was -torture to go back there--her home it never could be. Turn which way -she would, her haggard eyes rested on some reminder of Jack's love or -his presence there--their mutual household Lares: her piano, Jack's -carefully selected gift; the music on the stand, chosen by him, and -with his name and 'love' inscribed to her, just as she had left it; -books, statuettes--pretty nothings, alas! - -Her mind now pointed to no definite course; she felt like a -rudderless ship drifting through dark and stormy waters before a -cruel blast; in all, her being there was no distinct resolution as -yet what to do or whither to turn. - -Yet, calm as she seemed outwardly, there was in her tortured heart a -passionate longing for peace, and peace meant, perhaps, death! - -And all this undeserved agony was but the result of a most artful but -pitiful and vulgar vengeance! - -Whether born of thoughts caused by recent stirring news from the seat -of war, we know not; but one night Hester woke from a dream of -Roland--after a feverish and sleep-haunted doze--haunted as if by the -spiritual presence of one who--bodily, at least--was far away. - -Waking with a start, she heard a familiar and firm step upon the -staircase, and then a door opened--the door of that room which Roland -had always occupied when at Merlwood. - -'Roland--Roland!' she cried in terror, and then roused Maude. - -There was, of course, no response, but a sound seemed to pass into -that identical room; she fancied she heard steps--his familiar steps -moving about, but as if he trod softly--cautiously. - -Terror seized her, and her heart seemed to die within her breast. - -She sprang from bed, clasped Maude's hand, and went softly, -mechanically to the room. It was empty, and the cold light of the -waning moon flooded it from end to end, making it seem alike lone and -ghostly. - -Her imagination had played her false; but she was painfully haunted -by the memory of that dream and the palpable sounds that, after -waking, had followed it; and hourly, in her true spirit of Scottish -superstition, expected to hear of fatal tidings from the seat of -war--like her who, of old, had watched by the Weird Yett of -Earlshaugh. - -Like poor Malcolm Skene was she, too, to have her presentiment--her -prevision of sorrow to come? - -It almost seemed so. - -But her thoughts now clung persistently to the hero of her girlish -days; he had behaved faithlessly, uncertainly to her, she thought; -yet, perhaps, he might come back to her some day, if God spared him, -and then he would find the old and tender love awaiting him still. - -Yet Roland might come home and marry _someone else_! No man, she had -heard, went through life remembering and regretting one woman for -ever. Was it indeed so? - -But after the night of her strange dream the morning papers contained -the brief, yet terrible, telegram stating that a battle had been -fought at a place called Kirbekan, by General Earle's column (of -which the Staffordshire formed a part), but that no details thereof -had come to hand. - -The recent calamity she had undergone rendered Hester's heart -apprehensive that she might soon have to undergo another. - -And ere the lengthened news of the battle did come, she and Maude had -left Edinburgh, as they anticipated, perhaps for ever. - - - - -CHAPTER LV. - -WITH GENERAL EARLE's COLUMN. - -While the column of Brigadier Sir Herbert Stewart was toiling amid -thirst and other sufferings across the vast waste of the Bayuda -Desert, and gaining the well-fought battles of Abu Klea and Abu Kru, -the column of Brigadier Earle had gone by boats up the Nile to avenge -the cruel assassination of Gordon's comrade and coadjutor, Colonel -Donald Stewart, on Suliman Wad Gamr and the somewhat ubiquitous -Moussa Abu Hagil with all their people. - -The succession of cataracts rendered the General's progress very -slow; thus the 4th of January found his advanced force, the gallant -South Staffordshire, only encamped at Hamdab, as we have stated a few -chapters back. - -Suliman, on being joined by Moussa a few days after Abu Klea, had -fallen back from Berti, thus rendering it necessary for General Earle -to push on in pursuit, through a rocky, broken, and savage country, -bad for all military operations, and altogether impracticable for -cavalry. - -On the river the Rahami cataract proved one of great danger and -difficulty, and severe indeed was the labour of getting up the boats. -There the bed of Old Nile is broken up by black and splintered rocks, -between which it rushes in snowy foam with mighty force and volume. - -The boats had to be tracked up the entire distance, often with many -sharp turns to avoid sunken rocks in the chasms; and, as a large -number of men were required for each boat, the column, comprising the -Staffordshire, the Black Watch, a squadron of Hussars, and the -Egyptian camel corps, with two guns, had work enough and to spare. -'The perils and difficulties,' we are told, 'were quite as great as -any hitherto encountered on the passage up the Nile. For the last -six miles below Birti the river takes an acute angle, and then as -sharply resumes its former course. The Royal Highlanders were first -up; but after they got their boats through, another channel was -discovered on the western side of the stream, and as it turned out to -be less difficult, the succeeding regiments were enabled to come up -more quickly. - -Roland's regiment remained in a few days encamped at Hamdab. 'We are -now leading the whole army,' says its Colonel, the gallant and -ill-fated Eyre, in his 'Diary,' 'and are the first British troops -that have ever been up the Nile.' - -On the 6th of January there was a sand-storm from dawn till sunset; -it covered the unfortunate troops, who seemed to be in a dark cloud -for the whole day. Around them for a hundred miles the country was -all rocks, and yet bore traces of once having a vast population. - -At Hamdab the river teemed with wild geese--beautiful gray birds, -with scarlet breasts and gold wings. Dick Mostyn shot one, which -Roland's soldier servant prepared for their repast in a stew, that -was duly enjoyed in the latter's quarters--a hut made of palm -branches and long dhurra grass; while their comrade Wilton, when -scouting on Berber road, captured a couple of Arabs, who gave the -column a false alarm by tidings of an attack at daybreak, thus -keeping all under arms till the sun rose. - -The 18th was Sunday, when Colonel Eyre read prayers on parade, and -three days after came tidings of the battle of Abu Klea, the death of -Burnaby, after all his hair-breadth escapes, and of many other brave -men. - -'Poor Malcolm--poor Malcolm!' said Roland; 'what dire news this will -be for his old mother at Dunnimarle. This event gives you your -company in the corps----' - -'Don't speak of it!' interrupted Mostyn, with something like a groan; -'I would to Heaven that poor Skene had never given me such a chance.' - -The last days of January saw Earle's column making a sweep with fire -and sword of the district in which poor Colonel Stewart and his -companions had been murdered; and on the 2nd of February it had -reached a country beyond all conception or description wild, and -quite uninhabited. - -The sufferings of Earle's troops were considerably severe now. The -faces and the knees of the Highlanders were skinned by the chill air -at night and the burning sun by day; while, in addition, there were -insects in the sand, so minute as to be almost invisible, yet they -got into the men's ragged clothing, and bit hands and feet so that -they were painfully swollen. - -On the 9th of February Earle's column reached Kirbekan, near the -island of Dulka, seventy miles above Merawi, which is a peninsular -district of Southern Nubia, and the enemy, above 2,000 strong, led by -Moussa Abu Hagil, Ali Wad Aussein, and other warlike Sheikhs, and -chiefly composed of the guilty Monnassir tribe, some Robatats and a -force of Dervishes from Berber, were known to be in position at no -great distance; thus a battle was imminent. - -Ere it took place Roland Lindsay and his friend Elliot were destined -to hear some startling news from home. At this time all papers and -parcels for the column got no further than Dongola, but a few letters -from the rear were brought up, and the mail-bag contained one of -importance for Roland, and several for his friend Dick Mostyn. - -Lounging on the grass, under a mimosa tree, with a cigarette between -his teeth, and with just the same lazy, _debonnair_ bearing with -which he had taken in many a girl at home in pleasant England, lay -Dick Mostyn reading his missives. Some he perused with a quiet, -_insouciant_ smile; they were evidently from some of the girls in -question. Others he tore into small shreds and scattered on the -breeze; they were duns. How pleasant it was to dispose of them thus -on the bank of the Nile! - -Roland, a little way apart, was perusing his solitary letter. - -It was from Mr. M'Wadsett, the W.S., dated several weeks back, from -'Thistle Court, Thistle Street, Edinburgh' (how well Roland -remembered the gloomy place under the shadow of St. Andrew's Church, -and the purpose of his last visit there!); and it proved quite a -narrative, and one of the deepest interest to him. - -His uncle, Sir Harry, was dead, and his daughter Hester was going -forth into the world as a companion or governess. (Dead! thought -Roland; poor old Sir Harry!--and Hester, alone now--oh, how he longed -to be with her--to comfort and protect her!) - -But to be a governess--a companion--where, and to whom? His heart -felt wrung, and he mentally rehearsed all he had heard or read--but -not seen--of how such dependents were too often treated by the -prosperous and the _parvenu_; obliged to conform to rules made by -others, to perform a hundred petty duties by hands never before -soiled by toil; to never complain, however ill or weary she might -feel; to stumble with brats through wearisome scales on an old piano; -to be banished when visitors came, and endure endless, though often -unnecessary affronts. He uttered a malediction, lit a cigar, and -betook him again to his letter. - -'About seeking a situation, I know there is nothing else left for the -poor girl to do,' continued the writer; 'but I besought her to wait a -little--to make my house her home, if she chose, for a time; but she -told me that she did not mind work or poverty. I replied that she -knew nothing of either, but a sad smile and a resolute glance were my -only answer.' - -The old man's love of himself, his upbraiding words when they last -parted, and his own unkind treatment (to say the least of it) of -Hester, all came surging back on Roland's memory now. - -'I shall not readily forget Miss Maule's passionate outburst of grief -and pain on leaving Merlwood,' continued the old Writer to the -Signet; 'but all there seemed for the time to be sacred to the -hallowed memories of her father, her mother, and her past childhood! - -'And next I have to relate something more startling still--the sudden -death of your stepmother, and to congratulate you on being now the -true and undoubted _Laird of Earlshaugh_. - -'Actuated, I know not precisely by what sentiment--whether by just -indignation at the character of her brother, or by remorse for your -false position with regard to the property--Mrs. Lindsay, as an act -of reparation, and to preclude all legal action on the part of any -heir of her own or of her brother, Hawkey Sharpe, that might crop up, -by a will drawn out and prepared by myself, duly recorded at Her -Majesty's General Register House, Edinburgh, has left the entire -estate to you, precisely and in all entirety as it was left to her. - -'She sent a message when she did this. It was simply: "When my time -comes, and I feel assured that it is not far off now, and that I -shall not see him again, he will know that I have done my best." - -'There must have been an emotion of remorse in her mind, as I now -know that for some days before the demise of your worthy father, he -eagerly urged that you should be telegraphed for, and more than once -expressed a vehement desire to see _me_, his legal adviser, but in -vain, as Mrs. Lindsay number two and her brother Hawkey barred the -way; so the first will in the former's favour remained unaltered. - -'Since you last left home, Mr. Hawkey forged his sister's name to a -cheque for £2,000 to cover a bill or racing debt. It duly came to -hand. Mrs. Lindsay looked at the document, and knew in an instant -that her name had been used, and, remembering the amount of Hawkey's -demand on her, knew also that she had been shamefully and cruelly -deceived. - -'The sequence of the numbers in her cheque-book showed by the absence -of the counterfoil where one had been abstracted--that for the £2,000 -payable to bearer. In her rage she repudiated it, and the law took -its course. - -'The nameless horror that is the sure precursor of coming evil took -possession of her, and then it was that she executed in your favour -the will referred to, instigated thereto not a little by Hawkey's -incessant and annoying references to her secret ailment--disease of -the heart. - -'To me she seemed to have changed very much latterly. Her tall, thin -figure had lost somewhat of its erectness, and her cold, steel-like -eyes (you remember them?) were sunken and dimmed. - -'Her illness took a sudden and fatal turn at the time that rascal -Hawkey was arrested; and she was found that evening by Mrs. Drugget, -the housekeeper, and old Funnell, the butler, dead in the Red -Drawing-room. Thus her strange faintnesses and continued pallor were -fully accounted for by the faculty then. - -'When she was dead Mr. Hawkey was disposed to snap his fingers, -believing himself the lord of everything; but the will prepared by me -precluded that, and he was forthwith lodged by order of the -Procurator-Fiscal in the Tolbooth of Cupar, where he can hear, but -not see, the flow of the Eden. - -'His wife, the late Miss Annot Drummond, on seeing him depart with a -pair of handcuffs on, displayed but small emotions of regard or -sorrow, but a great deal of indignation, despair, and shame. She -trod to and fro upon the floor of her room during the long watches of -the entire succeeding night, tore her golden hair, and beat her -little hands against the wall in the fury and agony of her passion -and disappointment to find herself mated to a criminal; and now she -has betaken herself to her somewhat faded maternal home in South -Belgravia, where I do not suppose we shall care to follow her.' - -'So, I am Earlshaugh again!' thought Roland with pardonable -exultation. His old ancestral home was his once more. But a battle -was to be fought on the morrow. Should he survive it--escape? He -hoped so now; life was certainly more valuable than it seemed to him -before that mail-bag came up the Nile. - -Roland could not feel much regret for the extinguisher which Fate had -put upon the usurpers of his patrimony, but he was by nature too -generous not to recall, with some emotions of a gentle kind, how Mrs. -Lindsay had once said to him in a broken voice, when he bade her -farewell, of something she meant to do, 'If it was not too late--too -late!' - -And when he had asked her _what_ she referred to, her answer was that -'Time would show.' - -And now time had shown. She had certainly, after all, liked the -handsome and _debonnair_ young fellow who had treated her with that -chivalrous deference so pleasant to all women, old or young. - -Roland, as he looked up at the luminous Nubian sky, felt for a time a -solemn emotion of awe and thankfulness, curiously blended with -exultant pride; that if he fell in the battle of to-morrow he would -fall, as many of his forefathers had done, a Lindsay of Earlshaugh, -but alas! the last of his race. - -'By Jove, there is a postscript--turn the page, Roland!' exclaimed -Jack Elliot, who had been noting the letter, as mutual stock, over -his brother-in-law's shoulder. - -'Since writing all the foregoing,' said the postscript, 'I find that -your sister, Mrs. Elliot, appears to have had some news, after -receiving which she and Miss Hester have suddenly left Edinburgh, but -for _where_ or with what intention I am totally unable to discover.' - -'News,' muttered Roland; 'what news can they have had?' - -Roland, by the field telegraph rearward, _viâ_, Cairo, wired a -message to Mr. M'Wadsett for further intelligence, if he had any to -give, concerning the absentees, but no answer came till long after -the troops had got under arms to engage, and Roland was no longer -there to receive it. - -'By Heaven, this infernal coil at home is becoming more entangled!' -exclaimed Jack. 'Were it not for my mother's sake I would hope to be -knocked on the head to-day.' - -'Not for poor little Maude's sake?' asked Roland reproachfully. - -'God help us both!' sighed Jack. - -'To every one who lives strength is given him to do his duty,' said -Roland gravely. 'Do yours, Jack, and no more.' - -'To me there seems a dash of sophistry in this advice now; but had -you ever loved as I have done----' - -'Had I ever loved! What do you mean?' asked Roland, almost -impatiently. 'But there go the bugles, and we must each to his -company.' - -Then each, seizing the other's hand, drew his sword and 'fell in.' - -The mystery involving the fate of Maude and the movements of both her -and Hester were a source of intense pain, perplexity, and grief to -the two friends now, even amid the fierce and wild work of that -eventful 10th of February. - - - - -CHAPTER LVI. - -THE BATTLE OF KIRBEKAN. - -On the night before this brilliant encounter the greatest enthusiasm -prevailed in the ranks of General Earle's column at the prospect of a -brush with the enemy at last, after an advance of eighteen most weary -miles, which had occupied them no less than twenty days, such was the -terrible nature of the country to be traversed by stream and desert. -As a fine Scottish ballad has it: - - 'With painful march across the sand - How few, though strong, they come, - Some thinking of the clover fields - And the happy English home; - And some whose graver features speak - Them children of the North, - Of the golden whin on the Lion Hill - That crouches by the Forth. - - ''Tis night, and through the desert air - The pibroch's note screams shrill, - Then dies away--the bugle sounds-- - Then all is deathly still, - Save now and then a soldier starts - As through the midnight air - A sudden whistle tells him that - The scouts of death are there!' - - -At half-past five in the morning, after a meagre and hurried -breakfast--the last meal that many were to partake of on earth--the -column got under arms and took its march straight inland over a very -rocky district for more than a mile, while blood-red and fiery the -vast disc of the sun began to appear above the far and hazy horizon. - -Of the scene of these operations very little is known. Lepsius, in -his learned work published in 1844, writes of the ruins of Ben Naga, -now called Mesaurat el Kerbegan, lying in a valley of that name, in a -wild and sequestered place, where no living thing is seen but the -hippopotami swimming amid the waters of the Nile. - -Taking ground to the left for about half a mile the column struck -upon the caravan track that led to Berber, and then the enemy came in -sight, led by the Sheikhs Moussa Abu Hagil, Ali Wad, Aussein, and -others, holding a rocky position, where their dark heads were only -visible, popping up from time to time as seen by the field-glasses. - -It was intended that the Monassir tribe, the murderers of Donald -Stewart and his party, should, if possible, be surrounded and cut -off; but they were found to be entrenched and prepared for a -desperate resistance on lofty ground near the Shukuk Pass on a ridge -of razor-backed hills, commanding a gorge which lies between the -latter and the Nile, and the entrance to which they had closed by a -fort and walls loopholed for musketry. - -'The Black Watch and Staffordshire will advance in skirmishing -order!' was the command of General Earle. - -Six companies of the Highlanders and four of the latter corps now -extended on both flanks at a run. The Hussars galloped to the right, -while two companies of the Staffordshire, with two guns, were left to -protect the boats in the river, the hospital corps, the stores, and -spare ammunition. - -This order was maintained till the companies of skirmishers -gradually, and firing with admirable coolness and precision, worked -their way towards the high rocks in their front. While closing in -with the enemy, whose furious fusillade enveloped the dark ridge in -white smoke, streaked by incessant flashes of red fire, men were -falling down on every hand with cries to God for help or mercy, and -some, it might be, with a fierce and bitter malediction. - -There was no time to think, for the next bullet might floor the -thinker: it was the supreme moment which tries the heart of the -bravest; but every officer and man felt that he must do his duty at -all hazards. Bullets sang past, thudded in silvery stars on the -rocks, cut the clothing, or raised clouds of dust; comrades and dear -friends were going down fast, as rifles were tossed up and hands were -lifted heavenward--as, more often, men fell in death, in blood and -agony; but good fortune seemed to protect the untouched, and then -came the clamorous and tiger-like longing to close in, to grapple -with, to get within grasp of the foe! - -In this spirit Roland went on, but keeping his skirmishers well in -hand, till they reached the high rocks in front, when they rushed -between or over them; and there Colonel Eyre, a noble, veteran -officer, and remarkably handsome man, who, though a gentleman by -birth, had risen from the ranks in the Crimea--then as now -conspicuous for his bravery--fell at the head of his beloved South -Staffordshire while attacking the second ridge, 'where, behind some -giant boulders, the Sheikh Moussa Abu Hagil was with his Robatat -tribe--the most determined of the Arab race.' - -The good Colonel was pausing for a moment beside two of his wounded -men. 'Colonel Eyre took one of them by the hand,' wrote an officer -whom we are tempted to quote, 'to comfort him a little. A minute -after he turned to me and said: "I am a dead man!" I saw a mark -below his shoulder, and said: "No, you are not." He looked at me for -a second, and said: "Lord, have mercy upon me--God help my poor -wife!" ... He was dead in a minute after he was hit, and did not -appear to suffer, the shock being so great. The bullet entered the -right breast, and came out under the left shoulder.' - -Like a roaring wave the infuriated Staffordshire went on, and then -the Robatat tribe were assailed by two companies of the Highlanders, -led by their Colonel and General Earle in person. 'The Black Watch -advanced over rocks and broken ground upon the Koppies,' says Lord -Wolseley's very brief despatch, 'and, after having by their fire in -the coolest manner driven off a rush of the enemy, stormed the -position under a heavy fire.' - -But desperate was the struggle prior to this. The Arabs, from the -cover of every rock and boulder, poured in a fire with the most -murderous precision, while our soldiers flung themselves headlong at -any passage or opening they found, no matter how narrow or steep. - -Like wild tigers in their lair, the Arabs fought at bay, having -everywhere the advantage of the ground, and inspired by a fury born -of fanaticism and religious rancour, resolute to conquer or die; but -in spite of odds and everything, our soldiers stormed rock after -rock, and fastness after fastness, working their way on by bayonet -and bullet, the Black Watch on the left, the old 38th on the right, -upward and onward, over rocks slippery with dripping blood, over the -groaning, the shrieking, the dying, and the dead. - -Here fell Wilton and merry Dick Mostyn, both mortally wounded, -rolling down the rocks to die in agony; and to Roland it was evident -that Jack Elliot was bitterly intent on throwing his life away if he -could, for he rushed, sword in hand, at any loophole in the rocks -from whence a puff of smoke or flash of fire spirted out. - -But brilliant as was the rush of the Staffordshire, climbing with -their hands and feet, it was almost surpassed by the advance of the -Highlanders, for in the _élan_ with which they went on every man -seemed as if inspired by the advice of General Brackenbury when he -said: 'Take your heart and throw it among the enemy, as Douglas did -that of King Robert Bruce, and follow it with set teeth determined to -win!' - -When General Earle ordered the left half-battalion of the Highlanders -to advance by successive rushes, they went forward with a ringing -cheer and with pipers playing 'The Campbells are coming,' and in -another moment the scarlet coats and green kilts, led by Wauchop of -Niddry, had crowned the ridge, rolling the soldiers of the Mahdi down -the rocks before their bayonets in literal piles that never rose -again, and then it was that Colonel Coveny, one of their most popular -officers, fell. - -Roland felt proud of his regiment, the old South Staffordshire, but -when he saw the tartans fluttering on the crest, and heard the pipes -set up their pæan of victory, all his heart went forth to the -Highlanders, who, ere these successive rushes were carried out, had -been attacked by a most resolute band of the enemy, armed with long -spears and trenchant swords, led by a standard-bearer clad in a long -Darfour shirt of mail. - -The latter, the Sheikh Moussa Abu Hagil, was shot, and as his body -went rolling down, the holy standard was seized in succession by -three men of resolute valour, who all perished successively in the -same manner. Some of this band now rushed away towards the Nile to -escape the storm of Highland bullets, but were there met by a company -of the Staffordshire and shot down to a man. - -Within the koppie stormed by the Highlanders was a stone hut full of -Arabs, who, though surrounded by victorious troops, defiantly refused -to surrender. General Earle, a veteran Crimean officer of the old -49th, or Hertfordshire, now rashly approached it, though warned by a -sergeant of the Black Watch to beware, and was immediately shot dead. - -An entrance was found to be impossible, so securely was the door -barricaded. Then the edifice was set on fire by the infuriated -Highlanders, breached by powder, and all the Arabs within it were -shot down or burned alive. - -The enemy now fled on all hands, while the chivalrous Buller, with a -squadron of the 19th Hussars, captured the camp three miles in rear -of their position, and Brackenbury, as senior officer, assumed the -command. - -Our casualties were eighty-seven of all ranks killed and wounded; -those of the enemy it was impossible to estimate, as only seventeen -were taken alive, but their dead covered all the position, and an -unknown number perished in the Nile. - -Untouched, after that terrible conflict of five consecutive hours, -Roland Lindsay and Jack Elliot grasped each other's hands in warmth -and gratitude when they sheathed their swords and felt that their -ghastly work was done. - -The subsequent day was devoted to quiet and rest, and on the field, -under a solitary palm tree, the remains of General Earle, Colonels -Eyre, Coveny, and all who had fallen with them, were reverently -interred, without any special mark to attract the attention of the -dwellers in the desert. - -After all this, Brigadier Brackenbury was about to march in the -direction of Abu Hammed, when unexpected instructions from the -vacillating British Government reached Lord Wolseley from London, and -the river column was ordered to fall back on the camp at Korti, a -task of no small difficulty; and though a handful of men under Sir -Charles Wilson did reach Khartoum, as we all know, the movement was -achieved too late, and, cruelly betrayed, Gordon had perished in the -midst of his fame. - - - - -CHAPTER LVII. - -THE SICK CONVOY. - -Repeatedly Jack Elliot thanked Heaven that his comrades in the -regiment had not got hold of his wretched story--that he and his -young wife had quarrelled--were actually separated, and that she had -run away from him because of some other woman, as he knew well that -but garbled versions of the comedies or tragedies in the lives of our -friends generally reach us. - -The movements of the column were now so abrupt, and, for a time, -undecided, that no telegram in reply to his message reached Roland -from Edinburgh, and ere long he had a new source of anxiety. - -Enteric fever, that ailment which proved so fatal to many of our -troops during this disastrous and useless war, fastened upon poor -Jack Elliot, and the column had barely reached the camp at Korti when -he was 'down' with it, as the soldiers phrased it, and very seriously -so--all the more seriously, no doubt, that the tenor of Mr. -M'Wadsett's postscript left such a doubt on his mind as to the plans -and movements of Maude. - -His head felt as if weighted with lead--but hot lead; he had an -appalling thirst, and was destitute of all appetite even for -delicacies, and the latter were not plentiful, certainly, in our camp -at Korti. - -If he survived, which he thought was almost impossible, he believed -that he could never, never forget what he endured in the so-called -camp there--first, the languor and disinclination for work, duty, -exercise, even for thinking; the pains in his limbs; his dry, brown -tongue, that rattled in his mouth; mental and bodily debility; and -all the other signs of his ailment, produced by exposure, by midnight -dew, and the bad, brackish water of the desert. - -Roland--of a hardier nature, perhaps--was unwearying in his care of -him, and thrice daily with his own hands gave him the odious -prescribed draught--hydrochloric acid, tincture of orange, and so -forth, diluted in Nile water--while the once strong, active, and -muscular Jack was weak as a baby. - -Roland greatly feared he would die on his hands, and hailed with -intense satisfaction an order by which he was personally detailed to -take a detachment of certain sick and wounded, including Jack Elliot, -down the Nile to Lower Egypt. - -In his tent, he was roused from an uneasy dream that he was again -lying at the bottom of the Kelpie's Cleugh at Earlshaugh, by an -orderly sergeant, who brought him this welcome command about dawn, -and noon saw him, with a small flotilla of boats freighted with pain -and suffering, take his leave of the South Staffordshire and begin -his journey down the Nile, _viâ_ New Dongola, the cataracts at -Ambigol and elsewhere, by Wady-Halfa and other points where temporary -hospitals or halting-places were established. - -Day by day the boats with their melancholy loads, sometimes by oars, -at others with canvas set, had dropped down the Nile between barren -shores overlooked by wild and sterile mountains, where the sick were -almost stunned occasionally by the harsh yells of the watchful Arabs -echoing from rocks and caves! and, after turning a sharp angle, -Roland suddenly saw the island of Phite, with all its numerous -temples, before his flotilla, and as there was a considerable flood -in the river the cataract there became a source of anxiety to him, -and rather abated the interest with which he might otherwise have -surveyed the scene around him. - -'Shellal! Shellal!' (the Cataract! the Cataract!) he heard the yells -of the naked Arabs, who hovered on the banks expecting a catastrophe, -which they would have beheld with savage joy. - -The soldiers held their breath and hung on their suspended oars, the -blades of which dripped and flashed like gold in the sheen of the -setting sun; yet the boats glided down the foaming rapid without a -sound other than the rush of the water; then came a sudden calm, an -amazing combination of light and colour on shore, and isle, and -stream, with the rays of the moon, in the blue zenith, conflicting -with those of the sun at the horizon. - -'On either side,' wrote one who was there, 'walls of overhanging rock -shut in the river, standing in pious guardianship around the sacred -isle. Beneath their frowning blackness lapped and flowed a shining -expanse of water stained with crimson in the sunset's glow, in which -a line of tall and plumy palms were bending in the wind; to the east, -the Libyan sands poured in a golden stream through every cleft and -fissure in the darkling hills; and overhead, and all about, floated a -splendour of reddening fire. From their station they seemed to look -straight into the very heart of the sunset when all the west had -burst into sudden flames of fire. The freshening wind tossed them in -uncertain rise and fall; the melancholy sound of the distant -cataract, and now and then the cry of some night bird cut sharply -through the stillness of the hour. An immense sense of loneliness -brooded over the empty temples and adjacent isles abandoned by their -forgotten gods, whose sculptured faces gazed mournfully out from the -crumbling walls, then flushed with the supreme splendour of the dying -day. - -A few miles further down, the Isle of Flowers, with all its wondrous -vegetation, and the many black rocks of Assouan rising from a medley -of dust, Roman ruins and feathery palms were left astern; and of the -long, long downward journey some 450 miles were mastered, after which -lay nearly the same distance to Cairo. - -Often had the boats to pause in their downward way, while the -melancholy duty was performed of burying those whose journey in life -was over, by the river bank, uncoffined, in nameless and unrecorded -graves, where the ibis stalks among the tall reeds, and the scaly -crocodile dozes amid the ooze. - -And as the boat in which he lay under an awning glided down the Nile -Jack Elliot was often in a species of stupor, and muttered at times -of his boyish days at the High School of Edinburgh; of the brawling -Tweed when he had been wont to fish at Braidielee; of matches at -Aldershot, and clearing the hurdles in the Long Valley; but he was -most often a boy, a lad again in his fevered dreams, and seeking -birds' nests among the bonnie Lammermuirs, feeling the pleasant -breeze that came over the braes of the Merse, while the sun shone on -the pools and thickets of the Eye and the Leader; but of Maude, -strange to say, or their mysterious separation, no word escaped him, -till he became conscious, and then Roland would hear him muttering as -he kissed her photo: - -'Where are you, my darling? Shall I ever look upon your face again?' - -And with a wasted and trembling hand he would consign the soft -leather case to the breast of his tattered and faded tunic. He was -so weak, so utterly debilitated that sometimes he shed involuntary -tears--a sight that filled Roland with infinite pity and -commiseration, and a dread each day that he might have to leave Jack, -as he had left others, in a lonely tomb by the river-side. - -Jack, poor fellow, was dwelling generally in a land of shadows; -familiar scenes and faces came and receded, and loved voices came and -sank curiously in his ear, while his apparently dying eyes and lips -pled vainly for one kiss of his sunny-haired Maude to sweeten the -bitter draught of that death which seemed so close and nigh. - -But he was still struggling between life and eternity, when in the -ruddy haze Roland hailed the purple outlines of the Pyramids in the -Plain of Ghizeh, the ridge of the Jebel Mokattam, the distant -minarets and the magnificent citadel of Cairo. - -On reaching the Kasr-el-Nil Barracks, Roland was ordered to be -attached for duty purposes to a regiment quartered there till further -orders, as no more troops were proceeding up the Nile. - -Though the battle of Hasheen was to be fought and won, and the -lamentable fiasco of Macneill's zereba to occur at Suakim, the war -was deemed virtually over, as the cause for it had collapsed by -Gordon's betrayal and the fall of Khartoum. - -With the general advance of the expedition under Lord Wolseley to -rescue Gordon, our story has only had a certain connection--a mission -undertaken far too late, but during which the mind at home was kept -at fever-heat by news from that burning seat of strife, recording the -sufferings of our soldiers, and the bloody but victorious battles -with the Mahdists, till the dark and terrible tidings came, that just -as Wilson's column was ready to join Gordon, who had sent his -steamers to Metemneh to meet him--Khartoum, after a defence perhaps -unsurpassed in the annals of peril and glory, had fallen by storm and -treachery, and the people of Britain were left to wonder, and in -doubt, whether a stupendous blunder or an unpardonable crime had been -perpetrated. - - - - -CHAPTER LVIII. - -IN THE SHOUBRAH GARDENS. - -Roland lost no time in telegraphing home for news of the missing -ones, but received none; Mr. M'Wadsett was absent from town, so he -and Jack Elliot, who was far from recovery yet, had to take patience -and wait, they scarcely knew for what. One fact was too patent, that -both Hester and Maude had disappeared--one too probably in penury and -the other in an agony of grief and shame. It was not even known, -apparently, whether they were together. - -They had vanished, and, save a cheque or two cashed by Jack's -bankers, left no trace of how or when; and a chilling fear crept over -the hearts of both men as to what might have happened--illness, -poverty, unthought-of snares, even death itself. - -Meanwhile, 'the shadow, cloaked from head to foot, who keeps the keys -of all the creeds,' was hovering perilously near Jack, for whom -Roland procured quarters in a pleasant house in the beautiful -Shoubrah Road, near Cairo--a broad but shady avenue formed of noble -sycamores, the 'Rotten Row' of the city, and day followed day -somewhat monotonously now, though a letter dated some weeks back from -his legal friend of Thistle Court gave Roland some occasion for -gratifying thought. - -'If you can return,' it ran, 'must I remind you that now Earlshaugh -is unoccupied; the land so far neglected, and the tenants well-nigh -forgotten; the rents are accumulating at your bankers', but no good -is done to anyone. Your proper place and position is your own again; -justice has restored your birthright; so come home at once and act -wisely--home, my dear friend, and you shall have such a welcome as -Earlshaugh has not seen since your father came back after the Crimean -War.' - -Pondering over this letter and on what the future might have in -store, Roland was one afternoon idling over a cigarette in the -gardens of the Shoubrah Palace, an edifice which rises from the bank -of the Nile. On one side are pleasant glimpses of the latter, with -its palm-clad banks and sparkling villages; on the other a tract of -brilliantly tinted cultivation, and beyond it the golden sands of the -desert, the shifting hillocks they form, and the gray peaks of -several pyramids. - -The gardens, surpassingly beautiful and purely Oriental in character, -are entered by long and winding walks of impenetrable shade, from -which we emerge on open spaces that team with roses, with gilded -pavilions and painted kiosks. 'Arched walks of orange-trees with the -fruit and flowers hanging over your head lead to fountains,' says a -Jewish writer, 'or to some other garden court, where myrtles border -beds of tulips, and you wander on mosaic walks of polished pebbles; a -vase flashes amid a group of dark cypresses, and you are invited to -repose under a Syrian walnut-tree by a couch or summer-house. The -most striking picture, however, of this charming retreat is a lake -surrounded by light cloisters of white marble, and in the centre a -fountain of crocodiles carved in the same material.' - -Lulled by the heat, by the drowsy hum made by the sound of many -carriages filled with harem beauties or European ladies rolling to -and fro on the adjacent Shoubrah Road, with the ceaseless patter of -hoofs, as mounted Cairene dandies and our cavalry officers rode in -the same gay promenade, Roland reclined on a marble seat, lit another -cigarette, and watched the giant flowers of the Egyptian lotus in the -little lake, blue and white, that sink when the sun sets, but open -and rise when it is shining, till suddenly he saw a young lady -appear, who was evidently idling in the gardens like himself. - -He could see that she was a European. With one glove drawn off, -showing a hand the pure whiteness of which contrasted with her dark -dress, she was playing with the water of a red marble fountain that -fell sparkling into the lakelet, not ten yards from where he was -seated, unseen by her. - -Suddenly his figure, in his undress uniform, caught her eye; she -turned and looked full at him, as if spellbound. - -'Roland!' she exclaimed. - -'Hester--good heavens, can it be?--Hester, and _here_!' said he. - -Hester she was; he sprang to her side, and they took each other's -hands, both for a moment in dumb confusion and bewilderment. At the -moment of this meeting and before recognition, even when hovering -near him, and he had been all unconscious of who the tall and slender -girl in mourning really was, she had been thinking of him, and as she -had often thought-- - -'I loved Roland all my life--better than my own soul; but such a love -as mine is too often only its own best reward; and many a sore heart -like mine learns that never in this world is it measured to us again -as we have meted it out.' - -Thus bitterly had the girl been pondering, when she found herself -suddenly face to face with the subject of her reverie, and, in spite -of herself, a little cloud was blended with the astonishment her eyes -expressed. - -'Hester--what mystery is this? And are you not glad to see me?' he -asked impetuously. - -'Glad--oh, Roland! glad indeed, and that you escaped that dreadful -day at Kirbekan!' she replied, while her eyes became humid now. - -'God bless you, my darling!' he exclaimed, as all his soul seemed -suddenly to go forth to her, and he would have drawn her to him; but -she thought of Annot Drummond, and fell back a pace. 'Hester,' said -he upbraidingly, 'will you not accord me one kiss, darling?' - -She grew pale now, for she feared that her welcome had been more -cordial than he had any right to expect; but the circumstances were -peculiar, their place and mode of meeting alike strange and -unexpected; but it was impossible for her not to guess, to read in -his eyes, in fact, all the tender passion of love, esteem, and -kinship that filled his heart for her now. - -'How well you are looking, Hester, after all you must have -suffered--some of the old rose's hue is back to your cheek, darling.' - -'Don't speak thus, Roland--I--I----' she faltered. - -'Why not, Hester? You loved me, I know, even as I loved you.' - -'Before that beautiful little hypocrite and adventuress came,' said -she, with quiet bitterness, 'I certainly did love you, Roland----' - -'And love me still, Hester?' - -'Do I look as if I had let the worm in the bud feed on my damask -cheek?' said she, with a little gasping laugh; 'has my hair grown -thin or white? How vain you are, Cousin Roland!' - -'No, Hester' (how he loved to utter her name!); 'though I admit to -having been a hopeless and thoughtless fool--no worse; but, forgive -me, dear Hester; I ask you in the name of your good old father, who -so loved us both, and in memory of our pleasant past at Merlwood.' - -She made no answer; but her downcast eyes were full of tears; her -breast was heaving, and her lips were quivering now. - -'It ought not to be hard to forgive you, Roland, as you never said, -even in that pleasant past, that you loved me; and yet, perhaps--but -I must go now,' she said, interrupting herself, as she turned round -wearily and vaguely. - -'Go where?' he asked. 'But how came you to be here--here in -Cairo--and whither are you going?' - -'To where I reside,' she replied, with a soft smile; for, with all -her love for him, and with all her supreme joy at meeting him again -thus safe and sound, and in a manner so unprecedentedly peculiar, she -was not disposed quite to strike her colours and yield at once. - -'Reside!' thought Roland, with a flush of anger in his heart; 'as -companion, governess, nursing sister, or--what?' - -'To where I reside with Maude,' she added, almost reading his -thoughts. - -'Is Maude here, too?' - -'Yes; we came together in quest of you and Jack. Oh! where is -he?--well and safe, too, I am sure, or you would not be looking so -bright. Maude left her home under a mistake--the victim of a -conspiracy, hatched, as we know now, by that wretched creature -Sharpe.' - -'And she is here--here in Cairo?' - -'Yes.' - -'This seems miraculous!' - -'Come with me to Maude.' - -'And then to Jack--to poor Jack, whom the sight of her beloved face -will surely make well and strong again.' - -And, as people in a dream, in another minute they were in a cab--for -cabs are now to be had in the city of the Caliphs and the -Mamelukes--and were bowling towards one of the stately squares in the -European quarter through strangely picturesque streets of lofty, -latticed, and painted houses, richly carved as Gothic shrines, where, -by day, the many races that make up the population of Cairo in their -bright and varied costumes throng on foot, on horse or donkey-back; -and where, by night, rope-dancers, conjurers, fire-eaters, and -tumblers, with sellers of fruit, flowers, sherbet, and coffee, make -up a scene of noise and bustle beyond description; and now certainly, -with Hester suddenly conjured up by his side, Roland felt, we say, as -if in a dream wild and sudden as anything in the 'Arabian Nights.' - -Does love once born lie dormant to live again? - -Judging by his own experience, he thought so, with truth. - -More than once when he had gone forth into the world with his -regiment he had almost forgotten the little Hester as she had been to -him, a sweet, piquante, and dainty figure amid the groves of -Merlwood, and in the background of his boyish days; then in his -soldier's life, she would anon flit across the vista of memory, -fondly and pleasantly, till he learned to love her (ere that other -came, that Circe with her cup and the dangerous charm of novelty); -and now all his old passion sprang into existence, holding his heart -in its purity and strength as if it had never wandered from -her--tender, unselfish, and true as his boyish love had been in the -past time; yet just then, by her side, and with her hand within grasp -of his own, he felt his lips but ill unable to express all he thought -and felt, and his fear of--_the refusal_ that might come. - -Then he was about to see his dearly-loved sister Maude; but his joy -thereat was clouded by the dread and knowledge that poor Jack's life -was trembling in the balance. - - - - -CHAPTER LIX. - -CONCLUSION. - -The fond white arms of Maude were around Jack, his head was pillowed -on her breast; so the young pair were once more together, and she -had, of course, installed herself as his nurse. - -Oh, how haggard, wan, wasted, and changed he was! - -He lay quiet, motionless, and happy, if 'weak as a cat,' he said, -with the hum of the great city of Cairo coming faintly through the -latticed windows that overlooked the vast Uzbekyeh Square and its -gardens, whilom a marsh, and now covered with stately trees, under -which are cafés for the sale of coffee, sherbet, and punch, where -bands play in the evenings, and Franks and Turks may be seen with -Europeans in their Nizam dresses, and the Highlander in his white -jacket and tartan kilt. - -How delightful it was to have her dear caresses again--to feel her -soft breath on his faded cheek; all seemed so new, so strange, that -he almost feared the delicious spell might break, and he, awaking, -find himself again in his grass hut at Korti, or gliding down the -Nile in the whaleboat of the old Staffordshire, with Arabs to repel, -rocks to avoid, and cataracts to shoot with oar and pole. - -'Oh, Jack,' said Maude, for the twentieth time, 'forgive and pardon -me for doubting you; but that woman----' - -'A vile plot--backed up by a forged letter! My little Maude, it -would not have borne a moment's investigation!' - -'I know--I know now; but I was so terrified--so crushed--so lonely! -And then, think of the days and nights of horror and agony I -underwent. The woman dying of a street accident in the Infirmary of -Edinburgh, signed a confession of her story--that she was the bribed -agent of Sharpe's plot. I wrote all about it, but you never got my -letter.' - -'And this was "the startling news" that made you so suddenly leave -Edinburgh?' - -'To come here in search of you. Oh, Jack! I was mad to doubt you; -but you would quite pardon me if you knew all I have undergone. -Shall I ever forget the night she came--the night of that aimless -flight south--aimless, save to avoid you--but ending at York? Oh -never, Jack, if I lived a thousand years! I now know that it takes a -great deal to kill some people; yet I think that, but for dear, -affectionate Hester, I could not have lived very long with that awful -and never-ceasing pain gnawing at my heart.' - -Jack raised her quivering face between his tremulous hands, and -looked into it fondly and yearningly. How full of affection it -seemed--so softly radiant with shy and lovely blushes, while her eyes -of forget-me-not blue never, even in the past, shone with the -love-light that illumined them now, when sufferings were past and -their memory becoming fainter. - -'How long--how long it seems since we separated, and without a -farewell, Jack!' - -'A day sometimes seems an age--ay, even a day, when matters of the -heart are concerned.' - -'And a minute or two may undo the work of years--yea, of a lifetime. -But you must get well and strong, Jack, for the homeward voyage. In -a few days we shall have you laughing among us again; and you will -see what a careful little nurse I shall prove.' - -Jack, withal, feared just then that there was but little laughter -left for him on earth; yet their reunion and the presence of Maude -acted as a wonderful charm upon him, and from her loving little -hands, instead of those of a stolid hospital orderly, he now took his -prescribed 'baby food' as he called it--beef-tea, eggs beat up in -milk, and port wine elixir, with the odious 'diluted hydrochloric -acid, one drachm, and of quinine, eight drachms,' as ordered by the -medical staff. - -But he rallied rapidly, though Maude's heart beat painfully when -occasionally a ray of sunshine stole into the room through the -picturesque lattice-wood windows (which in Cairo had not been -superseded by glass) and rested on his face, and she saw how pale and -wan, if peaceful and bright, the latter was now: and then if he spoke -too much, she placed her white hands on his lips, or silenced them -more sweetly but quite as effectually. - -Hester, when she first saw Jack Elliot, little imagined that he would -recover so rapidly. She had thought of Maude and then of her own -father. - -'Strange it is,' pondered the girl, 'that when one sorrow comes upon -us--a shock unexpectedly--we seem to see the gradual approach of -another, and so realize its bitterness before it becomes an actual -fact. Thus I felt, long before poor papa died, that I should be -alone and penniless in the world.' - -'Hester!' exclaimed Roland, softly but upbraidingly, as she said -something of this kind to him. - -'Well, Roland,' said Hester, 'no one seemed to care where I went or -what became of me; all the world was indifferent to me; I had lost -all interest and saw no beauty in it.' - -He had both her hands in his now, and was gazing into her -white-lidded and long-lashed dark-blue eyes. - -Then, as eye met eye, each saw a strange but alluring expression in -the other--the past, the present, and future all mingled and -combined--an expression of a nature deep and indescribable. - -We do not mean to rehearse all that Roland said then. If no woman -can without some emotion hear a tale of love, especially if told so -powerfully as Roland was telling it then, we may well believe how -Hester's heart responded; and he held her in his embrace, and kissed -her again and again as a man only kisses the girl he loves, and, more -than all, the one he hopes to make his wife. - -So everything is said to come in time to those who wait. - -They were together again--together at last--and the outer world and -all other things thereof seemed to glide away from them, leaving only -love and peace and rest behind--love and trust with the radiance of -light! - - - -THE END. - - - -BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD. - - - - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLAYING WITH FIRE *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Playing with Fire</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0;'>A Story of the Soudan War</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: James Grant</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: July 5, 2021 [eBook #65773]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Al Haines</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLAYING WITH FIRE ***</div> - -<h1> -<br /><br /> - PLAYING WITH FIRE<br /> -</h1> - -<p class="t3b"> - <i>A STORY OF THE SOUDAN WAR</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - BY<br /> -</p> - -<p class="t2"> - JAMES GRANT<br /> -</p> - -<p class="t4"> - AUTHOR OF<br /> - 'THE ROMANCE OF WAR,' 'DULCIE CARLYON,' 'ROYAL<br /> - HIGHLANDERS,' ETC.<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - LONDON<br /> - GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, LIMITED<br /> - BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL<br /> - MANCHESTER AND NEW YORK<br /> - <br /> - 1887 -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="noindent"> - JAMES GRANT'S NOVELS.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - The Romance of War<br /> - The Aide-de-Camp<br /> - The Scottish Cavalier<br /> - Bothwell<br /> - Jane Seton; or, The Queen's Advocate<br /> - Philip Rollo<br /> - The Black Watch<br /> - Mary of Lorraine<br /> - Oliver Ellis; or, The Fusileers<br /> - Lucy Arden; or, Hollywood Hall<br /> - Frank Hilton; or, The Queen's Own<br /> - The Yellow Frigate<br /> - Harry Ogilvie; or, The Black Dragoons<br /> - Arthur Blane<br /> - Laura Everingham; or, The Highlanders of Glenora<br /> - The Captain of the Guard<br /> - Letty Hyde's Lovers<br /> - Cavaliers of Fortune<br /> - Second to None<br /> - The Constable of France<br /> - The Phantom Regiment<br /> - The King's Own Borderers<br /> - The White Cockade<br /> - First Love and Last Love<br /> - Dick Rodney<br /> - The Girl he Married<br /> - Lady Wedderburn's Wish<br /> - Jack Manly<br /> - Only an Ensign<br /> - Adventures of Rob Roy<br /> - Under the Red Dragon<br /> - The Queen's Cadet<br /> - Shall I Win Her?<br /> - Fairer than a Fairy<br /> - One of the Six Hundred<br /> - Morley Ashton<br /> - Did She Love Him?<br /> - The Ross-Shire Buffs<br /> - Six Years Ago<br /> - Vere of Ours<br /> - The Lord Hermitage<br /> - The Royal Regiment<br /> - Duke of Albany's Own Highlanders<br /> - The Cameronians<br /> - The Scots Brigade<br /> - Violet Jermyn<br /> - Miss Cheyne of Essilmont<br /> - Jack Chaloner<br /> - The Royal Highlanders<br /> - Colville of the Guards<br /> - Dulcie Carlyon<br /> - Playing with Fire<br /> - Derval Hampton<br /> - Love's Labour Won<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> - CONTENTS.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - CHAPTER<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - I. <a href="#chap01">MERLWOOD</a><br /> - II. <a href="#chap02">HESTER MAULE</a><br /> - III. <a href="#chap03">KASHGATE—A RETROSPECT</a><br /> - IV. <a href="#chap04">PLAYING WITH FIRE</a><br /> - V. <a href="#chap05">THE COUSINS</a><br /> - VI. <a href="#chap06">ANNOT DRUMMOND</a><br /> - VII. <a href="#chap07">'IS SHE NOT PASSING FAIR?'</a><br /> - VIII. <a href="#chap08">'IT WAS NO DREAM'</a><br /> - IX. <a href="#chap09">THE OLD LOVE AND THE NEW</a><br /> - X. <a href="#chap10">ROLAND'S HOME-COMING</a><br /> - XI. <a href="#chap11">A COLD RECEPTION</a><br /> - XII. <a href="#chap12">MAUDE</a><br /> - XIII. <a href="#chap13">ROLAND'S VEXATION</a><br /> - XIV. <a href="#chap14">MAUDE'S SECRET</a><br /> - XV. <a href="#chap15">MR. HAWKEY SHARPE SEEKS COUNSEL</a><br /> - XVI. <a href="#chap16">FOOL'S PARADISE</a><br /> - XVII. <a href="#chap17">AT EARLSHAUGH</a><br /> - XVIII. <a href="#chap18">'MY LOVE SHE'S BUT A LASSIE YET'</a><br /> - XIX. <a href="#chap19">HESTER RECEIVES A PROPOSAL</a><br /> - XX. <a href="#chap20">MR. SHARPE MAKES A MISTAKE</a><br /> - XXI. <a href="#chap21">MALCOLM SKENE</a><br /> - XXII. <a href="#chap22">A FATAL SHOT</a><br /> - XXIII. <a href="#chap23">THE CITY OF THE CALIPHS—OCTOBER IN THE LAND OF THE PHARAOHS!</a><br /> - XXIV. <a href="#chap24">JACK ELLIOT'S PERIL</a><br /> - XXV. <a href="#chap25">THE WILL</a><br /> - XXVI. <a href="#chap26">MOLOCH</a><br /> - XXVII. <a href="#chap27">ANNOT'S MISGIVINGS</a><br /> - XXVIII. <a href="#chap28">THE FIRST OF OCTOBER</a><br /> - XXIX. <a href="#chap29">ALARM AND ANXIETY</a><br /> - XXX. <a href="#chap30">THE KELPIE'S CLEUGH</a><br /> - XXXI. <a href="#chap31">'ALL OVER NOW!'</a><br /> - XXXII. <a href="#chap32">PELION ON OSSA</a><br /> - XXXIII. <a href="#chap33">A TANGLED SKEIN</a><br /> - XXXIV. <a href="#chap34">THE PRESENTIMENT</a><br /> - XXXV. <a href="#chap35">LOST IN THE DESERT</a><br /> - XXXVI. <a href="#chap36">ALONE!</a><br /> - XXXVII. <a href="#chap37">THE FIRST QUARREL</a><br /> - XXXVIII. <a href="#chap38">THE CRISIS</a><br /> - XXXIX. <a href="#chap39">TURNING THE TABLES</a><br /> - XL. <a href="#chap40">THE NEW POSITION</a><br /> - XLI. <a href="#chap41">THE CAPTIVE</a><br /> - XLII. <a href="#chap42">THE ZEREBA OF SHEIKH MOUSSA</a><br /> - XLIII. <a href="#chap43">A MARRIAGE</a><br /> - XLIV. <a href="#chap44">THE TROOPSHIP</a><br /> - XLV. <a href="#chap45">THE DEATH WRESTLE</a><br /> - XLVI. <a href="#chap45">MAUDE'S VISITOR</a><br /> - XLVII. <a href="#chap46">THE RESULT</a><br /> - XLVIII. <a href="#chap47">'INFIRM OF PURPOSE!'</a><br /> - XLIX. <a href="#chap49">CHRISTMAS DAY IN CAMP AT KORTI</a><br /> - L. <a href="#chap50">THE START FOR KHARTOUM</a><br /> - LI. <a href="#chap51">THE MARCH IN THE DESERT</a><br /> - LII. <a href="#chap52">THE PRESENTIMENT FULFILLED</a><br /> - LIII. <a href="#chap53">A HOMEWARD GLANCE</a><br /> - LIV. <a href="#chap54">THE LONG-SUSPENDED SWORD</a><br /> - LV. <a href="#chap55">WITH GENERAL EARLE's COLUMN</a><br /> - LVI. <a href="#chap56">THE BATTLE OF KIRBEKAN</a><br /> - LVII. <a href="#chap57">THE SICK CONVOY</a><br /> - LVIII. <a href="#chap58">IN THE SHOUBRAH GARDENS</a><br /> - LIX. <a href="#chap59">CONCLUSION</a><br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> - -<p class="t2"> -PLAYING WITH FIRE. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER I. -<br /><br /> -MERLWOOD. -</h3> - -<p> -''Pon my word, cousin, I think I should actually fall in love -with you, but that—that——' -</p> - -<p> -'What?' asked the girl, with a curious smile. -</p> - -<p> -'One so seldom falls in love with one they have known -for a life long.' -</p> - -<p> -The girl sighed softly, and said, still smiling sweetly: -</p> - -<p> -'Looking upon her as almost a sister, you mean, Roland.' -</p> - -<p> -'Or almost as a brother, as the case may be.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then how about Paul and Virginia? They knew each -other all their lives, and yet loved each other tenderly.' -</p> - -<p> -'Or desperately, rather, Hester; but that was in an old -story book greatly appreciated by our grandmothers.' -</p> - -<p> -'Instead of talking nonsense here, I really think you -should go home, Roland,' said the girl, with a tone of pain -and pique at his nonchalant manner; 'home for a time, at -least.' -</p> - -<p> -'To Earlshaugh?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'Are you tired of me already, Hester?' -</p> - -<p> -'Tired of you, Roland?—oh, no,' replied the girl softly, -while playing with the petals of a flower. -</p> - -<p> -The speakers were Roland Lindsay, a young captain of -the line, home on leave from Egypt, and his cousin, Hester -Maule, a handsome girl in her eighteenth year; and the -scene in which they figured was a shady, green and -well-wooded grassy bank that sloped down to the Esk, in front of -the pretty villa of Merlwood, where he swung lazily in a net -hammock between two beautiful laburnum-trees, smoking a -cigar, while she sat on the turf close by, with a fan of -peacock feathers in her slim and pretty hand, dispersing the -midges that were swarming under the trees in the hot -sunshine of an August evening. -</p> - -<p> -While the heedless fellow who swung there, enjoying his -cigar and his hammock, and the charm of the whole situation, -twitted her with her unconcern, Hester—we need not -conceal the fact—loved him with a love that now formed -part of her daily existence; while he accorded her in return -the half-careless affection of a brother, or as yet little more. -</p> - -<p> -At his father's house of Earlshaugh, at his uncle's villa of -Merlwood, and elsewhere, till he had joined his regiment, -they had been brought up together, and together had shared -all the pleasures and amusements of childhood. In the -thick woods of Earlshaugh, and along the sylvan banks of -the Esk, in the glorious summer and autumn days, it had -been their delight to clamber into thick and leafy bowers—vast -and mysterious retreats to them—where, with the birds -around them, and the flowers, the ivy, and the ferns -beneath their feet, they wove fairy caps of rushes and conned -their tasks, often with cheek laid against cheek and ringlets -intermingled; and in their days of childhood Roland had -often told her tales of what they would do and where they -would go when they became man and wife, and little -Hester wondered at the story he wove, as it seemed -impossible that they could ever be happier than they were -then. He always preferred her as a companion and playmate -to his only sister Maude, greatly to the indignation of -that young lady. -</p> - -<p> -She had borne her part in many of Roland's boyish -pastimes, even to spinning tops and playing marbles, until -the days came when they cantered together on their sturdy -little Shetlands through Melville Woods and by the braes -of Woodhouselee, or where Earlshaugh looked down on the -pastoral expanse near Leuchars and Balmullo, in the East -Neuk of Fife. -</p> - -<p> -When the time came that Roland had inexorably to go -forth into the world and join his regiment, poor Hester -Maule wept in secret as if her heart would have burst; while -he—with all a boy's ardour for his red coat and the new -and brilliant life before him—bade her farewell with -provoking equanimity and wonderful philosophy; and now that -he had come back, and she—in the dignity of her eighteen -years—could no longer aid him in birdnesting (if he thought -of such a thing), or holding a wicket for him, she had—during -the few weeks he had been at home—felt her girl's -heart go back to the sweet old days and the starting-point, -which he seemed to have almost forgotten, or scarcely -referred to. -</p> - -<p> -And yet, when she came along the grassy bank, and -tossed her garden hat aside on seating herself on the grass -near him, there was something in her bearing then which -haunted him in after-years—a shy, unconscious grace in all -her movements, a flush on her soft cheek, a bright -expression in her clear and innocent eyes, brightened -apparently by the flickering shadows that fell between the -leaves upon her uncovered head, and flushed her white -summer dress with touches of bright colour; and looking at -him archly, she began, as if almost to herself, to sing a song -she had been wont to sing long ago—an old song to the -older air of the 'Bonnie Briar Bush': -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'The visions of the buried past<br /> - Come thronging, dearer far<br /> - Than joys the present hour can give,<br /> - Than present objects are——'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -'Go on, Hester,' said Roland, as she paused. -</p> - -<p> -'No,' said she with a little <i>moue</i>, 'you don't care for -these old memories now.' -</p> - -<p> -'When soldiering, Hester, we have to keep our minds so -much in the present that, by Jove! a fellow has not much -time for brooding over the past.' -</p> - -<p> -Hester made no reply, but cast down her lashes, and proceeded -to roll and unroll the ribbons of her hat round her -slender fingers. -</p> - -<p> -Roland Lindsay manipulated another cigar, lit it leisurely, -and relapsed into silence too. -</p> - -<p> -He was a remarkably good-looking young fellow, and -perhaps one who knew himself to be so, having been somewhat -spoiled by ladies already. Though not quite regular, -his features were striking, and—like his bearing—impressed -those who did not know him well with a high opinion of his -strength of character, which was not great, we must admit, -in some respects; though his chin was well defined and even -square, as shown by his being closely shaven all save a -carefully trimmed dark moustache. -</p> - -<p> -His grayish hazel eyes looked almost black at night, and -were expressive and keen yet soft. In figure he was well -set up—the drill-sergeant had done that; and unmistakably -he was a manly-looking fellow in his twenty-seventh year, -dressed in a plain yet irreproachably-made tweed suit of -light gray that well became his dark and dusky complexion, -with spotlessly white cuffs and tie, and a tweed stalking-cap -peaked before and behind. He had an air of well-bred -nonchalance, of being perfectly at home; and now you have -him—Captain Roland Lindsay of Her Majesty's Infantry, -with a face and neck burned red and blistered by the -fierce sun of Egypt and the Soudan. -</p> - -<p> -Merlwood, the house of Hester's father, which he was now -favouring with a protracted visit, is situated on the north -bank of the Esk, and was so named as being the favourite -haunt of the blackbird, whose voice was heard amid its -thickets in the earliest spring, as that of the throstle was -heard not far off in the adjacent birks of Mavis-wood on the -opposite side of that river, which, from its source in the hills -of Peebles till it joins the sea at Musselburgh, displays -sylvan beauties of which no other stream in Scotland can -boast—the beauties of which Scott sang so skilfully in one -of his best ballads: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Sweet are the paths, O, passing sweet!<br /> - By Esk's fair streams that run<br /> - O'er airy steep, through copsewood deep,<br /> - Impervious to the sun,<br /> -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'From that fair dome where suit is paid,<br /> - By blast of bugle free,<br /> - To Auchindinny's hazel shade,<br /> - And haunted Woodhouselee,<br /> -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Who knows not Melville's beechy grove<br /> - And Roslin's rocky glen,<br /> - Dalkeith, which all the virtues love,<br /> - And classic Hawthornden?<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -Embosomed amid the beautiful scenery here, the handsome -modern villa of Merlwood, with its Swiss roof and plate-glass -oriel windows half smothered amid wild roses, clematis, and -jasmine, crowned a bank where the dreamy and ceaseless -murmur of the Esk was ever heard; and in the cosy if not -stately rooms of which old Sir Harry Maule, K.C.B., a retired -Lieutenant-General, and the veteran of more than one Indian -war, had stored up the mementoes of his stirring past—the -tusky skulls, striped skins, and giant claws of more than one -man-eating tiger, trophies of his breechloader; and those of -other Indian conflicts at Lucknow, Jhansi, and elsewhere, in -the shape of buffalo shields, tulwars, inlaid Afghan juzails, -battle axes, and deadly khandjurs, with gorgeous trappings -for horse and elephant. -</p> - -<p> -And picturesque looked the home of the old soldier and -his only daughter Hester, as seen in the August sunshine, -at that season when autumn peeps stealthily through the -openings made in thicket and hedge, when the sweet may-buds -are dead and gone, the feathered grasses are cut down, -but the ferns and the ivy yet cover all the rocks of the Esk, -and flowering creepers connect the trees; the blue hare-bell -still peeped out, and in waste places the ox-eye daisy and -the light scarlet poppy were lingering still, for August is a -month flushed with the last touches of summer, and though -the latter was past and gone, those warm tints which make -the Scottish woods so peculiarly lovely in autumn had not -yet begun to mellow or temper the varied greenery of the -bosky valley of rocks and timber through which the -mountain Esk flows to the Firth of Forth. -</p> - -<p> -To the eyes of Roland Lindsay, how still and green and -cool it all seemed, after the arid sands, the breathless -atmosphere, and the scorching heat of Southern Egypt! -</p> - -<p> -'By Jove, there is no place like home!' thought he, and -he tossed out of his hammock <i>Punch</i>, the <i>Graphic</i>, and -Clery's 'Minor Tactics,' with which he had been killing -time, till his fair cousin joined him; and with his cigar alight, -his stalking cap tilted forward over his eyes, his hands -behind his head, he swung to and fro in the full enjoyment -of lazy indolence. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER II. -<br /><br /> -HESTER MAULE. -</h3> - -<p> -Though the life of Hester Maule at Merlwood was a somewhat -secluded one, as she had no mother to act as chaperone, -it was not one of inaction. Her mornings were generally -spent in charitable work among poor people in the nearest -village, visiting the old and sick, sometimes in scolding and -teaching the young, assisting the minister in many ways with -local charities, and often winding up the evening by a brisk -game of lawn-tennis with his young folks at the manse, and -now and then a ball or a carpet dance at some adjacent -house, when late hours never prevented her from being down -from her room in the morning, as gay as a mavis or merle, -to pour out her father's coffee, cut and air his paper, or -attend to his hookah, the use of which the old Anglo-Indian -had not yet been able to relinquish. -</p> - -<p> -Now the girl had become shy or dry in manner, piqued -and silent certainly, to her cousin; for, in mortifying -contrast to her silent thoughts, she was pondering over his -off-hand speech with which the preceding chapter opens; thus -even he found it somewhat difficult to carry on a one-sided -conversation with the back of her averted head, however -handsome, with its large coil of dark and glossy hair turned -to him. -</p> - -<p> -Roland liked and more than admired his graceful cousin, -and now, perhaps suspecting that his nonchalant manner -was scarcely 'the thing' and finding her silent, even -frosty in manner, he said: -</p> - -<p> -'Hester, will you listen to me now?' -</p> - -<p> -'That depends upon what you have to say, Roland.' -</p> - -<p> -'I never say anything wrong, so don't be cross, my -dear little one.' -</p> - -<p> -'He treats me as a child still!' she thought in anger, -and said sharply: -</p> - -<p> -'Well?' -</p> - -<p> -'Shall we go along the river bank and see the trout -rising?' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'Well—it is certainly better than doing nothing.' -</p> - -<p> -'But is useless,' said she coldly. -</p> - -<p> -'Why? It is now my turn to ask.' -</p> - -<p> -'Because you know very well, or ought to know, that -there are none to be seen after June, and that the mills -have ruined angling hereabout.' -</p> - -<p> -'Let us look for ferns, then—there are forty different -kinds, I believe, in Roslin Glen.' -</p> - -<p> -'Ferns—how can you be so childish, Roland!' exclaimed -the girl with growing pique, as she thought—'If -he has aught to say of more interest, surely he can say it -here,' and she kept her eyes averted, looking down the -wooded glen through which the river brawled, with her -heart full of affection and love, which her cousin was -singularly slow to see; then furtively she looked at him -once or twice, as he lounged on his back, smoking and -gazing upward at the patches of blue sky seen through the -interlaced branches of the overarching trees. -</p> - -<p> -'Gentleman' was stamped on every feature and in -every action of Lindsay, and there was an easy and quiet -deliberation in all he did and said that indicated good -breeding, and yet he had a bearing in his figure and aspect -in his dark face that would have become Millais' 'Black -Brunswicker.' -</p> - -<p> -Hester Maule is difficult to describe; but if the reader -will think of the prettiest girl she or he ever saw, they have -a general idea of her attractions. -</p> - -<p> -A proud and stately yet most graceful-looking girl, Hester -had a lissom figure a trifle over the middle height, hair of -the richest and deepest brown, dark violet-coloured and -velvety-like eyes with full lids, long lashes, and brows that -were black; a dazzling complexion, a beautiful smile when -pleased, and hands and feet that showed race and breeding -beyond all doubt. -</p> - -<p> -Roland was quite aware that Hester was no longer a child, -but a girl almost out of her teens, and one that looked older -than her years. He had seen her at intervals, and seen how -she had grown up and expanded into the handsome girl she -had become—one of whom any kinsman might be proud; -and with all his seeming indifference and doubt of his true -emotions, it was evident now that propinquity might do -much; and times there were when he began to feel for her -some of that tender interest and admiration which generally -form a sure prelude to love. Moreover, they were cousins, -and 'there is no denying that cousinship covers a multitude -of things within its kindly mantle.' -</p> - -<p> -Hester was the only daughter of his maternal uncle, the -old General, whose services had won him a K.C.B.—an -improvident and somewhat impoverished man, who for -years had been a kind of invalid from ailments contracted -after the great Indian Mutiny—chiefly from a bullet lodged -in his body at Jhansi, when he fought under the famous -Sir Hugh Rose—Lord Strathnairn in later years. -</p> - -<p> -She was the one 'ewe lamb' of his flock, all of whom -were lying by their mother's side under the trees in the old -kirkyard of Lasswade, within sound of the murmuring Esk; -and though the charm of Hester's society had been one of -the chief reasons that induced Roland Lindsay to linger at -Merlwood, as he had done for nearly a month past, he was -loth to adopt the idea now being involved therein. Such is -the inconsistency of the male heart at times; and he, -perhaps, misconstrued, or attributed his emotion to compassion -for her apparently lonely life and somewhat dubious future—for -Sir Henry's life was precarious; and in this perilous -and dubious state matters were now, while Roland's leave of -absence was running on. -</p> - -<p> -Not that the latter was extremely limited. To the -uninitiated we may mention that what is technically termed -winter leave extends generally from the 15th October to the -14th of the following March, 'when all officers are to be -present with their respective regiments and depôts;' but -Roland had extended or more ample leave accorded him -than this, owing to the sufferings he had undergone from a -wound and fever when with the army of occupation in -Egypt, a portion of which his regiment formed—hence it -was that August saw him at Merlwood. -</p> - -<p> -And now we may briefly state how he was situated, and -some of the 'features' on which his future 'hinged.' -</p> - -<p> -During his absence with the army his father, the old -fox-hunting Laird of Earlshaugh, a widower, after the death of -Roland's mother had rashly married her companion, a -handsome but artful woman, who, at his death (caused by a -fall in the hunting-field, after which she had nursed him -assiduously), was left by him, through his will, all that he -possessed in land, estate, and heritage, without control; -but never doubting—poor silly man—that she would do full -justice in the end to his only son and daughter, as a species -of mother, monitress, and guardian—a risk the eventualities -of which he had not quite foreseen, as we shall show in the -time to come. -</p> - -<p> -But so it was; his father, who, at one time, he thought, -would hardly have rested in his grave if the acres of -Earlshaugh and the turrets of the old mansion had gone out of -the family, in which they had been since Sir James Lindsay -of Edzell and Glenesk fell by his royal master's side at -Flodden, had been weak enough to do this monstrous piece -of injustice, under the influence of an artful and designing -woman! -</p> - -<p> -It was an injury so galling, so miserable, and—to Roland -Lindsay—so scarcely realizable, that he had been in no -haste to return to his ancestral home. -</p> - -<p> -And hence, perhaps, he had lingered at Merlwood, where -his uncle, Sir Harry, who hated, defied, and utterly failed to -understand anything of the 'outs and ins' of law or lawyers, -including wills and bequests, etc., etc., fed his natural -indignation by anathematizing the artful Jezebel of a -step-mother; and declaring that he never did and never would -believe in her; and adjusting himself as well as that cursed -'Jhansi bullet' would allow him, while lounging back in his -long, low, and spacious Singapore chair, he would suck his -hookah viciously, and roundly assert, as a crowning iniquity, -that he was certain she had 'at least four annas to the rupee -in her blood!' -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER III. -<br /><br /> -KASHGATE—A RETROSPECT. -</h3> - -<p> -It was pretty clear, on the whole, to Hester, that her -cousin, Roland Lindsay, thought but little of the past, and -perhaps, as a general rule, cared for it even less. While she -had been living on the memory of these dear days, especially -since this—his last return home—he had allowed other -events to obliterate it from his mind. -</p> - -<p> -Let us take a little retrospect. -</p> - -<p> -In contrast to the apparently languid and <i>blasé</i> smoker, -swinging in his net hammock, enjoying the balmy evening -breeze by the wooded Esk, and dallying with a girl of more -than ordinary loveliness, let us imagine him in a dusty and -blood-stained tunic, with a battered tropical helmet, a beard -unshaven for many a day, haggard in visage, wild-eyed and -full of soldierly enthusiasm, one of the leading actors in a -scene like the following, at the fatal and most disastrous -battle of Kashgate. -</p> - -<p> -It was the evening of the 3rd November in an arid waste -of the Soudan—sand, sand everywhere—not a well to -yield a drop of brackish water, not a tree to give the slightest -shade. The heat was awful, beyond all parallel and all -European conception, well-nigh beyond endurance, and the -doomed soldiers of General Hicks—known as Hicks Pasha—a -veteran of the famous old Bombay Fusiliers who had -served at Magdala, and to whose staff Roland Lindsay, then -a subaltern, was attached, toiled on, over the dry and arid -desert steppe that lies between El Duem and El Obeid, in -search of the troops of the ubiquitous Mahdi—the gallant -Hicks and his few British officers training their loosely and -hastily constituted Egyptian army to operations in the field, -even while advancing against one, said to be three hundred -thousand strong—doubtless an Oriental exaggeration—but -strong enough nevertheless, as the event proved, to sweep -their miserable soldiers off the face of the earth, in that -battle, the details of which will never be known till the -Last Day, as only one or two escaped. -</p> - -<p> -Like Colonel Farquhar of the Guards, Majors Warren, -Martin and other British officers, Roland Lindsay, by his -personal example, had done all that in him lay to cheer the -weak-limbed and faint-hearted Egyptian soldiers, whose -almost sable visages were now gaunt and hollow, and whose -white tunics and scarlet tarbooshes were tattered and worn by -their long and toilsome march through the terrible country -westward of the White Nile—a vast steppe covered with low -thorny trees, purple mimosa, gum bushes, and spiky grass, -till the sad, solemn, and desert waste was reached near -Kashgate, where all—save one or two—were to find their -graves! -</p> - -<p> -Mounted on a splendid Arab, whose rider he had slain in -the battle of the 29th of April, Roland Lindsay led one face -of the hollow square in which the troops marched, and in -which formation they fought for three days, with baggage, -sick and wounded in the centre, Krupp and Nordenfeldt -guns in the angles, against a dark and surging human sea of -frantic Dervishes, wild Bedouins, and equally wild and -savage Mohammedans and Mulattoes, shrieking, yelling, -armed with ponderous swords and deadly spears that flashed -like thousands of mirrors in the sunshine. -</p> - -<p> -The Dervishes came on, the foremost and most fearless, -sent by the Mahdi, Mahommed Achmet Shemseddin, who -had declared that they must vanquish all, as they had the -aid of Heaven, of the Prophet and his legions of unseen -angels, as at the battle of Bedr, when he conquered the -Koreish. -</p> - -<p> -Wild and desperate was the prolonged fighting, the -Egyptians knowing that no mercy would be accorded to -them, and fearful was the slaughter, till the sand was soaked -with blood—till the worn-out square was utterly broken, its -living walls dashed to pieces, and hurled against each other -under the feet of the victorious Mahdists. -</p> - -<p> -In vain did young Lindsay, like other Britons who followed -Hicks, endeavour to make some of their men front about; -calling on them, sword and revolver in hand, as they flung -themselves on the sand now in despair, face downwards, and -perished miserably under sword and spear, or fled in abject -and uncontrollable terror; but in the end he found himself -abandoned, and had to hack his way out of the press -through a forest of weapons till he reached the side of -General Hicks, who was making a last and desperate charge -at the head of his staff alone! -</p> - -<p> -Side by side, with a ringing and defiant cheer, these few -Britons galloped against the living flood that was led by a -sheikh in brilliant floating robes. -</p> - -<p> -'He is the Mahdi—he is the Mahdi!' cried Lindsay, and -such Hicks and all who followed him supposed that sheikh, -but in mistake, to be. -</p> - -<p> -He was splendidly mounted, and in addition to his -Mahdi surcoat and floating robes wore a glittering Dharfour -helmet, with a tippet of chain-mail and a long shirt of the -same defensive material. Through this the sword of Hicks -gave him a deadly cut in the arm, and his sword-hand -dropped, but with the other he contrived to hurl a club, -which unhorsed the General, who was then slain; but the -mailed warrior, who looked like a Crusader of the twelfth -century, was hewn down by Roland through helmet and -head to the chin, and just as he fell above Hicks all the -staff perished then on foot, their horses being speared or -hamstrung—all gallant and resolute soldiers, Fraser, -Farquhar, Brodie, Walker, and others—fighting back to back -or in a desperate circle. -</p> - -<p> -One moment Roland saw the last of them, erect in all -the pride and strength of manhood, inspired by courage and -despair—his cheeks flushed, his eyes flashing, while handling -his sword with all the conscious pride of race and skill; -and the next he lay stretched and bleeding on the heap -beside him, with the pallor in his face of one who would -never rise again. -</p> - -<p> -In that <i>mêlée</i> no less than three Emirs of the False -Prophet fell under the sword of Lindsay, who cut his way -out and escaped alone; and spattered with blood from the -slain, as well as from two sword-wounds in his own body, -spurred rearward his horse, which had many a gash and -stab, but carried him clear out of the field and onward till -darkness fell, and he found himself alone—alone in the -desert. There the whitening skeleton of more than one -camel—the relic of a caravan—lay; and there the -huge Egyptian vultures ('Pharaoh's chickens,' as they are -called), with their fierce beaks, great eyes, and ample wings, -were floating overhead on their way to the field, for the -unburied slain attract these flocks from a wonderful -distance. -</p> - -<p> -When his horse sank down, Lindsay remained beside it, -helpless and weary, awaiting the blood-red dawn of the -Nubian sun. -</p> - -<p> -As he lay there under the stars that glittered out of the -blue sky like points of steel, many a memory of the past, -of vanished faces, once familiar and still loved; of his home -at Earlshaugh, with its wealth of wood and hill; and -recollections which had been growing misty and indistinct -came before him with many a scene and episode, like -dissolving views that melted each other, as he seemed to -himself to sink into sleep—the sleep that was born of -fatigue, long over-tension of the nerves, and loss of blood. -</p> - -<p> -For weeks he was returned as one of the slain who had -perished at Kashgate; but Roland was hard to kill. He -had reached Khartoum—how he scarcely knew—ere Gordon, -the betrayed and abandoned by England, had perished -there; and eventually regained the headquarters of his -regiment, then with the army of occupation in Lower -Egypt. -</p> - -<p> -Of all this, and much more, with reference to her cousin -had Hester Maule read in the public prints; but little or -nothing of his adventures in the East could she glean from -him, as he seemed very diffident and loth to speak of himself, -unlike her father, Sir Harry, who was never weary of his -reminiscences of the war in Central India, particularly the -siege and capture of Jhansi under Lord Strathnairn, of -gallant memory. -</p> - -<p> -So the bearing of Roland Lindsay at the battle of Kashgate -and elsewhere had proved that he was worthy of the old -historic line from which he sprang; and that there was a -latent fire, energy, and spirit of the highest kind under his -calm, easy, and pleasant exterior. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER IV. -<br /><br /> -PLAYING WITH FIRE. -</h3> - -<p> -And now, a few days subsequently, while idling after dinner -over coffee and a cigar, with his pretty cousin and Sir -Harry, in the latter's study, a little room set apart by him for -his own delectation, where he could always find his tobacco -jars, the Army Lists, East Indian Registers, and so forth, -ready at hand—a 'study' hung round with whips and spurs, -fishing and shooting gear, a few old swords, and furnished -with Singapore chairs, tiger skins, and a couple of teapoys, -or little tables, Roland Lindsay obtained a little more -insight into family matters that had transpired daring his -absence while soldiering against the False Prophet in the -East. -</p> - -<p> -Sir Harry was a tall and handsome man, nearer his -seventieth than his sixtieth year, with regular aquiline -features, keen gray eyes, and closely shaven, all save a heavy -moustache, which was, like his hair, silver white; and -though somewhat feebler now by long Indian service and -wounds, he looked every inch, an aristocratic old soldier and -gently but decidedly he spoke to his nephew of troubles -ahead, while Hester's white hands were busy among her -Berlin wools, and she glanced ever and anon furtively, but -with fond interest, at her young kinsman, who apparently -was provokingly unconscious thereof. -</p> - -<p> -The old fox-hunting laird, his father, though a free liver, -had never been reckless or profligate; had never squandered -or lost an acre of Earlshaugh; never drank or gambled to -excess, nor been duped by his most boon companions; but -on finding that he was getting too heavy for the saddle, and -that the world, after all, was proving 'flat, stale, and -unprofitable,' had latterly, for a couple of years before his death, -buried himself in the somewhat dull and lonely if stately -mansion of Earlshaugh, where he had for a second time, to -the astonishment of all his friends, those of the Hunt -particularly, betaken himself to matrimony, or been lured -thereinto by his late wife's attractive and, as Sir Harry -phrased it, 'most strategic' and enterprising companion, -who had—as all the folks in the East Neuk said—contrived -to 'wind him round her little finger,' by discovering and -sedulously attending to and anticipating all his querulous -wants and wishes; and thus, when he died, it was found that -he had left her—as already stated—possessed of all he had -in the world, to the manifest detriment and danger of his -only son and daughter; and, worse still, it would seem that -the widow was now in the hands of one more artful than -herself—said to be a relation—one Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, into -whose care and keeping she apparently confided everything. -</p> - -<p> -Roland's yearly allowance since he joined the army had -not been meddled with; but deeming himself justly the -entire heir of everything, it could scarcely be thought he -would be content with that alone now. -</p> - -<p> -'A black look-out, uncle,' said he grimly; 'so, prior to -my return to Earlshaugh, to be forewarned is to be -fore-armed.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes; but in this instance, my boy,' said Sir Harry, -relinquishing for a moment the amber mouthpiece of his -hookah, 'you scarcely know against what or against whom.' -</p> - -<p> -'Nor can I, perhaps, until I see a lawyer on the subject.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, d—n lawyers! Keep them out of it, if possible. -The letters S.S.C. after a man's name always make me -shiver.' -</p> - -<p> -'And who is this Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, who seems to -have installed himself at Earlshaugh?' asked Roland, after a -brief pause. -</p> - -<p> -'No one knows but your—your stepmother,' replied Sir -Harry, with a grimace, as he kicked a hassock from under -his foot. 'No one but she apparently; he seems a sharp -fellow, in whom she trusts implicitly in all regarding the -estate.' -</p> - -<p> -'Where did he come from?' -</p> - -<p> -'God knows; but he seems to be what our American -cousins deem the acme of 'cuteness.' -</p> - -<p> -'And that is——' -</p> - -<p> -'A Yankee Jew attorney of English parentage,' replied -Sir Harry, with a kind of smile, in which his nephew did not -join. -</p> - -<p> -'Earlshaugh is a fine properly, as we all know, uncle; but -it was deuced hard for me, when I thought I had come into -it, to find this stepmother—a person I can barely remember -acting as my mother's amanuensis, factotum, and -toady—constituted a species of guardian to me—to me, a captain in -my twenty-seventh year, and to be told that I must for the -time content me with my old allowance, as the pater had -been—she said—rather extravagant, and so forth. I can't -make it out.' -</p> - -<p> -'Neither can I, nor any other fellow,' said the old General -testily. 'I only know that your father made a very idiotic -will, leaving all to that woman.' -</p> - -<p> -'If he actually did so,' said Roland. -</p> - -<p> -'No doubt about it—I heard it read.' -</p> - -<p> -'But you are a little deaf, dear uncle.' -</p> - -<p> -'D—n it, don't say that, Roland—I am fit for service -yet!' -</p> - -<p> -'Well, she has not interfered with my allowance as yet.' -</p> - -<p> -'Allowance!' exclaimed Sir Harry, smiting the table with -his hand; 'why the devil should you be restricted to one -at all?' -</p> - -<p> -'If—I am very ignorant in law, uncle—but if under this -will she has the life-rent——' -</p> - -<p> -'More than that, I tell you.' -</p> - -<p> -'I can scarcely believe it; and she has not meddled with -the allowance of dear little Maude.' -</p> - -<p> -'She may cut off your sister's income and yours too at -any moment, Roland!' -</p> - -<p> -'Well, I suppose if the worst comes to the worst,' said the -latter, with a kind of bitter laugh, while still hoping against -hope, 'I shall have to send in my papers and volunteer as a -trooper for one of these Cape corps in Bechuanaland or the -Transvaal.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, Roland, don't think of such things,' said Hester, as -with tenderness in her eyes she looked up at him for a -moment, and then resumed her work. -</p> - -<p> -'Have you seen this stepmother of mine lately?' he asked. -</p> - -<p> -'No—but she has invited me to Earlshaugh next month, -not knowing, perhaps, that you would spend the first month -of your leave—' -</p> - -<p> -'With his old uncle,' said Sir Harry, as his eyes kindled, -and he patted Roland's shoulder, adding, 'a good lad—a -good lad—my own sister's son!' -</p> - -<p> -Uncle and nephew had much in common between them, -even 'shop,' as they phrased it; and the regard they had for -each other was mutual and keen. -</p> - -<p> -'She writes to me seldom,' said Hester, 'for, of course, -our tastes and ideas are somewhat apart; but, as papa says, -when he sees her stiff note-paper, with the sham gentility of -its gilt and crimson monogram, and strong fragrance of -Essbouquet, he feels sure that, with all her manners, airs, and -so forth, she cannot be a lady, though many a lady's -companion, as she was to your mother, unhappily is.' -</p> - -<p> -Roland remained silent, sucking his cheroot viciously. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes,' observed his uncle, 'her very notes in their -pomposity speak of self-assertion.' -</p> - -<p> -'In going—unwillingly as I shall—to Earlshaugh, I don't -know how the deuce I may get on with such an incubus,' -said Roland thoughtfully; and now thoughts of the cold -welcome that awaited him by the hearth that had been his -father's, and their forefathers' for generations past, made -him naturally think and feel more warmly and kindly of -those with whom he was now, and more disposed to cling to -the loving old kinsman who eyed him so affectionately, and -the sweet, gentle cousin, every motion of whose white hands -and handsome head was full of grace; and thus, more -tenderly than ever was his wont, he looked upon her and -addressed her, softly touching her hands, as he affected to -sort, but rather disarranged, the wool in her work-basket; -and, though the days were rather past now when he regarded -with interest and admiration every pretty girl as the probable -wife of his future, and he had not thought of Hester in -that sense at all, she was not without a subtle interest for -him that he could scarcely define. -</p> - -<p> -'Give me some music, Hester—by Jove! I am getting -quite into the blues; there is a piano in the next room,' -said Roland, throwing aside his cigar and leading her away; -'a song if you will, cousin,' he added, opening the instrument -and adjusting the stool, on which she seated herself. -</p> - -<p> -'What song, Roland?' -</p> - -<p> -'Any—well, the old, old one of which you sang a verse -to me the other evening in the lawn.' -</p> - -<p> -'Do you really wish it?' she asked, looking round at him -with half-drooped lashes, and an earnest expression in her -dark, starry eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'I do, indeed, Hester—for "Auld Langsyne."' So she -at once gave her whole skill and power to the Jacobite air -and the simple, old song which ran thus -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'The visions of the buried past<br /> - Come thronging, dearer far<br /> - Than joys the present hour can give,<br /> - Than present objects are.<br /> - I love to dwell among their shades,<br /> - That open to my view;<br /> - The dreams of perished men, and years,<br /> - And bygone glory, too.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'For though such retrospect is sad,<br /> - It is a sadness sweet,<br /> - The forms of those whom we revere,<br /> - In memory to meet.<br /> - Since nothing in this changing world<br /> - Is constant but decay;<br /> - And early flowers but bloom the first,<br /> - To pass the first away!'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -As the little song closed, the girl's voice, full as she was of -her own thoughts, became exquisitely sweet, even sad. -</p> - -<p> -'Hester, thank you, dear,' said Roland, laying a hand on -her soft shoulder, with a sudden gush of unusual tenderness. -'The early flowers that bloomed so sweetly with us have not -yet passed away, surely, Hester?' -</p> - -<p> -'I hope not, Roland,' she replied, in a low voice. -</p> - -<p> -'And I, too, hope not,' said he, stooping, and careless of -the eyes of Sir Harry, who had been drumming time to the -air on a teapoy, he pressed his lips to the straight white -division between her close and rich dark hair. -</p> - -<p> -As he did so he felt her thrill beneath the touch of his -lips, and though his nonchalant air of indifference was gone -just then he said nothing more, but he thought: -</p> - -<p> -'Is not this playing with fire?' -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER V. -<br /><br /> -THE COUSINS. -</h3> - -<p> -Some days passed on after the little episode at the piano, -and the intercourse between the cousins, if tender and -alluring, was still somewhat strange, undecided, and -doubtful—save in the recesses of Hester's heart. -</p> - -<p> -Rambling together, as in days past, among the familiar -and beautiful sylvan scenery around Merlwood, times there -certainly were, when eye met eye with an expression that -told its own story, and each seemed to feel that their silence -covered a deeper feeling than words could express, and that -though the latter were not forthcoming as yet, their hearts -and lives might soon be filled by a great joy, on the part of -the untutored girl especially. -</p> - -<p> -At others, Roland, though not quite past seven-and-twenty, -had, of course, seen too much of the world and of life, in -and out of garrison, to be a hot-headed and reckless lover, -or to rush into a position which left him no safe or -honourable line of retreat. -</p> - -<p> -His passions were strong, but tempered by experience and -quite under his control; and he was inclined to be somewhat -of a casuist. -</p> - -<p> -'Was this brilliant and attractive companion,' he sometimes -asked himself, 'the same little girl who had been his -playmate in the past, who had so often faded out of his -boyish existence amid other scenes and places? And now -did she really care for him in <i>that</i> way after all?' -</p> - -<p> -His manner was kind and affectionate to her, but playful, -and while lacking pointed tenderness, there was—she -thought—something forced about it at times. -</p> - -<p> -When this suspicion occurred, her pride took the alarm. -Could it be that she had insensibly allowed her heart to slip -out of her own keeping into that of one from whom no -genuine word of love had come to her? Then the fear of -this would sting Hester to the soul, and make her at -times—even after the <i>[oe]illades</i> and eloquent silences referred -to—cold and reserved; and old Sir Harry, who, for many reasons, -monetary and otherwise, apart from a sincere and fatherly -regard for his only nephew, would have been rejoiced to -have him as a son-in-law, would mutter to himself: -</p> - -<p> -'Do they know their own minds, these two young fools?' -</p> - -<p> -He often thought sadly and seriously of Hester's future, -for he had been an improvident man; his funds and his -pensions passed away with himself; thus it was with very -unalloyed delight that he watched the pair together again as -in the days of their childhood, and he wove many a castle -in the air; but they all assumed the form of a certain turreted -mansion in the East Neuk of Fife. Then he would add to -Hester's annoyance by saying to her in a caressing and -blundering way: -</p> - -<p> -'He will love you very dearly, as he ought to do, some -day, my pet; and if you don't love him just now, you also -will in time. Your poor mother would have liked it—Roland -was ever her favourite.' -</p> - -<p> -'Please not to say these things, papa,' implored Hester, -though they were alone, and she caressed his old white head, -for Sir Harry seldom or never spoke of her mother, whose -death occurred some twelve years before, without an emotion -which he could not conceal, for he was gentle and loving by -nature. -</p> - -<p> -'Bother the fellow!' said Sir Harry testily, ashamed that -his voice had broken and his eyes grown full; 'he should -know his own heart by this time.' -</p> - -<p> -'I would rather, papa, you did not say such things.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well—I can't help thinking of them, and you have no -one to confide in, Pet Hester, but me,' he added, drawing -her head down on his breast. -</p> - -<p> -'If it will make you any happier, dear papa,' said Hester -in a very low voice, 'I will promise to do as you wish, if -Roland asks me to love him, which he has not done yet. -Anyway, it does not matter,' she added, a little irrelevantly; -'I care for no one else.' -</p> - -<p> -'Not even for Malcolm of Dunnimarle?' he asked -laughingly. -</p> - -<p> -'No, papa—not even for Malcolm Skene.' -</p> - -<p> -'He admires you immensely, Hester, but then Roland -seems to me just the sort of fellow to advise and protect—to -be good to a girl—strong and brave, kind and tender.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, hush, papa,' said Hester, ready to sink with confusion -and annoyance; 'here he comes,' she added, as Roland -came lounging through an open French window into the -dining-room. -</p> - -<p> -'What about Skene of Dunnimarle, uncle—surely I heard -his name?' he asked, adding to Hester's emotion of -confusion, though he failed to notice it. 'May I finish my -cigar here, Hester?' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, please do—I rather like it,' she replied hastily. -</p> - -<p> -'I have asked Skene for the shooting next month at -Earlshaugh—to knock over a few birds.' -</p> - -<p> -'That will be pleasant for Hester; he is rather an admirer -of hers,' said Sir Harry. -</p> - -<p> -'I don't know that he is,' said Hester; 'and if you talk -that way, I shall not go to Earlshaugh this summer at all, -papa.' -</p> - -<p> -'After your promise to me that you will do so?' asked -Roland. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, even after my promise to you,' she replied, as she -left the room. -</p> - -<p> -'I'll tell you a strange story of Malcolm's father when we -were together in Central India,' said Sir Harry, to change -the subject. 'It happened at Jhansi—you never heard it, I -suppose?' -</p> - -<p> -'Not that I know of,' replied Roland, who was already -weary of the Indian reminiscences that Sir Harry contrived -to drag into conversation whenever he could. -</p> - -<p> -'Well, it was a strange affair—very much out of the -common, and happened in this way. Duncan Skene was -Captain of our Grenadiers—ah, we <i>had</i> Grenadiers then, -before the muddlers of later years came!—and a handsomer -fellow than Duncan never wore a pair of epaulettes. A year -before we stormed Jhansi from the Pandies, we were in -quarters there, and all was as quiet at Allahabad as it is here -in the valley of the Esk. We did not occupy the city or the -Star Fort, but we had lines outside the former then, and one -night Duncan, when pretty well primed, it was thought, after -leaving the mess bungalow, betook him towards his own, -which stood in rather a remote part of the cantonment. All -seemed dark and quiet, and the <i>ghurries</i> at the posts had -announced the hour of two in the morning, when Duncan -came unexpectedly upon a large and well-lighted tent, within -which he saw six or seven fellows of ours—old faces that he -knew, but had not seen for some time—all carousing and -drinking round the table; he entered, and was at once made -welcome by them all. -</p> - -<p> -'Now, Duncan must have been pretty well primed indeed -not to have been sobered and chilled by what he saw; he -could scarcely believe his eyes or his own identity, and -thought that for the past year he must have been in a dream; -for there he was met with outstretched hands and hearty -greetings by many of ours who he thought were gone to their -last homes. There was Jack Atherly, second to none in the -hunting-field, whom he had seen knocked over by a matchlock -ball in a rascally hill fight; and there, too, was Charley -Thorold, once our pattern sub and pattern dancing man, -who he thought had fallen the same day at the head of the -Light Company; there, too, were Maxwell and Seton, our -best strokes at billiards, whom he had seen—or thought he -had seen—die of jungle fever in Nepaul; and Hawthorn -and Bob Stuart, for whom he had backed many a bill, and -who had been assassinated by Dacoits; but now seeming all -well and jolly, hale and hearty, though a trifle pale, after all -they had undergone. It was a marvellous—a bewildering -meeting; but he felt no emotion either of fear or surprise—as -it is said that in dreams we seldom feel the latter, though -some of his hosts in figure did at times look a little vaporous -and indistinct. -</p> - -<p> -'He was forced to sit down and drink with them, which -he did, while old regimental jokes were uttered and stories -told till the tent seemed to whirl round on its pole, the pegs -all in pursuit of each other; and then Duncan thought he -must be off, as he was detailed for guard at dawn. But ere -he quitted them, they all made him promise that he was to -rejoin them at the same place that day twelvemonth, a long -invitation, at which he laughed heartily, but to which he -acceded, promising faithfully to do so; then he reeled away, -and remembered no more till he was found fast asleep under -the hedge of his compound by the patrol about morning gun-fire. -</p> - -<p> -'Duncan's dream, or late entertainment, recurred vividly -to him in all its details; he could point to the exact spot -where the tent had stood, but not a trace of it was to be -found in any way, and no more was thought about the -matter by the few in whom he confided till that time -twelvemonth, when we found ourselves before Jhansi, with -the army sent under Lord Strathnairn to avenge the awful -slaughter and butchery there of the officers of the 12th -Native Infantry by the mutineers, from whom we took the -place by storm; and in the conflict, at the very hour of the -morning in which Duncan Skene had had that weird meeting -and given that terrible promise, and on the very spot where -the supposed tent stood, he was killed by a cannon shot; and -just about the same time I received the infernal bullet which -is lodged in me still. -</p> - -<p> -'That is a story beyond the common, Roland, for Skene -of ours was a fellow above all superstition, and wild though -his dream—if a dream it was—he was wont to relate it in a -jocular way to more than one—myself among the number.' -</p> - -<p> -Was it the case that the mention of young Skene as a new -admirer—perhaps more than an admirer—of Hester had -acted as a species of fillip to Roland? It almost seemed so, -for after that there was more tenderness if possible in his -manner to her, and he did not fail to remark that he saw -music and books lying about, presented to Hester by the -gentleman in question; and her father muttered to himself -with growing satisfaction, for he loved Roland well: -</p> - -<p> -'Now they are all day together, just as they used to be; -and see, he is actually carrying her watering pan for the -rosebuds. Well, Roland, that is better fun, I suppose, than -carrying the lines of Tel-el-Kebir!' And the old gentleman -laughed at his own conceit till he felt his Jhansi bullet cause -an aching where it lodged. This companionship filled the -heart of the girl with supreme happiness, and more than -once she recalled the words of a writer who says of such -times: 'I think there are days when one's whole past life -seems stirred within one, and there come to the surface -unlooked-for visions and pictures, with gleams from the -depths below. Are they of memory or of hope? Or is it -possible that those two words mean one thing only, and are -one at last when our lives are rounded and complete?' -</p> - -<p> -One evening, after being absent in the city, Roland -suddenly, when he and Hester were alone, opened a handsome -morocco case wherein reposed, in their dark-blue satin -bed, a necklace of brilliant cairngorms set in gold with a -beautiful pendant composed of a single Oriental amethyst -encircled by the purest of pearls. -</p> - -<p> -'A little gift for you, Hester,' said he; 'I am soon going -to Earlshaugh, and I hope to see you wear these there,' -added he, clasping the necklace round her slender throat. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, Roland!' exclaimed Hester in a breathless voice, -while her colour changed, 'can I accept such a gift?' -</p> - -<p> -'From me—your cousin—Hester?' he asked softly but -reproachfully, and paused. Beyond the gift he gave no -distinct sign as yet, and it flashed on Hester's mind that -with the jewels there was no ring. Could that be an omission? -Scarcely. -</p> - -<p> -Then, seized by a sudden impulse, he abruptly, yet softly -and caressingly, drew her towards him and kissed her more -than once. He had often saluted her before at meeting and -parting, but always in a cousinly way; but this seemed very -different now. -</p> - -<p> -Breathless, dazed apparently, the trembling girl pushed -him from her, and he gazed at her with some surprise as she -said: -</p> - -<p> -'Why did you do that, Roland? It is cruel—unkind of -you,' she added, with trembling fingers essaying, but in vain, -to unclasp the necklet. -</p> - -<p> -'Cruel and unkind—between us, Hester?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes,' she said, blushing deeply, and then growing very -pale. -</p> - -<p> -'I forgot myself for a moment, dearest Hester, in my -fondness of you.' -</p> - -<p> -She was trembling very much now, and as he took her -hands caressingly within his own, her eyes grew full of tears. -</p> - -<p> -'Hester, you know—you know well,' he began, with a -voice that indicated deep emotion. -</p> - -<p> -'Know what, Roland?' said she, trying to withdraw her -hands. -</p> - -<p> -'That I love you,' he was about to say, and would no -doubt have said, but that Sir Harry most inopportunely came -limping heavily in, so Roland was compelled to pause. The -few words that might have changed all the story we have to -tell were left unuttered, and next moment Hester was gone. -</p> - -<p> -'He does love me!' she thought in the solitude of her -own room; 'love me as I love him, and wish to be loved!' -</p> - -<p> -Long she pondered over the episode and gazed on his -gift ere she retired to rest that night. She hoped in time to -bind him to her more closely, for she thought he was a man -who would love once in a lifetime with all the strength of a -great and noble nature. -</p> - -<p> -Sweetly and brightly the girl smiled at her own reflection -in the mirror as with deft fingers she coiled up her rich -brown hair for the night; while slowly but surely she felt -herself, with a new and joyous thrill, to be turning her back -upon the past, yet a happy and an innocent past it had been, -and that she was standing on the threshold of a new and -brighter world of dreams. -</p> - -<p> -At last she slept. -</p> - -<p> -Roland Lindsay had been on the point of declaring his -love, but something—was it Fatality?—withheld him; then -the interruption came, and the golden moment passed! -</p> - -<p> -Would it ever come again? -</p> - -<p> -But a change was at hand, which neither he nor Hester -could foresee. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap06"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER VI. -<br /><br /> -ANNOT DRUMMOND. -</h3> - -<p> -Next morning when Hester, in the most becoming of -matutinal costumes, pale rose colour, which so suited her -dark hair and complexion, was presiding over the breakfast -table, and Sir Harry was about to dip into his newspapers, -selecting a letter from a few that lay beside her plate, she -said: -</p> - -<p> -'Papa, I have a little surprise for you—a letter from -Annot Drummond, my cousin; she comes here to-night <i>en -route</i> to Earlshaugh, invited by Maud, your sister,' she added -to Roland; 'by this time she will be leaving London at -Euston.' -</p> - -<p> -'"London, that maelstrom of mud and mannikins," as it -has perhaps been unjustly stigmatized by George Gilfillan,' -said Sir Harry, laughing, 'and she is to be here -to-night—that is sudden.' -</p> - -<p> -'But Annot was always a creature of impulse, papa!' -</p> - -<p> -'So some think,' said her father; 'but to me her impulses -always seemed to come by fits and starts. However, I shall -be delighted to see the dear child.' -</p> - -<p> -'The "dear child" is now nearly eighteen, papa.' -</p> - -<p> -'Heavens—how time runs on!—eighteen—yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'And she and I are to go to Earlshaugh together in -October—that is if you can spare me, papa,' added Hester, -colouring, and keeping the silver urn between herself and -Roland. -</p> - -<p> -'Excellent; I shall make up a little party for the covert -shooting, to entertain Skene of Dunnimarle, Jack Elliot of -ours, and one or two more, if I can,' said the latter. 'I -have been so long away from Earlshaugh; but doubtless -dear little Maud and the—the stepmother——' -</p> - -<p> -Sir Harry's brow clouded at the name, and Roland paused. -</p> - -<p> -'You did not see Annot when in London?' said Hester. -</p> - -<p> -'No—I had no time—she lived in a part of South -Belgravia, rather out of my wanderings,' replied Roland. -</p> - -<p> -'She is a very attractive girl, gentlemen think.' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah,' was the brief response of Roland, intent more on -his breakfast than the attractions of Annot Drummond, who -was the only child of Sir Harry's favourite sister, a widow, -whose slender circumstances compelled her to reside in a -small and dull old-fashioned house of the last century in -that locality which lies on the borderland of fashionable -London, where the narrow windows, the doorways with huge -knockers, quaint half-circular fanlights, and link extinguishers -in the railings, tell of the days when George III. was -King. -</p> - -<p> -'She complains, Roland, that you did not call on her, in -passing through London. Poor Annot,' said Hester. -</p> - -<p> -'Our, or rather your, little Cockney cousin, who no doubt -loves her love with an A, because he is 'andsome,' laughed -Roland. -</p> - -<p> -'How can you mock Annot?' said Hester; 'she is a very -accomplished girl—and lovely too—at least all men say so.' -</p> - -<p> -'And you, cousin Hester?' -</p> - -<p> -'I quite agree with them.' Hester was a sincere admirer -of beauty, and—perhaps owing to her own great attractions—was -alike noble and frank in admitting those of others. -'Her photo is in the album on that side table.' -</p> - -<p> -Roland was not interested enough in the matter even to -examine it. -</p> - -<p> -'You will be sure to admire her,' added Hester with an -arch and even loving smile as she thought of last night and -the jewel that had been clasped about her neck. -</p> - -<p> -'Admire her—perhaps; but nothing more, I am sure,' -replied Roland, while Hester's colour deepened, and her -smile brightened, though her long lashes drooped. He gave -her covertly one of his fond glances, which to the girl's loving -eyes seemed to spread a glory over his dark face, and a -close hand-clasp followed, unseen by Sir Harry, who was -already absorbed in the news from Egypt; but coyly and -shyly—she could scarcely have told why—all that day she -gave him no opportunity of recurring to the episode of the -preceding evening, or resuming the thread of that sweet story -which her father had so unwittingly interrupted. -</p> - -<p> -Since that minute of time, and its intended and most -probable <i>finale</i>, what had been Roland Lindsay's secret -thoughts? They were many; but through all and above -all had been a home such as he could make even of gloomy -and embattled Earlshaugh, if brightened by Hester's -sweet face, her alluring eyes and smile; with its echoes -wakened by her happy ringing voice, free from every note of -care as those of the merles in the wood around her father's -house. -</p> - -<p> -But withal came emotions of doubt and anger, as he -thought of his father's will, his own supposed false position -thereby, and how the future would develop itself. -</p> - -<p> -Though old, and being so, he might be disposed to take -gloomy views of these doubts, that cheery veteran Sir Harry -saw little or nothing of them, and had but one thought while -he limped along the river's bank, enjoying his cheroot under -the shady and overarching trees that cast their shadows on -the brawling Esk, that his nephew Roland was the one man -in all the world with whom he could fearlessly trust the -happiness of his daughter; and lovingly and fondly, with most -pardonable selfishness, the old man pondered over this; and -thus it was that the hopeful thoughts referred to in the -preceding chapter were ever recurring to him and wreathing his -wrinkled face with smiles, especially after he had seen the -beautiful necklet, which Hester had duly shown him, clasped -round her snowy throat. He loved to see them together, -and to hear them singing together at the piano or in the -garden, as if their hearts were like those of the merle and -mavis, so blithe, content, and happy they seemed, as when -they were boy and girl in the pleasant past time, when she -wore short frocks and little aprons, the pockets of which -were always full of Roland's boyish presents—sometimes the -plunder of neighbours' fruit trees. While to Roland the -revived memory or vision of a bright little girl with a tangled -mass of curls, who was often petulant, and then would -confess her tiny faults as she sobbed on his shoulder, till -absolved by a kiss, was ever before him; and now they -could linger, while 'dropping at times into that utterly -restful silence which only those can enjoy who understand -each other well; and perhaps, indeed, only those who love -each other dearly.' -</p> - -<p> -But this day was an active one with Hester. She chose -rooms for her coming cousin, relinquishing for a time those -slippers of dark blue embroidery on buff leather with which -she was busy for Roland. Vases of fresh flowers, selected -and sorted with loving hands, were placed in all available -points to decorate the sleeping and dressing rooms of Annot -Drummond; draped back, the laced curtains of the windows -displayed the lovely valley of the Esk, up which the river, -as it flowed eastward, softly murmured; Kevock-bank and -the wooded Kirkbrae on the north; the slope of Polton on -the south; Lasswade, with its quaint bridge, in the middle -distance, and Eldin woods beyond—a sweet and sylvan view -on which Hester was never weary of gazing. -</p> - -<p> -Thus with her passed most of the day; how it was spent -she scarcely knew; then evening came, and she and Sir -Harry drove into town to meet their expected visitor; and -Roland never knew how much he missed her till he was left -to his own thoughts—to the inevitable cheroot, and after -despatching his letters to Malcolm Skene, to Jack Elliot -'of ours,' and others, to vary his time between lounging in -the hammock between the shady trees and tossing pebbles -into the Esk. -</p> - -<p> -At last, after the shadows had deepened in the glen and -dusk had completely closed in, the sound of carriage wheels, -with the opening and banging to of doors, announced the -arrival of Annot Drummond, accompanied by her uncle and -cousin; and Roland assisted them to alight. For a moment -the tightly gloved and childlike hand of Miss Drummond -rested in his, and her eyes, the precise colour of which he -could not determine, but which seemed light and sparkling, -met his own with an expression of confidence and inquiry. -He had simply a vague idea of sunny eyes and waving golden -hair. The rest was undiscoverable. -</p> - -<p> -'Roland, I suppose,' she exclaimed, laughing, adding, 'I -beg your pardon, Captain Lindsay—but I have heard so -much of you from dearest Hester.' -</p> - -<p> -'Roland he is, my dear girl, and now welcome to -Merlwood—welcome for your mother's sake and your own!' -exclaimed Sir Harry, as he turned to give some orders about -the luggage, and Annot, accompanied by Hester, who -towered above her by a head, tripped indoors, with a nod -and a smile to the old housekeeper and other servants, all of -whom she knew. She seemed, indeed, a bright, fairy and -airy-like little creature, in the most becoming of travelling -costumes and most piquant of hats. -</p> - -<p> -'She seems quite a child yet, by Jove!' said Sir Harry, -looking after the <i>petite</i> creature, as she hurried to her room -to change her dress, and imbibe the inevitable cup of tea -brought by the motherly old housekeeper. -</p> - -<p> -'What do you think of our Annot?' asked Hester, -returning for a moment. -</p> - -<p> -'That she has a wonderfully fair skin,' replied Roland slowly. -</p> - -<p> -'All the Drummond women have that—it runs in the -clan. But her eyes—are they not beautiful?' -</p> - -<p> -'I cannot say.' -</p> - -<p> -'Did you not see them?' -</p> - -<p> -'No, Hester.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'She scarcely looked at me.' -</p> - -<p> -'They are the loveliest hazel!' exclaimed Hester. -</p> - -<p> -'Hazel—rather green, I think; but you know, I prefer -eyes of violet blue or gray to all others, Hester.' -</p> - -<p> -She laughed, as she knew her own were the eyes referred -to; but now the gong—a trophy of Sir Harry's from -Jhansi—sounded, and Annot came hurrying downstairs, and clasped -one of Hester's arms within her own so caressingly, with her -white fingers interlaced. -</p> - -<p> -To Roland now, at second sight, she looked wonderfully -<i>petite</i> and gentle, pure and fair—'fair as a snow-flake and -nearly just as fragile,' Sir Harry once said, and she clung -lovingly and confidingly to Hester, but it seemed as if, of -necessity, Annot must always be clinging to someone or -something. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap07"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER VII. -<br /><br /> -'IS SHE NOT PASSING FAIR?' -</h3> - -<p> -When she took her seat at table to partake of a meal -which was something between a late dinner and an early -supper, Roland saw how exquisitely fair Annot Drummond -was, as with a pretty air of childishness she clung to Hester—an -air that became her <i>petite</i> figure and <i>mignonne</i> face, but -not her years, as she was some months older than her cousin, -who with her dark hair and eyes he thought looked almost -brown beside this flaxen fairy, that seemed to realize the -comment of old Cambden, who says—'The women of the -family of Drummond, for charming beauty and complexion, -are beyond all others, and in so much that they have been -most delighted in by kings.' -</p> - -<p> -She had, however, greenish hazel eyes—greenish they -were decidedly, yet lovely and sparkling, shaded by brown -lashes and eyebrows, with golden hair, wonderful in quantity -and tint, that rippled and shone. Her complexion was pure -and pale, while her pouting lips seemed absolute scarlet, -rather than coral; and her eyes spoke as freely as her -tongue, lighting and brightening with her subject, whatever -it was. -</p> - -<p> -Annot's was indeed a tiny face; at times a laughing, a -loving and petulant face, and puzzling in so far that one -knew not when it was prettiest, or what expression became -it most; yet Hester—a very close observer—thought there -was something cunning and watchful in it at times now. -</p> - -<p> -Seeing that Roland was closely observing the new arrival, -she said: -</p> - -<p> -'Would you ever imagine, cousin Roland, that Annot -and I are just about an age? she looks like fifteen, and I -was eighteen my last birthday.' -</p> - -<p> -'Eighteen,' thought Roland Lindsay, toying with a few -grapes; 'can it be?—that golden-haired dolly—old enough -to be the heroine of a novel or a tragedy—old enough to be -a wife and the mistress of a household? By Jove, it seems -incredible.' -</p> - -<p> -And as she prattled away of London, the Park and the -Row, what plays were 'on' at the different theatres, of new -dresses, sights and scenes, and so forth; of her journey -down, a long and weary one of some hundred miles, and -the attention she received from various gentlemen passengers, -the bright chatterer, all smiles, animation, and full of little -tricks of manner, seemed indeed a contrast to the taller, -graver, dark-haired, and dark-eyed Hester, whose violet-blue -eye looked quite black by gaslight. -</p> - -<p> -Though a niece of Sir Harry's, Annot Drummond was no -cousin to Roland Lindsay, yet she seemed quite inclined, -erelong, to adopt the <i>rôle</i> of being one; for he was quite -handsome enough and interesting enough in aspect and -bearing to attract a girl like her, who instinctively filled up -her time with every chance-medley man she met, and knew -fully how to appreciate one whose prospects and positions -were so undoubtedly good; thus she repeatedly turned with -her irresistible smiles and <i>espièglerie</i> to him, as if he were -her sole, or certainly her chief, audience. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile old Sir Henry sat silently smoking his -inevitable hookah, eyeing her with loving looks, and tracing—or -rather trying to trace—a likeness between her and his -favourite sister; and Hester, who had of course seen her -cousin often before, sat somewhat silent, for then each girl -was, perhaps unconsciously, trying to know, to learn, and to -grasp the nature of the other. -</p> - -<p> -'Hester,' said Annot in a well-managed aside, 'I saw your -friend Skene of Dunnimarle in London, and he talked of -you to me, and of no one but you, which I thought scarcely -fair.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'One girl doesn't care to hear another's praises only for -an hour without end, I suppose.' -</p> - -<p> -Hester looked annoyed, but Roland seemed to hear the -remark as if he heard it not, which was not the case, as -Hester's name had been more than once mentioned in -conjunction with that of the young fellow in question. -</p> - -<p> -'I remember when Skene of ours at Sealkote——' Sir -Harry was beginning, when Hester contrived to cut the -Indian reminiscence short. -</p> - -<p> -Next morning Annot was in the garden betimes, natheless -the fatigue of her long railway journey; she seemed bright -as a summer butterfly, inhaling the fresh odour of the -flowers, under the shady trees, amid the rhododendrons of -every brilliant tint, the roses and sub-tropical plants that -opened their rich petals to the August sunshine, and more -than all did she seem to enjoy the fresh, soft breeze that -came up the steep winding glen or ravine through which the -Esk ran gurgling; and ever and anon she glanced at her -companion Roland, indulging in that playful <i>gaîté de coeur</i>, -which so often ends in disaster, for she was a finished flirt to -the tips of her dainty fingers; and he was thinking, between -the whiffs of his permitted cigar: What caused his present -emotion—this sudden attraction towards a girl whom he -had never seen before, and whose existence had been barely -known to him? And now she was culling a dainty 'button-hole' -for him, and making him select a bouquet for the -breast of her morning dress, a most becoming robe of light -blue cashmere with ribbons and lace of white. -</p> - -<p> -Could it be that mysterious influence of which he had -heard often, and yet of which he knew so little—a current of -affinity so subtle and penetrating, that none under its spell -could resist it? He was not casuist enough to determine; -but looked about for his cousin Hester and muttered: -</p> - -<p> -'Don't play the fool, Roland, my boy!' -</p> - -<p> -Usually very diffident and reticent in talking about himself -and his affairs, even the gentle and winning Hester had -failed, as she said, to 'draw him out;' but now, Annot—the -irrepressible Annot—led him on to do so by manifesting, or -affecting to manifest, a keen interest in them, and thus lured -him into flattering confidences to her alone about his -garrison life in England and the Mediterranean, or as much -as he cared to tell of it; his campaigns in Egypt; his escape -from the slaughter of Kashgate; his risks and wounds; his -medals and clasps; his regiment, comrades, and so forth, in -all of which she seemed suddenly to develop the deepest -interest, though perhaps an evil-minded person might have -hinted that she had a deeper and truer interest in Earlshaugh -and its surroundings, of which he had no conception as yet. -</p> - -<p> -Hester quickly saw through these little manoeuvres, and -at first she laughed at them, thinking they were all the girl's -way; that Roland was the only young man at Merlwood; -and so, by habit and nature, she must talk to him, laugh -with him, make <i>[oe]illades</i> and dress for him; and in dressing -she was an adept, choosing always soft and clinging materials -of colours suited to her pure complexion and fair beauty, and -well she knew by experience already that 'love feeds on -suggestions—almost illusions,' as a French writer says; 'for -the greatest charm about a woman's dress is less what it -displays than what it only hints at;' and Annot had all that -skill or taste in costume which is a great speciality of London -girls. -</p> - -<p> -During the whole day after this arrival, and even the -following one, Hester was unpleasantly conscious that -because Annot Drummond absorbed Roland so entirely, he -had scarcely an opportunity of addressing herself alone, and -still less of referring—beyond a glance and a hand pressure -or so forth—to that evening, on the last minutes of which -so much had seemed to hinge. -</p> - -<p> -A little music usually closed each evening, and Annot -performed, from Chopin and others, various 'fireworks' on -the piano, as Roland was wont to term them; while at -Hester's little songs, such as that one to the air of the -'Briar Bush,' she openly laughed, declaring they were quite -'too, too!' -</p> - -<p> -Her voice was not so trained as Annot's, and was not -remarkable for strength or compass, but it was clear and -sweet, fresh and true, and she sang with unaffected -expression, being well desirous of pleasing her cousin -Roland—her lover as she perhaps deemed him now. -</p> - -<p> -Annot's song, after Hester had given a little <i>chanson</i> from -Beranger—'<i>Du, du liegst mir im Herzen</i>,' accompanied—though -sung indifferently—with several <i>[oe]illades</i> at Roland, -gave her an opportunity to make, what Hester termed, some -of her 'wild speeches.' -</p> - -<p> -'A sweet love song, Annot,' said the latter. -</p> - -<p> -'A love song it is—but twaddle, you know,' replied Annot, -turning quickly the leaves of her music. -</p> - -<p> -'Twaddle—how?' -</p> - -<p> -'About marrying for love only and not money, Hester. -That is an old-fashioned prejudice which is fast dying out, -mamma tells me. Thank Heaven I am poor!' she added, -with a pretty shrug of her shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' asked Hester. -</p> - -<p> -'Because, when poor, one knows one is loved for self -alone.' -</p> - -<p> -The reply was made in a soft voice to Hester, yet her -upward glance was shot at Roland Lindsay, and she began -a piece of music that was certainly somewhat confused, -while he—sorely puzzled—was kept on duty turning over -the leaves. -</p> - -<p> -'Annot, I thought you were a finished performer!' said -Hester with some surprise and pique. -</p> - -<p> -'I was taught like other girls at Madame Raffineur's -finishing school in Belgium; and I <i>can</i> get through a piece, -as it is called, without many stoppages, though I often -forget upon what key I am playing, and use the pedals too at -haphazard, yet they are beyond my skill; but I find that -whatever I play——' -</p> - -<p> -'Even a noise?' suggested Hester. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, even a noise, while it lasts, puts down all conversation, -and when it is over everyone graciously says, "Thanks—so -much!" "Do I sing?" is next asked, but I mean to -practise so sedulously when I return to London.' -</p> - -<p> -'A bright little twaddler!' thought Hester, with a slight -curl of her handsome upper lip. -</p> - -<p> -'You talked of the Row—you ride, I suppose?' said -Roland to change the subject. -</p> - -<p> -'I have no horse,' replied Annot. -</p> - -<p> -'No horse! At Earlshaugh I shall get you an excellent -mount.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, thanks so much, cousin Roland!' replied Annot, -and while running her slender fingers rapidly to and fro -upon the keys she gave him one of her glances which were -never given without 'point.' -</p> - -<p> -'You seem pleased with her, Roland?' said Hester as -they drew a little way apart. -</p> - -<p> -'Well, I think she is wonderfully fair.' -</p> - -<p> -'Nothing more?' -</p> - -<p> -'Well, fair enough, and all such little golden-haired women -since the days of Lucrezia Borgia, I suppose, make no end -of mischief.' -</p> - -<p> -'Roland!' said Hester, her eyes dilating. -</p> - -<p> -Her cousin laughed, but knew not, perhaps, how truly and -prophetically he spoke. -</p> - -<p> -'Did you like my song?' asked Hester, after a little pause. -</p> - -<p> -'What song?' -</p> - -<p> -'Can you ask me? The little <i>chanson</i> of Béranger, that -you admire so much.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, yes—pardon me.' -</p> - -<p> -'You were thinking of her when you should have been -listening to <i>me</i>,' said Hester with an unmistakable flash in -her dark eyes, and he felt the rebuke. -</p> - -<p> -'Well—I was thinking, perhaps—but not as you suppose, -or say, Hester,' replied Roland, with a little laugh; but a -time came when Annot Drummond and her presence proved -to be no laughing matter. -</p> - -<p> -Days passed on now; whether it was that Annot was -perpetually in the way, or that no proper opportunity -occurred—which in the circle of a country house seemed -barely probable—Roland did not seek for the 'lost chord,' -or seem prepared to resume the thread of the sweet old -story that had been dropped so abruptly, and poor Hester -felt in her secret heart perplexed and piqued on a most -tender point, and would have been more than human had -she been otherwise. -</p> - -<p> -On an afternoon the quartette were seated under a spreading -beech, the girls idling over their tea, Roland and his -uncle smoking, when Annot suddenly proposed a walk to -the ruins of Roslin Castle, through the woods. Roland at -once rose and offered himself as escort; but Hester, who -had already begun to feel herself a little <i>de trop</i>—a bitter -and mortifying conviction—professed to have something to -attend to, and quietly declined the stroll, on which, with -something of an aching heart, she saw the two set forth -together. -</p> - -<p> -Archæology was not much in the way of Miss Annot -Drummond, she knew; but she also knew that if any ice -remained between these two (which was very improbable) -it would be surely thawed before that stroll ended, while in -assisting her over stiles and through hedges Roland's hand -touched that of Annot, or when her skirt brushed him, as -they wandered through freshly mown meadows and under -shady trees, by the steep, narrow, and rocky paths that lead -to the shattered stronghold of the Sinclairs—the glances and -touches and hand-clasps, enforced by the surmounting of -slippery banks and apparently perilous ditches, where the -beautiful ferns grow thick and green; and then the rambling -among the ruins that crown the lofty rock and overlook such -lovely and seductive scenery. -</p> - -<p> -Of what might have passed Hester could only, yet readily, -guess; her heart was full of aching thoughts—full well-nigh -to bursting at times—when the pair returned, silent -apparently, very happy too, and inclined to converse more -with their eyes than their lips; and singular to say, that of -the sylvan scenery of that wonderful glen, and of the ruined -abode of the whilom Dukes of Oldenburg and Princes of -Orkney, Annot Drummond seemed to have seen or noted—nothing; -and a sense of this, with what it implied, added -to the secret mortification of Hester. -</p> - -<p> -Thus, despite herself, that evening at dinner the latter -failed to act a part, and scarcely spoke, but seemed to play -with her knife and fork rather than eat; and fortunately no -one observed her, save perhaps her father. She was -painfully listless, yet nervously observant. -</p> - -<p> -Had Roland Lindsay's thoughts not been elsewhere he -must have seen how already the change in her looks was -intensified by the brilliance, the sparkling eyes, and the soft, -gay laughter of Annot, and how, when she did speak, she -nervously twisted her rings round and round her slender -fingers, seeming restless and <i>distraite</i>. -</p> - -<p> -A charming girl was certainly no novelty to Roland; nor -did he now regard one—as in his boyhood—as a strange -and mystic being to worship. He knew girls pretty well, -he thought, also their ways and pretty tricks, their fascinations -and little artifices; yet those of Annot—and she was -a mass of them—assuredly did bewilder him and attract his -fancy, though he only admitted to Hester that she was as -'fashionably appointed and well-got-up a girl as could be -found within a three-mile radius of Park Lane.' -</p> - -<p> -She was indeed full of sweet and winning—if cultivated—ways. -The inflexions of her voice were very sympathetic, -and the ever-varying expression of her bright hazel eyes—albeit -they were 'dashed' with green—added to her fascination -and influence; whilst she had a childish and pleading -way of putting her lovely white hands together when she -asked for anything that—as old Sir Henry said—'would -melt the heart of a cannon-ball.' -</p> - -<p> -Then, with regard to Roland, she was always asking his -advice about some petty trifle or book (though she was not -a reader), and deferred to his opinion so sweetly that she -gave him a higher idea of his own intellect than he had ever -possessed before; for she had all the subtle finesse of flattery -and flirtation, without seeming to possess or exert either; -and thus poor Hester was—to use a sporting phrase—'quite -out of the running.' -</p> - -<p> -One night the latter had a new insight into her cousin's -character, though Annot now never spoke, nor could be got -to speak, if possible, of Roland Lindsay. -</p> - -<p> -Prior to retiring to her bed, Annot had let down and was -coiling up her wonderful wealth of golden hair, which -reached almost to her knees; and she and Hester Maule, -with whom she was still on perfectly amicable and -apparently loving terms, were exchanging their gossiping -confidences, as young girls often do at such a time; and -on this occasion Hester thought—for a space—she might -be wrong in supposing that Annot had any serious views -upon Roland Lindsay, as she saw her drop, and then hastily -snatch up, a photograph on which she had been gazing with -a smile. -</p> - -<p> -'Who is this, Annot?' asked Hester. -</p> - -<p> -'Only old Bob.' -</p> - -<p> -'Who?' -</p> - -<p> -'Bob Hoyle,' replied Annot, laughing. -</p> - -<p> -'Old; why, he seems quite a boy, In uniform, too.' -</p> - -<p> -'He is not a boy, though I call him "old."' -</p> - -<p> -'His age?' -</p> - -<p> -'Is four-and-twenty; but I have known him so long, you -know, Hester.' -</p> - -<p> -'Since when?' -</p> - -<p> -'Since he used to come and see his sister at Madame -Raffineur's school in Belgium. He is awfully in love with -me.' -</p> - -<p> -'Is?' queried Hester, a little relieved of her suspicions. -</p> - -<p> -'Well—was—when younger.' -</p> - -<p> -'And now?' -</p> - -<p> -'He loves me still, I have no doubt.' -</p> - -<p> -'Do you mean to marry him?' -</p> - -<p> -'He has never asked me.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well, if he did—or does ask you?' -</p> - -<p> -'I don't know about that,' said Annot, as with deft little -fingers she finished and pinned her golden coil. -</p> - -<p> -'Why so?' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, cousin Hester, how inquisitive you are! I like him -immensely. He says openly that he can't stand the London -girls; that they are all very well to flirt with, dance, drive, -and talk with; but he wants a wife who in her own sweet -person will combine all the charms of fashionable and -domestic life, like me. But then he is so poor; has little -more than his pay. I can't fancy being poorer than I -am—love in a cottage is all bosh, you know; but I have -promised him——' -</p> - -<p> -'What?' -</p> - -<p> -'To think about it; but I won't be bound by promises, -Hester. When I marry I want to be rich. I must have a -carriage, beautiful horses, diamonds and dresses, for I have -no <i>dot</i> of my own. Marry for love, indeed! No, no, Bob, -dear. Who in these days does anything so absurd as that? -It is as much out of fashion as chivalry, duels, and periwigs.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, Annot—so young and so mercenary!' exclaimed -Hester. -</p> - -<p> -'Not mercenary, only practical, cousin. Another dear -fellow did so love me last winter, Hester!' said the girl, with -a dreamy smile. -</p> - -<p> -'And now?' -</p> - -<p> -'We are less than nothing to each other, Hester—after -all—after all.' -</p> - -<p> -'How—why?' -</p> - -<p> -'He was a second son—Mamma's <i>bête noire</i>; besides, a -married lady took him off my hands.' -</p> - -<p> -'A married lady?' exclaimed Hester. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—oh, my simple cousin! The mischief done in -London nowadays by married flirts would amaze you, -Hester; but good-night, I am so sleepy, dear.' -</p> - -<p> -And kissing the latter with great <i>empressement</i> on each -cheek, Annot departed to repose with one of her silvery -laughs, leaving the impression that if 'she was passing fair' -she was also passing heartless. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap08"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER VIII. -<br /><br /> -'IT WAS NO DREAM.' -</h3> - -<p> -To Roland Lindsay there was some new and undefinable -attraction towards Annot Drummond, against which, to do -him justice, he strove in vain, and his eyes actually fell under -the calm glance of his cousin Hester. 'Call it what one -may,' says a writer, 'that such a power does exist, and most -seriously influences our lives, is an undoubted fact. We may -deride and deny it as we will; but who can honestly doubt -that the sudden and mutual attraction felt by two persons -who are in essential matters absolutely ignorant of each -other, does occur in the lives of most of us, and it is not to -be fought against or laughed away in any manner.' -</p> - -<p> -Whether the attraction was quite <i>mutual</i> in this instance -remains to be seen. As yet the intercourse between Roland -and Miss Drummond <i>seemed</i>, with a little more <i>empressement</i> -of manner, merely the well-bred companionship of two -persons connected through mutual relations and residence in -the same pleasant country house; but the change in Roland's -manner to herself—veil it as he might—was subtly felt by -Hester, and became apparent even to her father, the -otherwise obtuse old Indian campaigner. -</p> - -<p> -'He was ever attentive, full of fun, lightness, and merriment; -but, oh, there is no mistaking that there is a change -now—a change since <i>she</i> came. What can it be—what has -come over him?' thought Hester. -</p> - -<p> -'It is all very odd,' growled Sir Harry; 'I can't make out -the situation now. Roland does not seem a flirting fellow, -whatever the girl may be, and she is plain when compared -with my Hester; yet he looks like a shorn Samson in the -fairy hands of this little golden-haired Delilah, and seems -never happy except when with her. It appears to me that -people nowadays always fall in love when, where, and with -whom they ought not. Ah, he is one of the "Lightsome -Lindsays;" yet I never saw anyone so changed,' added Sir -Harry, who had latterly found him wax weary of his Indian -reminiscences. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile Annot, who firmly believed in the dictum of -Thackeray, 'that any woman who has not positively a hump -can marry any man she pleases,' quietly pursued her own -course; and day by day it was Hester's lot to see this -courtship evidently in progress—herself at times ignored and -reduced to 'playing gooseberry,' as Annot thought (if, indeed, -she ever thought at all)—reduced again to her own inner life -once more; and knowing that nothing of it could interest -them now, so much did they seem bound in each other, she -pursued her old avocations among the poor and parish -people more than ever. -</p> - -<p> -The love—the budding love—he certainly once loved -<i>her</i>—was less than a shadow now! -</p> - -<p> -She ceased to accompany them in their walks and long -rambles in the woody glen by Mavisbank and Eldin groves, -and knowing the time when Roland was certainly 'due' at -Earlshaugh, she counted every hour till he should leave -Merlwood. -</p> - -<p> -'What a couple of wanderers you have become!' said Sir -Harry, a little pointedly. -</p> - -<p> -'Roland is so sympathetic,' simpered Annot; 'he appreciates -fully all my yearnings after the beautiful, of which we -can see nothing in the brick wilderness of London; and -certainly your scenery on the Esk is surpassingly lovely, -uncle!' though in reality she cared not a jot about it, and -had somewhat the Cockney's idea of a landscape, 'that too -much wood and too much water always spoiled it.' -</p> - -<p> -One evening matters had evidently reached a culminating -point with this pair. -</p> - -<p> -Returning at a somewhat late hour for her, when the -gloaming was deepening into darkness, from visiting a poor -widow, to whom she had taken some comforts, Hester, on -reaching Merlwood, paused in a garden path to look around -her, pleased and soothed by the calmness and stillness of -the dewy August evening, when not a sound was heard but -the ceaseless murmur of the unseen Esk far down below. -Suddenly, amid the shrubbery, she heard familiar voices, to -which she listened dreamily, mechanically, at first; then, -startled by their tenor, she was compelled to shrink between -the great shrubs, and—however obnoxious and repugnant to -her—was compelled to overhear; and till indignation came, -as she listened, there was a passionate, pleading expression -in Hester's eyes, which was unseen in the dark; as was the -quivering of the lip that came from the torture of the soul. -</p> - -<p> -Roland was speaking in accents low and eager, and -in others that were broken and tremulous Annot was -responding. -</p> - -<p> -'You have made me so happy, dearest Roland, by the -first whisper that you—you loved me,' sighed the girl. -</p> - -<p> -'I seem scarcely to recollect what happened to me before -I met you here, Annot,' said he. -</p> - -<p> -'How so?' she asked coyly. -</p> - -<p> -'It seems as if I had only existed then.' -</p> - -<p> -'And now, Roland?' -</p> - -<p> -'I live, my darling! for -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "In many mental forms I vainly sought<br /> - The shadow of the idol of my thought,"<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -till now. In three days more—only three—my little -Annot—my golden-haired darling, I shall have to leave you for -Earlshaugh; and, till you join me there, what will life be -without you?' -</p> - -<p> -He drew her close to him, and poor Hester shivered; but -flight was impossible. -</p> - -<p> -'And what will life at Merlwood be to me?' replied, or -rather asked, Annot, in that caressing and cooing tone which -she well knew was one of her chief attractions. -</p> - -<p> -'But Earlshaugh in time will be your home, Annot—yours, -to make what alterations you choose on the quaint -old place. You shall reign there—the fairest and dearest -bride that ever came within its walls.' -</p> - -<p> -'Do not talk thus, Roland!' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'It makes me feel as if I were selling myself.' -</p> - -<p> -'Annot!' he expostulated; and she answered with that -low, cooing laugh of hers which was such a wonderful -performance. -</p> - -<p> -'Now, tell me,' said she; 'were you ever in love -before?' -</p> - -<p> -'Why that question, Annot?' -</p> - -<p> -'I have no motive—only curiosity, Roland—yet I could -not bear to think that you had ever loved anyone else as -you do me.' -</p> - -<p> -'I never did! All men have, or have had fancies,' said -he evasively. -</p> - -<p> -'I don't mean a fancy—a real love!' -</p> - -<p> -'Annot?' -</p> - -<p> -'Did you ever ask a girl to marry you?' -</p> - -<p> -'Never—never! My darling—my pet—my little fairy—you -alone have crept into my heart and made it all your -own! With all their real length, how short have seemed -the August days since you came hither, Annot!—how brief -and swift the hours we spend together! But—but—you -must say nothing of all this, our hopes and our future, to -Hester.' -</p> - -<p> -'No—oh no; I love you too fondly to have a confidant -in the world.' -</p> - -<p> -'I must seal your lips, dearest Annot,' interrupted Roland. -Then came a pause and many caresses and many endearing -names, as they slipped softly away towards the lighted -windows of the villa, and left the agonized and startled -listener free—for startled she was, and, curiously enough, for -all she had seen and suspected, she was scarcely prepared -for such a scene as this; and every caress she saw had -seemed to sink like a hot poniard into her heart, as she -stole away to her room, and strove to think, as one -might in a dream. -</p> - -<p> -Vague and numb was the first impression the episode -made upon her, till feverish jealousy and mortification made -her clasp and wring her hot, dry hands, and gnaw her nether -lip, while burning tears rolled down her cheeks, with the -assurance that all was over now! -</p> - -<p> -'After all—he meant nothing—nothing after all!' she -muttered; 'why did you make me love you so, Roland!' -</p> - -<p> -The man she had loved—who fully, as far as manner and -almost words went, had answered her love for him, had -meant nothing, but <i>pour passer le temps</i>. He had been, he -thought perhaps, only kind, friendly, cousinly, while -she—great Heavens!—had been on the point of laying her -affectionate heart at his feet. -</p> - -<p> -Oh, what humiliation was hers! -</p> - -<p> -In explanation of the lateness of their return, they had -been a long walk, the loiterers said, away below Roslin -Chapel; but said nothing of what the walk had somewhat -suddenly evolved. -</p> - -<p> -When the gloaming was considerably advanced, and, -though a ruddy sunset lingered in the north-west, there was -no moon in the sky, where the evening star shone brilliantly, -they had wandered down the river-side—its current flowing -like molten silver when seen between and under the dark, -overshadowing, and weird-like trees—to where, on the -summit of its high and grassy knoll, the beautiful chapel of -Roslin towered up between them and the sky-line—the -solemn scene, as Scott has preserved it, of one of the most -thrilling and poetical of all family presages of death and -war; a legend deduced from the tomb-fires of the Norsemen, -and, doubtless, transplanted from our stormy Northern Isles -to the sylvan valley of the Esk by that old Prince of Orkney, -whose bride, Rosabelle, perished, and when the chapel -seemed filled with flame. -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'O'er Roslin all that dreary night,<br /> - A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam!<br /> - 'Twas broader than the watchfire's light,<br /> - And redder than the bright moonbeam.<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Even as Roland was quoting these lines to Annot -Drummond a wonderful but natural effect took place. -</p> - -<p> -'Look, Roland,' cried she with a thrill of real terror; -'look, the chapel is on fire!' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, impossible,' said he, still intent on gazing on her -sweet face. -</p> - -<p> -'But look—look—it <i>is</i>!' -</p> - -<p> -Whether she thought so or not Annot was evidently -startled and discomposed, while Roland certainly was not -without momentary astonishment. A row of red lights -appeared through the branches of the dark trees high above -where he and Annot stood. It was the last light of the -orange and blood-red set sun gleaming though the double -row of chapel windows—the rich red light that is peculiar -to Scottish sunsets, and the phenomenon it produced had a -powerful effect upon the vision and minds of the beholders—even -on the volatile and unimaginative Annot, who, before -the light faded out, was not slow to understand and to -utilize the situation in her own way. -</p> - -<p> -She clung to Roland in an access of terror apparently, -and that it was more than partly simulated certainly he -never thought. While seeming to be terrified by the ghostly -sight, she hid her face in his neck; and then Roland felt it -was all over with him! -</p> - -<p> -'My darling—my darling, do not be so alarmed—it is -only a transient sunset effect,' said he, kissing her cheek. -</p> - -<p> -'Don't, Roland, don't—oh, you must not do that,' she -murmured. -</p> - -<p> -But Roland did <i>that</i>, again and again—pressing his lips -to her eyes, her rippling hair—covering her face with kisses, -while he half lifted, half led her homeward, up the steep and -winding path to Merlwood, which they reached, as said, at -a somewhat later period than usual. -</p> - -<p> -'Well,' thought Hester, as she bathed her face and eyes -to remove all traces of her late emotion, 'in three days I -shall, for a time at least, see and hear no more of this. And -yet—my heart will speak—I have loved <i>him</i>—all my life—ever -since he was a boy; and she has known him, as it were, -but yesterday!' -</p> - -<p> -She put a hand to her forehead and pushed back the rings -and rows of heavy brown hair, as if their weight oppressed -her. -</p> - -<p> -'Thank Heaven!' she thought, 'I can make my life a -useful and a busy one, even here. Thank Heaven for the -refuge of another love, with work and duty—love and duty -to papa, and work for my poor people and their little ones! -But why, oh why,' she added, while interlacing her fingers -behind her neck, and looking round her wildly, 'did he love -her after <i>all</i>?—why turn from me to her—that little -golden-haired doll, with her winning ways and heartless nature; and -how comes it that her languorous green eyes have power to -awake such a passion as filled every accent of Roland's voice -in the gloaming there? She came when she was not wanted; -and both are cruel, heartless, treacherous!' -</p> - -<p> -But, to do Annot justice, she knew nothing then of the -tender relations that had begun to exist between Hester and -her cousin, though we do not suppose that the knowledge -would have much influenced that enterprising young lady in -her plans and views, her wishes and purpose. -</p> - -<p> -Hester felt that she had been ready enough—too ready, -she now feared—to show him all her own heart, till that -other girl came, and she thought till now that it had frozen -up under Annot's presence and too evident influence on him. -</p> - -<p> -That evening she did not appear at dinner, but sent -excuses downstairs, and refused to receive even a visit from -Annot. That would have been indeed too much to have -undergone; but anon the mental storm passed away; the -ruddy dawn stole into Hester's bedroom, and she rested her -weary head against the open window to inhale the fresh -morning breeze that came up the woody valley of the Esk, -and over parterres of dewy flowers that were sweet enough to -grace the bank whereon the Queen of Elfin slept. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -That day she saw on Annot's mystic finger—the fourth of -the left hand—a ring she had not observed before, and knew -who was the donor, and what the gift meant, but the -knowledge could not give her a keener pang. She thought of -Roland's gift, and of the emotions that had filled her heart -when he had clasped it round her neck. She could not -return that gift to Roland without some reason; and she -apparently had none; but yet its retention was most repugnant -to her, and never would she wear it. He had given it -to her as his cousin—nothing more, now it would seem. -Did he mean it so, <i>then</i>? -</p> - -<p> -The dainty slippers, with blue embroidery on buff leather, -which had formed a portion of her daily and loving work, -were relinquished now and cast aside, too probably to be -never finished. -</p> - -<p> -Hester Maule felt all the shame and sorrow of loving one -in secret, whose heart and preference were given to another. -What evil turn of Destiny had wrought this for her? Why -had she so mistaken—if she <i>had</i> indeed done so—his -mere playful, cousinly regard for aught else than its true -value? -</p> - -<p> -Yet—yet there had been times—especially on that night -when he gave her the jewels—that a gleam of tenderness, of -yearning, of love had lit up his dark eyes—an expression -that had gone straight to her heart and made every nerve -thrill. Why had she not guessed then—why not foreseen -what was to happen? But the <i>future</i> is always oddly woven -up with the <i>present</i>, we are told; and 'how strange are the -small threads that first begin to spin the great woofs of our -life story—unnoted, unheeded at the time—they stand out -clearly and plainly to our mental vision afterwards, and we -ask ourselves with bitter anguish, "Why did we not guess—why -did we not foresee it?" Better, perhaps, that the power -of prevision is denied us, since we can neither alter nor -avert the doom that awaits us along the path of life.' -</p> - -<p> -We do not mean to palliate or defend the indecision—change -of love and regard—on the part of Roland Lindsay; -but Hester had been from his earliest years so much of a -younger sister to him, that, though loving, winning, and -gentle, this golden-haired girl, with all her <i>espièglerie</i>, her -bold little speeches, and pretty touches and tricks of manner, -came as a new experience to him; and for the present -certainly, to all appearance, had enslaved and bewildered him, -dazzling his fancy to say the least of it. -</p> - -<p> -Despite all her efforts, Hester, if she completely controlled -her manner, could not conceal her pain; thus her eyes -seemed dull, even sunken, and harsh lines marred the usual -sweetness of her lips. If Roland noted these signs, he -strove to ignore them. Annot had artfully instilled some -petty jealous suspicions of young Skene of Dunnimarle in -Roland's mind, and he sought mentally to make these a kind -of apology to himself, while seeming indifferent to what the -girl might suffer, even when her presence (despite the -arrangement for secrecy she had overheard) scarcely at times -interfered with the <i>sotto voce</i> babble of their lover-like but -inane conversation. -</p> - -<p> -To Hester it seemed as if she was in a bad dream, but -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'It was no dream, and she was desolate.'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap09"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER IX. -<br /><br /> -THE OLD LOVE AND THE NEW. -</h3> - -<p> -So Roland Lindsay was engaged to Annot Drummond. -Hester could have no doubt about that when she saw the -ring upon her mystic finger; and she supposed rightly that -till he could ascertain definitely 'how the land lay' at -Earlshaugh nothing further was arranged, and at last, to her -supreme satisfaction—an emotion she once never thought to -feel, so far as Roland was concerned—the day of his -departure for Fifeshire came. -</p> - -<p> -'I must turn up at Earlshaugh now,' said he, when the -last evening came. 'I have asked Jack Elliot, Skene, and -one or two other fellows, over for the covert shooting; and -also, I suppose, I shall have to give my attention to -Mr. Hawkey Sharpe in the matters of subsoil and drainage, -mangold wurzel, and all that sort of thing.' -</p> - -<p> -'I don't think he will trouble you much on these matters,' -said Sir Harry dryly. -</p> - -<p> -'Why, uncle?' -</p> - -<p> -'You will find that he deems them his own peculiar -province and <i>interest</i> too,' replied Sir Harry, with a lowering -expression of eye; and that his once jolly old uncle's manner -was now somewhat cool to him Roland was unpleasantly -sensible: and when the evening drew on, and, knowing that -he would depart betimes in the morning, he had to bid -Hester farewell, something of regret—even remorse—came -across his mind. He suspected too surely all she had been -led to hope of him in the past—the love he could not give -her now, at least; and he strove to affect a light bearing to -her, and appear his old <i>insouciant</i> self, while thinking over -Annot's instilled suspicions. -</p> - -<p> -'Skene!' he muttered; 'was my regard for Hester a -passing infatuation, or an old revived fancy? Was it likely to -have proved a lasting attachment if Annot had not come? -And in Hester would I have but received the worn-out -remnant of an attachment for another? Do not look so -strange—so white, cousin,' said he in a low voice, as he -touched her hand. -</p> - -<p> -'White am I?' asked Hester with inexpressible annoyance; -'if so, it is caused by anxiety for papa—he is not strong, -Roland.' -</p> - -<p> -'Of course,' glad to affect or adopt any idea; 'but always -trust to me——' -</p> - -<p> -'To <i>you</i>!' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes; we have ever been friends, and shall be so -always, I hope, for I never forget that I am your cousin, -though the privileges of such might turn a wiser head than -mine,' he added, unwisely, awkwardly, and with a little -laugh. -</p> - -<p> -A gleam came into Hester's eyes, which always looked -nearly as black as night, and there was an angry curl on her -red lip for a moment. -</p> - -<p> -Bewildered—besotted, in fact—though Roland had become, -by the wiles, graces, and beauty of the brilliant Annot, it was -impossible for him not to feel, we say, some compunction, -and keenly too, for his treatment of the soft and gentle -Hester. He could not and dared not in any fashion approach -so delicate a subject with her—explanation or exculpation -was not to be thought of; yet he felt reproach subtly in her -manner; he could read it in her eyes, strive to conceal her -emotions as she might; and confusion made him blunder -again. -</p> - -<p> -'Hester, we part but for a few days,' said he in a low -voice, and with more <i>empressement</i> of manner than he had -adopted for some time past; 'we have ever been excellent -friends, have we not, my dear girl? and now we shall be -more so than ever.' -</p> - -<p> -Hester remained silent. 'Why now, more than ever?' -thought she, while his half-apologetic tone irritated and cut -her to the heart, and she knew that a much more tender -leave-taking with Annot was over and had taken place unseen; -and now, indulging in dreamy thoughts of her own, that -young lady was idling over the keys of the piano. -</p> - -<p> -'Will you miss me when I am gone?' he asked, with a -little nervous smile. -</p> - -<p> -'No doubt you will be missed—by papa especially.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well, I hope so.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'It is nice to feel one's self important to others,' said he. -with another awkward attempt at a jest; adding, 'May I?' -as he lighted a cigar. -</p> - -<p> -She grew paler still; for a moment he looked sorrowfully -into her white-lidded and velvety dark blue eyes, and -attempted to touch her hand, but she shrank back. -</p> - -<p> -'I should like,' he began, 'to stay a little longer, of course, -but I must go; the covert shooting is at hand, and -Earlshaugh must wait me.' -</p> - -<p> -'It is more than some do there, papa thinks.' -</p> - -<p> -'The more reason for me to go, cousin,' said he, with -darkening face. -</p> - -<p> -'Go—and the sooner the better,' thought Hester bitterly; -'there is now no middle course for me—for us; we must be -everything or nothing to each other—and nothing it is!' -</p> - -<p> -'Good-night, Hester dear,' said he, still lingering. 'Adieu, -Annot. I shall be off to-morrow by gunfire, as we say in -barracks, when all are asleep in Merlwood.' -</p> - -<p> -'Good-night.' -</p> - -<p> -And so they parted, but not finally. -</p> - -<p> -Early though the hour next day, Hester was too active by -habit, too much of a housewife, and too kind of heart to -permit him to depart without being down betimes to give him -a cup of coffee and to see him ere he went, despite his -laboured apologies. How fresh and bright Hester seemed -in her white morning dress, with all its frills—fresh from her -bath, and both clear-skinned and fair, as only a dark-haired -and dark-eyed girl usually looks at such a time, requiring -none of that powdering and other odious process now known -as 'making up.' Annot's low curtains remained closely -drawn, and there was no sign of that young lady, for the sun -was barely over the woods of Hawthornden. -</p> - -<p> -Hester tendered her soft cheek for Roland's farewell -salute, and carried it bravely off—better even than he did, -as with a wave of the hand he was driven away. -</p> - -<p> -He was gone—<i>gone</i>, and had ceased to be hers. Lingeringly -the girl looked around her. To Hester every flower -and shrub in the garden seemed to have a voice and say -so. Every inanimate object told her so again and again. -Fragments of his cigar lay about the gravel walks; there yet -swung his hammock between the trees; and there was -almost no task she could attempt now that was not associated -with him, and, worse than all, with Annot Drummond. -</p> - -<p> -Long did Hester sit on a garden sofa, as the former could -see from her window, while brushing out her marvellous -hair—sit with cold and locked hands and pathetic eyes, -motionless and miserable, as she listened like one in a dream -to the singing of the birds, the humming of the bees around -her, and the pleasant murmur of her native Esk. -</p> - -<p> -The fair and beautiful girl saw this and knew the cause -thereof; yet in her great love and passion, if not in her -artful design, she was pitiless! -</p> - -<p> -She was too well trained, she thought, by her mother to -be otherwise. Taught from her cradle to look upon wealth, -and all that wealth could obtain, as the chief object of life, -she had from the days of her short frocks and plaited hair, -heard only of 'excellent matches,' of 'moneyed marriages,' -and 'eligible men,' and so her mind was framed in another -world from Hester's. -</p> - -<p> -Men, thought the latter, cared little for a love that was -easily won, she had read. Perhaps Roland valued hers -lightly thus. Well, she would assert herself—might even -go to Earlshaugh, meet him beneath his own roof, and in -his own home show herself that she was heart-whole, could -she but act the part her innate pride suggested. -</p> - -<p> -At first she avoided Annot, whom she heard hourly idling -over the piano; she felt, amid all her crushing and mortifying -thoughts, that she would be happier if busy, and so she -bustled about the house affecting to be dreadfully so; tied -up, let down, snipped, and twined rose-bushes in the garden, -and strove to look happy and cheerful, with a sick and sinking -heart—even attempting to sing, but her voice failed her. -</p> - -<p> -On the other hand, the frivolous, emotional, and perhaps -somewhat sensuous nature of Annot required change, society, -and above all some exciting incident to keep her even in -tolerable humour and mental health; and now that she had -no companion at Merlwood but Hester and her old uncle, -with his inevitable hookah and Indian small talk, she became -unmistakably <i>triste</i> and fidgety, impatient and absent—only -awake and radiant when the postman was expected. She -felt utterly bored by Merlwood now, and could not conceal -her impatience to fulfil her visit to Earlshaugh. -</p> - -<p> -'I quite look forward to that event,' said she. -</p> - -<p> -'No doubt,' assented Hester. -</p> - -<p> -'It will be so delightful—a country house full of people, -and mamma not there to watch and scold me in private.' -</p> - -<p> -'For what?' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah, you should see or hear her after she has caught me -idling much with a detrimental, or daring to leave my hand -in his for a moment.' -</p> - -<p> -'Annot!' -</p> - -<p> -'I fear that I am a natural born flirt, Hester.' -</p> - -<p> -The latter made no reply, as she thought, a little disdainfully, -that these would-be artless speeches were merely meant -to 'cast dust in her eyes,' and with regard to her own visit -to Fifeshire, she was seldom twice in the same mood of mind. -</p> - -<p> -'Invited to Earlshaugh—to meet, see, and associate hourly -with him, and with <i>her</i>, too, there!' Hester would think. -'Better feign illness and stay at home—at sequestered -Merlwood; but that would only be putting off the evil day. As -her kinsman, she must meet him some time and face it -boldly—meet him as little more than a friend, after all that -had passed between them, and he had left—unsaid!' -</p> - -<p> -'I cannot make you and Roly—I mean Roland—out!' -said Annot on one occasion. -</p> - -<p> -'How?' asked Hester. 'I do not understand you.' -</p> - -<p> -'I always thought myself quick in discovering cases of -spoon——' -</p> - -<p> -'Don't be slangy, Annot.' -</p> - -<p> -'Slang or not, you know the phrase and all it expresses!' -</p> - -<p> -'Well?' -</p> - -<p> -'When I first came here I made up my mind that Roland -was entirely yours, though I could not be sure whether you -returned his regard; but after being with you both for nearly -a month, I find myself quite at a loss.' -</p> - -<p> -'Do you?' said Hester icily. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—you parted last night without the least sign of -regret or emotion, and all that sort of thing.' -</p> - -<p> -'How dare she attempt to quiz me thus?' thought Hester, -feeling almost that she could strike the smiling little speaker; -'how dare she?—but she knows not all I know—all I was -compelled to overhear!' -</p> - -<p> -So, as days passed on, beyond dark shadows under her -eyes, the result of broken nights, there was little bodily sign -of what Hester endured mentally. -</p> - -<p> -'Why, Hester, you have really and truly received a letter -at last from Earlshaugh!' exclaimed Annot one morning, to -Hester's annoyance and pique, as the former quickly -recognised the coat of arms and post-mark; and that Annot, who -received missives from the same source daily, should jest -over the event, made Hester, with all her innate gentleness -of heart, almost hate the speaker. -</p> - -<p> -It was from Roland at last, thanking her and Sir Harry -for their great kindness to him, and hoping to see her and -Annot Drummond together at Earlshaugh at the time -proposed. -</p> - -<p> -Nothing more! -</p> - -<p> -'Go to Earlshaugh—no—no!' was again Hester's first -thought, with a kind of shudder; 'to be with <i>them</i> -morning, noon, and evening—the feeling would madden -me—yet how am I to excuse myself?' -</p> - -<p> -'You never go from home now, papa,' she took an opportunity -of saying as she wound her soft arms round Sir Harry's -time-silvered head and drew it down upon her breast; 'and -seldom though I do so, I wish to escape this visit to -Earlshaugh—I am most loth to leave you.' -</p> - -<p> -'For a few weeks—a few miles' distance!' -</p> - -<p> -'But who will take my place when I am gone? Who will -make your breakfast so early, cut the papers, and brighten -up the fire for you——' -</p> - -<p> -'The housekeeper, of course.' -</p> - -<p> -'Deck the room with flowers; walk with you along the -woody paths by the river? Who will read, play, and sing -to you at night? I do not wish to go at all, papa—let Annot -go alone.' -</p> - -<p> -'Nonsense, girl! I shall miss you, of course, but it is -only for a time,' said her father, who knew and felt well that -it was in the nature of Hester to think and anticipate his -every wish, and do all that in its truest and holiest sense -made Merlwood a <i>home</i> for him. -</p> - -<p> -'You are not worrying yourself about anything, dear?' -said the old gentleman, who had his own thoughts on the -matter, as he put an arm caressingly round her, and eyed -her anxiously. -</p> - -<p> -'Of course not, papa,' replied Hester with assumed -briskness; 'about what should I worry?' -</p> - -<p> -'Little troubles look big at times,' said he, laying his head -back in his easy-chair. -</p> - -<p> -Her trouble was not a little one, however, and while -pursuing his own thoughts her father made her pale cheek -grow paler still. -</p> - -<p> -'Annot seems to have taken a great fancy to Roland; -but the fancies of town-bred girls are often mere moonshine.' -</p> - -<p> -'Not the fancies of such girls as Annot, with a home-like -Earlshaugh in prospective,' said Hester, with a forced laugh, -as she recalled Annot's several confidences. -</p> - -<p> -'Ah!' muttered the old gentleman dubiously, while tugging -his wiry white moustache; 'still, it may be a fancy that -will pass,' he continued, still pursuing his own thoughts; -'and things always come right in the end.' -</p> - -<p> -'On the stage and in novels, papa,' replied Hester, -laughing outright. -</p> - -<p> -'But they <i>do</i> wind up rightly, dear, even in real life -sometimes.' -</p> - -<p> -'You know, papa, it is always said that no man ever -marries his first love.' -</p> - -<p> -'It may be so, Hester—it may be so; but one thing you -may be sure of, if he is a true man.' -</p> - -<p> -'And that is— -</p> - -<p> -'He never can forget her.' -</p> - -<p> -Sir Harry's eyes kindled, and his voice grew soft as he -said this; for his thoughts were wandering away to the wife -of his youth—she who now lay in the old kirkyard above -the Esk—and of whom Hester seemed then a living -reproduction, or the old man thought so; and when he spoke -thus in the love and chivalry of his heart, he revived in -Hester a moth-like desire to go to Earlshaugh after all, such -is the idiosyncrasy of human nature; and as some one has -it, 'to suffer that self-immolation, which is common to -unhappy lovers. She longed to see Roland once more'—to -feast her eyes upon the man who seemed happy with -another, no matter what the after-pain might be. -</p> - -<p> -What she meant to say or do, or how to look—when this -new fancy seized her—she knew not. She only knew -that—meanly, she thought—she hungered and thirsted for the -sound of his voice and a glance of his eyes, before, -perhaps, he—even as the husband of Annot Drummond—went -to Egypt or elsewhere, it might be to return, perhaps, -no more. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile, that 'fair one with the golden locks' was all -feverish impatience till the time came for quitting Merlwood, -and had no doubt that Roland would cross the Forth to -meet her. -</p> - -<p> -'You seem strangely interested in the movements of -Roland,' said Sir Harry rather grimly to her. -</p> - -<p> -'He is almost half a cousin, is he not, uncle?' said -Annot, in her most cooing and caressing way; 'but no one -would think me so foolish as to lose my heart to a mere -cousin.' -</p> - -<p> -'None will suspect you of such a loss, indeed,' observed -Hester, with some pardonable bitterness, as she recalled all -she had so unwillingly overheard in the shrubbery on that -eventful evening. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap10"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER X. -<br /><br /> -ROLAND'S HOME-COMING. -</h3> - -<p> -Let us return to the day of Roland Lindsay's departure -from Merlwood, when full of thoughts of a sorrowful cast, -and perhaps in the frame described by Wordsworth as -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'That sweet mood when pleasant thoughts<br /> - Bring sad thoughts to the mind.'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -A letter that had come for him overnight—one from -Annot's mother in South Belgravia—he scanned twice -hurriedly, and consigned to his pocket. Annot, in that -quarter, had made no secret, apparently, of the terms on -which he and she were, and the congratulations of the old -lady were palpable enough. -</p> - -<p> -'What is next?' he muttered, as he opened a little basket -and laughed. It contained sandwiches and sherry, peaches, -grapes, and a little bouquet of hot-house flowers, all selected, -he knew, by the white hands of Hester. -</p> - -<p> -'Poor girl!' he muttered; 'does she think I am bound, -not for Earlshaugh, but for Alexandria?' -</p> - -<p> -He had beautifully-coloured photos of both girls in his -pocket book—one of Annot, smiling, saucy, and arch, with -her laughing eyes and golden hair; and one of Hester, with -her calm, sweet expression, her dark, beseeching, and -pleading eyes, and hair of rich dark brown; but he had one of -the former's fair tresses—not the first of them that Annot -had bestowed on 'Bob Hoyle' and others that he knew not -of. But so it is— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Fair tresses man's imperial race ensnare,<br /> - And beauty draws us with a single hair.'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Merlwood had vanished as the train sped on, and, away -from the immediate influence of Annot, softer memories of -Hester began to mingle upbraidingly with the idea of the -former, and—as he thought it all over again—the past; he -recurred mentally to many a loving and half-ended episode, -to Hester's winning softness, her pleading, truthful eyes of -violet blue, and he felt himself, though uncommitted by -pledge or promise, inexpressibly false! -</p> - -<p> -It was not a pleasant reflection or conviction even while -caressing Annot's shining tress of hair—his tempter and her -supplanter. -</p> - -<p> -Some men, it has been said, when they form a new -attachment, try to teach themselves that the old one -contained no true love in it. This was not the case with -Roland, nor could he be a man to love two at once, -though some natures are thought to be capable of such -an idiosyncrasy. -</p> - -<p> -At last he was roused from his mingled day-dreams by -his train clanking into the Waverley Station, and he saw -Edinburgh, the old town and the new, with gables, spires, -and tower-crowned rocks rising on each side of him, with a -mighty bridge of round arches high in air spanning the -space between. -</p> - -<p> -The day was yet young, so he idled for a time at the -United Service Club with Jack Elliot, his comrade in Egypt, -on leave like himself, and now his sister Maude's <i>fiancé</i>, a -fine, handsome, and soldier-like young fellow, of whom -more anon—full of such earnest love and enthusiasm for -the girl of his unwavering choice, that Roland—reflecting -on his late proceedings at Merlwood—felt his cheek redden -more than once, as well it might, and an involuntary sigh -escaped him, though he could little foresee the <i>future</i>. -</p> - -<p> -So full was he of his own thoughts, that it was not until -he was landing on the Fife side of the Forth that he reflected -with annoyance: -</p> - -<p> -'What a fool I have been, when in the city, not to call -upon old MacWadsett, the W.S., about the exact terms of -my father's will. They never reached me in Egypt—the -Bedouins at Ramleh made free with the mail-bags. Besides, -I need not have gone before this, as the old fellow -has been on the Continent.' -</p> - -<p> -So he consoled himself with the inevitable cigar, while the -train rolled on by many a familiar scene, on which he had -not looked for an age, as it seemed now; by the 'lang, lang -town' of Kirkaldy, and picturesque Dysart, with its zigzag -streets, overlooked by the gaunt dwelling-place of Queen -Annabella, and the sea-beaten rock of Ravenscraig; anon -past Falkland Woods, and after he crossed the Eden he -began to trace the landmarks of Earlshaugh, and the train -halted at a little wayside station, close beside an old and -almost unused avenue that led to the latter, and he sprang -out upon the platform, where he seemed to be the only -passenger. The two or three officials who were loitering -about were strangers, and eyed him leisurely. -</p> - -<p> -'Has not a trap come for my luggage?' he asked. -</p> - -<p> -'For where, sir?' -</p> - -<p> -'Earlshaugh.' -</p> - -<p> -'No sir,' replied one, touching his cap, an ex-soldier -recognising his questioner's military air. 'No trap is here.' -</p> - -<p> -'Strange!' muttered Roland, giving his moustache an -angry twist; 'and yet I wrote—I'll walk on, and send for -my things,' he added. -</p> - -<p> -The house was little more than a mile distant, and every -foot of the way had been familiar to him from infancy. -</p> - -<p> -On many a strange and foreign scene had he looked, and -many a peril had he faced, in the land of the Pharaohs -since last he had trod that shady avenue—the land of the -Sphinx and the Pyramids, where the hot sand of the desert -seemed to vibrate and quiver under the fierce glare of the -unclouded sun. -</p> - -<p> -Forgetful of old superstitions, he had entered the avenue -by the Weird Yett. It was deemed unlucky for a Lindsay -of Earlshaugh to approach his house after a long absence -through that barrier; but as the gate was open, Roland, full -of his own thoughts, passed in, heedless of the legend which -told that the Lindsay fared ill who did so. -</p> - -<p> -Two stone pillars, dated 1600, with an arch and coat of -arms with the Lindsay supporters, two lions sejant, termed -the barrier, which was usually closed by a massive iron gate, -the barbs or pikes of which had once been gilt. A century -later had seen it the favourite trysting-place of Roland -Lindsay, the younger, of Earlshaugh, and a daughter of a -neighbour, the Laird of Craigie Hall, till the former left -with his regiment, the Scots Guards, for Spain. One evening -the girl was lingering there, in the soft violet light of the -gloaming, impelled by what emotion she scarcely knew, but -doubtless to dream of her lover who she thought was far -away, when suddenly a cry escaped her, as she saw him -appear, in his scarlet uniform, with feather-bound hat—the -Monmouth cock—his flowing wig, and sword in its splendid -belt; but gouts of blood were upon his lace cravat, and she -could see that his face was sad and pale, as face and figure -melted away and she found herself alone. -</p> - -<p> -Apparitions generally 'come in their habits as they lived,' -says the authoress of the 'Night side of Nature,' 'and -appear so much like the living person in the flesh that when -they are not known to be dead, they are frequently mistaken -for them. There are exceptions to this rule, but it is very -rare that the forms in themselves exhibit anything to create -alarm.' -</p> - -<p> -So did the girl's lover appear to her as if alive. -</p> - -<p> -With a power of reason beyond her years and time, she -tried to think—could it be a dream of her excited brain? -But no, she was awake with all her senses; she thought of -the blood on his dress, and the awful knowledge came to -her, that she had looked upon the face of the dead—on the -wraith of her lover—who, a month after she learned, had -perished at that very hour and time, shot by the Spaniards -on the fatal field of Almanza. -</p> - -<p> -'The divine arts of priming and gunpowder have frightened -away Robin Goodfellow and the Fairies,' wrote Sir -John Aubery of old; but the ghost of the Weird Yett -lingered long in the unused avenue of Earlshaugh. -</p> - -<p> -When he did recall the terror of his boyhood, Roland -smiled; but kindly, for every feature round him spoke of -<i>home</i>. Seen through the tree-stems was the old thatched -hamlet of Earlshaugh, on the side of a burn crossed by one -huge stone as a bridge—the hamlet where the clatter of the -weaver's loom still lingered even in these days of steam -appliances, and on the humble doors of which the old -Scottish risp or tirling-pin was to be seen as elsewhere in the -East Neuk; and as he looked at the gray fallen monolith by -which the stream was crossed, he thought of the old song -which seemed to describe it: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Yet it had a bluirdly look,<br /> - Some score o' years ago,<br /> - An' the wee burn seemed a river then,<br /> - As it roared doon below;<br /> - And a bauld bairn was he,<br /> - In the merry days lang gane,<br /> - Wha waded through the burn,<br /> - Aneath the auld brig-stane.'<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -And, as if to complete the picture, an old woman, wearing -one of those white mutches, with the modest black band of -widowhood, introduced by Mary of Guelders, sat on a -'divot-seat' knitting at the sunny end of her little thatched -cottage. -</p> - -<p> -A love of his birthplace and a pride in his historic race -were the strongest features in the character of Roland -Lindsay, and Earlshaugh was certainly such a home as any -man might be pardoned for regarding with something of -enthusiasm. -</p> - -<p> -As he looked upon the old manor house, high, square, -and embattled, towering on its grassy steep above the haugh—that -abode of so many memories, with all his pride in it, -and pride of race and name, there came a stormy emotion, -or sense of humiliation—even of rage, when he thought of -the tenor or alleged tenor of that will, by which his father, -in the senility of age (if all he heard were true), had degraded -him to a cypher by leaving the estate entirely to an alien, to -his second wife, who had been the artful companion of his -first—to the exclusion of him—Roland, the heir of line and -blood, save for such a pittance or allowance as she chose to -accord him, for the term of his or her natural life, which, -when the chances of war and climate were considered, was -certain to exceed his own, his senior though she was in years. -</p> - -<p> -After all he had endured in the deserts by the Nile, -hunger, thirst, suffering, sickness, and wounds, facing and -enduring all that a soldier may since last he had looked on old, -gray Earlshaugh, as memory went flashing back he strove to -forget for a brief time the wrong his father had done himself -and his sister Maude, and to think only of his happy -boyhood, and all that had been then. -</p> - -<p> -Memories of his dead parents, of his gentle and loving -mother, of his manly and fox-hunting father, who had taught -him to ride, and shoot, and fish—of little brothers who lay -buried by their side in the grave—of his childhood, of -games, and old—or rather young—longings and imaginings, -when the woods of Earlshaugh, and the trouting stream, -were objects of vague mystery, the former peopled with -fairies, and the latter the abode of a wicked kelpie! -</p> - -<p> -Many a living voice and loving face had passed away since -then—vanished for ever; but the memories of them were -strong and pathetic. The rooks still clamoured in the old -trees, and the birds sang amid the shrubberies as of old; -he heard the men whistling and singing in the stable-yard. -In the fields the soil had a fresh and grassy odour in -the noonday sunshine familiar to him; and he felt the -conviction that though he in many a sense had changed, Nature -had not—'for the wind blows as it will through all the long -years, and the land wakes glad and fragrant at the kiss of -the pale dawn, and plain daily labour goes on steadily and -unheedingly from generation to generation.' -</p> - -<p> -As unnoticed and unseen he drew near the house—a -massive old Scottish fortalice with tourelles at every angle—and -surveyed its striking façade, he recalled the words of his -uncle and Hester, and felt that he had now much that was -practical to think about, much that was painful and dubious -to forgive or submit to, while a vague sense of coming bitter -annoyance—it might be humiliation, as we have said—rose -before his haughty spirit, and the suspicion or emotion was -not long of being put to the test. -</p> - -<p> -A man with his hands in the back pockets of his coat, his -hat set negligently into the nape of his neck—a thickset, -well-to-do, little fellow, about thirty years of age, clad in a -kind of semi-sporting style, with a straw in his mouth and -much display of jewellery at his waistcoat—came leisurely -down the front steps from a <i>porte-cochère</i>, which the late -Laird had added to the old house—leisurely, we say, and -with a very <i>insouciant</i> air, and accorded a nod—bow it could -not be called—to Roland and paused. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh,' said he, 'Captain Lindsay, I presume?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes,' replied the other, with surprise, and curtly. -</p> - -<p> -'Ah, welcome; we've been expecting you. Did you -walk from the station?' -</p> - -<p> -'I was obliged to do so——' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah.' -</p> - -<p> -'And you, sir?' asked Roland inquiringly. -</p> - -<p> -'Mr. Sharpe—Hawkey Sharpe, at your service.' -</p> - -<p> -'The new steward?' said Roland, repressing a vehement -desire to kick him along the terrace. -</p> - -<p> -'If you please to call me so.' -</p> - -<p> -('What the devil else does he think I should call him?' -thought Roland.) -</p> - -<p> -As Mr. Hawkey Sharpe neither touched nor lifted his hat -Roland ignored his tardily proffered hand, which was -replaced in his coat pocket. -</p> - -<p> -'Had a pleasant morning journey, I hope.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah, I am just going to the stables—all are well at home,' -said this strange and very confident personage, passing on, -while Roland stood for a moment rooted to the ground by -the profound <i>insouciance</i> of the man; but from <i>that</i> moment -there was a secret, if unnamed, hatred of each other in the -eyes of these two—hate blended with contempt and indignation -in those of Roland, who felt intuitively that the other, -though, as he supposed, his underling, would yet work him -a mischief if he could. -</p> - -<p> -'D—n the fellow!' thought Roland. 'So this is -Mr. Sharpe. I must put him to the rightabout! He ought to -have ushered me in or preceded me.' -</p> - -<p> -He rang the bell furiously. -</p> - -<p> -A strange footman appeared promptly enough, but without -the indignation a 'London Jeames' would have manifested -at a summons so rough and impatient; for natheless his -irreproachable livery and powdered hair, he had been born -and bred in the East Neuk of Fife, and had no 'West-End' -airs about him. -</p> - -<p> -'All are strangers now hereabout,' thought Roland, who -was about to enter, when the man distinctly barred his -way. -</p> - -<p> -'Name, sir, please?' said he. -</p> - -<p> -'Is Miss Maude—Miss Lindsay, I mean—at home?' -</p> - -<p> -'No, sir; out riding.' -</p> - -<p> -'Your mistress, then?' said Roland sharply. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, sir—if you will give me a card.' -</p> - -<p> -'Card, ha!' exclaimed Roland, losing his temper now, -and with fury blazing in his dark eyes. 'Say that Captain -Lindsay has arrived!' -</p> - -<p> -On this the valet—Tom Trotter by name—threw the -door wide open, with a grin of welcome not unmingled with -astonishment and alarm, and Roland found himself again -under the roof of Earlshaugh. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap11"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XI. -<br /><br /> -A COLD RECEPTION. -</h3> - -<p> -Roland found himself somewhat ceremoniously ushered -into a drawing-room with which he was familiar, and which -was known as the Red Room, where he was left at leisure -for a few minutes, to look about him and reflect. -</p> - -<p> -The second Mrs. Lindsay had been too wise, he could -perceive, to remove much of the ancient furniture of the -manor house, but she had interspersed it with much that -was modern; large easy seats and rich hangings, gipsy -tables, Chippendale chairs, and great rugs, Parian statuary, -and one or two antique classic busts, had caught Roland's -eye as he passed along; but all old portraits were banished -to the staircases and corridors, for it had seemed to the -intruder on their domains that the grim old Lindsays in ruff -and breastplate, with hand on hip and sword in belt, with -their dames in hoops and old-fashioned Scottish fardingales, -had rather scowled upon her. -</p> - -<p> -The Red Room of Earlshaugh had been one of the 'show -places' in the East Neuk, for nearly all its furniture was of -red lacquer work, brought from Japan by a Lindsay in the -close of the last century. The walls were hung with stamped -leather, the golden tints of which had faded now, though the -gilding gleamed out here and there, and against this sobered -background the richly tinted furniture, with its painted suns, -moons, and stars, grotesque monsters, and queerly designed -houses and gardens, stood out redly and boldly, with bronzes, -marbles, and ivory carvings now yellow with age. -</p> - -<p> -It was noon now, and through the open and deeply embayed -windows the perfume of many flowers stole in from -the gardens below, mingling with that from roses and others -that were in the <i>jardinières</i>, and to Roland it all seemed as -if he had stood there only yesterday. -</p> - -<p> -There was a sound; he turned and found himself face to -face with his stepmother, whom he had last seen and known -as his own mother's useful, bland, suave, apparently patient -and always obsequious companion. -</p> - -<p> -'Welcome, Roland, at last,' said she; but there was no -welcome either in her voice or eye, though she accorded him -her hand, and a kiss that was as cold as the expression of -her face, though it was apparent that she was trying to get -up a pathetic look for the occasion; in fact, she felt the -necessity for a little acting—of assuming a virtue, if she had -it not—and Roland saw and understood the whole situation -at once, for after a few commonplaces, and he had flung -himself into a chair that had once been a favourite one of his -father, she asked: -</p> - -<p> -'How long does your leave of absence from the regiment -last?' -</p> - -<p> -'So shortly,' replied Roland with an undisguised sneer, -'that I won't mar your pleasure or spoil your appetite by -telling its duration.' -</p> - -<p> -At this reply she coloured for a moment, and thought, -'We have here an independent and conceited young man, -who must be kept at his proper distance.' But she only -caressed Fifine, an odious little pug dog, which she carried -under her arm. -</p> - -<p> -And avoiding all family matters, which, sooth to say, -Roland disdained to discuss with her, even his father's death, -more than all the alleged terms of the odious will and -similar subjects, they talked the merest commonplaces—of -the weather, the crops, the country, and of the war in -Egypt—but all in a jerky and unconnected fashion, as each felt -that a moment might land them on that dangerous ground -which was inevitably to be traversed yet. -</p> - -<p> -'And Maude?' said Roland during a pause; 'she must -be quite a grown-up young lady now.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, she is close on twenty; but I do not see much of -Maude.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'She stays away from Earlshaugh as much as she can, with -friends in Edinburgh, London, and elsewhere.' -</p> - -<p> -While closely observing his stepmother, Roland was -compelled to admit to himself that she was ladylike. In her -fortieth year, her hair was fair and thick; her stature good; -her hands well-shaped and white, but somewhat large. -</p> - -<p> -Her face was perfectly colourless; her eyes small, -glittering, of the palest gray, planted near a thin and aquiline -nose; her lips were also thin, not ill-tempered, but like -her whole expression—hard. Her teeth were small and -sharp-looking; her face lineless—she looked ten years -younger than she was, and was beautifully, even tastefully, -dressed. -</p> - -<p> -She wore now, as she always did, a handsome-trimmed -black costume of the richest material, with a white cap of -fine lace, slightly trimmed with black, as a sign of widowhood, -and jet ornaments, with a few pearls among them. -</p> - -<p> -'I do so long to see my dear little Maude!' exclaimed -Roland. -</p> - -<p> -'You have been in no hurry to do so,' said Mrs. Lindsay, -with a cold smile. -</p> - -<p> -'My uncle at Merlwood was so hospitable,' replied -Roland, reddening a little. Could he say to Mrs. Lindsay -that <i>her</i> presence had kept him away from Earlshaugh to the -last moment, or refer to the new influence of Annot -Drummond on himself? 'By-the-bye,' said he abruptly, 'I -met a fellow at the door—Mr. Hawkey Sharpe by name, it -seems—who I understand has been installed here as a kind -of steward or general factotum.' -</p> - -<p> -'What of him?' -</p> - -<p> -'Only that I have made up my mind that he shall march -from this, and pretty quick too!' -</p> - -<p> -'There may be some difficulties about that,' replied -Mrs. Lindsay, with a hectic flush crossing her pale cheek, and a -sharp glitter in her cold gray eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'Difficulties—how? With old MacWadsett?' -</p> - -<p> -'With more than him.' -</p> - -<p> -'What do you mean? By Jove, we shall soon see.' -</p> - -<p> -'What we shall <i>see</i>,' muttered Mrs. Lindsay under her -sharp teeth; but Roland, who could not be perfectly suave -with her, now asked sharply: -</p> - -<p> -'Why was there not a vehicle—trap—phaeton, or anything -else, sent to meet me at the station?' -</p> - -<p> -'Was there none?' she asked languidly. -</p> - -<p> -'None—and I had to leave my luggage there.' -</p> - -<p> -'Dear me—how negligent—eh, Fifine, was it not?' said -she, toying with the ears of her cur. -</p> - -<p> -'Negligent, indeed,' added Roland, his brow darkening. -'Yet I read your letter—or telegram was it?—to -Mr. Sharpe.' -</p> - -<p> -'You read my letter to—Mr. Sharpe?' -</p> - -<p> -'At least that portion of it referring to your return.' -</p> - -<p> -'Mr.—what's his name?—Sharpe had better act up to his -cognomen while I have to do with him. I am accustomed -to be obeyed.' -</p> - -<p> -'Like the Centurion in the Scriptures—dear me!' -</p> - -<p> -'Exactly,' said Roland, feeling that there was mockery in -her tone or thoughts. -</p> - -<p> -'If not?' -</p> - -<p> -'We are accustomed to obedience in barracks, and enforce -it. We have the guard-house to begin with.' -</p> - -<p> -'An institution unknown in Earlshaugh,' said she, with a -curl on her lips. -</p> - -<p> -'I have a number of friends coming here to knock over -the birds after the 1st—you will please to order arrangements -to be made for them.' -</p> - -<p> -'A houseful—I have heard from Maude.' -</p> - -<p> -'Not at all—only Elliot of ours, Skene of Dunnimarle, -and one or two more. My cousin Hester and Miss -Drummond come too.' -</p> - -<p> -'Must you do this—must I entertain them all?' said she -with something like dismay. -</p> - -<p> -'You? Not at all! Let them alone—they will amuse -themselves as people in a country house always do. Young -fellows and pleasant girls generally contrive to cut out their -own amusements.' -</p> - -<p> -'I see so few people now that I shall be quite scared.' -</p> - -<p> -'Let Maude act hostess then,' said Roland sharply, with -a tone that seemed to indicate he thought it more her -place. -</p> - -<p> -'Maude is but a little child in my eyes—and none can -take my position in Earlshaugh!' said Mrs. Lindsay firmly -and pointedly; and Roland, tired of an interview, the -whole tenor of which provoked him, and in which an -undefined and ill-disguised hostility to himself was -manifested, looked at his watch and asked: -</p> - -<p> -'Any chance of lunch, do you think?' -</p> - -<p> -'Lunch?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes. When a fellow has travelled nearly forty miles in -a morning, and crossed the Firth, he wants something to -pick him up.' -</p> - -<p> -'Lunch is past already,' said Mrs. Lindsay stiffly; 'but -ring the bell, please.' -</p> - -<p> -She made no attempt with effusive hospitality to rise from -her seat. That would have implied kindness, attention, and, -more than all, it would have involved exertion; and she was -contriving now to be one of those imperturbable creatures -who never allow themselves to be influenced or bored; and -when Roland withdrew to the familiar dining-room to partake -of the meal, and where he was welcomed by jolly old Simon -Funnell, his father's rubicund butler, with shining face and -outstretched hands, she did not accompany him; nor did -he observe, when he left her, how her pale face expressed -by turns dread, defiance, hatred, and more! -</p> - -<p> -One would have supposed that the mere difference of sex -might have affected her, and made her disposed to view -favourably, and to greet pleasantly at least, the only son of -the man to whose folly she owed so much—a handsome -young fellow, whose face made even those of old women -brighten. But it was not so; and thus bitterly did Roland -Lindsay feel that his home-coming, with all its sense of -irritation and humiliation, was such that, but for Maude and -those at Merlwood, he would have regretted that he did not -perish after Kashgate, when he lay helpless in the desert, -with the foul Egyptian vultures hovering over him. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap12"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XII. -<br /><br /> -MAUDE. -</h3> - -<p> -Lunch ended, Roland was lingering rather gloomily over a -glass of his father's old favourite Amontillado, which Simon -Funnell had disinterred from the cobwebby bins of the cellar -for his special delectation, when an exclamation made him -start; a pair of soft arms were thrown around his neck, and -a bright, fair face was pressed against his cheek. -</p> - -<p> -'Maude!' -</p> - -<p> -'Roland—Roland—you here! oh, such an unexpected -joy!' exclaimed his sister, a merry and impulsive girl, who -had just returned from riding, in bearing so smart, handsome, -and perfect in her hat and habit, as she tossed aside -her whip and gauntlets and embraced him again and again, -so effusively and affectionately that he felt an emotion of -welcome for the first time. -</p> - -<p> -'I am here, Maude—but why did you not come to meet -me?' said he. -</p> - -<p> -'I knew not that you were to be here to-day,' she replied, -with a sparkle in her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'Did your—did not Mrs. Lindsay tell you I was coming?' -</p> - -<p> -'No,' replied Maude indignantly. -</p> - -<p> -'Another act of coldness and unwelcome.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, Roland—how I dread these people!' -</p> - -<p> -'Who?' -</p> - -<p> -'Mrs. Lindsay and her Mr. Sharpe! I have just had a -spin over breezy Tentsmuirs, making the sheep and rabbits -fly before me, as you and I and Hester Maule have often -done before, Roland,' said Maude, changing abruptly from -grave to gay. -</p> - -<p> -Full of health and spirits, with a soft rose-leaf complexion -that was heightened by recent exercise and present excitement, -she was a girl whose beauty was of a delicate type. -Her hair was of the sunniest brown, her eyes a soft and -dreamy blue, yet wont to beam and sparkle at times; her -figure was slight, extremely graceful, and she was now in her -twentieth year. -</p> - -<p> -'By Jove, Maude, you have grown quite a little beauty!' -exclaimed Roland, while, holding each other at arm's length, -brother and sister surveyed each other's face; 'but in -expression you are not changed a bit.' -</p> - -<p> -'Nor you, Roland—yet, how scorched—how brown you are!' -</p> - -<p> -'That was done in Egypt—but much of it wore off at -Merlwood.' -</p> - -<p> -'How long you have been of coming here, Roland!' said -Maude, with a pout on her ruby lip. -</p> - -<p> -'Since returning to Britain, you mean?' -</p> - -<p> -'Since returning to Scotland.' -</p> - -<p> -'With all my love for you, my dear little sister, I was loth -to face the—the mortifications that I feared awaited me at -home.' -</p> - -<p> -'A changed home, Roland!' -</p> - -<p> -'If we can call it so.' -</p> - -<p> -'But then at Merlwood,' said she archly, 'Hester—dear -Hester, would be an attraction, of course.' -</p> - -<p> -Roland actually coloured, and stooped to scrape a cigar -light on his heel, and to change the subject said: -</p> - -<p> -'I saw Jack Elliot of ours for a few minutes at his club in -Edinburgh.' -</p> - -<p> -'Dear Jack! and how is he looking?' -</p> - -<p> -'Well and jolly as usual; unluckily his leave is shorter -than mine, yet I hope to keep him here till the pheasants -are ready.' -</p> - -<p> -'Darling Roland—how good of you!' exclaimed his -sister, kissing him again. -</p> - -<p> -'You and he expect your little affair to come off -when——' -</p> - -<p> -'When the regiment returns home—I could not go out to -Egypt, you know, Roland.' -</p> - -<p> -'Worse than useless, when we may be moving towards the -frontier again.' -</p> - -<p> -'In her last letter to me Annot Drummond seemed full -of Egypt, and Egypt only.' -</p> - -<p> -'She has a lover out there, perhaps—or going,' said -Roland, laughing. -</p> - -<p> -'Not improbable. She is coming here; but, truth to tell, -I do not like Annot Drummond much.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'I cannot say.' -</p> - -<p> -'Nay, Maude, that is unjust.' -</p> - -<p> -'It is a case of Dr. Fell, I suppose.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yet you have invited her for a month or two to Earlshaugh.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why, then?' -</p> - -<p> -'As a return for her mother's kindness to me when in -London—nothing more. There is no love lost between -Annot and me.' -</p> - -<p> -Roland became silent, as his sister evidently spoke -unwillingly; and to change the subject, he said: -</p> - -<p> -'And the stepmother, Maude; how do you and she get on?' -</p> - -<p> -'As my letters have told you—oh, I hate her, as much as -it is in my nature to hate anyone. When she comes near -me I feel like a cat with its fur rubbed the wrong way. Can -you not pension her away from Earlshaugh?' -</p> - -<p> -'Not if all I hear is true,' replied Roland, giving his dark -moustache an angry twist. 'But who is this fellow Sharpe, -who seems to be her factotum—and where did she pick -him up?' -</p> - -<p> -'He is her brother.' -</p> - -<p> -'Her <i>brother</i>!' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—so you must be wary——' -</p> - -<p> -'Till I see MacWadsett?' -</p> - -<p> -'If that will make any difference, which I fear not,' replied -Maude, lowering her voice, and actually glancing round -with apprehension, while her blue eyes lighted with -indignation; 'he lives here—perhaps she told you so?' -</p> - -<p> -'No—lives here—here in Earlshaugh?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes; he has rooms set apart for him in the Beatoun -wing.' -</p> - -<p> -'By <i>her</i> orders?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes. She has the whole estate, and you and me too, -completely in her power. Papa, in his folly, left her, -apparently, everything; but to come to us, I presume, in -time; and now she is entirely influenced and guided by her -brother. Literally, we seem to be at his mercy,' continued -the girl, with a kind of a shudder, 'and you must play your -cards well to prevent a catastrophe.' -</p> - -<p> -'It is intolerable!' exclaimed Roland, in an accent of -rage. -</p> - -<p> -'It is beyond my comprehension.' -</p> - -<p> -'I wish old MacWadsett were at home.' -</p> - -<p> -'He will not be in town for some weeks yet.' -</p> - -<p> -Some bitter words escaped Roland, who added: -</p> - -<p> -'God, give me patience! A fracas in the house with -so many guests coming is, of course, to be avoided.' -</p> - -<p> -'I hope your return may make some change, Roland; -it has been so dull here.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why—how?' -</p> - -<p> -'County people—the ladies at least—are shy of visiting, -I feel that, and often long to join Hester at Merlwood. -You may see that the calling cards in the basket are quite -faded and old.' -</p> - -<p> -'No visitors!' -</p> - -<p> -'Very few, beyond the parish minister and his wife, or the -doctor, when she has some petty illness. She was a reader, -a worker, and a musician in mamma's time, I understand; -but is a total idler now, and, save to church, rarely leaves -the grounds.' -</p> - -<p> -'Her dowry and the Dower House she was entitled to, -but who could ever have dreamed that she, the meek-faced, -humble, and most obsequious Deborah Sharpe would ever -be the mistress of all this!' exclaimed Roland as he strode -to a window and looked forth upon the view with a heart -that thrilled with many mingled emotions, for he loved his -ancestral home with a love that was a species of passion, -especially after his term of foreign exile. -</p> - -<p> -Its situation was so perfect, overhanging the fertile haugh -that gave the place a name, and through which meandered -a stream, that, though insignificant there, widened greatly -before it reached the sea. -</p> - -<p> -The house of Earlshaugh is large and picturesque. Built -originally in the days when James III. was King of the -realm, and when that ill-fated monarch granted a special -license to the then Baron to erect a fortalice, 'surrounded -with walls and ditches, defended by gates of brass or iron,' -many additions had been made to it, and the grace of a -venerable antiquity was now combined with the comfort and -luxury of modern days. -</p> - -<p> -The old rooms were small, panelled with pine rather than -oak; and the old shot and arrow loopholes under the -windows had long since been plugged up and plastered over. -In the olden time gardens were too valuable to be left -outside the walls of a Scottish fortalice at a feudal neighbour's -mercy, and trees only afforded cover for an attacking foe; -but now the slopes crowned by Earlshaugh sheltered a -modern garden with all its rare flowers, and the clefts of the -rock afforded nurture for numerous trees and shrubs. -</p> - -<p> -Royalty had often taken its ease in Earlshaugh, and in its -grounds there is still a venerable thorn-tree in which -tradition says the hawks of the Fifth and Sixth Jameses were -wont to roost; nor was the house unknown in history and -war, for there is still a room that was occupied by Cardinal -Beatoun, the stair to which had a peculiarity after his -murder, that whoever went up its steps felt as if going down; -and the western wall yet bears the marks of the cannon shot, -when it was attacked by General D'Oisel, the Comte de -Martigues, and other French chevaliers, in the wars of Mary -of Guise, and when Kirkcaldy of Grange, by one stroke of -his two-handed sword, slew at its gate the Comte de -St. Pierre, Knight of St Michael. -</p> - -<p> -In that old house every chamber had its story of some -past occupant; for there the Lairds of Earlshaugh were -born; there they brought home their brides, and there they -had—unless they fell in battle—died and been borne forth -by their own people to Leuchars Kirk, or to the Chapel of -St. Bennet, of which no vestige now remains. -</p> - -<p> -Looking over the fair and sunlit scene before him, Roland -Lindsay was thinking of all these things, while Maude -drooped her pretty head on his shoulder, and said: -</p> - -<p> -'It is so terrible to suppose that we may have lost all this -through the folly—the weakness of papa.' -</p> - -<p> -'In the hands of an artful Jezebel! But who is that -person riding straight across the lawn, heedless of path or -avenue?' -</p> - -<p> -'Sharpe—Mr. Hawkey Sharpe,' replied Maude, starting -with something like a shudder again—an emotion which -Roland fortunately did not perceive; for with reference to -this obnoxious person there was a secret between him and -her which Maude, with all her love and affection, dared not -confide to her fiery brother, lest it should bring about the -very catastrophe which she dreaded so much. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap13"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XIII. -<br /><br /> -ROLAND'S VEXATION. -</h3> - -<p> -'In my father's house on sufferance only, it would seem!' -was the half-aloud remark muttered through his teeth by -Roland, when betimes next morning he was up while the -dew was glittering on shrub and tree, to have a ramble, cigar -in mouth, and feeling with bitterness in his heart that -through the fault of another, rather than himself, he had been -severely and unjustly dealt with. -</p> - -<p> -When Roland joined his regiment an elder brother now -dead, Harry Lindsay of the Scots Guards, had been, like -himself, somewhat extravagant—Harry particularly so amid -the facilities afforded by London for spending freely and -living fast—thus between certain bills which the later had -compelled the old gentleman to accept, looking upon him, -as he too often said, 'merely as the family banker,' but more -especially by his betting, racing, and other proclivities peculiar -to 'the Brigade,' he had so enraged the old Laird of -Earlshaugh that, acted upon by the influence of his unwise -'second election,' the latter had executed a will—the -obnoxious document so often referred to—completely in her -favour, leaving her everything, with certain arrangements—a -provision—for his surviving son Roland and his daughter -Maude. -</p> - -<p> -A codicil, tending to reverse or revoke this, had evidently -been in preparation, but was never fulfilled or signed. -</p> - -<p> -Thus far alone Roland had been made aware, but was -still inclined to doubt the tenor of a document he had never -seen, which he could not as yet see, and the copy of which, -sent to him in Egypt, had been lost in the transmission as -stated. -</p> - -<p> -Moreover, he was a soldier—nothing but a soldier in many -ways, and, as he was wont to say to himself, 'an utter muff,' -so far as business matters were concerned. -</p> - -<p> -Of his own dubious position at Earlshaugh and the -presumption of Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, the steward or manager -of the property, he was soon to have unpleasantly convincing -proofs that sorely tested his patience and tried his proud and -impetuous temper. -</p> - -<p> -A prey to somewhat chequered thoughts, he had wandered -in the dewy morning over much of the beautiful and -picturesque property. Every lane, hedgerow, field, and farm -had been familiar to him from his boyhood, since old Johnnie -Buckle, the head groom, had taught him to take his fences, -even as the old gamekeeper, Gavin Fowler, had shown him -where the best grown coveys were sure to be found. He -had seen alterations and innovations which displeased him -extremely, and had visited some of the tenants, attended in -his ramble by an old herd who had been in the service of -the Lindsays for half a century; and he now returned by -the great avenue, where still the ancient oaks, that erewhile -had heard the bugle of King James, the Scottish Haroun, on -many a hunting day, still gave forth their leaves from year to -year, and entered the cosy old-fashioned breakfast-room, -where Dresden china and glittering plate, with an array of -cold meats, fish, and fruit, suggested a hearty Scottish -morning repast, and over the carved stone fireplace of which hung -a portrait of his father in the scarlet costume of the -Caledonian Hunt. Maude was not there; but to his indignation -the room had another occupant. -</p> - -<p> -'Mr. Trotter, when you have quite ended the perusal of -that paper you will, perhaps, so far favour me?' -</p> - -<p> -The person he addressed with a grim but mock suavity -was Tam Trotter, who, clad in the Lindsay livery, blue and -yellow, making certain of not being disturbed, had—with all -the coolness, if not the easy elegance, of a 'Jeames' of -Belgravia or Mayfair—seated himself in the breakfast-room, -and, with his slippered feet on a velvet fender stool, and his -broad back reclined in an easy-chair, was deep in the columns -of the <i>Fife Herald</i>. -</p> - -<p> -He started up overwhelmed with confusion, and began in -a breathless voice to stammer an apology. -</p> - -<p> -'There—there—that will do; but don't let this happen -again, Trotter,' said Roland; 'it shows that the discipline -of the house wants adjustment. By Jove, if I had you in -barracks I'd send you to knapsack-drill for a week!' -</p> - -<p> -The wretched Tam made a hasty retreat, and Maude, -detecting the situation, came in laughing merrily to get her -brother's morning kiss, and looking, he thought, so bright, -so sweet, and so pretty. 'Who,' says Anthony Trollope, -'has not seen some such girl when she has come down early, -without the full completeness of her morning toilet, and yet -nicer, fresher, prettier to the eye of him who is so favoured -than she has ever been in more formal attire?' -</p> - -<p> -'Covers laid for two only—thank goodness, you and I -are to have our breakfast <i>tête-à-tête</i>!' she exclaimed, as she -seated herself at the table, and the terribly 'cowed' or -abashed Trotter took post behind her. -</p> - -<p> -'And then I must be off to the stables to see what cattle -are there, and renew my acquaintance with old Johnnie -Buckle, who taught me how to take my flying leaps—never -to funk at a bullfinch, a sunk fence, a mill race, or anything. -Many of Johnnie's tricks stood me in good stead, Maude, -when I was with poor Hicks and Baker in Egypt,' said -Roland. -</p> - -<p> -Strolling forth in the bright morning sunshine, amid which -the house of Earlshaugh, with its massive walls of polished -ashlar, its machicolated battlement and tall, old windows, -glittered in light, with masses sunk in shadow, he was -met by the head gardener, old Willie Wardlaw, whom he -remembered as a faithful servitor in years past (and whose -rarest peaches he had stolen many a time and oft), with a -hand outstretched in welcome, and his hat in the other, as -he bowed his silvery head in token of respect. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, sir, but I've been langing to see ye ere it is owre -late and the mischief done!' he exclaimed. -</p> - -<p> -'What mischief?' -</p> - -<p> -'The meadowing o' the park and lawn, where never a -plough has been since the King was in Falkland.' -</p> - -<p> -'Who has suggested this piece of utilitarian barbarity?' -asked Roland with lowering brow. -</p> - -<p> -'Wha wad it be but Mr. Hawkey Sharpe? Pawkie-Sharpe -wad be a better name for him,' was the contemptuous -response, made with evident bitterness of heart. -</p> - -<p> -'I'll see to that, Willie,' said Roland as he strode on, but -soon to be confronted by another official—a kind of -forester—who had charge of all the timber on the property. -</p> - -<p> -'I hope, Captain,' said the latter, 'you're in time to save -the King's Wood, sir.' -</p> - -<p> -'What do you mean?' -</p> - -<p> -'Ye surely ken it is doomed—a' to the King's Thorn?' -</p> - -<p> -'Doomed—how?' -</p> - -<p> -'To be cut down and sold—a black, burning shame! -Some o' the aiks are auld as the three Trees o' Dysart!' -</p> - -<p> -'By whose order?' asked Roland, greatly ruffled. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, Mr. Hawkey Sharpe's, of course.' -</p> - -<p> -'But why?' -</p> - -<p> -'It is no for me to say, sir,' replied the old man uneasily; -'but folk hint that when a body backs the wrong horse at -races some one maun pay the piper. Maister Sharpe cuts -gey near the wind, and comes aftener wi' the rake than the -shool; but he'll get a bite o' his ain bridle, I hope, yet!' -</p> - -<p> -'Racing, is it? I shall see this matter attended to also. -His presumption is unparalleled!' said Roland, as with -something between a groan and an imprecation on his lips he -passed on, to look after a mount for Annot Drummond, and -to digest this new piece of information—that the so-called -steward was about to cut down one of the oldest of the -ancestral woods on the property to meet a gambling debt! -</p> - -<p> -At the stables, warm indeed was the welcome he met -from the veteran groom Johnnie, who did not seem older -by a day since Roland had seen him last—hale, hardy, and -lithe, though past his sixtieth year, with long body, short -bandy legs, small, closely-shaven head, and sharp, keen, -twinkling eyes—his white tie scrupulously folded, and attired -as usual in a heavily flapped corduroy waistcoat, with large -pockets, in one of which was stuck a curry-comb, and in his -hands was a steel bridle-bit, which he was polishing with -leather till it shone like silver. -</p> - -<p> -Roland Lindsay had been so long away from among his -own people and native country, that he felt the keenest -pleasure at the warmth of his reception by any of the old -servants whom the new <i>régime</i> permitted to linger about -Earlshaugh. -</p> - -<p> -'Eh, Captain, how like the Laird, your worthy father, you -are!' exclaimed old Johnnie Buckle, with kindly eyes, -adding, 'but I hope you'll never live to be sic a -gomeral—excuse me, sir.' -</p> - -<p> -Roland knew to what the old fellow referred, and was -silent. -</p> - -<p> -Like the old English squire of Belton, his father had been, -though a popular man with all his friends, and brother -fox-hunters especially, and a boon companion too—one that -had a dignity that was his from nature rather than effort, -but was 'a man who, in fact, did little or nothing in the -world—whose life had been very useless, but who had been -gifted with such a presence that he looked as though he -were one of God's noblest creatures. Though always dignified, -he was ever affable, and the poor liked him better than -they might have done had he passed his time in searching -out their wants and supplying them.' Though little of -eleemosynary aid is ever required or looked for by the manly, -self-reliant, and independent peasantry of Scotland. -</p> - -<p> -'You have some good nags here,' said Roland, as he -walked through the stables. 'I shall want two or three for -the saddle in a day or two.' -</p> - -<p> -The old groom shook his head and chewed a straw -viciously. -</p> - -<p> -'I should like a spin on this one—a pretty roan hunter.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes; he's about sixteen hands high, a bonnie wee -head, full chest and barrel, broad i' the loins, and firm -of foot.' -</p> - -<p> -'The very nag for me, Johnnie.' -</p> - -<p> -'But you can't have him, Maister Roland,' said the groom, -forgetting the lapse of years. -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'That is Mr. Hawkey Sharpe's favourite saddle horse.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh—indeed—this mare, then?' -</p> - -<p> -'That is his hack.' -</p> - -<p> -'The devil! This roadster, then?' -</p> - -<p> -'His pad; no leg must cross it but his own. That is a -nag more difficult to find in perfection than even a hunter or -roan,' said Buckle, passing a hand admiringly over the silky -flank of the animal. 'That bay cob is close on saxteen -hands high, bonnie in shape, as ye see, and high-stepping in -action, gentle as a wean, and a wean might lead it.' -</p> - -<p> -'That, too, is Mr. Sharpe's, I presume!' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, sir.' -</p> - -<p> -'By Jove, he is well mounted!' said Roland, in irrepressible -wrath, thinking of a certain individual 'on horse-back.' -</p> - -<p> -'That pair of thirteen hands each are Miss Lindsay's.' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah,' thought Roland, a little mollified, 'one of them -will mount Annot. Mr. Sharpe dabbles a little in -horse-flesh, I have heard?' -</p> - -<p> -'And loses sometimes, Maister Roland.' -</p> - -<p> -'How do you know?' -</p> - -<p> -'By his face, for then he girns like a sheep's heid in the -smith's tangs. He kens as little o' dogs, or he wadna gang -aboot wi' a dust-hole pointer at his heels.' -</p> - -<p> -'What kind of pointer is that, Buckle?' -</p> - -<p> -'A cur o' nae mair breed than himsel',' replied the old -groom, who evidently had no love for the steward. 'Hech, -me!' he added under his breath, as Roland left the stable-yard -with evident disgust and annoyance in his face and air, -'is he yet to learn that a bad servitor never made a gude -maister, and that a sinking maister mak's a rising man? -Dule seems to hang o'er Earlshaugh!' -</p> - -<p> -But more mortification awaited Roland. He knew that -there was an infinity of matters connected with the -tenants—rents, repairs, timber, oxen, fences, and winter forage, -renewal of leases, and so forth—on which there was no -appearance of him, the heir, the only son, being consulted; -and of this he soon had unpleasant proof. -</p> - -<p> -'Remember what I urged, dearest Roland,' said his sister, -as she joined him at the <i>porte cochère</i> and lifted her loving -and smiling blue eyes to his, while clasping both hands over -his arm and hanging upon him. 'Do keep your temper in -any interview you may have with this man Sharpe, who -actually affects to think it a condescension to accept his -post in our household, as he has been heard to say that -a gentleman must live somehow, as well as other people -do.' -</p> - -<p> -'I must see him,' said Roland through his clenched teeth, -as he entered the library, where he found Mr. Hawkey -Sharpe, who was usually installed there at the same hour -daily, on business matters intent, occupying the late Laird's -easy-chair, seated at his table, which was littered with -account-books, letters, and papers, while at his back hung on -the wall a full-length, by Scougal, of that Colonel Lindsay -who figured in the Legend of the Weird Yett, looking grim, -haughty, and proud, as the subjects of most old portraits do, -when every gentleman looked like a great lord. -</p> - -<p> -Sharpe saw the black expression that hovered in Roland's -sombre face, and, rising, accorded him a bow, and, in -deference to the presence of Maude (and perhaps of his -sister, who entered the room at the same moment), laid aside -his cigar. -</p> - -<p> -'Among some letters to me this morning,' said Roland, -'is one from old Duncan Ged, for a renewal of his lease of -the Mains of Dron.' -</p> - -<p> -'But I have no idea of doing so,' replied Mr. Sharpe, -dipping his pen in the ink-bottle. -</p> - -<p> -'<i>You?</i>' queried Roland. -</p> - -<p> -'I—I mean, that is——' -</p> - -<p> -'Who or what the devil do you mean, Mr. Sharpe?' said -Roland, undeterred by the pressure of Maude's little hand -on his arm. -</p> - -<p> -'I mean that Mrs. Lindsay, acting on my advice, has no -intention of doing so.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' asked Roland, dissembling his rage, to find the -mask thrown off thus. -</p> - -<p> -'Because the land is worth twice as much again as it was -in the days when your grandfather gave a tack of the Mains -to his grandfather.' -</p> - -<p> -'Surely he deserves to benefit thereby?' -</p> - -<p> -'We don't think so.' -</p> - -<p> -'We again!' thought Roland, trembling with suppressed -passion; but now Trotter, the servant, announced that the -gamekeeper wished to see Mr. Sharpe, and Gavin Fowler -was ushered in—an old man whose eyes, when Roland -shook hands with him, glistened with pride and pleasure, as -he exclaimed: -</p> - -<p> -'Welcome back to your father's rooftree and yer ain -fireside, sir; a' here hae lang wanted ye sairly.' -</p> - -<p> -A sneer hovered on the lips of Hawkey Sharpe, as he -said briefly to the keeper, who had a gun under his arm, -a shot-belt over his shoulders, and a couple of dogs at his -heels: -</p> - -<p> -'Well, what brings you here to-day?' -</p> - -<p> -'I've caught that loon Jamie Spens snaring rabbits and -hares in the King's Wood.' -</p> - -<p> -'At last,' said Hawkey Sharpe through his teeth. -</p> - -<p> -'At last, sir,' responded the keeper, chiefly to Roland. -</p> - -<p> -'Did he show fight?' asked Sharpe. -</p> - -<p> -'Of course he did; Jamie comes o' a camstairy and -fechtin' race.' -</p> - -<p> -'I know that,' said Roland; 'this is not his first offence, -by what you said?' -</p> - -<p> -'Allow <i>me</i>, sir,' said the steward pointedly, with a wave of -his hand. -</p> - -<p> -'He is no bad kind o' chield,' urged the keeper. -</p> - -<p> -'He will serve for an example, anyway!' -</p> - -<p> -'His family are puir—starving, in fact, sir.' -</p> - -<p> -'What the deuce do I care? I'd as soon shoot a poacher -as a weasel.' -</p> - -<p> -'Let the poor fellow off for this time,' said Roland. -</p> - -<p> -'Of course—do, please,' urged Maude; 'if you, Mr. Sharpe, -were poor, hungry, and, more than all, had a hungry -wife and children——' -</p> - -<p> -'They are nothing to me.' -</p> - -<p> -'But such pretty little children!' urged Maude. -</p> - -<p> -'God bless your kind heart, miss!' exclaimed the old -keeper. -</p> - -<p> -'Let him go—this once—I say,' said Roland, still boiling -at the tone and manner adopted by the steward. -</p> - -<p> -'For my sake,' added Maude sweetly. -</p> - -<p> -'For yours?' asked Mr. Sharpe, looking at her with a -peculiar expression to which Roland had not yet the key, -for he said firmly and emphatically: -</p> - -<p> -'At my <i>order</i>, rather!' -</p> - -<p> -'Roland, please don't interfere,' said his cold and -pale-faced stepmother; 'Mr. Sharpe knows precisely how to deal -with these people.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh—indeed!' -</p> - -<p> -'I shall not take my way in this instance,' said Mr. Sharpe -condescendingly; 'and so, to please <i>you</i>, Miss Lindsay, the -culprit shall go free,' he added, with a bow to Maude, who -blushed, more with annoyance, apparently, than satisfaction, -while Roland, in obedience to an imploring glance from her, -stifled his indignation, and abruptly quitted the library. -</p> - -<p> -'I thank ye for trying to help me, sir,' said old Duncan -Ged, who stood in the hall, bonnet in hand, and apparently -quite crushed by the non-renewal of his lease; 'but Hawkey -Sharpe is the hardest agent between the Forth an' Tay; he -turns the puir out o' house and hame at a minute's notice, -and counts every hare and rabbit in the woods. E'en's ye -like, Mr. Sharpe!' said the old man, shaking his clenched -hand in the direction of the library door; 'ilka man buckles -his belt his ain gate, as I maun buckle mine. Everything -has an end, and a pudding has twa.' -</p> - -<p> -And thus strangely consoling himself, he took his -departure. Roland sent the old man by post a cheque for -fifty pounds; he could do no more at that time. -</p> - -<p> -'But for dear Maude's sake,' thought Roland, 'I should -certainly never set foot in Earlshaugh till these matters of -mine are cleared up—and perhaps never again! But I'll -make no fracas till after the covert shooting is over and our -guests are gone; <i>then</i>, by Jove; won't I bring Mr. Hawkey -Sharpe and this grim stepmother to book, if I can!' -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap14"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XIV. -<br /><br /> -MAUDE'S SECRET. -</h3> - -<p> -Roland had got a suitable mount from old Buckle and -gone for 'a spin,' to leave, if possible, his worries and fidgets -behind him, away by Radernie and as far as Carnbee, where -the green hills that culminate in conical Kellie Law look -down on the Firth of Forth and the dark blue German Sea; -while Maude—after being down at Spens the poacher's -cottage with money and sundry comforts for his starving -wife and children—full of the subject of Roland's return and -the approaching visit of her <i>fiancé</i>, Jack Elliot, had written a -long, effusive, and young girl-like epistle to the latter, and -was on her way to slip it into the locked letter-bag in the -hall with her own hand. She had a consciousness that she -was watched, and with it no desire that her correspondence -should be discussed just then, as she had a nervous dread of -Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, who had actually and presumptuously -ventured on more than one occasion to evince some unmistakable -tenderness towards her—an indiscretion, to say the -least of it, of which she dared give no hint to her fiery -brother; but which was the source of much disquietude to -poor Maude, and of confusion and distress to her, as -regarded the steward's power in the house, and made her -change colour at the mere mention of his name. -</p> - -<p> -And now when passing through a long and lonely wainscotted -corridor, the windows of which on one side overlooked -the haugh beneath the house, and which led to the -great staircase, she came suddenly upon the very object of -her dread, Mr. Sharpe, and hastily thrust her letter into the -bosom of her dress. -</p> - -<p> -Though her own mistress, with her engagement to Captain -Elliot acknowledged and accepted by her brother, Maude, -from the influence of circumstances, was—as stated—actually -afraid lest this daring admirer should discover that she was -writing to Elliot, so much did she dread the power of Sharpe -and his sister, and their capacity for working mischief. -</p> - -<p> -Some vague sense, or doubt, of his security in the future, -and of his sister's continued favour to himself, made -Mr. Sharpe thus raise his bold eyes to the daughter of the house, -aware that she was almost unprotected; her maternal uncle, -Sir Harry, was an old and well-nigh helpless man, and her -brother had yet to run the risks of war in that land now -deemed the grave of armies—the Soudan. -</p> - -<p> -Apart from her beauty of mind and person—not that -Mr. Hawkey Sharpe cared much about the former or was -influenced thereby—the latter certainly allured him, and the -helplessness referred to encouraged him in his pretensions, -even when he began to suspect that there was another in the -field, though he knew not yet precisely who that other -was. -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Sharpe's antecedents were not brilliant. He had -begun life in a solicitor's office in Glasgow, but had learned -more than law elsewhere; book-making, betting, the -race-course, and billiards had brought him in contact with his -betters in rank but equals in mischief and roguery, and from -them he had acquired a certain factitious polish of manner, -which he hoped now to turn to good account. -</p> - -<p> -Maude Lindsay knew and believed in that which Roland -struggled against knowing and believing, the precise tenor of -their father's will; and in terror of precipitating matters with -Sharpe and his sister, she had been compelled to temporize -and submit to the more than effusive politeness of the former, -whose bearing, however, she could not mistake. -</p> - -<p> -In nothing, as yet, had he gone beyond those—in him, -somewhat clumsy—tendernesses of incipient love-making, -which might, or might not, mean anything, though Maude -felt that they meant too much; and she never forgot the -shock, the start, the humiliating conviction that she -experienced when the necessity of regarding him as a lover was -forced by necessity upon her. -</p> - -<p> -Her disdain she utterly failed, at first, to conceal; but -Hawkey Sharpe, whose reading had taught him, through the -perusal of many low and exciting love stories, that a girl -might be won in spite of her teeth, was resolved to persevere. -</p> - -<p> -'Good-evening, Mr. Sharpe—what a start you gave me!' -said Maude, essaying to pass him in the narrow corridor; -but he contrived to bar her way. -</p> - -<p> -'Pardon me for a moment,' said he submissively enough; -'I wish you would not call me Mr. Sharpe; and oh, more -than all, that you would permit me to—to call you Maude!' -</p> - -<p> -The latter's eyes flashed fire, soft and blue though they -were. There was no mistaking the tenor of this mode of -address. Hawkey Sharpe seemed to have opened the -trenches at last, and Maude's first thought was: -</p> - -<p> -'Has he been imbibing too much?' -</p> - -<p> -'It was for your sake I let off that poacher Spens this -morning,' said he in a slightly reproachful tone. -</p> - -<p> -'For the sake of his wife and children, I hope, rather.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, bother his wife and brats! what are they to me -compared with the satisfaction of pleasing you?' -</p> - -<p> -'Mr. Sharpe!' said Maude, drawing back a pace, and, in -spite of herself, cresting up her proud little head. -</p> - -<p> -'It seems so hard,' said he, affecting an air of humility, -and casting down his eyes for a moment, 'that there should -be such a gulf apparently between us, Miss Lindsay.' -</p> - -<p> -'A gulf,' repeated Maude, not precisely knowing what -to say. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—and you deepen it. If I attempt to speak to you -even as a friend, you recoil from me; and in this huge, -sequestered house, it seems natural that we should at least -be friends.' -</p> - -<p> -'If we are enemies, I know it not, Mr. Sharpe,' said -Maude with some hesitation, and then attempting to cover -the latter by a smile, as she knew the necessity—a knowledge -which distressed and disgusted her—of temporizing, which -seemed, even if for a moment, a species of treason to Jack -Elliot. -</p> - -<p> -On the other hand, inclination and calculations as to the -future, made Sharpe admire Maude very much, and perhaps -he was in love with her as much as it was in his nature to be -in love with anyone beyond himself. Rejected, or even -scorned, he was not a man to break his heart for any woman -in the land, though it might become inspired by hatred and -a longing for revenge. Yet he was prepared to make 'a bold -stroke for a wife' in Maude's instance. If refused once he -would try again, and even perhaps a third or a fourth time, -and feel only an emotion of rage on his final rejection—so -in reality heart was not so much the affair with him. -</p> - -<p> -Maude attempted to pass him, but he still barred her way, -and even sought, without success, to capture one of her -hands. -</p> - -<p> -'Open confession is good for the soul,' he resumed, in a -blunt and blundering way, 'and avowals come to one's lips -at times, and cannot be restrained. I have played too long -with fire, or with edged tools. You must know, Miss -Lindsay, that no man could be in your society much without -admiring you, and admiration is but a prelude to—love.' -</p> - -<p> -Fear of him, and all a quarrel with him might involve, repressed -the girl's desire to laugh at this inflated little speech; -but he—with all his constitutional impudence—quailed for a -moment under the expression that flashed in her eyes—blue, -and usually soft and sunny though they were—while she -remained silent and thinking: -</p> - -<p> -'What on earth will he say next?' -</p> - -<p> -'Do you not understand me, Miss Lindsay?' he asked, -perceiving a look of wonder gathering in her face. 'Do you -not know that I love you?' he added, lowering his voice, -while glancing round with quick and stealthy eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'Mr. Sharpe,' said Maude, trembling, yet rising to the -occasion, 'I understand what you say; but I hope you are -not serious, and not insulting me.' -</p> - -<p> -'Is the emotion with which you have inspired me likely to -be mingled with jest, or with insult to you?' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, this is too much!' said Maude, interlacing her fingers, -with difficulty restraining tears of anger and resentment, -while, with a keen sense of future danger and his presumption, -she felt as if there was something unreal and grotesque -in the situation. Moreover, she was anxious to get her letter -into the house postal bag ere the latter was taken away. -</p> - -<p> -'I am deeply earnest, Miss Lindsay,' resumed Sharpe, -still with great humility of tone and manner. 'My regard -for you is no passing fancy. I learned to love you from the -first moment I saw you.' -</p> - -<p> -'Mr. Sharpe,' said Maude, gathering courage from desperation, -'I do not understand why you venture to talk in this -style to me! Encouragement I have never given you, even -by a glance.' -</p> - -<p> -'Too well do I know that,' said he, affecting a mournful -tone; 'but I hope to lead you to—to like me a little in -return.' -</p> - -<p> -'I don't dislike you,' said Maude, again seeking to -temporize. -</p> - -<p> -'And, if possible, to love me—as a man—one to whom -you can entrust a future you cannot see—one whom you -will one day call husband.' -</p> - -<p> -He drew nearer as his voice became lower and more -earnest, and Maude recoiled hastily in growing dismay, and -the words 'a future you cannot see' stung her deeply. -</p> - -<p> -Too well did she know that all this bold love-making was -born of the humbled, fallen, and peculiar nature of her -position under her ancestral rooftree, and of the ruin of her -family—a ruin on which this man was rising under his sister's -wing! -</p> - -<p> -'I beseech you, Mr. Sharpe,' said she, 'to say no more -on this subject, for more than the merest friendship there -can never be between us.' -</p> - -<p> -'Have you thought it over?' -</p> - -<p> -'Certainly not!' -</p> - -<p> -His face clouded, and his usually bold, observant, and -keen gray eyes became inflamed with growing anger. -</p> - -<p> -'Seriously—deliberately you refuse to accord me the -slightest hope?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'You think by this bearing to humiliate me as much as a -proud girl can do?' -</p> - -<p> -'You pain me now by speaking thus,' she responded more -gently. -</p> - -<p> -'And you ruin my life!' -</p> - -<p> -'I think not,' said Maude, with a little curl on her lovely -lip. -</p> - -<p> -'And may make that ruin a subject of jest to your -brother's fine friends who are coming here in a few -days—a few hours, rather, now.' -</p> - -<p> -At this coarse remark Maude accorded him an inquiring -stare. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, I know what young girls are,' he resumed in a half-savage, -half-sullen manner. 'A rejection like mine is just -the sort of thing they like to boast of.' -</p> - -<p> -'You thus add insult to your profound presumption!' -exclaimed Maude, quite exasperated now by the under-breeding -of the style he adopted so suddenly; and, sweeping -past him, she reached the entrance-hall, where the postal -bag lay—a square and stately place, the stone floor of which -was covered with soft matting; where in winter a great fire -always blazed in the spacious stone fireplace, over which -hung a single suit of armour, amid a trophy of weapons, old -swords, mauls, and pikes. -</p> - -<p> -She put her hand in her bosom—her letter—the letter -she wished to dispose of with her own hand—was no longer -there! How—where had she dropped it? She turned, -looked hastily round her, and saw Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, -who had evidently picked it up, descending the staircase, -and he handed it to her with a slight and grave bow. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh—thank you,' said Maude, her mind now full of -confusion and vexation. -</p> - -<p> -Quick as thought she dropped it into the postal bag after -he handed it to her, but not before he had seen the address, -and a dangerous gleam shot athwart his shifty eyes, and -again the coarse, bold nature of the man came forth. -</p> - -<p> -'So—so,' said he, through his clenched teeth. 'I find I -have been mistaken in you, Miss Lindsay.' -</p> - -<p> -'Mistaken, Mr. Sharpe?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—mistaken all along.' -</p> - -<p> -'I do not comprehend you.' -</p> - -<p> -'Deceived by your soft, fair face and gentle eyes, I -thought you unlike other girls—no coquette—no flirt—and -now—now, I find——' -</p> - -<p> -'What, sir?' demanded Maude impetuously. -</p> - -<p> -'That you have correspondents.' -</p> - -<p> -'Few, I suppose, are without them.' -</p> - -<p> -'But who is he to whom you openly write—this Captain -John Elliot?' -</p> - -<p> -'Intolerable! How dare you ask me?' demanded Maude, -her breast swelling, her cheeks, not flushed, but pale with -anger, and her eyes flashing. -</p> - -<p> -'A military friend of your brother's, I suppose we shall -call him,' said he with an undisguised sneer. -</p> - -<p> -'And a dear friend of mine,' said Maude defiantly, -exasperated to find that the very discovery she wished to avoid -had been made, and by this person particularly; 'but here -comes my brother, and perhaps you had better make your -inquiries of him,' she added, as a great sigh of mingled anger -and relief escaped her on hearing Roland dismount under -the <i>porte-cochère</i>; but, unable to face even him, distressed, -humiliated, and altogether unnerved by her recent interview, -all it involved, and all she had undergone, poor little Maude -rushed away to seek alleviation amid a passion of tears, -unseen and in the solitude of her own room. -</p> - -<p> -So this was Maude's secret! -</p> - -<p> -Hawkey Sharpe cared not just then to face Roland -Lindsay; but with hands clenched he sent a glance of hate -after the retreating figure of Maude, and withdrew in haste. -</p> - -<p> -They met in future, as we shall show, even amid Roland's -guests; but with a consciousness—a most humiliating and -irritating one to Maude, that there was almost a secret -understanding—that odious love-making between them—and -known, as she thought, to themselves alone. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap15"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XV. -<br /><br /> -MR. HAWKEY SHARPE SEEKS COUNSEL. -</h3> - -<p> -We have said that Maude thought that Mr. Hawkey Sharpe's -love-making, with all its euphonious platitudes, was known -to him and to herself alone. -</p> - -<p> -In this she was mistaken, as Hawkey's sister Deborah, -Mrs. Lindsay, was in his confidence in that matter, and -quite <i>au fait</i> of its doubtful progress. She did not appear -at dinner that evening, but dined in her own room, and -then betook her to her brother's sanctum, or 'den,' as he -called it—a picturesque old panelled apartment, in what -was named the Beatoun wing—which had a quaint stone -fireplace, the grate of which was full of August flowers then, -but at the hearth of which in the winter of the year before -Pinkeyfield was fought, his Eminence had been wont to toast -his scarlet-slippered toes. -</p> - -<p> -The furniture was quite modern. Fishing and shooting -gear, with whips, spurs, billiard cues, a few soiled books on -farriery and racing, were its chief features now; while -sporting calendars, etc., strewed the table, with a few note and -account books, and letters of minor importance. -</p> - -<p> -After gloomily referring to his late interview with Maude -Lindsay, he assisted himself to a briar-root pipe from a nice -arrangement of meerschaums and other pipes stuck in an -oaken and steel mounted horseshoe on the broad mantel-shelf, -and prepared to soothe himself with 'a weed' and the -contents of a remarkably long tumbler—brandy and soda—sent -up, per Mr. Trotter, from the pantry of old Funnell, -the butler, for his delectation; while his pale and -sallow-visaged sister was content to sip from a slender glass a -decoction of some medical stuff prescribed for chronic low -spirits and weak action of the heart—an affliction under -which she laboured, and to which, no doubt, her pallid and -at times stone-coloured complexion was attributable. -</p> - -<p> -Always calm in demeanour, she was otherwise unlike -her brother Hawkey, who was not particular to a shade in -anything (provided he was not found out), and she was -outwardly a model of religion and propriety, blended -with hypocrisy, which—according to Rochefoucauld—is the -homage that vice pays to virtue. -</p> - -<p> -Attired in a luxurious dressing-gown and tasselled smoking -cap, Mr. Sharpe lounged in a cosy easy-chair, shooting -his huge cuffs forward from time to time, and stroking his -sandy, ragged moustache, in what he thought to be 'good -style.' -</p> - -<p> -Instead of being thick and podgy, as his humble origin -might suggest, his hands, we must admit, were rather thin, -with long spiky filbert nails, reminding one—with all their -cultivated whiteness—of the talons of a bird of prey. -</p> - -<p> -'Deuced good thing for us, Deb, that codicil was never -completed,' said he (for about the hundredth time), -breaking a pause; 'but still we have now that fellow, Roland -Lindsay, back again, ready to overhaul matters, after -escaping Arab bullets and swords, desert fever, and the devil -only knows what more.' -</p> - -<p> -'You forget that this is his home,' said she, with a little -touch of womanly feeling for the moment, 'or he deems it -as such.' -</p> - -<p> -'So long as you permit it, I suppose.' -</p> - -<p> -'I cannot throw down the glove to the County just now.' -</p> - -<p> -'But assume a virtue if you have it not,' said Hawkey, -applying himself to the long tumbler, that still sparkled and -effervesced in the lamp-light. -</p> - -<p> -'He cannot harm me, at all events.' -</p> - -<p> -'I don't know that, and I was deuced easier when he -was away in Egypt. Some might call this selfish—what -the devil do I care! A man's chief duty centres on himself.' -</p> - -<p> -'Without pity for the unfortunate?' -</p> - -<p> -'Don't be a humbug, Deb, and don't act to me! The -poor and unfortunate are so, by their own fault, I suppose. -I wish to speak with you about that to which I -have—reluctantly—referred more than once.' -</p> - -<p> -Mrs. Lindsay made a gesture of impatience, and said, -while toying with her pet cur Fifine: -</p> - -<p> -'Ah—money matters with reference to yourself in the -future?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes; but I do dislike, my dear Deb,' said he, with an -affection which she knew right well was mostly simulated, -'discussing them with you.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'It is so disagreeable.' -</p> - -<p> -'It would be more disagreeable for you if there were no -money matters to discuss,' she replied with the smallest -approach to a sneer. 'But, to the point, Hawkey—I know -what it is!' -</p> - -<p> -'You are not strong, you know, dear Deb; you may go -off—' (the hooks, he was about to say, but changed his -mind)—'off suddenly, and not leave your house well ordered. We -should always be prepared for the worst. You know what -the best doctors in Edinburgh have told you,' he added, -burying his nose and moustache in the tumbler again. -</p> - -<p> -'Well?' said she. -</p> - -<p> -'I mean that you should execute that will you spoke of.' -</p> - -<p> -'In your favour?' -</p> - -<p> -'And so preclude all contention from any quarter—a -hundred times I have hinted this to you.' -</p> - -<p> -'How kind and soothing the reminder is!' she replied -bitterly, unwilling, like all selfish people, to adopt or face -the dire idea of death, sudden or otherwise. -</p> - -<p> -'I do advise you to consider well, Deb.' -</p> - -<p> -'For your sake, of course.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well—it may seem selfish, dear Deb.' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah—advice is a commodity which every possessor deems -most valuable, and yet hastens to get rid of.' -</p> - -<p> -Hawkey eyed her anxiously, for her irritation and -animosity, when her delicate health and disease of the heart -were referred to, always predominated over every other -feeling, but she waived them for the time and returned to the -first subject. -</p> - -<p> -'So that was all your success with Maude?' -</p> - -<p> -'Not much, certainly,' he replied, with a scowl at -vacancy. -</p> - -<p> -'Unfortunate!' -</p> - -<p> -'Rather!' -</p> - -<p> -'As the provision left by her father is a most ample one -for her.' -</p> - -<p> -'Not so ample as all Earlshaugh, however,' thought he, -refilling his briar-root in silence. -</p> - -<p> -'You must persevere. It has been truly said that "the -days of Jacob are over, that men don't understand waiting -now, and it is always as well to catch your fish when you -can."' -</p> - -<p> -Hawkey smoked on in silence. He had never before -dared to lift his eyes so high, never before ventured to -'make love' to a lady. His past experience had been more -sudden, abrupt, less bothersome, and more acceptable. -Had he done or said too much, or too little? Ought he to -have gone down on his knees like the lovers he had seen on -the stage, or read of in old story books? -</p> - -<p> -No—he was certain she would have laughed at him had -he done so; and he was also certain no one 'did that sort -of thing' nowadays. The age of such supplication was -assuredly past; and he thought, viciously too, that he had -'done all that may become a man.' -</p> - -<p> -'These bloated aristocrats, Deb, have a way all their own, -of setting a fellow down!' said he, with a louring expression -in his shifty, pale-gray eyes; 'she is, I know, my superior in -position, in the way the world goes, <i>as yet</i>,' he continued, -for Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, though longing for the vineyard of -Naboth, was—at heart—a Social-Democrat; 'my superior -in birth, education, and habits.' -</p> - -<p> -'I should think so.' -</p> - -<p> -'Don't sneer at me, Deb.' -</p> - -<p> -'So far, perhaps, as Maude is concerned, your success -depends, Hawkey, upon whether there is anyone else in her -thoughts.' -</p> - -<p> -'Before me, you mean?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—she may be engaged for all we know. I, for one, -am certainly not in her confidence. She has a lover, -however, I suspect.' -</p> - -<p> -'It looks deuced like the case. I saw her post a letter to -a fellow named Elliot to-night,' he added, with a knit in his -brow and an ugly gleam in his pale eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'Elliot—that is the name of one of those who come here -to shoot, for the First.' -</p> - -<p> -'To shoot?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—on Roland's invitation.' -</p> - -<p> -'There may be something else shot than partridges.' -</p> - -<p> -'Elliot—Captain Elliot?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—that was the name on her letter.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well—you must not quarrel with him—that would be -unseemly.' -</p> - -<p> -'My dear Deb, I never <i>quarrel</i> with those I <i>hate</i>,' was the -comprehensive and sinister reply of Hawkey Sharpe, with -his most diabolical expression; 'and though I have never -seen this interloper Elliot, I feel a most ungodly hatred of -him already.' -</p> - -<p> -'I repeat that no good can come of a vulgar quarrel, and -that you must not forget the proprieties. What would the -servants alone say or think?' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, d—n the servants!' responded her brother, tugging -his moustache angrily; 'but if that fellow Elliot is her -lover, I must put my brains in steep and contrive to separate -them at all hazards, Deb. If I allow him or anyone else to -enter the stakes, I shall be out of the running. Anyhow, as -you are looking pale, Deb, I mustn't keep you here talking -over my incipient love affairs, or you will not be able to -receive some of these infernal guests, who, I believe, come -to-morrow. You are not overburdened with visitors, however.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yet I would rather it was the time of their going than -their coming,' said Mrs. Lindsay, whom his remark touched -on a tender point. -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' asked Hawkey. -</p> - -<p> -'They must soon perceive that I am tabooed by the -county families—that no one calls here as of old.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well?' -</p> - -<p> -'Except, perhaps, the people from the Manse and the -doctor.' -</p> - -<p> -'Neither—or none—of whom I care to see.' -</p> - -<p> -'And yet I subscribe to all local charities, bazaars, school -feasts, as regularly——' -</p> - -<p> -'As if you were an Elder of the Kirk—thereby wasting -your money to win a place among the "unco guid," and all -to no purpose,' said Hawkey, with the slightest approach to -derision. 'Well—well; how I shall succeed with the fair -Maude—if I succeed at all—time and a little management, -in more ways than one, will show,' he added with knitted -brows and hands clenched by thoughts that were full of -vague but savage intentions. -</p> - -<p> -'You know the proverb,' said Mrs. Lindsay, with a cold -smile, as she lifted up her dog and retired: 'a man may -woo as he will, but maun wed where his weird is.' -</p> - -<p> -Hawkey Sharpe set his teeth, and his eyes gleamed as he -thought with—but did not quote—Georges Ohnet, because -he knew him not: 'Money is the password of these venal -and avaricious times. Beauty, virtue, and intelligence -count for nothing. People no longer say, "Room for the -worthiest," but "Room for the wealthiest!"' -</p> - -<p> -Then other things occurred to him. -</p> - -<p> -'I am certain that Maude' (he spoke of her as 'Maude' -to himself and his sister) 'won't mention our little matter, -for cogent reasons, to her brother,' he reflected confidently;. -'but I must work the oracle with Deb about her will. With -that heart ailment which she undoubtedly has, she may go -off the hooks at any moment, as I, perhaps unwisely, hinted; -and I am not lawyer enough to know how old Earlshaugh's -last testament may stand; yet, surely, I am Deb's -heir-at-law, anyhow, I should think!' -</p> - -<p> -Unless Mr. Hawkey Sharpe had indulged—which was not -improbable—in 'tall talk,' his language and disposition -augured ill for the safety and comfort of Maude's <i>fiancé</i> if he -came to Earlshaugh; but Sharpe's threatened vengeance -had no decided plan as yet. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap16"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XVI. -<br /><br /> -'FOOL'S PARADISE.' -</h3> - -<p> -The earliest of the guests so roughly referred to by -Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, as stated in the preceding chapter, duly -arrived in the noon of the following day, and were closely -reconnoitred by that personage through a field-glass from an -angle of the bartizan, and he was enabled to perceive that -there were only two young ladies—a tall, dark-haired one, -and another less in stature, very <i>petite</i> indeed, with a small, -flower-like face and golden hair; for they were simply the -somewhat reluctant Hester Maule and the irrepressible -Annot Drummond, for whose accommodation Mrs. Drugget, -the housekeeper, had made all the necessary preparations. -</p> - -<p> -'Welcome to Earlshaugh—you are no stranger here, -Hester!' said Roland, as he kissed the latter when he -assisted her to alight from the carriage at the <i>porte-cochère</i>—the -lightest and fleetest thing possible in the way of a -salute—one without warmth or lingering force; but then -Annot—whom he did not kiss at all 'before folk'—had her -hazel-green eyes upon them. -</p> - -<p> -For Annot he had the most choice little bouquet that old -Willie Wardlaw, the gardener, could prepare; but there was -none for Hester, an omission which the latter scarcely -noticed. -</p> - -<p> -'And this is your home!' exclaimed Annot, burying her -little nose among the many lilies of the valley, pink rosebuds, -and fragrant stephanotis. -</p> - -<p> -'It is the home of my forefathers,' replied Roland almost -evasively, as he gave her his arm. -</p> - -<p> -'What a romantic reply—savours quite of a three-volume -novel!' exclaimed Annot, unaware of what the answer too -literally implied, and what was actually passing in Roland's -mind; but Hester felt for him, and saw the painful blush -that crossed his nut-brown cheek. -</p> - -<p> -The family legal agent had not yet returned to Edinburgh, -so Roland had not been able to see or take counsel with -him as to what transpired when he was lurking in the desert -after Kashgate. -</p> - -<p> -But Annot was come, and for the time he was content to -live at Earlshaugh in that species of Fool's Paradise—'to -few unknown,' as Milton has it. As yet nothing more had -been heard of the meadowing of the park or cutting down -the King's Wood; and save that Mr. Hawkey Sharpe from -time to time crossed his path, and even—to Maude's -intense annoyance, and that of Roland from other causes—joined -his sister at the family meals, Roland had no other -specific grievance; but he felt as if upon a volcano. -</p> - -<p> -As Annot left the carriage, she was greeted warmly and -kindly by Maude, who was glad to return attentions received -in London, and who as yet knew nothing of how the young -lady was situated with regard to Roland, who now looked -round for Mrs. Lindsay as the lady of the house. -</p> - -<p> -But the latter, under the <i>régime</i> of her predecessor, his -mother, 'was too accurately acquainted with the weights and -measures of society for such a movement as that;' and thus -received her two guests—or Maude's rather—in the Red -Drawing-room, accurately attired in rich black moire, with -lace lappets and jet ornaments; and was, of course, -'delighted' to see both, while according to each, not her hand, -but a finger thereof; and Hester, who knew her well of old, -read again in her pale face that mixture of hardness and -cunning with which the slight smile on her thin lips—a smile -that never reached her sharp gray eyes—well accorded. -</p> - -<p> -Her eyes were handsome, and had been pleasing in their -expression once; but now her somewhat false position in -Earlshaugh and her secret ailment had imparted to them a -defiant, restless, and peculiar one. -</p> - -<p> -The coldness of her manner struck Hester as unpleasant; -Roland's politeness was not warmth that made up for it, and -the girl already began to think—'I was a fool—a weak fool -to come! But how to get away, now that I am here?' -</p> - -<p> -'It is a beautiful place!' thought the artful and ambitious -little Annot, when left for a few minutes in the solitude of -her own room, and, forgetting even to glance at her soft face -and <i>petite</i> figure in the tall cheval glass or toilette mirror, -gazed dreamily from the windows, arched and deep in the -massive wall, over the far extent of pastoral country, tufted -here and there with dark green woods, with a glimpse of the -German Sea in the distance; and she felt, for a time, all the -anticipative joy of being the mistress—the joint owner—of -such a stately old pile as Earlshaugh with all its surroundings, -the historic interest of which was to her, however, a -sealed book; but there is much in the glory of a sense of -ownership, says a writer—'of the ownership of land and -houses, of beeves and woolly flocks, of wide fields and thick -growing woods, even when that ownership is of late date, -when it conveys to the owner nothing but the realization of -a property on the soil; but there is much more in it when it -contains the memories of old years; when the glory is the -glory of a race as well as the glory of power and property.' -</p> - -<p> -And though to a little town-bred bird like Annot such -historic flights were empty things, the old walls of Earlshaugh -had seen ancestors of Roland ride forth heading their -followers with morion, jack, and spear, to the fields of -Flodden, Pinkey, and Dunbar; to the muster place of the -Fife lairds, in the year of Sherriffmuir, and to many a stirring -broil in the days when the Scotsman's sword was always in -his hand and never in its scabbard; but from such -daydreams as did occur to her, Annot was now roused by the -welcome sound of the luncheon gong echoing from the -entrance-hall, and, dispensing with the assistance of a maid, -she hurried at once downstairs. -</p> - -<p> -In expectation of the gentlemen who were coming after -the birds on the First, a day or two passed off delightfully -enough, amid the novelty of Earlshaugh, and the evenings -were devoted to music; and despite the unwelcome presence -of the cold, haughty, and somewhat repellant Mrs. Lindsay, -Annot, as at Merlwood, talked to Roland, played for, sang -to Roland, and put forth—more effusively than ever—all -her little arts in the way of attraction for him, and him -alone; which his sister Maude, to whom this style of thing -was rather new, looked on with amused surprise at first, and -then somewhat reprehensively and gloomily. -</p> - -<p> -To Hester, Roland, acting as host, was elaborate in his -brotherly kindness and attention; perhaps—nay doubtless—a -lingering sentiment of remorse had made him so; and she -received it all, but with secret pain and intense mortification, -and Maude's soft blue eyes were not slow to detect this. -</p> - -<p> -'Hester,' said Maude, with arms affectionately twined -round her, 'I used to think that you and Roland were very -fond of each other!' -</p> - -<p> -'So we were,' said Hester in a low voice. -</p> - -<p> -'Were?' -</p> - -<p> -'Are, I mean—very fond of each other. Why should we -be otherwise?' stammered poor Hester, turning away for a -moment. -</p> - -<p> -'I mean—I thought (uncle Harry used to quiz you both -so much!) he cared for you, and you for him -more—more——' -</p> - -<p> -'Than cousins usually do?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, no—no—you mistake, dear Maude.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well—it seems Annot now; and yet I hope—ah, -no—it cannot be.' -</p> - -<p> -One fact soon became too apparent to Roland Lindsay: -that his sister Maude did not like Annot Drummond now, -if she ever did. -</p> - -<p> -'I never saw a girl so changed since we were at school -together at Madame Raffineur's in Belgium—even since I -saw her last in London!' said Maude; 'why, Roland, she -has become quite an artful little woman of the world!' -</p> - -<p> -'Artful—oh, Maude!' he expostulated. -</p> - -<p> -'Girls in their confidential moods say and admit many -things their best friends know nothing of; but don't let me -vex you, dear Roland. However, I don't like to hear Annot -boast of enjoying cigarettes and being a good shot.' -</p> - -<p> -'All talk, Maude; she takes a waggish delight in startling -you country folks. I'd stake a round sum on it, she never -tried either,' he replied, with undisguised irritation. -</p> - -<p> -Maude was silent for a moment; but she would have been -more than blind had she not seen how Annot and her -brother were affected to each other, and she disliked it. -</p> - -<p> -'You love Annot then?' she asked. -</p> - -<p> -'I do.' -</p> - -<p> -'And mean to—to marry her?' -</p> - -<p> -'I hope so.' -</p> - -<p> -'With Annot you have not a sentiment in common; and -marriage between two persons whose tastes are diverse is a -great error.' -</p> - -<p> -'If our tastes are so; but surely we know our own minds, -little one, quite as much as you and Jack Elliot of ours do.' -</p> - -<p> -'There now—you are angry with me!' said Maude, with -a pout on her lip. -</p> - -<p> -'Angry—not at all, Maude; who could be angry with -you? But I am disappointed a little.' -</p> - -<p> -'And so am I—not a little, but very much.' -</p> - -<p> -'How?' -</p> - -<p> -'I always thought you were attached to our sweet and -earnest-eyed Hester.' -</p> - -<p> -'And so I am,' replied Roland, selecting a cigar with -great apparent care; 'but, as a cousin, you know.' -</p> - -<p> -'And now it seems to be Annot!' said Maude, with her -white hands folded on her knee and looking up at him with -an air of annoyance. -</p> - -<p> -'Beyond my admissions just made, what led you to think so?' -</p> - -<p> -'A thousand things! I am not blind, nor is anyone -else. According to what you have said, then you must be -engaged!' -</p> - -<p> -'Well—yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'And you keep it a secret?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'But why?' -</p> - -<p> -'Surely, Maude, that should be obvious to you. Till I -can see old Mr. MacWadsett and have certain matters -cleared up.' -</p> - -<p> -'You are wise. But Annot, does she, too, wish the -engagement kept secret?' -</p> - -<p> -'Decidedly, from the world at least,' -</p> - -<p> -'A comprehensive word; but why?' -</p> - -<p> -'I have a little tour in Egypt before me yet.' -</p> - -<p> -'My poor Roland! But to me it seems that when a -couple are engaged there is no reason why all the world -need not know of it, unless there are impediments.' -</p> - -<p> -'Which certainly exist so far in our case. I am the heir -of Earlshaugh, yet is Earlshaugh mine? At the present -moment,' he added, with his teeth almost set in anger, -'congratulations might be embarrassing.' -</p> - -<p> -Maude sighed for her brother's future, but not for her own. -That seemed assured. She thought that if the fashion of -congratulations prevented promises of marriage being lightly -given, they served a purpose that was good. She had read -that a girl might say yes 'when asked to marry, with the -mental reservation that if anything better came along she -will continue not to keep her word and think twice about it -if she has to go through such a form' (and such a girl she -shrewdly suspected Annot to be). Maude also thought that -marriage engagements are frequently too lightly entered into -and too lightly set aside, and that the contract should be as -sacred as marriage itself. -</p> - -<p> -'You surely know Annot well?' said Roland, breaking -a silence that embarrassed him. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh yes,' replied Maude, without looking up. -</p> - -<p> -'I think you will learn to like, nay, must like her!' he -urged. -</p> - -<p> -'I shall try, Roland,' was the dubious response, with -which he was obliged to content himself as with other things -in his then Fool's Paradise. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap17"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XVII. -<br /><br /> -AT EARLSHAUGH. -</h3> - -<p> -For two or three days before the all-important First of -September, Roland, the old gamekeeper, Gavin Fowler, -young Malcolm Skene, and even the pardoned poacher -Jamie Spens, had all been busy in a vivid and anxious spirit -of anticipation as the day approached. Many a time had -they reconnoitered by the King's Wood, the Mains of Dron, -in the Fairy Den, and elsewhere, till they knew every rood -of ground—ground over which Roland's father had last -rambled on his old shooting pony—by stubble field, -hedgerow, and scroggy upland slope, where the coveys of the -neighbourhood lay, and knew almost the number of birds -in every covey; and many a time and oft the route of the -first day was planned, schemed out, and enjoyed in imagination; -while the dogs were carefully seen to in their kennels, -and the guns and ammunition inspected in the gunroom, -as if a day of battle were at hand. -</p> - -<p> -Yet, even in the Lowlands of Scotland, the palmy days of -shooting are gone in many places never to return. Muirland -after muirland has been enclosed, marshes reclaimed, and in -other parts the hill slopes, that were lonely, stern, and -wild—often all but inaccessible—have now become the sites of -villas, mansions, and new-made railway villages, till people -sometimes may wonder what Cowper meant in his 'Task' -when he wrote— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'God made the country, and man made the town!'<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -But much of this applies more to England than to the sister -kingdom. -</p> - -<p> -The last evening of August saw a gay dinner party in the -stately old dining-hall of Earlshaugh, with Roland acting as -host, and Mrs. Lindsay, pale and composed as usual, but -brilliant in his mother's suite of diamonds (heir-looms of -the line), too brilliant, he thought, for the occasion, at the -head of the table. -</p> - -<p> -Among other friends who had come for the morrow's -shooting were Jack Elliot and Malcolm Skene, both most -prepossessing-looking young fellows; and the style and -bearing of both—but especially of the former, who had about him -that finishing touch which the service, foreign travel, and -good society impart—inspired the heart of Mr. Hawkey -Sharpe with much jealous rancour and envy, and with -something of mortification too. -</p> - -<p> -It may be superfluous to say that in all the elements that -make a perfect gentleman, and one accustomed to the world, -he far outshone the unfortunate Hawkey; and as he sat -there, clad in evening costume, toying with his wine-glass, -and conversing in a pleasantly modulated voice with Annot -Drummond, who affected to be deeply interested in Cairo -and Alexandria, Tel-el-Kebir and Kassassin, he had no more -consciousness or idea of finding a rival in such a person -than in old Gavin Fowler, the keeper, or Funnell, the butler, -who officiated behind his chair. -</p> - -<p> -But Deborah—Mrs. Lindsay—was observing Elliot, and -thought of her brother's jealousy, his ambition and avarice, -and his recent threats with secret dread and misgivings, -and, knowing of what he was capable, she glanced at him -uneasily from time to time as he sat silent, almost sullen, -and imbibing more wine than was quite good for him. -</p> - -<p> -The appurtenances of the table, especially so far as plate -went, were all that might be expected in a house of such a -style and age as Earlshaugh, and the great chandelier that -hung in the dome-shaped roof with its profusely parqueted -ceiling, shed a soft light over all—on many a stately but dim -portrait on the walls—among others, one of the Lindsay of -the Weird Yett, above the stone mantelpiece, on which -was carved the <i>fesse-chequy</i> of Lindsay, crested by a tent, -with stars overhead, and the motto, <i>Astra castra, numen -lumen</i>. -</p> - -<p> -In the centre of the board towered a giant silver épergne -(the gift of the Hunt to the late laird) laden with fruit and -flowers, a tableau representing the gallant King James V., -the 'Commons King,' slaying a stag at bay in Falkland -Wood. -</p> - -<p> -Several attractive girls were present, but none perhaps -were more so in their different degree than Maude, with her -sunny hair and winning blue eyes; Hester, with her pure -complexion, soft bearing, and rich dark-brown braids; and -Annot, with her flower-like face, childish playfulness of -manner, and glorious wealth of shining golden tresses. -</p> - -<p> -Nearly all at the table were young, and the dinner was a -happy and joyous one, save perhaps to Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, -who felt himself, with all his profound assurance, somewhat -<i>de trop</i>, though he deemed himself, as he was, certainly 'got -up as well as any fellow there.' -</p> - -<p> -He was as vain of the form and whiteness of his hands as -ever Lord Byron was, and he was wont to hold forth his -right one, clenching a cambric handkerchief, with a brilliant -sparkling ring of unusual size. His tie was faultless, his -eyeglass arrogant and offensive, especially to Elliot, after a -time; his would-be general air of stiffness and languid -exclusiveness (imitated ill from others) sat as grotesquely on -him as his habit of leaving remarks unanswered, while to all -appearance critically examining the condition of his spiky -finger-nails. -</p> - -<p> -His presence on this particular occasion, though under -the auspices of his sister, at first roused Roland's anger -to fever heat, and the latter took his seat at table with a -very black expression in his handsome face indeed; but he -saw or felt the necessity for dissembling, and ignored his -existence. Then after a time, affected by the geniality of -his surroundings, by the bright, pleasant faces of his friends, -the conversation, and the circulation of Mr. Funnell's good -wines—more than all, by the presence of such a sunny little -creature as Annot, who had been consigned to the care of -Jack Elliot—he completely thawed, and acted the host to -perfection. -</p> - -<p> -At his back stood old Funnell, his rubicund visage shining -like a harvest moon, radiant to see Roland in his father's -chair and place at the foot of the table, even though she, -Mrs. Lindsay (<i>née</i> Deborah Sharpe), was at the head thereof, -though 'not Falkland bred,' an old and unforgotten Fife -saying of the days of the princely James's which conveys -much there with reference to birth and breeding. -</p> - -<p> -So Roland tried to forget—perhaps for the time actually -forgot—the probable or inevitable future, and strove to be -genial with her, though it was quite beyond him to be so -with her cub of a brother; and, indeed, he never stooped to -address him at all. -</p> - -<p> -From the opposite side of the table Elliot silently enjoyed -the luxury of admiring his merry-eyed and bright-haired -Maude, and all the natural grace of her actions; but -Hawkey Sharpe was seated directly opposite to her too; yet -her manner betrayed—even to his keen and observant -eyes—none of the annoyance or constant confusion which might -have shown itself as regarded <i>him</i> and a recent episode, as -she entirely ignored his existence, while the presence of Jack -shed an ægis over her. -</p> - -<p> -After the ladies withdrew, in obedience to a silent sign -from Mrs. Lindsay, the conversation of the gentlemen, as -they closed up towards Roland's chair, developed some -unpleasant features; for Hawkey Sharpe, whose tongue was -loosened and his constitutional impudence encouraged by -Funnell's excellent Pomery-greno, evinced an unpleasant -disposition to cavil at and contradict whatever Elliot -advanced or mentioned—rather a risky proceeding on the -part of Mr. Sharpe, as Elliot was what has been described -as a 'stand-offish sort of man, with whom one would not -care to joke on an early acquaintance, or slap on the back -and call 'old fellow,' or abbreviate his Christian name;' so, -when the different breeds of sporting dogs and new fire-arms -were under discussion, the steward said abruptly: -</p> - -<p> -'Guns—oh, talking of guns, there is nothing I know -for sport like that with the new grip action, with Schultze -powder.' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah! you mean,' said Elliot, 'the one with the only -action that works independently of the top lever spring.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'But not for partridges or pheasants.' -</p> - -<p> -'For anything,' said Sharpe curtly. -</p> - -<p> -'Come, you are mistaken,' replied Jack. -</p> - -<p> -'Not at all,' said Sharpe doggedly. -</p> - -<p> -'Excuse me,' said the young officer; 'as a sportsman and -an ex-instructor in musketry, you may permit me to have -some knowledge of fire-arms; but the one you refer to is for -big game, and will neither stick nor jam like the Government -rubbish issued to us in Egypt, and is based on the -non-fouling principle.' -</p> - -<p> -'Non-fowling? It will shoot any fowl you aim at,' replied -Sharpe, mistaking his meaning; 'but you don't know what -you are talking about.' -</p> - -<p> -Elliot simply raised his eyebrows and stared at the speaker -for a moment. -</p> - -<p> -'You heard me?' added Sharpe, with an angry gleam in -his eye. -</p> - -<p> -Elliot turned to Skene and spoke of something else; but -his cool and steady, yet inoffensive, stare, and his ignoring -the last defiant remark, exasperated Hawkey Sharpe, who -had—we have said—imbibed more wine than he was wont; -and, like all men of his class, particularly felt the quiet -contempt implied by the other's silence and utter indifference to -his presence—a spirit of defiance very humiliating and -difficult to grapple with, especially by the underbred; thus, -'while nursing his wrath to keep it warm,' Sharpe was -determined to pursue a system of aggravation, and when -Elliot remarked to Roland, in pursuance of some general -observations, that shooting, even in the matter of -black-game and muirgame, should never begin till October, as -thousands of young partridges that are not fair game would -escape being shot by gentlemen-poachers, or falling a prey -when in the hedges and hassocks to the mere pot-hunter—Hawkey -Sharpe contradicted him bluntly, without knowing -what to urge on the contrary, and made some blundering -statements about following young game into the standing -corn, and how jolly it was to pot even young pheasants in -the standing barley during the month of September. -</p> - -<p> -'In these little matters, my good man, you are rather at -variance with Colonel Hawker.' -</p> - -<p> -'Who the devil is Hawker?' said Sharpe. -</p> - -<p> -'A great authority on all such matters, sir,' said young -Skene, 'and not to have heard of him argues that you -are—well, imperfectly up in the subject.' -</p> - -<p> -'Which we had better drop,' said Roland, with a dangerous -sparkle in his dark eyes; 'but pass the decanters, -Jack—they stand with you.' -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Hawkey Sharpe gave an audible sniff of contempt, -meant, doubtless, for Elliot, whose cool stare at him was -now blended with a smile indicative of curiosity and -amusement, that proved alike enraging and baffling. -</p> - -<p> -When the gentlemen rose to join the ladies in the -drawing-room, whence came the distant notes of the piano and -the voice of Annot Drummond with her inevitable '<i>Du du</i>,' -Hawkey Sharpe, with an unpleasant consciousness that he -had been somewhat foolish and had the worst of his -arguments, withdrew to his sanctum in the Beatoun wing to -growl and smoke over his brandy and soda, and was seen no -more for that night. -</p> - -<p> -Pausing in the entrance-hall, Elliot said: -</p> - -<p> -'Pardon me, Roland, but who is that unmitigated cad who -contradicted me so at table?—seemed to want to fix a -quarrel, by Jove!' -</p> - -<p> -Roland coloured. -</p> - -<p> -'Why, you redden as if he was a bailiff in disguise—a -man in possession!' said Elliot, laughing. -</p> - -<p> -'You forget, Jack, that such officials are unknown on this -side of the Border.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then who or what is he?' persisted Elliot. -</p> - -<p> -'My overseer—steward.' -</p> - -<p> -'Steward—the devil! and you have a fellow of that kind -at table.' -</p> - -<p> -'Mrs. Lindsay has—not I,' replied Roland, with growing -confusion and annoyance. 'There are wheels within wheels -here at Earlshaugh, Jack—a little time and you shall know -all, even before the pheasants you disputed about are ready -for potting.' -</p> - -<p> -But before that period came, or the opportunity so lightly -referred to, much was to happen at Earlshaugh that none -could at all foresee. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap18"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XVIII. -<br /><br /> -'MY LOVE SHE'S BUT A LASSIE YET.' -</h3> - -<p> -The First of September came in all that could be wished for -the shooting, in which, to Roland's disgust and Elliot's -surprise, Hawkey Sharpe took a part, but attired in accurate -sporting costume, and duly armed with an excellent -breech-loader. The corn was yellow in some places, the stubble -bare in others; there were rich 'bits' of colour in every -field, and silver clouds floating in the blue expanse overhead. -In such light, says a writer with an artistic eye, 'the -white horses seem cut out of silver, the chestnuts of ruddy-gold; -while the black horses stand out against the sky as if -cut in black marble; and what gaps half a dozen reapers -soon make in the standing corn!' -</p> - -<p> -Then the trails of the ground convolvulus and cyanus -or corn-flower, of every hue, may be seen, while the little -gleaners are afield, tolerated by a good-hearted farmer, who, -like Boaz of old, may, perhaps, permit the poor to glean -'even amongst the sheaves.' Elsewhere the fern and -heather-covered muirlands were beautiful, with their tiny bushes -laden with wild fruits, bramble, and sloe. -</p> - -<p> -How the shooting progressed there—how coveys were -flushed and surrounded; how the brown birds rose whirring -up, and the <i>cheepers</i> tumbled over in quick succession or -were caught by the dogs; how the latter found the birds -lurking among turnips or potatoes, or where the uncut corn -waved (for there they shelter, engender, and breed), till they -rose in coveys of twenty and even thirty—may not interest -the reader, so now we must hasten on to other points in our -story, having more important matters to relate; but, as -Mr. Hawkey Sharpe had an unpleasant reputation for shooting -sometimes a little wildly, and forgetting the line of fire, -all—by the whispered advice of old Fowler, the keeper—gave -him a very wide berth in the field, and of this he was angrily -conscious. -</p> - -<p> -Yet he brought upon himself the irate animadversions of -most of the sportsmen, and more particularly of Jack Elliot, -by ill-using one of the best pointers on the ground. Trained -by old Gavin Fowler, this animal would not only stand at -the scent of a bird or a hare, but, if in company, would -instantly <i>back</i> if he saw another dog point. This perfection, -the propensity to stand at the scent of game, though a striking -example of intelligence and docility, was so misunderstood -by Hawkey Sharpe that he dealt poor Ponto a blow -with the butt-end of his rifle, eliciting an oath from the -white-haired keeper, and anger from all—remarks which made him -clench his teeth with rage and mortification. -</p> - -<p> -But, as the hot month of September is not meant for hard -fagging, the whole party were back at the house by luncheon-time, -and the united spoil of all the bags was duly laid out -by braces on the pavement of the court-yard, and a goodly -show it made. -</p> - -<p> -After shooting in the morning and forenoon, as there were -three sets of lovers among the party at Earlshaugh, much of -the time was spent in riding, driving, and rambling about -the grounds and their vicinity, while Roland found a -congenial task in teaching Annot to ride, as he had procured a -most suitable pad for her, by the aid of old Johnnie Buckle, -at the Cupar Tuesday Fair; and just then nothing seemed -to exist for him but Annot's white soft cheek, her golden -hair, and the graceful little figure that made all other women -look, to his eyes, angular and peculiar; and then truly he -felt that 'there are days on which heaven opens to us all, -though to many of us next day it shuts again.' And shut -indeed it seemed to Malcolm Skene, who followed Hester -like her shadow, and whose eyes often wore a tender and -wistful intensity as he gazed upon her soft dark ones without -winning one responsive glance; and he would seek to lure -her into the subject that was nearest his own heart—his -great love for her—while with the rest, but always somewhat -apart, they would ramble on by the silvery birches in the -Fairy's Den, by the King's Wood, with its great old oaks and -heaven-high Scottish firs that towered against the blue sky; -in the leafy dingles where the white-tailed rabbits skurried -out of their sandy holes, where the birds twittered overhead, -the black gleds soared skyward in the welkin, the dun deer -started from the rustling bracken and underwood, and so on -to where the woods grew more open, and there came distant -glimpses of the German Sea or perhaps of the Firth of Tay, -rippling in the glory of the evening sun as it set beyond the -Sidlaw Hills. -</p> - -<p> -Unlike Maude and Elliot, who took their assured regard -with less demonstration, Roland and Annot Drummond—owing -doubtless to the impressible and effusive nature of the -latter young lady—were so much together, everywhere and -every way, as to provoke a smile among their friends and an -emotion of amusement, which certainly Hester Maule did -not share. -</p> - -<p> -'Why did I come here after all?' she often asked of -herself, as her mind harked back to old days and dreams. 'I -could have declined that woman, old Deborah's invitation, -and Roland's too. Save papa's suspicions, there was no -compulsion upon me. Fool that I have been to come—yet,' -she would add with a bitter smile, 'I shall not wear my -heart on my sleeve.' -</p> - -<p> -Thus she seemed to lead the van in every proposed -scheme for amusement, and the attentions of her old -admirer, Malcolm Skene, if they failed to win, at least -pleased and soothed her; and, watching her sometimes, -Roland would think— -</p> - -<p> -'Well, after all, I am glad to see her so happy.' -</p> - -<p> -A ball had early been proposed, but through the opposition -or mal-influence of Mrs. Lindsay the scheme proved a -failure; visions of the large dining-hall gay with floral -decorations, the lines on the floor and the ball cloth smooth -and tight as a drum-head, passed away, and a simple, -half-impromptu carpet-dance was substituted; hired musicians -were procured from the nearest town, and all the invited—even -Hester—looked forward to a night of enjoyment; and, -sooth to say, since her visit she had sedulously done all in -her power to avoid meeting Roland alone—no difficult -matter, so occupied was he with Annot; and then Earlshaugh -was a large and rambling old house, intersected by tortuous -passages without end, little landings and flights of steps in -unexpected places, rooms opening curiously out of each -other, and turret stairs up and down, the result of repairs -and additions in past times: thus, while it was a glorious -old house for flirtation, for appointments and partings, it -was quite possible for two persons to reside therein and -yet meet each other seldom, unless they wished it to be -otherwise. -</p> - -<p> -It was impossible for the mind of Hester not to dwell on -the time when Roland was—as she thought—her lover; of -rambles and conversations and silences that were eloquent, -and beatings of the heart in the bat-haunted gloaming, when -the Esk gurgled over its stony bed and the crescent moon -was in the violet-tinted sky. -</p> - -<p> -She thought she had got over it all, but she had not yet—she -felt that she had not; but now Malcolm Skene was there, -and she might if she chose show Roland the sceptre of -power, and that the art of pleasing was still hers as ever. -</p> - -<p> -Roland had actually been more than once on the point -of seeking some apologetic explanation with her; in his -inner consciousness he felt that he owed it to her; but he -shrank from it with a species of moral cowardice—he who -had hacked his way out of the carnage of Kashgate, and -ridden through the slaughter of other Egyptian fields; and -though he had often rehearsed in his mind the <i>amende</i> he -owed her, how could he dare to approach it? -</p> - -<p> -'It was a mistake of his at Merlwood thinking that he -loved me,' Hester would ponder on the other hand; 'and -he did not know then—still less did I—that it was a -mistake; but I know it now! The only thing left for me is to -school myself, if I can, to love him as a friend or sister, a -cousin merely. But it is hard—hard after all; and for such -an artificial girl as Annot!' -</p> - -<p> -Maude's carpet-dance—for the idea was hers—proved a -great success, and many were present to whom, as they have -no place in our story, we need not refer; but the music was -excellent, and from an arched and partially curtained recess -of the Red Drawing-room it swelled along the lofty ceilings -and through the stately apartment, on the floor of which the -dancers glided away to their hearts' content. -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, bold and unabashed, was there -attired <i>de rigueur</i> in evening costume; but even he did not -venture on asking Maude to favour him with one dance; -yet he ground his sharp teeth from time to time as he -watched her and Captain Elliot, and overheard some—but -only some of his remarks to her, though Hawkey had the -ears of a fox. -</p> - -<p> -'Maudie, darling, I am afraid you are tired,' said Jack -tenderly, pausing for a moment. -</p> - -<p> -'Already? Not at all, Jack; I would go on for ever,' -exclaimed the girl, and they swept away again. -</p> - -<p> -To her how delightful it was, waltzing with him—his hand -pressed lightly on her willowy waist, her fingers, gloved and -soft and slender, just resting on his shoulder; a faint perfume -of her silky hair, a drowsy languor in every movement and -in the whole situation. -</p> - -<p> -'After we are married, Maudie,' whispered Jack, 'I am -sure I shall disapprove of waltzing.' -</p> - -<p> -'Disapprove—why?' -</p> - -<p> -'Because I shall hate to see you whirling away with -another.' -</p> - -<p> -'Don't be a goose, Jack.' -</p> - -<p> -'Won't I have the right to forbid you?' -</p> - -<p> -'A right I shall not recognise. You surely would not be -jealous of me?' -</p> - -<p> -'Of you—no; but of others—a humiliating confession, is -it not?' he added, smiling tenderly down upon her. -</p> - -<p> -Though it was all a hastily got up and <i>impromptu</i> affair, -Maude and Annot were radiantly happy; the latter in securing -such a lover as Roland Lindsay, with all his surroundings, -which she appreciated highly, as they far exceeded the most -brilliant hopes and aspirations of herself and her match-making -mother in South Belgravia. Her soft cheeks flushed -and paled, and her tiny feet—for tiny they were as those of -Cinderella—beat responsive to the music; and in the fulness -of her own joy even her original emotions of covetousness, -and ambition perhaps, were dimmed or lessened; while the -dances which she had with Roland seemed quite unlike -those she had enjoyed with other men; even when Hawkey -Sharpe, who, being a Scotchman, danced of course, ploughing -away with the minister's good-natured daughter, cannoned -with some violence against them, and made Roland frown -and mutter under his moustache till he drew Annot into the -recess of a window, and while fanning her, and in doing so -lightly ruffling Her shining hair, talked that soft nonsense so -dear to them then. -</p> - -<p> -'How childlike you are, Annot, in the brightness of your -joy and in your genuine love of amusement!' said he -admiringly, as he stooped over her. -</p> - -<p> -'I feel as light as a bird when I hear good dance music -like that and have such a good partner as you, Roland,' she -exclaimed, looking up, her green hazel eyes beaming with -pleasure. -</p> - -<p> -'How could it be otherwise,' said he, 'when, -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "My love she's but a lassie yet,<br /> - A lightsome, lovely lassie yet."<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -a sweet one that never had even a passing <i>penchant</i>, I am -sure, or perhaps a flirtation!' -</p> - -<p> -'Yet having a very decided tendency thereto.' replied -Annot, with one of her arch smiles. 'But nothing more, -dear Roland, nothing more!' she added, perfectly oblivious -of poor Bob Hoyle and many other 'detrimentals,' as Mamma -Drummond called them. -</p> - -<p> -'Have you never had even what the French call a <i>caprice</i>?' -he asked, with a soft laugh and a fond glance. -</p> - -<p> -'Never—never—till——' -</p> - -<p> -'Till when?' -</p> - -<p> -'I came to Merlwood.' -</p> - -<p> -'My little darling!' -</p> - -<p> -'So Hester and Mr. Skene are dancing together again,' -said Annot, anxious to change what she deemed a dangerous -subject. 'I saw her dancing with Captain Elliot after you -resigned her.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—she seems enjoying herself, poor Hester!' -</p> - -<p> -'I am so glad to see her with Mr. Skene.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'Because I hope they will marry yet, and bring their little -comedy to a close.' -</p> - -<p> -'How a young girl's mind always runs on love and -marriage!' said Roland. 'But this little comedy you refer -to, I never heard of it, save from yourself.' -</p> - -<p> -'Indeed!' replied Annot, who, from cogent reasons of her -own, was anxious to make the most of Skene's undoubted -admiration for Hester. 'I've noticed them greatly in -London.' -</p> - -<p> -'I always knew that Malcolm was her unvarying admirer, -who singled her out in the Edinburgh assemblies and balls -elsewhere from the first, and had, of course, poured much -sweet nonsense into her pretty little ears—treasured flowers -she had worn, gloves, handkerchiefs, bits of ribbon, and all -that sort of thing——' -</p> - -<p> -'Which you all do?' -</p> - -<p> -'That I don't admit, Annot.' -</p> - -<p> -'Anyway, this absurd appreciation of each other's society -was a source of great amusement to us in London,' she -continued, not very fairly, so far as concerned Hester; but then -Annot, a far-seeing young lady, was full of past preconceived -suspicions and of present plans of her own. -</p> - -<p> -'However, Annot, this little affair is nothing to us—to -<i>me</i>,' added Roland, and oddly enough, with the slightest -<i>soupçon</i> of pique in his glance and tone, as he saw Malcolm -Skene, a tall and stately fellow, who might please any -woman's eye—and did please the eyes of many—leading his -dark-eyed and dark-haired cousin, not into the whirl of -dances, nor to the refreshment-room, but—as if almost -unconsciously—towards the entrance of the long and -dimly-lighted conservatory which opened off the Red -Drawing-room. -</p> - -<p> -As Jack Elliot was too well-bred a man to attract attention -by dancing too much with Maude, his <i>fiancée</i>, the observant -Mr. Hawkey Sharpe saw, with no small satisfaction, that for -nearly the remainder of the night he bestowed the most of -his attention on strangers, wholly intent that Maude's little -entertainment should please all and go off well, and that -intention, which Mr. Sharpe misunderstood, was one of the -causes that led to a serious misadventure at a future time. -</p> - -<p> -Old Gavin Fowler, as he carried Ponto home in his arms -to his own lodge, while the dog, conscious of kindness, -whined and licked his weather-beaten hands, had muttered -between his teeth to Roland: -</p> - -<p> -'A better dog never entered a field! Eleven years has -he followed me, and now he is thirteen years auld, and can -yet find game wi' the youngest and the best whelp we hae; -and to think that he should get sic a clowre from a clod -like that! But dogs bark as they are bred—so does Hawkey -Sharpe! He's like the witches o' Auchencraw; he'll get -mair for your ill than your gude.' -</p> - -<p> -A proverb that means, favours are often granted an -individual through fear of his malevolence. -</p> - -<p> -Roland felt all the words implied, and colouring, said, -pale with anger: -</p> - -<p> -'He shall pay up this score and others, I hope, ere long, -Gavin.' -</p> - -<p> -And Mrs. Lindsay placed her hand upon her heart, on -hearing of the episode, and was secretly thankful that the -only one who suffered from Hawkey's jealous vengeance was -poor Ponto, the pointer. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap19"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XIX. -<br /><br /> -HESTER RECEIVES A PROPOSAL. -</h3> - -<p> -Annot was certainly curious to know what was passing -between the two whom she had seen wandering into the -cooler atmosphere of the conservatory; but she could not -at the same time relinquish the society of Roland, and to -suggest that they should adjourn thither might only mar the -end she wished—without any real affection for Hester—to -come to pass, as she had not been without her own suspicions -retrospectively. But, sore though it was, we fear that the -heart of Hester Maule was not to be caught on the rebound. -</p> - -<p> -And in dread and dislike of Annot's observation, her jests -and comments, she had—so far as she could—lately avoided -being, if possible, for a moment alone with Malcolm Skene, -or giving him an opportunity of addressing her, and he had -felt this keenly. -</p> - -<p> -In the long drawing-room the dancing was still gaily in -progress, and the soft strains of Strauss went floating along -the leafy and gorgeous aisles of the conservatory, where -Skene and Hester had—so far as she was concerned—unconsciously -wandered. She seated herself, wearily and -flushed with dancing, while he hung over her, with his -elbow resting on a shelf of flowers, while looking pensively -and tenderly down on her—on the heaving of her rounded -bosom, her long dark lashes, and the clear white parting of -the rich brown hair on her shapely head, longing with all -his soul to place his arms round her, and draw that beloved -head caressingly on his breast; and yet the words he said at -first were somewhat commonplace after all. But Hester, -while slowly fanning herself to hide the tremulousness of her -hands, knew and felt intuitively that a scene between them -was on the tapis; and, deeming it inevitable at some time -or other, she thought the sooner it was over the better; and -in the then weariness of her heart, she felt a little reckless; -but his introductory remarks surprised her by their bluntness. -</p> - -<p> -'My life now seems but one manoeuvre, Miss Maule—to -be alone with you for a moment or two.' -</p> - -<p> -Hester made some inaudible reply; so he resumed: -</p> - -<p> -'I have heard it said by some—by whom matters -not—that you are engaged, Miss Maule?' -</p> - -<p> -'Then they know more than I do—but to whom have -my good friends assigned me?' -</p> - -<p> -'To your cousin.' -</p> - -<p> -'Roland!' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'I am not engaged to Roland certainly,' replied Hester, -her lips and eyelashes quivering as she spoke. -</p> - -<p> -'I thought not,' said Malcolm Skene, gathering courage; -'Miss Drummond seems to me his chief attraction. If he -is as happy as I wish him, he will be the happiest of -deserving men.' -</p> - -<p> -'The phrase of a novel writer, Mr. Skene,' said Hester, a -little bitterly, as she thought over some episodes at -Merlwood; 'but do not talk so inflatedly of what men deserve. -The best of them are often unwise, unkind, unjust.' -</p> - -<p> -'Do not blame all men for the faults perhaps of one,' -said Skene at haphazard, and a little unluckily, as the speech -went home to Hester's heart. She grew pale, as if he had -divined her secret. -</p> - -<p> -'I do not understand you,' she faltered a little haughtily, -while flashing one upward glance at him. -</p> - -<p> -'Considering the way you view men now, and the way -you avoid or rebuff me, I wonder that I have got a word -with you, as I do to-night.' -</p> - -<p> -'Do I rebuff you?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—to my sorrow, I have felt it.' -</p> - -<p> -'Sorrow—of what do you really accuse me?' -</p> - -<p> -'Treating me with coldness, distance——' -</p> - -<p> -'I am not aware—that—that——' she paused, not -knowing what to say. -</p> - -<p> -'Hester—dearest Hester,' said he in a low and earnest -voice, while stealing nearer her and assuring himself by one -swift glance that they were alone in the conservatory; 'let -me call you so, were it only for to-night—you know how -long I have loved you, and surely you will love me a little -in time. I know how true, how tender of heart you are; I -know, too, that I have no rival in the present—with the past -I have nothing to do; but tell me, even silently, by one -touch of your hand, that you love me in turn, or will try to -love me in time, Hester—dear, dear Hester!' -</p> - -<p> -She opened her lips, but no sound came from them, and -her interlaced hands trembled in her lap, for the 'scene' -had gone somewhat beyond her idea in depth and earnestness; -and she felt that Malcolm Skene's deduction as regarded -there being no rival in the present was a mistake in -one sense. -</p> - -<p> -Encouraged by her silence, and construing it in his own -favour, little conceiving that her head was then full of a false -idol, he resumed: -</p> - -<p> -'Hester, ever since I first saw and knew you, it has been -the great hope of my existence to make you my wife.' -</p> - -<p> -Still the girl was voiceless, and felt chained to her -seat. -</p> - -<p> -She could feel—yea, could hear her heart beating painfully, -as she had a pure regard and most perfect esteem for -the young fellow by her side; and thought that to the end -of her days the perfume of the lily of the valley, of -stephanotis, and other plants close by would come back to -memory with Malcolm's voice, the strains of Strauss, the -strange atmosphere of the conservatory, and the dull sense -of unreality that was over her then. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, Hester, will you not tell me that you will try to love -me—to love me a little? Have you not a single word to -give me?' -</p> - -<p> -Passionately earnest were his handsome eyes—anxious and -eager was his lowered voice and the expression of his clearly -cut face. He said nothing to her, as other men might have -done, of his fortune, of his estate, of his lands of Dunnimarle -that overlooked the Forth, of his prospects or his future; all -such items were forgotten in the present. Neither did he -urge that he was going far—far away from her soon—much -sooner than he had then the least idea of—to enhance his -value in her eyes, or win her interest in his favour; for even -that, too, he forgot. -</p> - -<p> -She looked up at him with her soft, velvety, dark-blue -eyes suffused, gravely and kindly; the charming little tint -gone from her rounded cheeks; her whole face looking very -sweet and fair, but not wearing the expression of one who -listened with happiness to a welcome tale of love. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, why do you say all this to me, Mr. Skene—Malcolm -I shall call you for old acquaintance' sake—why ask me to -marry you?' -</p> - -<p> -'Why? a strange question, Hester,' said he, a little baffled -by her apparent self-possession, while tremulous with joy to -hear for the first time his Christian name upon her lips. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—why?' she asked, wearily and sadly. -</p> - -<p> -'Because I love you as much as it is in the nature of an -honest man to love a woman.' -</p> - -<p> -'But—but I do not return the sentiment—I cannot love -you as you would wish.' -</p> - -<p> -'Not even in the end, Hester?' -</p> - -<p> -'What end?' -</p> - -<p> -'Any time I may give you and hopefully wait for?' -</p> - -<p> -She shook her head and cast down her white eyelids. -</p> - -<p> -'And yet no one else seeks your love?' said he a little -reproachfully. -</p> - -<p> -'No one else.' -</p> - -<p> -'Can I never make you care for me?' he urged in a kind -of dull desperation. -</p> - -<p> -'Pardon me—but I do not think so; my regard, my -friendship and gratitude will ever be yours; but please—please,' -she added almost piteously, 'do not let us recur to -this matter again.' -</p> - -<p> -'You feel the impossibility——' -</p> - -<p> -'Of receiving your words as you wish.' -</p> - -<p> -'You are at least candid with me, Hester; and I shall, -indeed, trouble you no more.' -</p> - -<p> -He spoke with more grief than bitterness, as he dropped -the little and softly gloved hand which he had captured for -a moment. -</p> - -<p> -She then passed it over his arm and rose, as if to show -that all was over and that they were to return to the -drawing-room—which she now deeply regretted having quitted—and -with them the dancing, the joy, and the brilliance of Maude's -little fête had departed for the night. -</p> - -<p> -Skene felt that nothing was left for him now but to quit -Earlshaugh at once, and the time and the hour came sooner -than he expected, and all the more welcome now. -</p> - -<p> -But the adventures of the night—adventures in which -Mr. Hawkey Sharpe bore a somewhat prominent part—were not -yet over. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap20"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XX. -<br /><br /> -MR. SHARPE MAKES A MISTAKE. -</h3> - -<p> -Maude, though she knew not then the reason, had seen how -Hester Maule, after coming from the conservatory, with a -kind of good-night bow to Skene, had abruptly quitted the -dancers, and looking pale, ill, and utterly out of spirits, had -retired to her own room, whither she soon accompanied her; -but failing to learn the reason of her discomposure, was -returning downstairs to have one last turn with Jack Elliot, -when she suddenly met Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, the result of -whose attentions to the wine in the refreshment-room was -pretty apparent in his face and watery gray eyes, and he -paused unsteadily with a hand on the great oaken banisters. -</p> - -<p> -As Maude came tripping down the broad stone staircase -with leisurely grace and clad in a soft and most becoming -dress, one of those 'whose apparently inexpensive simplicity -men innocently admire, and over the bills for which husbands -and fathers wag their heads aghast,' he glanced appreciatively -at her snowy neck and shoulders, where her girlish plumpness -hid even the small collar-bones; at her beautiful, -blooming face, her sunny hair; her petulant, scornful mouth, -and delicate profile; while she, with some remembrance of -how he had acquitted himself among the dancers, and when -waltzing, in attempting to reverse, had spread dismay around -him, for a moment felt inclined to smile. -</p> - -<p> -Wine gave Hawkey Sharpe fresh courage, and just then -some new thoughts had begun to occur to him. -</p> - -<p> -He had seen that—unlike young Malcolm Skene, who -hovered about Hester like her shadow, and unlike Roland, -who was never absent from the side of Annot—Captain -Elliot and Maude were not apparently overmuch together; -for in the assured position of their love and engagement they -seemed in society very much like other persons. He was -ignorant of the mystery that there could be -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Sighs the deeper for suppression,<br /> - And stolen glances sweeter for the theft,'<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -and in the coarseness of his nature and lack of fine perception -he mistook the situation, and began to think that, -notwithstanding all he heard mooted, and notwithstanding the fact -of seeing a letter addressed in Maude's handwriting to the -gentleman in question, there might be 'nothing in it,' but -perhaps an incipient flirtation; and he had resolved on the -first opportune occasion to renew his pretensions, as the -Captain had evidently danced much with other girls—perhaps, -he thought, had preferred them—during the past -night. -</p> - -<p> -And now it seemed the time had come; and, over and -above all his extreme assurance, he thought to win through -her terror and necessity of temporizing for appearance' sake -what she never might yield to any regard for himself; and -even now, as he prepared to address her, anger, fear, and a -sickly sense of humiliation suddenly came into the heart of -Maude, though a moment before it had been beating happily -with thoughts that were all her own. -</p> - -<p> -'I hope,' said he, with what he meant for a smile, but was -more like a grimace, 'that you enjoyed the dancing to-night, -Miss Lindsay?' -</p> - -<p> -'Thanks,' replied Maude curtly. 'I hope you, too, have -been amused,' she added, making a side step to pass, but, as -on a previous occasion, he barred the way, and said: -</p> - -<p> -'I did not venture to ask you for one dance, even.' -</p> - -<p> -Maude, who deemed his presence there, though at the -invitation most probably of her stepmother, presumption -enough, smiled coldly and haughtily, and was about to pass -down with a bow, which might mean anything, when, still -opposing her progress, he said, while eyeing her fair beauty -with undisguised admiration, and with a would-be soft voice, -which, however, was rather 'feathery': -</p> - -<p> -'Have you quite forgotten the subject on which I last -addressed you?' -</p> - -<p> -'The subject!' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'I have not forgotten your profound presumption, Mr. Sharpe, -as I then called it, if it is to that you refer,' replied -Maude, trembling with anger. -</p> - -<p> -'Presumption! You so style my veneration—my -regard—my——' -</p> - -<p> -'Take care what you say, sir, and how you may provoke -my extreme patience too far,' interrupted Maude, her face -now blanched and pale. -</p> - -<p> -'Your patience! <i>that</i> for it!' said he, suddenly snapping -his fingers, and giving way to a sudden gust of coarse anger -that caused his cheeks to redden and his eyes to gleam. -'It is your fear of me—your fear of me for your brother and -his popinjay friends that gives you what you pretend to call -patience, Maude Lindsay, and by the heavens above us,' he -continued, wine and rage mounting into his brain together, -'by the heavens above us, I say, if that fellow Elliot— -</p> - -<p> -What he was about to say remains unknown, as it was -suddenly cut short. A hand from behind was laid firmly on -his right ear, and by that he was twisted round, flaming with -rage, fury, and no small amount of pain, to find himself -confronted by the calm, stern, and inquiring face of the very -person he referred to—Captain Elliot. -</p> - -<p> -There was a half-minute's pause after the latter flung -Hawkey Sharpe aside. -</p> - -<p> -The steward glared at his assailant, who scarcely knew -what to make of the situation, a sound like a hiss escaping -through his teeth in his speechless rage and sense of affront, -he clenched his hands till the spiky nails pierced his flesh. -He grew deadly pale, and, with an almost grotesque expression -of hate there is no describing in his pale, shifty, and -watery eyes, he turned away muttering something deeply -and huskily; while with a smile of disdain Jack Elliot drew -the trembling girl's arm through his own and led her -downstairs; but her dancing was over for that night. -</p> - -<p> -'Maudie, darling, is that fellow mad? What the deuce -is all this about?' asked Elliot, full of concern and surprise. -</p> - -<p> -'Jack, dear Jack,' said Maude beseechingly, and in tears -now, 'I implore you not to speak to Roland of this unseemly -episode.' -</p> - -<p> -'The fellow seems to have taken too much wine.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, Jack, and forgot himself.' -</p> - -<p> -'But he should have remembered you, and who you are.' -</p> - -<p> -'But you don't know—you can't know, how Roland is -situated,' said Maude, in a breathless and broken voice. -</p> - -<p> -'I suspect much; but there—don't weep, Maude; the -fellow's whole existence is not worth one of your tears.' -</p> - -<p> -Maude was full of fear and distress for what might ensue -if Roland knew all. Alas! she could very little foresee what -<i>did</i> ensue. -</p> - -<p> -But notwithstanding his promise to Maude, Elliot was too -puzzled by the apparent mystery, and her too evident sense -of grief and mortification, not to make some small reference -to the affair when he and Roland met for a farewell cigar in -the smoke-room, after the last of the guests had driven -away. He kept, however, Maude's name out of the -matter. -</p> - -<p> -'I am loth, Roland, to have an unseemly row with one of -your dependents; but, d—n me, if I don't feel inclined to -lash that fellow—Sharpe, I think, his name is!' -</p> - -<p> -'He is certainly an underbred fellow,' said Roland -uneasily. -</p> - -<p> -'Then why not send him to the right-about?' -</p> - -<p> -'Easier said than done, Jack—if you knew all,' said -Roland, almost with a groan; 'but has he been rude to -you?' -</p> - -<p> -'To me—well—yes, in a way he has.' -</p> - -<p> -'With all his impudent would-be air of ease, it is evident -he has none, as one may see at a glance,' said Skene, who -had been smoking moodily in a corner, 'he is a man who -does not know what to do with his legs and arms, or to -seem in any way at ease like a gentleman.' -</p> - -<p> -'I feel at times that I would like to kick the fellow,' said -Roland, with a sudden gush of anger, 'when he sits with -that aggravating smile and see-nothing look on his face, yet -"taking stock" of everyone and everything all round—all -the while answering me so softly, when he knows that I am -burning with contempt and dislike of him. If he would get -into a passion and fly out I would respect him more, but he -seems to be for ever biding his time—his time for what?' -added Roland, almost to himself. -</p> - -<p> -'Passion? You should have seen him to-night!' said -Elliot, who, unfortunately for himself, had not yet seen the -tail of the storm he had roused; 'but why give him -house-room, I say?' -</p> - -<p> -'He is just now a necessary evil—a little time, Jack, and -you shall know all,' replied Roland in a somewhat dejected -voice; so Elliot said no more. -</p> - -<p> -Meantime the subject of these remarks had betaken him -to his own apartments, and certainly as he had ascended the -old hollowed steps of the turret stair that led thereto they -seemed, according to the Earlshaugh legend, to lead down -rather than up. -</p> - -<p> -'I'll be even with you, Miss Maude Lindsay, some fine -day—see if I am not!' he muttered as he went; 'your high -and mighty hoity-toity airs will be the ruin of you and yours. -And as for that fellow Elliot, I'll take change out of -him—make cold meat of him, by heaven, if I can!' -</p> - -<p> -Sobered by rage he reached his peculiar sanctum, and sat -down there to scheme out revenge, through the medium of -a briar-root from his rack of pipes, and brandy and soda -from a cellarette he possessed. -</p> - -<p> -'I'll marry that girl Maude—or—by Jove! not a bad -idea, the <i>other</i> one, with the golden hair, if old Deb fails me, -which I can scarcely think. The little party with the golden -hair seems game for anything,' he added, showing more -acuteness than Roland in the matter. 'Why shouldn't I? I -am going in for respectability now, and I rather flatter -myself I am as good as any of that Brummagem lot downstairs, -for all their coats of arms, pedigrees, and bosh! I'm -in clover here—in society now, and, by Jove, I'll keep to it. -But, Deb,' he continued talking aloud, as the new beverage -cast loose his tongue, 'her heart is in a bad way—devil a -doubt of that! The doctors assure me of it—is breaking -up—breaking up—tell more to me than they have done to her; -and that she may go off any time like a farthing candle! -Poor Deb—she is not half a bad sort—yet I wish she -would settle her little affairs and——' -</p> - -<p> -A sound made him look round, and he saw his sister -looking pale—white indeed—and weary, with an unpleasant -expression in her cold, deep eyes, and a palpable knit on -her usually smooth and lineless forehead. -</p> - -<p> -'How much had she overheard?' was Hawkey's first -fearful thought. -</p> - -<p> -'My dear Deb,' he stammered, 'I was just thinking that -you should make the whole of that pack clear out of the -house—they are too much for you, and the house is yours! -Have a little brandy and water, Deb—you look so ill! -Poor, dear Deb,' he continued in a maudlin way, 'if -anything happened to you, you know how I should sorrow -for it.' -</p> - -<p> -'I have no intention of affording you that opportunity -yet,' she replied, with something of a flash in her eyes. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap21"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXI. -<br /><br /> -MALCOLM SKENE. -</h3> - -<p> -The sportsmen assembled next morning a little later than -usual, and after hastily partaking of coffee, were about to set -forth after the partridges, with dogs, keepers, and beaters, to -a particular spot where Gavin Fowler assured them that the -coveys were so thick as to cover the ground, when Malcolm -Skene, whom all were beginning to miss, suddenly appeared, -but minus gun, shot belt, and other shooting paraphernalia, -yet with a brighter smile on his face that it had won -overnight. -</p> - -<p> -'What is up, Malcolm?' asked Roland; 'don't you go -with us?' -</p> - -<p> -'Impossible! I have just had a telegram from the Colonel. -The corps is short of officers, from sickness, casualties, and -so forth; so I must resign my leave and start at once.' -</p> - -<p> -'For the depôt?' -</p> - -<p> -'No—for Egypt,' continued Skene, 'so I must be off. -Let me have a trap, Roland, that I may catch the up train -for the South.' -</p> - -<p> -'This is sudden!' exclaimed several. -</p> - -<p> -'Sudden indeed—but no less welcome,' -</p> - -<p> -'I am so sorry, old fellow!' exclaimed Roland, 'when the -birds are in such excellent order, too.' -</p> - -<p> -'I can scarcely realize it,' said Skene, whose thoughts were -not with the birds certainly. 'In a fortnight, I shall be -again in my fighting kit and in the land of the Pharaohs.' -</p> - -<p> -Ignorant of what had so suddenly transpired, Hester, for -whom he looked anxiously and wistfully, was lingering in her -room, till the shooting party should have gone forth, -unwilling to face Malcolm Skene after the interview of last -night, and full of a determination to return at once to -Merlwood, to her old life by the wooded Esk, with her -silver-haired father, his bubbling hookah, and his Indian -reminiscences—oh! how well she knew them all! But -Maude, and even the selfish and apparently volatile Annot, -regarded the handsome fellow with deep interest, and the -lips of the former were white and quivering as she bade him -adieu. -</p> - -<p> -'Good-bye, all you fellows;' he exclaimed, when old -Buckle came with the trap to the <i>porte-cochère</i>. 'Good-bye, -Roland and you, Jack—when shall we three meet again? In -thunder and all the rest of it, no doubt. Farewell, Miss -Lindsay—Maude I may call you just now—bid Hes—, your -cousin, adieu for me, and God keep you all till we meet once -more—if ever!' he added, under his moustache. -</p> - -<p> -Another moment he was gone, and no trace remained of -him but the wheel-tracks in the avenue. -</p> - -<p> -'Good-bye—good-bye;' it sounded like a dirge in the air -of the warm autumn morning. -</p> - -<p> -'Poor Malcolm—he is the king of good fellows,' said -Roland to his friends who were gathered in the entrance-hall, -just as Hester Maule, pale as a lily, after vainly practising a -little the art of smiling and looking happy in her mirror, -appeared at the foot of the staircase, and heard what had -occurred. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—Skene has just gone, poor fellow. Should you not -have liked to have bade him farewell?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—of course,' said Hester, with colourless lips; but -thought, 'it is better not—better not <i>now</i>.' -</p> - -<p> -'His last message was to <i>you</i>,' whispered Maude. -</p> - -<p> -'Well—it will be my turn next, and yours too, Elliot,' said -Roland as he lit a cigarette. -</p> - -<p> -'It but reminds me of Wolfe's song,' added Elliot cheerily, -as he sang in a tragic-comic way— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Let mirth and wine abound.<br /> - The trumpets sound,<br /> - And the colours flying are, my boys!<br /> - 'Tis he, you, or I,<br /> - Whose business is to die;<br /> - Then why should we be melancholy, boys,<br /> - Whose business is to die?'<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -Come along—here are the dogs.' -</p> - -<p> -'Skene's departure seems to have upset you girls,' said -Roland, 'and now, Hester, my dear cousin,' he added in a -blundering way, 'you look as pale as if Melancholy had -marked you for her own.' -</p> - -<p> -'Don't jest, Roland,' said Maude; 'Malcolm Skene looks -like one who has a history behind him, and a strange destiny -before him. Only think, Roland,' she added in a whisper, -as she drew her brother aside; 'he proposed to Hester in -the conservatory last night!' -</p> - -<p> -'And—and she——' -</p> - -<p> -'Refused him.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -Maude only shook her pretty head; but his heart told -him too probably <i>why</i>, and for a time his conscience smote -him. -</p> - -<p> -'Don't you think she was foolish?' asked Maude; 'I -certainly told her that I thought so, as Malcolm is such a -lovable fellow.' -</p> - -<p> -'And what did she say?' -</p> - -<p> -'Replied, with a feeble laugh, that she meant to die an -unappropriated blessing.' -</p> - -<p> -'What is that, Maudie?' -</p> - -<p> -'An old maid.' -</p> - -<p> -'Nonsense—a handsome girl like Hester!' -</p> - -<p> -To do the latter justice, she asked herself more than once -why had she refused him, and for <i>what</i>? -</p> - -<p> -Many may deem that Hester acted a foolish part: but -her heart was too sore, and still too full of regard for another -to find a place in it for the love of Malcolm Skene, though -she knew it had been hers in the past, ready to lay at her -feet. -</p> - -<p> -Steadfast of purpose, she was, in some respects, a remarkable -girl, Hester Maule. Roland, her companion in childhood, -as we have elsewhere stated, was the one love of her life. -</p> - -<p> -'All of hers upon that die was thrown,' and her heart was -not to be caught on the rebound, through pique, pride, -soreness, or disappointment. -</p> - -<p> -But now that Malcolm was gone, Hester in solitude could -not but give a few tears as she thought of his true regard -for her; his stately presence, his soft earnestness, and his -sad, tender eyes—thought over all that—but for Roland's -image—might have been; and of the high compliment -Skene's honest and gallant heart had paid her; but -all—even could she have wished it otherwise—was over now, -and he had gone to that fatal land of battle and disease, -where so many found their graves then! -</p> - -<p> -Did Roland jest when he asked if Melancholy had marked -her for its own? If so, it was a species of wound, and she -felt that 'it is only wounds inflicted by those we love whose -sting lasts.' -</p> - -<p> -Maude and Annot, with the old groom, Johnnie Buckle, -as their <i>Escudero</i>, had gone for a 'spin' on their pads as far -as Kilmany, to visit the Gaules-Den, a deep ravine through -which a river runs; Mrs. Lindsay was in the seclusion of -her own room, as usual at that time of the day, when she -took some kind of drops for her heart, and Hester, left -alone to silence and solitude, mentally followed Malcolm -Skene in his journey southward. Her hands were folded -idly in her lap; a kind of sad listlessness was all over her, -and her soft dark eyes were dreamily fixed on vacancy, and -seemed to see—if we may say so—visions, while, as on -yesternight, the perfume of the lily of the valley, of the -stephanotis, and other flowers was floating round her. -</p> - -<p> -She thought she might have seen him once again had she -gone downstairs at the usual time—but have seen him to -what end or purpose, constituted as her mind was then? -Better not. -</p> - -<p> -In these days it seemed to Hester that there was not one -of her actions which she did not repent of before it was half -conceived or half acted upon. -</p> - -<p> -The forenoon sun soared hot and high, and the drowsy -flies and one huge humming bee, enclosed by the windows -of her room, made their useless journeys up and down the -panes, on which the climbing ivy pattered; the birds -twittered among the leaves of the latter; an occasional -dog barked in the stable-yard, and the voice of the -peacock—never pleasant at any time—was heard on the terrace -without; but soon other sounds—voices indicative of -excitement and alarm—caused her to rise, throw open a window -in the deep embayment of the ancient wall, and look -out. -</p> - -<p> -Advancing across the emerald sward of the lawn, but -slowly and carefully, came a group—the sportsmen of the -morning, with their guns sloped on the shoulder or carried -under an arm, and the dogs cowering, as if overawed, about -their footsteps. -</p> - -<p> -What was the cause of this? What had happened? -</p> - -<p> -Four men were bearing a fifth on a stretcher or hurdle of -some kind—a man either terribly wounded or dead, he lay -so still—so very still! -</p> - -<p> -A half-stifled cry escaped Hester, as she rushed downstairs, -for some dreadful catastrophe had evidently taken -place! -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap22"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXII. -<br /><br /> -A FATAL SHOT. -</h3> - -<p> -When the shooting party, after being somewhat delayed by -Skene's unexpected departure, was setting forth, Roland -and Elliot, with no small indignation, and confounded by -his profound assurance, saw Hawkey Sharpe join them, -belted, accoutred, gaitered, and gun in hand, looking quite -sobered and fresh, having doubtless just had from -Mr. Funnell 'a hair of the dog that bit him' overnight. -</p> - -<p> -'That fellow here, actually—after all!' said Roland -through his clenched teeth, though Elliot had given him -but a vague outline of Sharpe's rudeness, remembering -Maude's earnest desire and evident anxiety. -</p> - -<p> -While somewhat 'dashed' by the coolness of his reception -by all—even to old Ponto the setter, who gave him a wide -berth—Mr. Hawkey Sharpe was mean enough—or subtle -enough—to hammer a kind of excuse for 'some mistake' -he had made last night, attributing it to the wine he had -taken—mixing champagne and claret-cup with brandies and -soda—of all of which he had certainly imbibed freely, as his -still yellow-balled and bloodshot eyes bore witness. -</p> - -<p> -Elliot heard him with a fixed stare of calm disdain; -while Roland, writhing in his soul, still temporized—despising -himself heartily the while—for the sake of appearances, -but determined now, before twenty-four hours were -past, to get at the bottom of the mystery—to ascertain the -real state of his affairs. -</p> - -<p> -There was something in Jack Elliot's well-bred and steady -stare, as he focussed him with his eye-glass, that expressed -vague wonder, <i>insouciance</i>, and no small contempt; it enraged -Hawkey Sharpe and made his whole heart seem to burn in -his breast with hate and suppressed passion, while fixing his -own eyeglass defiantly and attempting suavely to say: -</p> - -<p> -'Good-morning, Captain Lindsay—good-morning, gentlemen, <i>all</i>.' -</p> - -<p> -Roland could scarcely master his passion or the impulse -to club his fowling-piece and knock the fellow down. -</p> - -<p> -'Mr. Sharpe,' said he in a low voice that seemed all -unlike his own, so low and husky was it, as he beckoned -Hawkey aside, 'considering the rudeness of which I understand -you were guilty last night, I wonder that you have the -bad taste to address me at all, or thrust yourself upon our -society.' -</p> - -<p> -'Thrust—Captain Lindsay!' exclaimed Sharpe, in turn -suppressing his rage. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—I repeat that considering there was something—I -scarcely know what—amounting to a fracas between my -friend Captain Elliot and you, I also wonder—nathless your -relative and assumed position in this house—that you venture -to join my party this morning.' -</p> - -<p> -It was the first time that Roland had spoken so plainly to -this obnoxious personage. -</p> - -<p> -'I don't quite understand all your words imply,' replied -the latter with an assumption of dignity and would-be -<i>hauteur</i> that sat grotesquely upon him. 'I am in the house -of my sister, Mrs. Lindsay of Earlshaugh, who has accorded -me permission to shoot, and shoot I shall whether you like -it or not!' -</p> - -<p> -'For the last time, I trust,' muttered Roland under his -moustache. -</p> - -<p> -'That we shall see,' was the mocking remark of Hawkey, -who overheard him. -</p> - -<p> -Roland turned abruptly away, loth to excite comment or -surprise among his friends by the strange bearing of one -deemed by them his mere dependent. -</p> - -<p> -So the shooting progressed, and for a time without let or -impediment. Away through the King's Wood and the -Fairy's Den went the sportsmen, over the harvest fields, so -rich in beauty to the picture-loving eye, by the green and -scented hawthorn hedgerows, where the golden spoil of the -passing corn carts remained for the gleaner; among brambles -and red fern—the crimson bracken that, according to the -Scottish proverb, brings milk and butter in October; firing -in line, as adjusted by old Gavin Fowler; and as their guns -went off, bang, bang, bang, in the clear and ambient air, -when the startled coveys went whirring up, the brown birds -came tumbling down with outspread wings, before the double -barrels. -</p> - -<p> -If the autumn sunset in Scotland is lovely, not less so is -the autumn sunrise, when seen from the slope of some green -hill, like the spur of the Ochils that looks down on Logic, -while through pastoral valley and wooded haugh the white silver -mist is rolling. 'Then the tops of the trees seem at first -to rise above a country that is flooded, while the kirk spire -appears like some sea mark heaving out of the mist. Then -comes a great wedge-like beam of gold, cutting deep -down into the hollows, showing the stems of the trees and -the roofs of the cottages, gilding barn and outhouse, making -a golden road through a land of white mist that seems -to rise on either side like the sea which Moses divided to -pass through dryshod. The dew-drops on the sun-lighted -summit the feet rest upon, are coloured like precious stones -of every dye, and every blade of grass is beaded with the -gorgeous gems.' -</p> - -<p> -And never do the deer look more graceful and beautiful -than when in autumn they leave their lair among the -bracken, when the blue atmosphere is on a Scottish -mountain side, and changing hues are on leafy grove and -heath-clad slope. -</p> - -<p> -As the sportsmen, now pretty far apart, after beating -successfully up the slope of a stubble field on a hill-side, -came upon some aged and irregular hedgerows, full of gaps -and interspersed with stunted thorn-trees, and having on -each side a wet grassy ditch, the warning voice of the old -keeper was heard some paces in the rear: -</p> - -<p> -'Tak' tent, gentlemen; tak' tent. Nae cross shots here. -There is a different ground owre beyond.' -</p> - -<p> -A covey of some twenty birds whirred up from a gap in -the hedge, and both Elliot and Hawkey Sharpe seemed to -fire at it. We say seemed, as the former fired straight to -his front, the latter, who was on his right, obliquely to the -left; and then there came a sharp cry of anguish and pain -but seldom or never heard among a group of gay sportsmen. -</p> - -<p> -'By the Lord, but he's done it at last,' cried old Fowler. -</p> - -<p> -'I aye thocht he wad be the death on the field o' -somebody,' cried Jamie Spens, the ex-poacher, who was acting -as a beater. -</p> - -<p> -'Sharpe's dune it at last,' cried Fowler again. -</p> - -<p> -'What—who—what?' said a dozen voices. -</p> - -<p> -'Murdered some ane—hang me if it isna Captain Elliot. -Sharpe's a devilish gleed gunner, if ever there was ane.' -</p> - -<p> -Hawkey Sharpe heard these excited exclamations as if in -a dream, and as if heard by another and not himself. -</p> - -<p> -He had unexpectedly seen Jack Elliot come, if not in -his line of fire, unseen by others, within range of it; and -though hitherto vaguely intent on mischief, a sudden, a -devil-born impulse came like a flash of lightning over him. -</p> - -<p> -He fired, and Jack Elliot dropped like a stone! -</p> - -<p> -The moment he had done so the heart of Hawkey -Sharpe seemed to stand still; enmity, rivalry, and affront -were all forgotten—seemed never to have existed. There -was a roaring or surging of the blood in his ears, while a -sudden darkness seemed to fall upon the sunshiny landscape. -</p> - -<p> -Was it accident or murder, he thought, and then felt -keenly that -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Murder, though it have no tongue, will speak<br /> - With most miraculous organ.'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap23"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXIII. -<br /><br /> -THE CITY OF THE CALIPHS—OCTOBER IN THE LAND OF<br /> -THE PHARAOHS. -</h3> - -<p> -Malcolm Skene had been three weeks among 'the flesh-pots -of Egypt,' as he wrote to Roland Lindsay, since he -landed from a great white 'trooper' at Alexandria. -</p> - -<p> -It was now nearly the close of what is called the first -season in that part of the world—that of the inundation -of the Nile—which extends from the first of July to the -winter solstice, and when, till the month preceding Skene's -arrival, the whole country appears like one vast sea, in which -the towns and villages rise like so many islands, and when -the air is consequently moist, the mornings and evenings -foggy; and Malcolm thought of what brown October was -at home in his native land, where new vistas of hamlet -and valley are seen through the half-stripped groves, a few -hardy apples yet hang in the orchards, and nests are seen in -the hedges where none were seen before; where the flocks -are driven to fold as the dim sunset comes and the landscape -assumes its sober hue, while the call of the partridge -and of the few remaining birds on the low sighing wind, -fall sadly on the ear. He thought of all this, and of the -thick old woods that sheltered his ancestral home, where -Dunnimarle looks down on the northern shore of the -Forth. -</p> - -<p> -He often thought of Hester Maule too, and <i>why</i> she had -refused him, after all—after all he had been half led to -hope. -</p> - -<p> -'So—so,' he reflected, 'we shall live out the rest of our -lives each without the other—forgetting and perhaps in time -forgot.' -</p> - -<p> -Thought was not dead nor memory faint yet, and he -seemed, just then, to have no object to live for, save to kill -both, if possible, amid any excitement that came to hand, -and such was not wanting at that crisis both in Alexandria -and Grand Cairo. -</p> - -<p> -No fighting—though such was expected daily—was going -on in the Upper Province or on its frontier; and to kill -time, Skene more than once resorted to the gambling booths -of the Greeks and Italians, as most of our officers did -occasionally—a perilous resource at times, as the reader -will admit, when we describe some of the events connected -with them; and, curious to say, it was amid such scenes that -Malcolm Skene was to hear some startling news of his -friends at Earlshaugh. -</p> - -<p> -Long before this he had 'done' Cairo, and seen all that -was to been seen in that wonderful city, which, though less -purely Oriental than Damascus, yet displays a more lively -and varied kind of Oriental life than Constantinople itself; -for there are still to be found the picturesque scenes and -most of the <i>dramatis personæ</i> of the 'Arabian Nights'—and -found side by side with the latest results of nineteenth -century civilization. 'The short quarter of an hour's drive -from the railway station,' says M'Coan, 'transports you into -the very world of the Caliphs—the same as when Noureddin, -Abou Shamma, Bedredden Hassan, Ali Cogia, the Jew -Physician, and the rest of them played their parts any time -since or before Saladin.' -</p> - -<p> -A labyrinth of dark and tortuous lanes and alleys is the -old city still—places where two donkeys cannot pass abreast, -and the toppling stories and outshoots shut out the narrowest -streak of sky; while the apparently masquerading crowd -below seems unchanged from what it was when Elliot -Warburton wrote of it a quarter of a century ago; 'Ladies -wrapped closely in white veils; women of the lower classes -carrying water on their heads, and only with a long blue -garment that reveals too plainly the exquisite symmetry of -the young, and the hideous deformity of the old; here are -camels perched upon by black slaves, magpied with white -napkins round their heads and loins; there are portly -merchants, with turbans and long pipes, smoking on their -knowing-looking donkeys; here an Arab dashes through the -crowd at almost full gallop; or a European, still more -haughtily, shoves aside the pompous-looking bearded throng; -now a bridal or circumcising procession squeezes along, with -music; now the running footmen of some Bey or Pacha -endeavour to jostle you to the wall, till they recognise -you as an Englishmen—one of that race whom they think -the devil can't frighten or teach manners to.' -</p> - -<p> -Now the streets and the Esbekeyeh Square are dotted by -redcoats; the trumpets of our Hussars ring out in the -Abbassiyeh Barracks; the drums of our infantry are heard at -those of Kasr-el-Nil; and the pipes of the Highlanders ever -and anon waken the echoes of El Kaleh, or the wondrous -citadel of Saladin, with the 'March o' Lochiel,' or the -pibroch of 'Donuill Dhu.' -</p> - -<p> -Skene and his brother-officers enjoyed many a cigar on -the low terrace in front of Shepheard's now historical hotel, -under the shade of the acacia trees, watching the changing -crowds in the modern street, which, with all its splendour, -cannot compare with the picturesqueness of older Cairo; -but the dresses are strangely beautiful, and the whole -panorama seems part of a stage, rather than real life; while -among the veiled women, the swarthy men in turban and -tarboosh, the British orderly dragoon clanks past, or groups -of heedless, thoughtless, and happy young officers set forth -in open cabs to have a day at the Pyramids—an institution -among our troops at Cairo—especially early in the day, -when the air has that purity and freshness peculiar to a -winter morning in Egypt, and towering skyward are seen -those marvels in stone, of which it has been said, that -'Time mocks all things, but the Pyramids mock time!' and -where the mighty Sphinx at their base, 'the Father of -Terrors,' has its stony eyes for ever fixed on the desert—the -gate of that other world, where the work of men's hands -ends, and Eternity seems to begin. -</p> - -<p> -At this time several peculiar duties, exciting enough, -though not orthodox soldiering, devolved on the troops, -and more than once Malcolm Skene, as a subaltern, found -himself with a part of the picket aiding the miserable -Egyptian police in the now nightly task of closing and -clearing out the <i>Assommoirs</i> and <i>Brasseries</i>, gambling and -other dens, which were kept open with flaring lamps till -gun-fire—a task often achieved by the fixed bayonet and -clubbed rifle; and in the course of these duties he had -more than once come unpleasantly in almost personal contact -with Pietro Girolamo, a leading promoter and frequenter -of such places, and one of the greatest ruffians in Cairo or -Alexandria, under what is now known as the <i>Band</i> system. -</p> - -<p> -One result of the leniency shown to the followers of -Arabi Pacha, who were allowed to escape or disperse after -Tel-el-Kebir, was a flooding of the country with armed -banditti, by whom some districts were absolutely devastated, -and with whom it was suspected that the native authorities -were in league, as the police always disappeared with a curious -rapidity whenever they were most required. A 'Flying -Commission' was appointed to deal with these brigands, -but without much avail, though certainly some were -captured, tried, and hanged—even on the Shoubra Road, the -'Rotten Row' of the fashionable Cairenes. -</p> - -<p> -The <i>Band</i> system, in which Pietro Girolamo figured so -prominently, is a murdering one by no means stamped out -by the presence even of our army of occupation, and is a -result of the pernicious habit of carrying weapons among -the lower class of Greeks and Italians; thus scarcely a -week passes without a stabbing affray. -</p> - -<p> -In the Esbekeyeh Gardens, outside the theatre, some -high words passed one evening about a girl <i>artiste</i>, during -one of the <i>entr'actes</i>, between an Italian and Girolamo, who -laid the former dead by one blow of his poniard. For this -he was tried before his Consulate and merely punished by -a nominal fine, while nightly the actress appeared on the -stage, draped in black for her lover, to sing her comic -songs. -</p> - -<p> -'Cairo and all the large towns' (says the <i>Globe</i>) 'are infested -by the refuse of the Levant—hordes of Greeks of the criminal -class and of the most desperate character, with no more -respect for the sanctity of human life than a Thug. These -men come here to spoil Egypt, and some of them are, in -addition, retained by private persons as bullies, if not -assassins. Appeal to the Greek Consul, and he will tell -you that he can do nothing in regard to these idle and -disorderly characters, though the French, Italian, and German -authorities deport the same class of their own countrymen -on the first complaint.' -</p> - -<p> -The reason of Pietro Girolamo transferring the scene of -his life, or operations, from Alexandria to Cairo was an -outrage in which he had been concerned a year or two -before this period. -</p> - -<p> -In a café near the Place des Consuls were two respectable -and very beautiful girls who served as waitresses, till one -evening several carriages drove up and a number of ruffians, -armed with yataghan, pistol, and poniard, entered, and -instead of opposing them, every man in the café made his -escape. -</p> - -<p> -'This girl's smiles would inspire a flame in marble!' cried -Girolamo, seizing one of the waitresses, whom his -companions carried off to the Rosetta Gate, where she was -savagely treated and left for dead by the wayside; -and—according to a writer in the <i>Standard</i>—only one of her -murderers—an Egyptian Bey—was punished by a fine. -</p> - -<p> -'Life is short—what is the use of fussing about anything?' -was the philosophic remark of Pietro Girolamo, who was a -native of Cerigo (the Cythera of classical antiquity), and -latterly the 'Botany Bay' of the Ionian Isles. -</p> - -<p> -All unaware that this personage was in league with the -proprietors—if not actually one—of a handsome roulette -saloon, in a thoroughfare near the Esbekeyeh Gardens—a -place from where it was said no man ever got home alive -with his winnings—Malcolm Skene, then in the mood to do -anything to teach him to forget, if possible, Hester Maule -and that night in the conservatory at Earlshaugh, had spent -on hour or so watching the fatal revolving ball, and risking -a few coins thereon, after which he seated himself to enjoy -a cigar, a glass of wine, and a London newspaper, at a little -marble table, under a flower-decorated awning, in front of -the edifice. -</p> - -<p> -Malcolm had been deep in the columns of home news, -while sipping his wine from time to time—wine that was -not the Mareotic vintage so celebrated by Strabo and -Horace, but of the common espalier trees in the -Delta—before he became aware that he had a companion at his -table similarly engaged, but in the pages of the obnoxious -<i>Bosphore Egyptien</i>. -</p> - -<p> -He was a striking and picturesque-looking fellow in the -prime and strength of manhood. Though somewhat hawk-like -in contour, his features were fine and dark; his -eyes and moustache jetty black—the former keen, and -his knitted brows betokened something of a stern and -savage nature. He was well armed with a handsome -poniard and pistols, and his dress resembled the Hydriote -costume, which is generally of dark material, with wide blue -trousers descending as far as the knee, a loose jacket of -brown stuff braided with red, and an embroidered skull-cap -with a gold tassel. -</p> - -<p> -Furtively, above his paper, he had been eyeing from time -to time the unconscious Skene, in whose grave face he was -keen enough to trace a mixture of power and patience, of -concentrated thought without gloom; a face well browned -by exposure, a thick dark moustache, and expression that -savoured of the resolution and perfect assurance of the -genuine Briton; by all of which he was no way deterred, as -the picturesque-looking rascal was no other than Pietro -Girolamo, the perpetrator of so many unpunished outrages. -</p> - -<p> -Malcolm Skene was intent on his paper, and read calmly -from column to column, till a start escaped him on his eye -catching the following paragraph: -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -'Misfortune seems to attend the sporting season at Earlshaugh, -in Fifeshire. A short time since we had to record -the accidental—or supposed accidental—shooting of one of -the guests—a distinguished young officer; and now we have -to add thereto, the mysterious disappearance of the host, -Captain Roland Lindsay, who, when covert shooting last -evening, disappeared, and as yet cannot be traced, alive or -dead.' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Skene started, and for a moment the paper dropped from -his hand. -</p> - -<p> -'Dogs dream of bones and fishermen of fish, but what -the devil are you dreaming of?' said a voice in rather -tolerable English, and Malcolm found himself seated face to -face with Pietro Girolamo! -</p> - -<p> -With an unmistakable expression of annoyance and disdain, -if not positive disgust in his face, Skene rose to leave -the table, when the hand of the other was lightly laid on his -arm, and Pietro said with mock suavity; -</p> - -<p> -'The Signor will make his apologies?' -</p> - -<p> -'For what?' asked Malcolm bluntly. -</p> - -<p> -'Permitting his English paper to touch my boot just -now.' -</p> - -<p> -'Absurd; I merely dropped it,' said Malcolm Skene, -turning away and about to look at the paragraph again. -</p> - -<p> -'You must, you shall apologize!' cried the Levantine -bully, his sparkling eyes flaming and his pale cheek -reddening with rage and rancour. -</p> - -<p> -'This is outrageous. Stand back, fellow!' cried Malcolm, -laying his left hand on the scabbard of his sword to bring -the hilt handy. -</p> - -<p> -'I mean what I say, Signor,' cried the Greek, snatching -away the paper and treading it under foot. -</p> - -<p> -'And so do I,' replied Malcolm, making a forward stride. -</p> - -<p> -The hand of the Greek was wandering to the poniard in -his girdle. Malcolm knew that in another moment it would -be out; but, disdaining to draw his sword in an open -thoroughfare and upon such an adversary, he clenched his -right hand and dealt him, straight out from the shoulder, a -blow fairly under the left ear that stretched him senseless in -a heap on the pavement beside the marble table. -</p> - -<p> -Thinking that he had sufficiently punished the fellow's -overbearing insolence, Malcolm, with his usually quiet blood -at fever heat, muttering with a grim laugh, 'That was not a -bad blow for a kail-supper of Fife,' was turning away to leave -the spot, when a dreadful uproar in the café behind him -made him pause, and hearing shouts for succour in English -he at once re-entered it. -</p> - -<p> -There he found a number of Europeans and of British -officers—chiefly middies—who had come by rail from -Alexandria for a 'spree' in the city of the Caliphs, engaged -in a fierce <i>mêlée</i> with a number of those ruffians who frequent -such places. -</p> - -<p> -The vicinity of the wretched roulette-table had been very -much crowded, and a dozen or so of these thoughtless young -Britons, who could not get near enough to stake their money -personally, had been passing it on from one to another to -stake it on the colours. A trivial dispute had occurred, -and then a Greek ruffian, who was well known to be a terror -to every gambling saloon, rushed forward with his cocked -revolver, savagely resolute, and demanded as his, 'every -piastre—yea, every para on the tables'—a demand not at all -uncommon by such persons in such places. Greeks came -in from all points, armed with cudgels and poniards, and in -a moment a battle-royal ensued. The roulette-table was -overturned, the chairs smashed, and bloodshed became -plain on every hand. -</p> - -<p> -While plunging into the <i>mêlée</i> to rescue more than one -lad in peril, Malcolm Skene towered above them all, in his -herculean strength; and as he laid about him with a cudgel -he had found, there floated through his mind a sense of rage -and mortification at what Hester Maule would think if he -perished in a brawl so obscure and disreputable. -</p> - -<p> -'Take, cut, and burn!' was the cry of the Greek, a local -laconism, signifying 'take their money, burn their houses, -cut their throats!' -</p> - -<p> -'Kill the Frankish dogs, these smokers and pilaff eaters!' -shouted Girolamo, who had now gathered himself up and -plunged into the fray, intent only on putting his poniard -into Skene. -</p> - -<p> -But the latter, now relinquishing the cudgel, achieved the -feat which afterwards found its way into more than one -British print. -</p> - -<p> -From the gambling saloon there was only one issue, down -a narrow passage, in which a number of the rabble had taken -post on both sides, and with knife and club allowed none -to pass, so that the place soon became a species of shamble. -Perceiving this, Malcolm Skene—bearing back the seething -mass of yelling Greeks, Italians, and Levantine scum, who, -with glaring black eyes, set white teeth, and visages pallid -and distorted with avarice and the lust of blood and cruelty, -surged about him with knife and cudgel, impeding and -wounding each other in their frantic efforts to get at -him—dragged up a couple of Greeks, one in each hand, and -by sheer dint of muscular strength lifting them off the floor, -and using their bodies as shields on each side, he charged -right through the passage and gained the street, where he -flung them down, gashed and bleeding from cuts and stabs -by the misdirected weapons of their compatriots, while he -escaped almost without a scratch; gathered about him his -companions, all of whom had suffered more or less severely, -and getting cabs they drove to the barracks. -</p> - -<p> -For this affair Pietro Girolamo was arrested in the Shoubra -Road, and brought before the Greek Consul after twenty-four -hours' incarceration in the Zaptieh; but as usual, like -all the rogues of his nationality, he claimed protection under -the Alexandrian Capitulations, and went forth free into the -streets again. -</p> - -<p> -Malcolm Skene soon dismissed the row from his thoughts, -but not the newspaper paragraph in the perusal or -consideration of which he had been so roughly interrupted; and -he pondered deeply and vainly on what was involved by the -mysterious and alarming—'disappearance at Earlshaugh.' -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap24"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXIV. -<br /><br /> -JACK ELLIOT'S PERIL. -</h3> - -<p> -We have anticipated some of the occurrences referred to in -the last chapter, but shall relate them in their place. -</p> - -<p> -Gathering in an excited group at the scene of the -catastrophe, the sportsmen, keepers, and beaters found -Elliot reclining against, or clinging to the stem of a tree in -the old hedge, looking very pale, with his chest all bloody—at -least his shirt dyed crimson, and divested of his coat -and vest, which he had thrown off. -</p> - -<p> -Spared by what he had done, the moment Hawkey Sharpe -had seen his victim fall—the moment his finger had pulled -the trigger—the savage and secret exultation that had filled -his heart passed away. -</p> - -<p> -He felt as if on the verge of a giddy precipice, over which -he dared not look; yet he was compelled to confront the -scene, and to proceed—but apparently with lead-laden -feet—with the others, to where his victim was now supported -in the arms of Gavin Fowler and Spens, the beater. -</p> - -<p> -For a minute the intended assassin scarcely seemed to -breathe, and to have but one wish—that the deed were -undone, for the hot blood that prompted it was cool enough -now, and the instincts of revenge had grown dull. Terror -seized his soul, and his gaze wandered in the air, on the -while flying clouds, on the yellow stubble fields and waving -woods; but he nerved himself to approach the startled and -infuriated group, whose menacing eyes were on him; and -he nerved himself also to act a part, or, if not, lose his -senses, and with them, everything. -</p> - -<p> -He felt that beyond cheating, cardsharping, jockeying at -horse races, and peculation at Earlshaugh, he had taken a -mighty stride in crime, and that mingling curiously with his -craven fear, there was an insane recklessness—a wild -incoherence about his brain and heart, with a sickening -knowledge that if Captain Elliot died, he—Hawkey Sharpe—would -be <i>that</i> which he dared not name to himself, even in -thought. -</p> - -<p> -Hence his apparent sorrow and compunction seemed, -and perhaps were, genuine <i>pro tem.</i>, but the outcome of -selfishness. -</p> - -<p> -'How in Heaven's name came this to pass—how did it -happen?' demanded Roland, his eyes blazing as he fixed -them on Sharpe. -</p> - -<p> -'It was an accident—an entire accident,' faltered the -latter. 'The leaves of a turnip twisted round my right -ankle, causing me to stumble and my rifle to explode.' -</p> - -<p> -'A likely thing,' growled Jamie Spens, the beater, with a -scowl in his eyes. 'Ye were oot o' the belt o' neeps at the -time; but I've aye thocht ye wad pot some puir devil, as -ye have done the Captain.' -</p> - -<p> -'Silence, you poaching——,' began Sharpe in a furious -voice; but Roland interrupted him. -</p> - -<p> -'Stand back, sir. This is no time for words. "Accident," -you say. To me it seems a piece of cowardly revenge—a -case for the police and the Procurator-Fiscal.' -</p> - -<p> -At these words Hawkey Sharpe grew, if possible, paler -still, as they were the echoes of his own fears, and drew -sullenly back. -</p> - -<p> -'My poor, dear fellow—Elliot—Jack,' exclaimed Roland, -kneeling down by his friend's side, 'are you much -hurt—tell me?' -</p> - -<p> -'I cannot say,' replied Elliot faintly. 'I feel as if my -breast was scorched with fire—the charge, or some of it, -seems thereabout.' Then, after a pause, he added in a -husky voice: 'This horrible accident is most inopportune, -when my leave is running out, and I am so soon due at -headquarters.' -</p> - -<p> -'Don't bother about that, dear Jack, I'll make all that -right—meantime your hurt must be instantly seen to. Jamie -Spens, run, as if for your life, my man, to the stables; get a -good horse from Buckle, and ride to Cupar on the spur for -the doctors—send a couple, at least.' -</p> - -<p> -'Let me—let me go!' urged Hawkey Sharpe, in a breathless -voice. -</p> - -<p> -'You—be hanged!' cried old Fowler, who, like all the -people on and about the estate, hated the tyrannical -steward. -</p> - -<p> -So the ex-poacher was away on his errand—speeding -across the fields like a hare. -</p> - -<p> -'Now, my lads,' cried Roland, after having, with soldier-like -promptitude, secured a handkerchief folded as a pad, -by another torn into bandages, across the wound; 'quick -with that iron hurdle,' pointing to one in a gap of the hedge; -'hand it here to form a litter.' -</p> - -<p> -Roland, like Elliot, had faced danger and death too often -to be made a woman by it now, and his eyes seemed -stern and fearless as he gave one long, steady, and withering -glance at the cowering and white-faced Hawkey Sharpe; -then he took off his coat, an example others were not slow -in following, to make as soft a couch as possible of the iron -hurdle, which four stout fellows lifted, as soon as the sufferer -was laid thereon, and the sorrowful procession, which -Hester from the window had seen approaching, set out -for Earlshaugh. -</p> - -<p> -'Fules shouldna hae chappin' sticks! I kent how it wad -be wi' some o' us,' muttered old Gavin Fowler, as he sharply -drew his cartridges, and unaware of Hawkey Sharpe's secret -motives for action, added, 'Maister Roland, he has nearly -made cauld meat o' me mair than ance; but ne'er again—ne'er -again will I beat the coveys wi' him. It is as muckle -as your life's worth!' -</p> - -<p> -Slowly the shooting party wended their way, by field and -hedgerow, towards the mansion-house; and, with his heart -full of bitter and vengeful, if vague, thoughts, Roland strode -by that blood-stained litter, thinking of the time when he -had seen Jack Elliot similarly borne from the field of -Tel-el-Kebir. -</p> - -<p> -Seeing the deep commiseration of Roland, Elliot -attempted to smile, and said: -</p> - -<p> -'You know, perhaps, the old Spanish proverb—that a -soldier had better smell of <i>polvora rancho de Santa Barbara</i>, -than of musk or lavender.' -</p> - -<p> -'But not in this fashion, Jack, at the hands of a -blundering cad—if a blunder it was!' -</p> - -<p> -The bearers had some distance to traverse, as the park -stretched for a couple of miles around them, wooded and -undulating, crossed by a broad silvery burn or stream, that -flowed through the haugh, and past the Weird Yett to the -hamlet of Earlshaugh. -</p> - -<p> -Their arrival at the house elicited a shout of dismay from -Tom Trotter, whose nerves were not of the strongest order, -and consternation spread from the drawing-room to the -servants' hall and from thence to the stable court, with many -exaggerated reports of the very awkward part the obnoxious -Mr. Hawkey Sharpe—for obnoxious he was to all—had -played in the catastrophe; while the anguish of Maude, her -suspicion and her loathing of the latter, may be imagined, -as Elliot was borne past her to his rooms. -</p> - -<p> -On hearing of an accident, neither Annot nor Hester had -thought of Captain Elliot. The first dread of the former—a -selfish one, we fear, and of the latter, a purer one, -certainly—was for Roland Lindsay, who, accustomed to bloodshed, -wounds, and suffering, was to all appearance singularly cool -and collected. -</p> - -<p> -'Don't be alarmed, Maudie, darling,' said he, endeavouring -to look cheerful, as he drew his terrified sister -almost forcibly aside; 'Jack will be all right in a few -days.' -</p> - -<p> -'But what—oh, what has happened?' -</p> - -<p> -'He has been hit—shot—wounded, I mean—that is all, -by Hawkey Sharpe, or some other duffer.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, Roland, why did you have that horrid fellow to -shoot with you? But need I ask why—we can help nothing -now! But Jack—my darling—my darling!' she added with -a torrent of tears; 'I had a presentiment—I knew -something would happen, and it <i>has</i> happened! Oh heavens, -Roland, our position here seems overstrained and unnatural. -Would that we were out of Earlshaugh and his power!' -</p> - -<p> -'Maude? Our father's house!' -</p> - -<p> -'Our father's house no more.' -</p> - -<p> -'That is as may be,' replied Roland, through his set -teeth. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile the author of all this dismay ascended the -turret-stairs to his 'sanctum' and betook him without delay, -with tremulous hands and chattering teeth, to a stiff and tall -rummer of brandy and soda to steady his nerves, gather -Dutch courage, and prepare to face the worst, while -muttering as if to excuse himself. -</p> - -<p> -'An insult of the sort he gave me can never be forgotten!' -and he rubbed his right ear, which seemed yet to be -conscious of Jack's finger and thumb when used by the latter -as a fulcrum to twist him round; while, to do her justice, -his sister Deborah grew paler than ever, and seemed on -the point of sinking when she heard of what had -occurred. -</p> - -<p> -'It was all an accident—a horrible accident, Deb,' said -he, an assertion to which he stuck vigorously; 'my ankle -got twisted in a turnip shaw, don't you see—anyhow, don't -get up your agitation-of-the-heart business just now, for my -nerves may not stand it.' -</p> - -<p> -She eyed him coldly—almost sternly, and not as she was -wont to do; she read his real fear, and knew the full value of -his sham contrition, and that it was born of alarm for -himself; but his courage rose, and his secret wrath and hate -returned apace, when the doctors, after a consultation and -much pulling of nether lips, with also much mysterious and -technical jargon, declared that the wound was not a serious -one, though some of the charge (No. 5), which had crossed -Jack's chest transversely, went perilously near the heart; -and that unless suppuration took place, his constitution was -so fine 'he would soon pull through.' -</p> - -<p> -The doubt that he might <i>not</i>, or that a relapse might -ensue, proved too much just then for the nerves of -Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, who resolved on taking his departure for -a time. -</p> - -<p> -'And you go—for where, Hawkey?' asked his sister, not -surprised that he should suddenly remember an engagement. -</p> - -<p> -'To the western meeting—they make such a fuss over -this accident, and you know I hate fuss. Besides, I have a -pot of money on the Welter Cup, and if I lose——' -</p> - -<p> -'Well?' -</p> - -<p> -'Well—why, the timber of that old King's Wood may -come to the hammer—that's all, Deb,' said he, as confidently -as if it were his own. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -'Now, girls, don't be foolish,' said Roland, in reply to the -entreaties of Maude and Hester—the former especially—to -be permitted to visit Jack, who was now abed, and in the -hands of an accredited nurse. -</p> - -<p> -'Why—may not I see him?' pled Maude. -</p> - -<p> -'Not yet, certainly,' replied Roland, caressing her sunny -brown hair, and patting her cheek, from which the faint rose -tint was fled. -</p> - -<p> -'I must see him, Roland, that I may know he is -not—not—dead. -</p> - -<p> -'Dead, you dear little goose! Such fellows as Jack -Elliot take a long time in dying. You should have seen him as -I did (though it is well, however, you did not), when doubled -up by a grape-shot at Tel-el-Kebir. He'll be all right in a -day or two, and meanwhile— -</p> - -<p> -'What, Roland?' asked the trembling girl. -</p> - -<p> -'I go to Edinburgh, to get at the real state of our affairs, -what or however they may be; I feel inclined to shoot that -fellow Sharpe like a dog if he crosses my path again at -Earlshaugh!' -</p> - -<p> -'Roland, Roland, you surely know all?' said his sister -with intense sadness. -</p> - -<p> -'No, I do not know all,' said he, drawing her head on -his breast and caressing her; and feeling keenly that their -father's roof was degraded by the presence of this fellow, -after attempting such a crime—for a crime Roland felt and -knew it to be; albeit that the perpetrator was the brother of -their father's widow, and should, but for cogent reasons, be -handed over to the mercies of the Procurator-Fiscal for the -county. -</p> - -<p> -By the very outrage he had committed, Sharpe had -excited all the tenderness and commiseration for Elliot of -which Maude's nature was capable, and for himself all the -loathing and detestation which her usually gentle heart could -feel. Thus he had lost much and won nothing; and notwithstanding -his sister's position, influence, and interest at -Earlshaugh, he felt himself very much <i>de trop</i>; and, unable -to face the heavy fire of obloquy and blame that met him -on every hand, he feigned the excuse—if such were wanting—of -having to attend the Ayr races, which came off about -that time, and departed ostensibly for the great western -meeting on that famous course which lies southward of the -ancient town of Ayr. His farewell words to his sister -were: -</p> - -<p> -'I'll be even with Roland Lindsay yet—yes, more than -even, as you shall see, Deb!' -</p> - -<p> -Whether he really went there was apocryphal, as he was -seen ere long hovering about the vicinity of Earlshaugh, if -not in the house itself. -</p> - -<p> -And Hawkey Sharpe never did anything without a prime -or ulterior object in view. -</p> - -<p> -The event we have narrated marred the partridge shooting -at Earlshaugh for a time; and as lately quite a crop of -dances and drums, garden and music parties had sprung up -in the vicinity, and attendance at these was marred too, -Annot Drummond felt more exasperation than commiseration -at the cause thereof. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap25"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXV. -<br /><br /> -THE WILL. -</h3> - -<p> -In the pursuit of personal information, which should have -been in his possession before, that somewhat too easy-going -young soldier, Roland Lindsay, in the course of a day or -two, found himself in the 'Gray Metropolis of the North,' -or rather in that portion thereof which has sprung up within -the last hundred and forty years or so. -</p> - -<p> -The office of Mr. M'Wadsett, W.S., was amid a number -of such 'wasps' nests,' in a small and rather gloomy and -depressing arena known as Thistle Court, under the shadow -of St. Andrew's great, sombre, and circular-shaped church. -</p> - -<p> -The situation was a good one for a prosperous town -lawyer's office, and Mr. M'Wadsett was a prosperous—and, -as usual with many of them, effusively pious—lawyer, and -all about him, whether by chance or design, was arranged to -give clients—victims many deemed themselves—an impression -that his practice was wide, select, and respectable—intensely -respectable—while Mr. M'Wadsett never omitted -church services at least twice daily, for the kirk was his -fetish—the test of a decorous life, like his black suit and -white necktie. -</p> - -<p> -He was busily engaged just then, so Roland sent in his -card and had to wait, which he felt as a kind of hint that he -was not so important a client now as he might have been. -The room he was ushered into was a dull one, overlooking -the gloomy court; and slowly the time seemed to pass, for -Roland was in an agony of impatience now to know the -worst—the profound folly of his father, for whom his feelings -just then were, to say the least of them, of a somewhat -mingled cast. -</p> - -<p> -Mr. M'Wadsett's office consisted of several rooms—the -interior and upper floors of an old-fashioned house. In one -of these, partly furnished like a parlour, the walls hung with -fly-blown maps and prospectuses—a waiting-room—Roland -was left to fume and 'cool his heels'; while in one somewhere -adjacent he heard a curious clashing of fire-irons, and -a voice giving the—to him—somewhat familiar words of -command, but in a suppressed tone: -</p> - -<p> -'Guard—point—two! Low guard—point—two!' etc., -for it was evident that some of the clerks who were rifle -volunteers were having a little bayonet exercise, till a bell -rang, when they all vaulted upon their stools and began to -write intensely, for then the voice of old Mr. M'Wadsett -was heard, and Roland was ushered into his presence. -</p> - -<p> -His room was snug and cosy, albeit its principal furniture -consisted of green charter boxes on iron frames, all of which -held secrets relating to the families whose well-known names -were displayed upon them. How much, indeed, did he -not know about all the leading proprietors of Fife and -Kinross? -</p> - -<p> -He received his visitor warmly and pleasantly enough, -spoke of the war in Egypt, his health, the weather, of -course, and then when a pause ensued, Roland stated the -object for which he had come. -</p> - -<p> -The lawyer, a fussy little man, with a sharp, keen manner, -and sharp, keen gray eyes, raised his silver-rimmed glasses -above his bushy white eyebrows, and said: -</p> - -<p> -'My dear sir, I sent a copy of your respected father's will -to Egypt.' -</p> - -<p> -'Addressed to me?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'I never got it.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'We were holding the lines in front of Ramleh at that -time; the Arabs made free with the mail-bags, and lit their -pipes with the contents, no doubt, in the desert beyond -Ghizeh.' -</p> - -<p> -'My dear sir, how lawless of them!' -</p> - -<p> -'I have thought about this will at times, till I have -become stupid—woolly in fact, and hated the name of it.' -</p> - -<p> -'Your good father— -</p> - -<p> -'Ah,' interrupted Roland, a little testily, 'I fear we only -looked upon him latterly as the family banker, and he was -useful in that way—very.' -</p> - -<p> -'To your brother in the Guards perhaps too much so,' -said the lawyer gravely. -</p> - -<p> -'Well—about the cursed document itself?' began Roland -a little impetuously. -</p> - -<p> -'Strong language, my dear sir—strong language! The -terms of your respected father's will are, I must say, a little -peculiar, and were framed much against my advice; though -his old family agent, I scarcely felt justified in drawing out -the document.' -</p> - -<p> -'I have heard that its conditions are outrageous.' -</p> - -<p> -'They are—my dear sir—they are.' -</p> - -<p> -'Such as no respectable lawyer should have drawn up,' -said Roland sternly. -</p> - -<p> -'Captain Lindsay, there you are wrong—severe—but I -excuse you,' replied Mr. M'Wadsett, perking up his bald, -shining head, as he drew the document in question from a -charter box, after some trouble in finding the key thereof, -and which Roland eyed—without touching it—with a very -gloomy and louring expression. -</p> - -<p> -'Dear me—dear me,' muttered M'Wadsett, as, seating -himself in a well-stuffed circular chair, and adjusting his -spectacles, he glanced over the document. 'He wrote: "I -have delayed making my will so long as I have thought it -safe to do so, but I am an old man now, and the gross and -wilful extravagance of——" Shall I read it all, Captain -Lindsay? The first few clauses are unimportant enough: -£1,000 to Sir Harry Maule; some jewellery to his daughter -Hester—bequests to the servants—Funnell the butler, -Buckle the head groom, and then with the provisions -appointed for your sister and yourself——' -</p> - -<p> -'Comes the "crusher," I suppose,' interrupted Roland, -crashing his right heel on the floor. -</p> - -<p> -'Precisely so, my dear sir; I don't wonder that you feel -it; but listen and I shall read it all.' -</p> - -<p> -'Please don't,' cried Roland; 'lawyers make everything -so lengthy, so elaborate, so full of circumlocution and -irritating repetition. Cut it short—the gist of it.' -</p> - -<p> -'Is—that all the estates, real and personal, are devised -and bequeathed by the testator to his wife, Deborah Sharpe -or Lindsay.' -</p> - -<p> -'For life? -</p> - -<p> -'No—to do with as she pleases in all time coming; the -whole power of willing everything away is left in her hands, -as you may read for yourself here.' -</p> - -<p> -There was a silence of a minute. -</p> - -<p> -'I thought such episodes—such outrages—never -happened but in novels?' said Roland. -</p> - -<p> -The lawyer smiled faintly and shook his head, and -refolding the document, said: -</p> - -<p> -'It is, of course, duly recorded.' -</p> - -<p> -'And Earlshaugh will go to her heirs?' -</p> - -<p> -'To Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, unless she devises otherwise.' -</p> - -<p> -'A bitter satire!' -</p> - -<p> -'A codicil was framed, or nearly so, revoking much that -had gone before; but was never signed. By that -omission——' -</p> - -<p> -'I have lost all,' said Roland, starting to his feet; 'so -the fortunes of the Lindsays of Earlshaugh are at their -lowest ebb.' -</p> - -<p> -'Unless you can find an heiress,' said the lawyer, with -another of his weak smiles. -</p> - -<p> -Annot was no heiress, Roland remembered. -</p> - -<p> -'As for my father's folly,' he was beginning bitterly, when -M'Wadsett touched his arm: -</p> - -<p> -'Let us not speak ill of the dead,' said he; 'the late -Laird may have been deceived, misled—let us not wrong -him.' -</p> - -<p> -'But he has wronged the living, who have to feel—to -endure and to suffer!' -</p> - -<p> -'The folly of your brother, the Guardsman—rather than -your own—brought all this about, Captain Lindsay,' said -the lawyer, rising too, as if the unprofitable interview had -come to an end; and, a few minutes after, Roland found -himself outside in the bustle and sunshine of George Street, -that broad, stately, and magnificent thoroughfare, along -which he wandered like one in a bad dream, and full of -vague, angry, and bitter thoughts. -</p> - -<p> -A deep sense of unmerited humiliation galled his naturally -proud spirit, now that the truth of his real position had -been laid before him without doubt. -</p> - -<p> -The 'fool's paradise' in which he had been partly living -had vanished; and he thought how much better it had -been had he left his bones at Tel-el-Kebir, at Kashgate, -or anywhere else in Egypt, as so many of his comrades had -done. -</p> - -<p> -What was he to do now? -</p> - -<p> -His profession at least was left him. Would he return to -his regiment at once, and go to Earlshaugh no more? It -was impossible just yet to turn his back on what was once -his home. There was Annot, his <i>fiancée</i>; there was Maude, -his sister; there were Jack Elliot and other guests; before -them a part must be acted as yet—and then—what -then—what next? -</p> - -<p> -A bitter malediction rose to his lips, but he stifled it. -</p> - -<p> -Once matters were somehow smoothed over, back to the -regiment he should, of course, go, and turning his back on -Scotland for ever, try to forget the past and everything! -</p> - -<p> -With incessant iteration the thought—the question—was -ever before him how to explain to Jack Elliot and Annot -Drummond that he—Roland Lindsay, deemed the heir, the -Lord of Earlshaugh and all its acres of wood and wold, -field and pasture, was little better than an outcast—admitted -there on the sufferances of the sister of that most -pitiful wretch, Hawkey Sharpe! -</p> - -<p> -Viewed in every way the situation was maddening—intolerable. -With regard to Annot, he could but trust to -her love now. Should he ask Maude or Hester to break -the matter to her gently? No—that task must be his -own. -</p> - -<p> -Most of the hopes of himself and his sister seemed to -be based on the goodwill that might be borne them by -Deborah Sharpe (how he loathed to think of her as -Mrs. Lindsay), and she, too, evidently, was inimical to them -both, and under the complete influence of her brother, -Hawkey Sharpe. -</p> - -<p> -Amid the turmoil of his thoughts he did not forget to -procure as a souvenir of this wretched visit to Edinburgh a -valuable bracelet for Annot Drummond, and then took -his way—homeward he could not deem it—to Earlshaugh. -</p> - -<p> -He had but one crumb of consolation, that at the last -hour his father seemed to have repented the evil he had -done him—at the last hour—but too late! -</p> - -<p> -'Not always in life is it possible to unravel the mesh -which our fingers have woven,' says a writer. 'Sometimes -it is permitted to recall the lost opportunities of a few -mistaken hours; sometimes, when all too late, we would -willingly buy back with every drop of our heart's blood the -moments we have so wilfully abused, and the chances we -have so foolishly neglected. But it is too late!' -</p> - -<p> -So it was too late when Roland's father thought to amend -his fatal will. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap26"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXVI. -<br /><br /> -MOLOCH. -</h3> - -<p> -While Roland's mind was agitated by a nervous dread of -how to break to the ambitious little Annot—for ambitious -he knew her to be—the real state of his position and his -altered fortune, unknown to him, and in his absence, that -young lady was receiving an inkling of how matters stood, -and thus, when the time came, some trouble and pain were -saved him. -</p> - -<p> -Red-eyed, and apparently inconsolable for his absence -for a single day, the 'gushing' Annot had cast her society -almost entirely upon Hester, as Maude was too much -occupied by her own thoughts and cares to give her -sympathy. -</p> - -<p> -'Why has he gone, why left me so soon after we came -here?' she moaned for the twentieth time, with her golden -head reclined on Hester's shoulder. 'What shall I do -without him?' she added. -</p> - -<p> -'For a few hours only. What will you say when winter -comes or spring, and he is back in Egypt, if you think so -much of a few hours now?' -</p> - -<p> -'It is very silly of me, I suppose, but I cannot help it; -but we have never been separated since—since——' -</p> - -<p> -'You met at Merlwood,' said Hester coldly, and annoyed -by the other's acting or childishness, she scarcely knew -which it was. She added, 'Business has taken him to -Edinburgh.' -</p> - -<p> -'Business—he never told me! About what?' -</p> - -<p> -'Something very unpleasant, I fear; but you know that a -man of property— -</p> - -<p> -Hester paused, not knowing very well how to parry the -questions of Annot, who had put them to her frequently, -and for a few minutes they promenaded together the long -flowery aisles of the conservatory in silence. -</p> - -<p> -Hester was so tall and straight, so proud-looking and yet -so soft and womanly, her bearing a thing of beauty in itself, -her dark velvety eyes so sensitive and sweet in expression -that anyone might wonder how Annot Drummond, with all -her fair and fairy-like loveliness, had lured Roland away -from her, yet it was so. -</p> - -<p> -Now and then, oftener than she wished, there came back -unbidden to Hester's mind memories of those happy -August evenings at Merlwood, ere Annot came, when she -and Roland wandered in the leafy dingles by the Esk, by -'caverned Hawthornden' and Roslin's ruin-crowned rock; -and when these memories came she strove to stifle them, as -if they caused a pain in her heart, for such haunting -day-dreams were full of tenderness, a vanished future and a -present sense of keen disappointment. -</p> - -<p> -And she remembered well, though she never sang now, -the old song he loved so well, and which went to the air of -the 'Bonnie Briar Bush': -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'The visions of the buried past<br /> - Come thronging, dearer far<br /> - Than joys the present hour can give,<br /> - Than present objects are.'<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -And she felt with a sigh that her past was indeed buried -and done with. -</p> - -<p> -Honest and gentle, Hester had long since felt that she -was unequal to cope with Annot Drummond, or the game -the latter played—a damsel who possessed, as a clever -female writer says, 'all the thousand and one tricks, in -short, by which an artificial woman understands how to lay -herself out for the attraction and capture of that noble -beast of prey called man;' and Annot was indeed artificial -to the tips of her tiny fingers. -</p> - -<p> -'Hester,' said Annot, breaking the silence mentioned, -and following some thoughts of her own, 'have you never -had dreams—day-dreams, I mean—of being rich?' -</p> - -<p> -'I don't think so.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why is this?' -</p> - -<p> -'Because I am quite content; and when one is so there -is no more to be desired. As our proverb says: "Content -is nae bairn o' wealth."' -</p> - -<p> -'I cannot understand your point of view,' said Annot. -'I should like gorgeous dresses—Worth's best; fine horses, -with skins like satin, and glittering harness; stately carriages, -such as we see in the parks; tall footmen, well-liveried and -well-matched; a house in Park Lane——' -</p> - -<p> -'And lots of poor to feed?' -</p> - -<p> -'I never think of them—they can take care of themselves, -if the police don't.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, Annot!' -</p> - -<p> -'And I should like my wedding presents to be the -wonder of all, and duly catalogued in all the 'Society' -papers—services in exquisite silver, the épergne of silver -and gold—spoons and forks without number—ice buckets -and biscuit boxes—coffee sets in Dresden china, écru, and -gold—toilette suites in crystal and gold—Russian sables, -fans, gloves, jewels—a Cashmere shawl from the Queen, of -course—a lovely suite of diamonds and opals from the -brother-officers of the bridegroom—shoals of letters of -congratulation, and a present with each!' -</p> - -<p> -'In all this you say nothing of love,' said Hester, with a -curl on her sweet red lip, 'and without it all these things -were worthless.' -</p> - -<p> -'And without them it were useless,' replied the mercenary -little beauty, with a perfect coolness that kindled an emotion -of something akin to contempt rather than amusement in -the breast of Hester. -</p> - -<p> -'As Claude Melnotte says, after describing his palace by -the Lake of Como, "Dost like the picture?"' asked Annot -laughingly. -</p> - -<p> -'Not at all from your point of view,' replied Hester, a -little wearily. 'The diamond and opal suite, to be the gift -of the bridegroom's brother-officers, has reference, I -suppose——' -</p> - -<p> -'To Roland, of course.' -</p> - -<p> -'Poor Roland!' said Hester, with a genuine sigh. -</p> - -<p> -'Why do you adopt that tone in regard to him?' asked -Annot, her eyes of bright hazel green dilating with surprise. -</p> - -<p> -'For reasons of which, I fear, you know nothing,' replied -Hester, unable to repress a growing repugnance for the -questioner. -</p> - -<p> -'But I surely must know them in time?' -</p> - -<p> -'Perhaps.' -</p> - -<p> -'There is no "perhaps" in the matter,' said Annot -pettishly; 'what do you mean, Hester—speak?' -</p> - -<p> -'Is it possible,' said the other with extreme reluctance, -'that you have never heard of the terms of his father's -will?' -</p> - -<p> -'Scotch-like, you reply to one question by another. Well, -what will?' -</p> - -<p> -'His father's most singular and unjust one.' -</p> - -<p> -'No.' -</p> - -<p> -'Not even from Roland?' -</p> - -<p> -'No—never, I say!' -</p> - -<p> -'Most strange!' -</p> - -<p> -'You know that I cannot speak of it.' -</p> - -<p> -'Of course not.' -</p> - -<p> -'But mamma may. This estate of Earlshaugh——' -</p> - -<p> -'Is the property by gift of his father to his second -wife——' -</p> - -<p> -'That grim woman, Deborah Sharpe?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—to have and to hold—I don't know the exact terms.' -</p> - -<p> -'How should you?' said Annot incredulously. 'You -cannot be much of a lawyer, Hester!' -</p> - -<p> -'Of course not—but this is not a lawyer's question now.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'The will is an accomplished fact. Roland, when abroad, -may have been misled—nay, has been misled—by words -and delusive hopes; but these the family agent will shatter -when he shows him the truth.' -</p> - -<p> -Annot made no immediate reply to a startling statement, -which she suspected was merely the outcome of natural -female jealousy, and perhaps rancour in the heart of Hester -Maule. But the memory of the latter went too distinctly -back to that mournful day at Earlshaugh when the last laird -had been borne to his last home on the shoulders of his -serving men, while Roland was in Egypt, and poor Maude -too ill to leave her own room; the solemn and substantial -luncheon that was laid in the dining-hall for all who attended -the funeral, and of the subsequent reading of the will by -Mr. M'Wadsett in the Red Drawing-room to that listening group, -over whom lay the hush and the shadow of selfish anticipation; -the legacies to faithful old servants, those to her -father, to herself, and other relations; and then the terrible -clause which bequeathed to 'his well-beloved wife and -ministering angel of his later days' everything else of which -the testator died possessed. And then followed the buzz -of astonishment and dissatisfaction with which the sombre -assembly broke up. -</p> - -<p> -Of these details Hester said nothing to Annot; but the -latter had now something <i>to reflect upon</i>, which was too -distasteful for consideration, and which she endeavoured -resolutely to set aside. -</p> - -<p> -Sooth to say, her selfish delight in the solid, luxurious, -and baronial glories of Earlshaugh was too great to be easily -dissipated, and she had still, as ever, a decided, repugnance -to the recollections of her widowed mother's struggles with -limited means; and their somewhat sordid home in South -Belgravia, as she sought courageously to shut her bright eyes -to the gruesome probabilities of Hester's communication. -</p> - -<p> -With a sigh of sorrow, in which, notwithstanding the -gentleness of her nature, much of contempt was mingled, -Hester Maule regarded her town-bred cousin, who though -apparently so volatile and thoughtless, was quite a watchful -little woman of the world, with what seemed childish ways, -and Hebe-like beauty, so fair, so soft, with rose-leaf -complexion, and her <i>petite</i> face peeping forth, as it were, from -among the coils and masses of her wonderful golden hair; -and yet she was ever ready to sacrifice everything to -society—that Moloch to which so many now sacrifice purity, -happiness, and life itself. -</p> - -<p> -For Annot believed in a union of hands and lands, with -hearts left out of the compact. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap27"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXVII. -<br /><br /> -ANNOT'S MISGIVINGS. -</h3> - -<p> -Jack Elliot's mishap—accident though it could scarcely be -called—thoroughly marred and shortened the partridge -shooting at Earlshaugh, and the birds had quite a holiday -of it. -</p> - -<p> -'Never mind, Jack,' Roland had said on his departure for -Edinburgh, 'you'll make amends when the pheasants are -ready.' -</p> - -<p> -Irritated by the event which had struck him down—exasperated -by the whole affair, the secret motives for which had -gradually become more apparent to him, Elliot tossed on his -bed feverishly and wearily, at times scarcely conscious, in a -sleepy trance, for he had lost much blood; but being a -tough fellow, with a splendid constitution, he soon became -convalescent, after the few grains of No. 5 that lodged had -been picked out by the doctors. -</p> - -<p> -Feverishly he called for cooling draughts, which were -always at hand, prepared by old Mrs. Drugget, the buxom -housekeeper, and even by grim, grave Mrs. Lindsay, whom -the catastrophe had seriously startled and upset, as it showed -the cruelty, cunning, and devilish villany of which her -brother and <i>protégé</i> was capable. -</p> - -<p> -Mrs. Drugget, influenced by Jack's love of Maude, whom -she had known from infancy, scarcely left the patient for an -instant, and ever sat motionless and watchful by his bedside, -till he was safe, and in the way of a rapid recovery. -</p> - -<p> -Many were the calls to know the progress of the invalid, -whose 'accident' had made some noise and excited much -speculation; carriages were always rolling up to the <i>porte-cochère</i>, -the great iron bell of which was clanged incessantly, -and on the same errand horsemen came cantering across the -park; and one thing seemed certain, that, until the party -then assembled at Earlshaugh left the place, Mr. Hawkey -Sharpe would not show himself there in the field, nor under -the roof of the house, it was confidently supposed. -</p> - -<p> -Ere long Elliot was promoted from jellies and beef-tea to -chicken and champagne, administered by the loving little -white hands of Maude; and, with such a nurse, it seemed -not a bad thing to lie convalescent to one like Jack, who had -undergone enteric fever in the hospital at Ismailia, by the -Lake of Tismah, and later still in the huts at Quarantine -Island, by the burning shore of Suakim. -</p> - -<p> -Maude grew bright and merry; she had got over the -shock; but yet had in her heart all the terror and loathing -it could feel for the hand that had dealt the injury—an -injury which, but for the scandal it must have caused in the -county generally, and in the 'East Neuk' in particular, -might have been made a very serious matter for Mr. Hawkey -Sharpe. -</p> - -<p> -Actuated by some judicious remarks from the old Writer -to the Signet of Thistle Court, Roland returned to Earlshaugh -with the intention of endeavouring to 'tide over' the -humiliation and difficulties of his position till he could turn -his back upon that place for ever, without making any more -unpleasantness, and, more than all, giving rise to any useless -speculation or <i>esclandre</i>. -</p> - -<p> -Mrs. Lindsay had somehow heard of his sudden, but -certainly not unexpected, visit to Edinburgh, and divined its -object, if indeed no casual rumour had reached her about -it; and a smile of derision and triumph, that would greatly -have pleased her obnoxious brother, stole over her pale and -usually calm face when she thought of the utter futility of -Roland's expedition; and something of this emotion in her -eyes was the response to his somewhat crest-fallen aspect -when she met him in the Red Drawing-room on his -return. -</p> - -<p> -But he was master of himself, if he was master of nothing -more, and resolved to have a truce, if not a treaty of peace, -with 'Deborah Sharpe,' as he and Maude always called her -in her absence. -</p> - -<p> -Strange to say, he found that, outwardly at least, her old -animosity, jealousy, and spirit of defiance were much -lessened, though he knew not the secret cause thereof; but -she was a woman, and as he looked on the deathly pallor -of her face, the ill-concealed agitation of her manner, and -thought of the terrible secret disease under which she -laboured, he felt something of pity for her, that was for the -time both genuine and generous. -</p> - -<p> -'You look pale,' said he gently as he took her hand and -led her to a sofa, adjusting a cushion at her back; 'I hope -you have not been exciting yourself about the state of my -friend Elliot; Jack will be all right in a few days now.' -</p> - -<p> -The soft grace of his manner and sweetness of his tone -(common to him when addressing all women) impressed her -greatly; her own brother, Hawkey Sharpe, never spoke -thus, even when seeking his incessant monetary favours. -If the latter watched her pallor or detected illness, his -observation was rendered acute, not by fraternal tenderness, -but by selfishness and ulterior views of his own; thus -Roland's bearing vanquished, for a time at least, her innate -dislike of him, for it is an idiosyncrasy in the hearts of -many to dislike and fear those they have wronged or -supplanted. -</p> - -<p> -Thus Roland was superior to her. -</p> - -<p> -'A more glorious victory cannot be gained over another -than this,' says Tillotson; 'when the injury began on their -part, the kindness should begin on ours.' -</p> - -<p> -'I hope you have secured medical advice as to the state -of your health?' said he after a little pause, and with a -nameless courtesy in his attitude. -</p> - -<p> -'Thank you so much for your kindness, Roland.' (She -usually called him 'Captain Lindsay.') 'Just now you -remind me so much of your father; and this is the anniversary -of the day when he met with his terrible accident, and -his horse threw him,' she added, looking not at him, but -past him; yet the woman's usually hard disposition was -suddenly moved by the touch of nature that 'makes the -whole world kin.' -</p> - -<p> -'Like my father, you think?' said Roland coldly. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—and for <i>his</i> sake it is perhaps not too late—too -late——' -</p> - -<p> -'For what?' he asked, as her lip quivered and she -paused. -</p> - -<p> -'Time will show,' she replied, as one of her spasms -made her lip quiver again, and her breath came short and -heavily. -</p> - -<p> -'Is there anything Maude or I can do for you—speak, -please?' said Roland, starting up. -</p> - -<p> -'Nothing—but do give me your arm to the door of my -own room, and ring for Mrs. Drugget.' -</p> - -<p> -He gave her his escort tenderly and courteously; and -thus ended a brief interview—the first pleasant one he had -ever had with 'the usurper' of his patrimony, and which he -was to recall at a future time. -</p> - -<p> -Whether or not Annot Drummond was thinking over -Hester's cloudy and alarming communications it is difficult -to say; but she said to the latter after a most effusive -meeting with her <i>fiancé</i>: -</p> - -<p> -'What <i>has</i> come over Roland since his visit to Edinburgh? -He looks shockingly ill—so changed—so <i>triste</i>—what -does it all mean?' -</p> - -<p> -'I told you he went there on business, and that seems to -have always its worries—all the greater, perhaps, to those -who detest or know nothing about it.' -</p> - -<p> -'His moodiness quite belies the sobriquet of his -name—"The Lindsays lightsome and gay;" but here he comes -again. Roland,' she added, springing up and kissing his -cheek, 'a thousand thanks, darling, for this lovely bracelet -you have brought me. It was so kind—so like you to -remember poor little me!' -</p> - -<p> -'As if I could, even for a moment, forget,' was his -half-maudlin response, while she drew up her sleeve a little -way, coquetishly displaying a lovely arm of snowy whiteness, -firmly and roundly moulded by perfect health and -youth, with the bracelet clasped on her slender wrist; and -while turning it round and round, so as to inspect it in -every light and from every point of view, she was thinking -that when—after the bestowal of so many other valuable -gifts—he could bring her a jewel so expensive as this, surely -Hester's hints about <i>the will</i> must have been nonsense, or -the outcome of jealousy at her—Annot's—success with a -handsome cousin, whom she knew that Hester was at least -well disposed to regard with interest. -</p> - -<p> -Yet, when she and Roland were together, to Annot's -watchful eyes his manner did seem thoughtful and absent -at times, and would have caused misgivings but that she -thought, and flattered herself, that it was caused, perhaps, -by his having to go prematurely to Egypt, like Malcolm -Skene. -</p> - -<p> -After Elliot had become convalescent, and Roland, with -others, had resumed their guns, and betaken them again to -the slaughter of the partridges, all went well apparently for a -few weeks. There were gay riding parties in the afternoon -to visit the ruined castles at Ceres and the muir where -Archbishop Sharpe was slain; to the caves of Dura Den -at Kemback; picnics to Creich and the hills of Logie; -there were dances in the evening, and music, when Hester's -rich contralto, Elliot's tenor, Maude's soft soprano, and -Roland's bass, took principal parts. -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Young hearts, bright eyes, and rosy lips were there;<br /> - And fairy steps, and light and laughing voices<br /> - Ringing like welcome music through the air—<br /> - A sound at which the untroubled heart rejoices.'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Life seemed a happy idyl, and that of Annot—we must -suppose that she had her special dreams of happiness -too—was ever gay apparently; but Roland's soul was secretly -steeped in misery! -</p> - -<p> -Circumstanced as he knew himself to be, Annot's frequent -praises of Earlshaugh and her delight with all therein galled -and fretted him, and made him so strange in manner at -times that the girl, to do her justice, was bewildered and -grieved; and Hester, though she wished it not nor thought -of it, was in some degree avenged. -</p> - -<p> -'What can be the meaning of it?' was often Annot's -secret thought. -</p> - -<p> -Like Elliot and Maude, to her it seemed that perhaps -they were too happy for commonplace speeches as they idled -hand-in-hand about the grounds, wandering through vistas -of thick and venerable hawthorn-hedges, away by the -thatched hamlet, through the wooded haugh, where the -'auld brig-stane' still spanned the wimpling burn, while -face turned to radiant face, and loving eye met eye. -</p> - -<p> -In such moments what need had they, she thought, for -words that might seem dull or clumsy? 'But, after all, -words, though coarse or clumsy, are the coin in which -human creatures must pay each other, and failing in which -they are often bankrupts for life.' -</p> - -<p> -Had Roland spoken then and said much that he left -unsaid, perhaps much suffering might have been spared him -at a future time—we says 'perhaps,' but not with certainty, -as we have only our story to tell, without indulging in -casuistry as to what might have occurred in the sequel. -</p> - -<p> -The story of the will, Annot began to think, must have -been a fallacy—a cruel and unpalatable one. By-and-by -she refused to face the probability at all; but she could not -help remarking that when their conversation insensibly -turned upon the future, as that of lovers must do, upon -their probable trip to London, his certain tour of service in -Egypt, or on anything that lay beyond the sunny horizon -of the <i>present</i>, Roland became strange in manner, abrupt -and cloudy, and nervously sought to turn the subject into -another channel. -</p> - -<p> -Could he tell her yet, that he was a kind of outcast in -the house of his forefathers; that he was a mere visitor at -Earlshaugh, and that not a foot of the soil he trod was his -own? -</p> - -<p> -And so day by day and night after night went on. The -riding lessons through which Annot hoped sometime to -shine in 'The Lady's Mile,' were still continued, on the -beautiful and graceful pad which old Johnnie Buckle had -procured for her at Cupar fair—tasks requiring at Roland's -hand much adjustment of flowing skirts and loose reins; of -a dainty foot in a tiny stirrup of bright steel; the buttoning -of pretty gauntlets; much pressure of lingering fingers, and -joyous laughter in the sunny and grassy parks, where now -the deers' antlers were still lying, though one tradition avers -that stags bury their horns in the moss after casting them, -and another that they chew and eat them—a practice which -Gavin Fowler and the forester asserted they had often seen -them attempt. -</p> - -<p> -'And in all your stately old home there is not even one -traditional ghost?' said Annot, looking back from the -spacious lawn to where the lofty façade of the ancient -fortalice towered up on its rock in the red autumnal sunshine. -</p> - -<p> -'A ghost there is, or used to be in my grandmother's -time, at the Weird Yett,' replied Roland; 'but in the house, -thank Heaven, no—though there are bits about it eerie -enough to scare the housemaids after dark without that -dismal adjunct; yet blood enough and to spare has been -shed in and about Earlshaugh often in the olden time; and -more than one ancestor of mine has ridden forth to die on -the battlefield or at Edinburgh Cross, for the Stuart kings. -But let us drop this subject, Annot; a fellow cuts a poor -figure swaggering about his ancestors and their belongings -in these days, when even every Cockney cad airs his -imaginary bit of heraldry on his notepaper.' -</p> - -<p> -'But there were fairies surely in the Fairy Den?' persisted -Annot. -</p> - -<p> -'But never with golden hair like yours, Annot,' said -Roland, laughing now. 'Tradition has it that an ancestor -of mine, who was Master of the Horse to Anne of Denmark, -made a friend of an old Elf who dwelt in the glen—a droll -little fellow with a huge head, a great ruff, and a gray beard -that reached to his knees—and when the then Laird of -Earlshaugh, after being caught in a flirtation with the Queen -in Falkland Wood, was about to be led to the scaffold for -his pretended share in the Gowrie Conspiracy, the Elf came -on a white palfrey and bore him away, through crowd and -soldiers and all, from the Heading Hill of Stirling to his -own woods of Earlshaugh, a story which Sir Walter Scott -assigns to another family, I believe.' -</p> - -<p> -So Annot strove with success in partially abandoning herself -to the joy of the present, and to the full budding hope -of the future. -</p> - -<p> -She could not bring herself, 'little woman of the world,' -as Hester knew her to be, to do or say anything that could -have the aspect of a wish on her part to hurry on a marriage -before Roland departed to Egypt; but, while trembling at -all the contingencies thereby involved, had to content herself -by prettily and coquettishly referring from time to time -to the events of their future life together and combined; -consoling herself with the knowledge that so far as Roland's -honour went, and that of his family, 'an engagement known -to all the world is much more difficult to break than one to -which only three or four persons are privy;' whilst for -herself, she adopted the tone of being, in her correspondence -with London friends, vague and cloudy, as if the engagement -might or might not be; or that her visit to Earlshaugh -meant nothing at all, more than one anywhere else. -</p> - -<p> -'Now that Jack is nearly quite well,' said Maude to her, -'we are to have all manner of festivities before the pheasant -shooting is over, and we all bid adieu to dear old Earlshaugh, -Roland says. There will be a ball, the Hunt Ball, -a steeplechase is also talked of, and I know not what -more.' -</p> - -<p> -But ere these things came to pass there occurred a -catastrophe which none at Earlshaugh could foresee, that of -which, to his profound concern and bewilderment, Malcolm -Skene read in the papers at Pietro Girolamo's roulette saloon, -at Cairo. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap28"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXVIII. -<br /><br /> -THE FIRST OF OCTOBER. -</h3> - -<p> -'As weel try to sup soor dook wi' an elshin as shoot in -comfort wi' that coofor waur—that gowk Hawkey Sharpe—so -thank gudeness he's no wi' us this day!' snorted old -Gavin Fowler, the gamekeeper, when, on the morning of -the all-important 1st of October, he shouldered his gun and -whistled forth the dogs. -</p> - -<p> -But Hawkey Sharpe was fated to be cognisant of one -grim feature in that day's sport in a way none knew save -himself. -</p> - -<p> -So October had come—'the time,' says Colonel Hawker, -'when the farmer has leisure to enjoy a little sport after all -his hard labour without neglecting his business; and the -gentleman, by a day's shooting at that time, becomes -refreshed and invigorated, instead of wearing out himself -and his dogs by slaving after partridges under the broiling -sun of the preceding month. The evenings begin to close, -and he then enjoys his home and fireside, after a day's -shooting of sufficient duration to brace his nerves and make -everything agreeable.' -</p> - -<p> -'We'll make good bags to-day,' was the opinion of all. -</p> - -<p> -Despite Maude's entreaties, Jack Elliot was too keen a -sportsman to forego the first day of the pheasant shooting, -though his scar was scarcely healed, and thought, though he -did not say so to her, that next October might see him -'potting' a darker kind of game in the Soudan. -</p> - -<p> -'Get me a golden pheasant's wing for my hat, dear -Roland,' said Annot laughingly, as he came forth with his -favourite breechloader from the gun-room; and though such -birds were scarce in the East Neuk, the request proved -somewhat of a fatal one, as we shall show; but Annot had -no foreboding of that when, with her usual childish effusiveness, -she bade Roland farewell, as he went to join the group -of sportsmen and dogs at the <i>porte-cochère</i>. -</p> - -<p> -'You have no father, I believe, Miss Drummond?' said -Mrs. Lindsay, who had been observing her. -</p> - -<p> -'No; poor papa died quite suddenly about two years -ago,' was the reply. -</p> - -<p> -'Suddenly?' queried Mrs. Lindsay, becoming interested. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes,' said Annot hesitatingly. -</p> - -<p> -'In what way—by an accident?' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, dear—no.' -</p> - -<p> -'How then?' -</p> - -<p> -'Of disease of the heart; we never suspected it, but he -dropped down dead—quite dead—while poor mamma was -speaking to him about a drive in the park—but oh! what -have I said to startle you so?' she added, on perceiving -that Mrs. Lindsay grew pale as ashes, and half closing her -eyes, pressed her hand upon her left breast, a custom she -had when excited. -</p> - -<p> -'Nothing—nothing—only a faintness,' she said, with -something of irritation; 'it is the wind without.' -</p> - -<p> -'But there is none,' urged Annot. -</p> - -<p> -'I often feel this when stormy weather is at hand,' replied -the other with an attempt at a smile, but a ghastly one; and -Annot said no more, as she had already seen that the -slightest reference to her secret ailment irritated -Mrs. Lindsay, who abruptly left her. -</p> - -<p> -'There is not much liking lost between us,' thought the -young lady, as she adjusted in the breast of her morning -dress a bunch of stephanotis Roland had given her. 'It is -evident, too, that Mrs. Lindsay knows little of county -society, and is one with whom county society is shy of -associating. Well, well; when Roland and I are married, this -grim matron shall be relegated from Earlshaugh to the -Dower House at King's Wood. It is a pity we shall not be -able to send her farther off.' -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile the sportsmen were getting to work, and the -guns began to bang in the coverts. -</p> - -<p> -Autumn was rapidly advancing now; every portion of the -beautiful landscape told the eye so. The summer look was -gone, and the sound of the leaves fluttering down was apt to -make one thoughtful. Then even the sun seems older; he -rises later, and goes to bed earlier. The singing birds had -gone from the King's Wood and the Earl's Haugh to warmer -climes. The swallows were preparing to leave, assembling -at their own places on the banks of the burn, waiting till -thousands mustered for their mysterious southern flight. -Elsewhere, as Clare has it, might be seen— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'The hedger stopping gaps, amid the leaves,<br /> - Which time o'erhead in every colour weaves;<br /> - The milkmaid passing, with a timid look,<br /> - From stone to stone across the brimming brook;<br /> - The cottar journeying with his noisy swine<br /> - Along the wood side, where the branches twine;<br /> - Shaking from many oaks the acorns brown,<br /> - Or from the hedges red haws dashing down.'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -But the scenery was lost on the sportsmen, who had eyes -and ears for the pheasants alone! -</p> - -<p> -The keepers and beaters were waiting at the corner of the -King's Wood when Roland and his friends made their -appearance. -</p> - -<p> -Though the copses had not lost all their autumnal glory, -the season was an advanced one; a cold breeze swept -down the grassy glens, and frost rime hung for a time on -boughs and thick undergrowth, sparkling like diamonds in -the bright morning sunshine, till melted away; and in the -clear air was heard that which someone describes as the -indescribable and never-to-be-forgotten sound for the -sportsman—that of the pheasant as he rises before the advancing -line of beaters—when the cock bird, roused by the tapping -of their sticks on the tree trunks, whirrs high over the tops -to some sanctuary in the wood, which the gun beneath him -fates him never to reach. -</p> - -<p> -A spirt of smoke spouts upward, some brown feathers -puff out in the air, and with closed wings the beautiful bird -falls within some thirty yards of its killer. -</p> - -<p> -Though the shooting was most successful, other coverts -than the King's Wood were tried, some of which gave -pheasants, others rabbits and hares, till fairly good bags -were made; and so the sportsmen shot down the side of a -remote spur of the Ochil hills—save the banging of the -guns no other sounds being heard but the beating of sticks -against trees or whin bushes, and the voices of Gavin and -the beaters shouting, 'Mark cock,' ''Ware hen,' 'Hare -forward,' and so on, till a dark dell was reached—a regular -zeriba (Roland called it) of bracken, briars, and -gorse—where luncheon was to meet the party—one of the not -least pleasant features of a day's shooting; but the -sportsmen had become so intent on their work that they now -realized fully for the first time that the day had become -overcast; masses of dark gathered cloud had enveloped the -sun; that dense gray mist was rolling along the upper slopes -of the hills, and in the distant direction of Earlshaugh, the -dark and blurred horizon showed that rain was pouring -aslant, and so heavily that Maude and Hester, who had -promised to bring the viands in the pony phaeton, would -not dream of leaving the shelter of the house. -</p> - -<p> -'Homeward' was now the word, but not before the last -beat of the day—reserved as a <i>bonne bouche</i>—was made, -though noon was past and gloom was gathering speedily. -</p> - -<p> -At the upper end of a little glen a long belt of firs -bounded a field beyond which rose another belt, and in the -field the guns were posted, while the pheasants could be -seen making for the head of the wood. -</p> - -<p> -Nearer and more near came the tapping of the beaters' -rods, until one gallant bird rose at the edge and was -knocked over by Roland, who was far away on the extreme -right of the line. The tapping went gently on lest too -many birds should be put up at once. Some rapid firing -followed—all the more rapidly that the mist and rain were -coming down the hill-slopes together. -</p> - -<p> -In quick succession the birds left the covert, some flying -to one flank, some to the other, while others rose high in -the air, and some remained grovelling amid the undergrowth, -never to leave it alive. -</p> - -<p> -It was no slaughter—no <i>battue</i>—however; about a dozen -brace were knocked over and picked up ere the mist -descended over the field and its boundary belts of fir trees, -and drawing their cartridges, in twos and threes, with their -guns under their arms and their coat collars up, for the rain -was falling now, the sportsmen began to take their way -back towards the house, which was then some miles distant: -and all reached it, in the gathering gloom of a prematurely -early evening—weary, worn, yet in high spirits, and—save for -the contents of their flasks—unrefreshed, when they -discovered that Roland Lindsay was <i>not</i> with them—that in -some unaccountable way they had, somehow, lost or missed -him on the mountain side. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap29"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXIX. -<br /><br /> -ALARM AND ANXIETY. -</h3> - -<p> -Time passed on—the mist and rain deepened around -Earlshaugh, veiling coppice, glen, and field, and Roland did -not appear. -</p> - -<p> -He must have lost his way; but then every foot of the -ground was so familiar to him that such seemed impossible; -and the idea of an accident did not as yet occur to any -one. -</p> - -<p> -Thus none waited for him at the late luncheon table, and -then, as in the smoke-room and over the billiard balls, Jack -Elliot and others talked only of the events of the day—how -the birds were flushed and knocked over—of hits and -misses, of game clean-killed, and so forth; how one -gorgeous old pheasant in particular came crashing down -through the wiry branches of the dark firs in the agonies of -death; and how deftly Roland killed his game, without -requiring a keeper to give the <i>coup de grâce</i>—there were -never many runners before him, and how 'he looked as -fresh as a daisy after doing the ninety acre copse,' and so -forth, till his protracted absence and the closing in of the -darkness, with the ringing of the dressing-bell for dinner, -made all conscious of the time, and led them to wonder -"what on earth" had become of him—what had happened, -and whither had he, or could he have gone! -</p> - -<p> -Speculations were many and endless, -</p> - -<p> -'Some fatality seems surely to attend the shooting here -now!' said Mrs. Lindsay anxiously, as she nervously pressed -her large white, ringed hands together. -</p> - -<p> -To some of those present the stately dinner, served up in -the lofty old dining-room, was a kind of mockery; and -Maude and Hester, who dreaded they knew not what, -made but a pretence of eating, while the presence of the -servants proved a wholesome, if galling, restraint to them; -but not so to the irrepressible Annot, who talked away as -usual to the gentlemen present, and displayed all her pretty -little tricks of manner as if no cause for surmise or anxiety -was on the tapis. -</p> - -<p> -The unusual pallor, silence, and abstraction of Mrs. Lindsay, -as she sat at the head of the table, while Jack -Elliot officiated as host, were painfully apparent to those -who, like Hester, watched her. -</p> - -<p> -But she had her own secret thoughts, in which none, as -yet, shared! -</p> - -<p> -An attempt had been made to injure Elliot, perhaps -mortally, under cover of a blunder—a mishap. Had the -same evil hand been at work again? -</p> - -<p> -A cloud there was no dispelling began to settle over all; -conversation became broken, disjointed, overstrained, and -the cloud seemed deeper as a rising storm howled round the -lofty old house, shook the wet ivy against the windows, and -grew in force with the gathering gloom of night. -</p> - -<p> -Annot's equanimity amid these influences grieved Maude -and annoyed Hester, who recalled her twaddling grief when -Roland had been but a few hours absent from her in Edinburgh. -</p> - -<p> -'How can she bear herself so?' said Maude. -</p> - -<p> -'Because she is heartless,' replied Hester; 'and to say -the least of her, I never could imagine Annot, with all her -prettiness and <i>espièglerie</i>, at the head of a household, or -taking her place in society like a woman of sense.' -</p> - -<p> -Hour succeeded hour, and still there was no appearance -of Roland, and the clang of the great iron bell in the -<i>porte-cochère</i> was listened for in vain. -</p> - -<p> -So the night came undoubtedly on, but what a night it -proved to be of storm and darkness! -</p> - -<p> -The rain hissed on the swaying branches of the great trees -now almost stripped and bare; it tore down the flowers from -the rocks on which the house stood, and wrenched away the -matted ivy from turret and chimney; the green turf of the -lawn and meadows was soaked till it became a kind of bog; -the winding walks that descended to the old fortalice became -miniature cascades that shone through the gloom, while the -wind wailed in the machicolations of the upper walls in -weird and solemn gusts, to die away down the haugh -below. -</p> - -<p> -That a tempest had been coming some of the older people -about the place, like Gavin Fowler, had foretold, as that -loud and hollow noise like distant thunder that often -precedes a storm among the Scottish mountains had been heard -among the spurs of the Ochils, and from which in the -regions farther North, the superstitious Highlanders, as -General Stewart tells, presage many omens, when 'the Spirit -of the Mountain shrieks.' -</p> - -<p> -All night long the house-bell was clanged at intervals from -the bartizan, to the alarm of the neighbourhood. -</p> - -<p> -London-bred Annot was scared at last by the elemental -war, by these strange sounds, and the pale faces of those -about her, and with blanched visage she peered from the -deeply embayed windows into the darkness without, with -genuine alarm, now. -</p> - -<p> -How often had she and Roland rambled in yonder green -park, not a vestige of which could now be seen even -between the flying glimpses of the moon, or crossed it -together, talking of and planning out that future which he -seemed to approach with such doubt and diffidence latterly; -or as he went forth with his breechloader on his shoulder -and she clinging with interlaced hands on his right arm—he -tall, strong, and stalwart, with his dogs at his heels, and -looking down lovingly and trustfully into her fair, smiling -face. -</p> - -<p> -Now they might never there and thus walk again, yet her -tears seemed to be lodged very deep just then. -</p> - -<p> -But softer Hester's thoughts were more acute. Had -Roland perished in some unforeseen, mysterious, and terrible -manner? Was this the last of <i>her</i> secret love-dream, and -had all hope, sweetness, glamour and beauty gone out of her -heart—out of her life altogether? -</p> - -<p> -Oh, what had happened? -</p> - -<p> -Could Hawkey Sharpe—no, she thrust even fear of him -on one side; but, as the time stole on and the midnight -hour passed without tidings, she tortured herself with -questions, lay down without undressing, and wetted her pillow -with tears for the doubly lost companion of her infancy, of -her girlhood, and its riper years—thinking all the while that -her sorrow, her longing, and passionate terrors were for the -affianced of another—of the artful Annot Drummond. -</p> - -<p> -Clinging to the supposition that he must have mistaken -his way in the swiftly descending mist, Jack Elliot and other -guests, with serving-men, keepers, and hunters, carrying -lanterns and poles, set out more than once into the darkness, -rack, and storm to search without avail, and to return wet -and weary. -</p> - -<p> -Hour after hour the circle at Earlshaugh watched and -waited, trembling at every gust and listening to every -sound—shaken and weakened by a suspense that grew intolerable. -</p> - -<p> -From the windows nothing could be seen—not even the -tossing trees close by, or the dark outline of the distant -mountains. The listeners' hearts beat quick—gust after -gust swept past, but brought no welcome sound with it, and -they became familiarized with the idea that some catastrophe -must have happened or tidings of the absent must have -come by that time; and with each returning party of -searchers, hope grew less and less, while those most vitally -concerned in the absence of Roland began to shrink from -questioning or consulting them, as they were already too -much disposed by their nature to adopt the gloomiest and -most morbid views; and still the storm gusts continued to -shake the windows, and dash against them showers of leaves -and the wet masses of overhanging foliage. -</p> - -<p> -Without his cheerful presence and general <i>bonhomie</i> of -manner, how empty and void the great old drawing-room—yea, -the house itself—seemed now! All his occasional -strange, abstracted, and thoughtful moods were forgotten, -and now the hours of the dark autumnal morning wore -inexorably on. -</p> - -<p> -A few of the guests had retired to their rooms, but the -majority passed the time on easy-chairs, watching and -waiting for what might transpire. Now and then a dog whined -mournfully, and cocked its ears as if to listen, adding to the -eerie nature of the vigil. -</p> - -<p> -'Three,' said Hester to Maude when the clocks were -heard striking. Then followed 'four' and 'five.' The fires -were made up anew. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, my God, what <i>can</i> have happened!' thought the two -girls in their hearts, glancing at Annot, who, overcome by -weariness, had dropped into a profound sleep; and ere long -the red rays of the sun, as he rose from his bed in the -German Sea, began to tinge the summits of the distant -Ochils and the nearer Lomonds, and the storm was dying -fast away. -</p> - -<p> -It was impossible now to suppose that he could in any -manner have lost himself, or taken shelter in the house of -any friend or tenant, as no message came from him, and the -last idea was completely dissipated by the final return of -Gavin Fowler, who, with his staff of keepers and beaters, had -been at every farm and house within miles making inquiries, -but in vain. -</p> - -<p> -Nothing had been seen or heard of the lost one. -</p> - -<p> -Gavin, however, had seen something which, though he -spoke not of it then, had given him cause for anxious -thought and much speculation. This was Mr. Hawkey -Sharpe (who for some time past had betaken him elsewhere) -rapidly and furtively passing out by the Weird Yett, well -muffled up, either to conceal his face or for warmth against -the cold morning air; and by the path he had taken, he had -evidently come by the back private door from the house of -Earlshaugh! -</p> - -<p> -'What's i' the wind noo?' muttered the old gamekeeper, -with a glare in his dark gray eye, and with knitted brows, -'But there's nae hawk, Maister Hawkey Sharpe, flees sae -high but he will fa' to some lure. They were gey scant o' -bairns that brocht you up.' -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap30"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXX. -</h3> - -<h3> -THE KELPIE'S CLEUGH. -</h3> - -<p> -On the extreme flank of his party, and rather farther out or -off than usual, Roland, intent on following his game, took -no heed at first of the swiftly down-coming mist, till it fell -like a curtain between him and his companions, who had -drawn their cartridges and ceased firing. Even the sound -of their voices was muffled by the density of the atmosphere -and he knew not where they were; but, thinking the cloud -would lift, he felt not the least concern, but went forward, as -he conceived, in the direction of home, and that which led -towards the field where the last beat of the day had been -made; but as he proceeded the ground seemed less and -less familiar to him. -</p> - -<p> -Over a high bank, slippery with dead leaves and the -thawed rime of the past morning, he went, a nasty place to -get across, and in doing so he prudently removed the -cartridges from his gun, lest he might slip, trip, or stumble to -the detriment of himself or some adjacent companion. -</p> - -<p> -Pausing at times, he uttered a hallo, but got no response. -He could see nothing of the belts of firs before referred to; -but he came upon clumps of hazel, nearly destitute of leaves, -growing thickly about the roots, and expanding as they rose -some nine feet or so above the ground. -</p> - -<p> -There was a dense undergrowth of bracken and intertwisted -brambles here, a tangle of dead leaves, stems, and thorns, -most perplexing to find one's self among in a dense mist. -From amid these a rabbit or hare scudded forth; but he -took no heed of it. -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly a bird—a fine golden pheasant—whirred up, -and settled down again in the covert very near him. He -remembered the request of Annot. Never had the latter -seemed brighter, dearer, or sweeter too, than that morning -when she playfully asked him to bring a golden pheasant's -wing, and secretly returned his farewell caress with such joy -and warmth. -</p> - -<p> -Dropping a charge into one of his barrels, he fired, but -failed to kill the bird, which, hit somewhere, beat the earth -with its wings and rolled or ran forward into the mist. -Dropping his gun, Roland darted forward after it—the tendril -of a bramble caught his feet, and a gasping cry escaped -him as he fell heavily on his face and then downward—he -knew not where! -</p> - -<p> -Instinctively and desperately he clutched something; it -was turf on a rocky edge. He felt it yielding; a small tree, -a silver birch, grew near, and wildly he caught a branch -thereof; and swung out over some profundity, he knew not -what or where, till like a flash of lightning there came upon -his memory the Burn Cleugh, a deep, rocky chasm, which -had been the mysterious terror of his boyhood—as the -fabled shade of a treacherous kelpie, a hairy fiend with red -eyes and red claws—a rent or rift in the low hills some -miles from his home, and at the bottom of which, about -sixty feet and more below, the burn referred to as passing -through the Earl's Haugh, and near the hamlet of the same -name, flowed towards Eden. -</p> - -<p> -'Save me—God save me!' rose to his lips, and with each -respiration as he clung to the branch and the bead-drops -started to his forehead, he lived a lifetime—a lifetime as it -were of keenest agony. -</p> - -<p> -He knew well the profoundity of the rocky abyss that -yawned in obscurity below him, and he heard the slow -gurgle of the burn as it chafed against the stones that barred -its downward passage, and, mechanically, as one in a dream -who fears to fall, he strove to sway his body upward, but -could find no rest for his footsteps, and felt that the birch -branch to which he clung was gradually but surely—rending! -He had no terror of death in itself—none of death in the -battlefield, as we have shown; but from such a fate as this -he shrank; his soul seemed to die within him, and with -every respiration there seemed to come the agony of a -whole lifetime. -</p> - -<p> -His nerve was gone, and no marvel that it was so. He -might escape instant death; but not the most dreadful -mutilation; and, sooth to say, he dreaded that a thousand -times more than death. -</p> - -<p> -One glance downward into that dark and misty chasm -was in itself a summons to death, and he knew well the -terrible bed of stones and boulders that lay below. -</p> - -<p> -He became paralyzed—paralyzed with a great and stunning -fear. The rending of the branch continued; his arms -were waxing faint and strained; his fingers feeble; and it -was only a question of moments between time and -eternity—fall—fall he must—how far—how deep down—the depth -he had forgotten. -</p> - -<p> -The suspense was horrible; yet it was full of the dire -certainty of a dreadful end. -</p> - -<p> -Every act and scene of his past life came surging up to -memory—the memory of less than a minute, now. -</p> - -<p> -The branch parted; but, still grasping it, down he went -whizzing through the mist—there was a stunning crash as -he fell first on a ledge of rock and then into the stream's -stony bed below, and then sight and sense and sound -passed away from him! -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -How long he lay there he knew not. After a time consciousness -returned, but he felt himself incapable of action—of -motion—almost of thinking. -</p> - -<p> -The ledge or shelf of rock, which was covered by soft -turf, had first received him, and thus broken the fall, which -ended, we have said, in the bed of the stream, in which he -was partially immersed from the waist downwards; but -whether his limbs were broken or dislocated he knew not -then, and there he lay helpless, with the cold current -trickling past and partly over him, the rocks towering -sharply and steeply up on either side of him to where their -summits were hidden in the masses of eddying mist, that -now began to rise and sink as the wind increased and the -afternoon began to close. -</p> - -<p> -How long might he lie there undiscovered in that desolate -spot, which he knew so few approached? How long would -he last, suffering as he did then? And was a miserable -death, such as this—there and amid such surroundings—to -be the end of his young life, with all its bright hopes and -loving aspirations for the future? -</p> - -<p> -Cold though he began to feel—icy cold—hot bead drops -suffused his temples at the idea, and at all his fancy began -to picture, and more than once a weak cry for aid escaped -him. -</p> - -<p> -The Cleugh became more gloomy; he heard the bellowing -of the wind, and felt the falling rain, the torrents of -which were certain to swell and flood this tributary of the -Eden, and the terror of being drowned helplessly, as the -darkness fell and the water rose, impelled him to exertion, -and by efforts that seemed almost superhuman he contrived -to drag his bruised body and—as he felt assured—broken -limbs somewhat more out of the bed of the stream; but the -agony of this was so great that he nearly fainted. -</p> - -<p> -With all his constitutional strength and hardihood, he -was certain that he could never survive the night; and even -if he did, the coming morning and day might bring him no -succour, for save when in search of a lost sheep or lamb in -winter, what shepherd ever sought the recesses of the -Kelpie's Cleugh? -</p> - -<p> -As he lay there, with prayer in his heart and on his lips, -his whole past life—and then indeed did he thank God that -it had been well-nigh a blameless one—seemed to revolve -again and again as in a panorama before him; while a -thousand forgotten and minute details came floating back -rapidly and vividly to memory. -</p> - -<p> -His boyhood, his dead brother, his mother's face, as he -had seen it bending over him tenderly in his little cot, while -she whispered the prayer she was wont to give over him -every night, till it became woven up with the life of his -infancy and riper years; his roystering, fox-hunting father; -his regiment—the jovial mess—the gallant parade, with -familiar faces seen amid the gleam of arms; his service in -Egypt—Tel-el-Kebir, with its frowning earthworks towering -through the star-lit gloom and dust of the night-march, till -the red artillery and musketry flashed over them in garlands -of fire, as the columns swept on and the Highland pipes sent -up their pæan of victory! -</p> - -<p> -Then came memories of Kashgate—its bloody and -ghastly massacre—the flight therefrom into the desert; and -then sweet Merlwood and Hester Maule, and Annot with -her fair and goddess-like loveliness. -</p> - -<p> -Then came the realities of the present again in all their -misery, power, and sway—the ceaseless rush of the cold -stream, the pouring rain upon his upturned face, the drifting -clouds, the occasional glinting of the stars, the rustle of -the wet leaves torn from the trees by the gusty wind, and -the too probable chances of the coming death through pain, -chill, exposure, and utter exhaustion. -</p> - -<p> -Again, exerting all his powers, a despairing cry escaped -him, and this time a sound responded. It was only a heron, -however, that, full of terror, seemed to flash out from its -nest in the rocks, and winged its way out of sight in a -moment. -</p> - -<p> -As he lay there it seemed to him as if time had a -torturing power of spinning out its seconds, minutes, and hours -that he had never known it to have before. -</p> - -<p> -But to lie there perishing within almost rifle-shot of the -roof under which he was born—so near his friends and so -many who loved him—Annot more than all—was a terrible -conviction—one apparently unnatural, unrealizable! -</p> - -<p> -The mist had gone now, and the dark rocks between -which he lay began to assume strange and gruesome forms -in the weird light of the occasional stars, still more so when -once or twice a weird glimpse of the stormy moon penetrated -into the Cleugh. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, God!' cried he imploringly, 'to perish—to perish -thus!' -</p> - -<p> -At that moment, in a swiftly passing gleam of moonshine, -he saw a face—a human face—peering over the rocks above -as if seeking to penetrate the watery gloom below, and again -a cry for help—help for the sake of mercy, for the sake of -Heaven, escaped him. -</p> - -<p> -For a moment, we say, the face was there; the next it -vanished, as a dark mass of cloud swept over the silver -disc of the moon, and a sound, painfully and unmistakably -like a mocking laugh, reached the ears of the -sufferer. -</p> - -<p> -The face—if face it actually was—and not that of the -fabled fiend, the Kelpie of the Cleugh, appeared no more; -the hours went by; no succour came, and Roland, as he -now resigned himself to the worst, believed that what he -had seen, or thought he had seen, was but the creation of -his own fevered and over-excited fancy. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap31"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXXI. -<br /><br /> -'ALL OVER NOW!' -</h3> - -<p> -But it was no delirious delusion of Roland's that he had -seen a human face, or heard a human voice respond -mockingly to his despairing cry for aid. -</p> - -<p> -It singularly chanced that about an hour before midnight, -and during a lull in the storm, Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, -who—as we have said—had been seen hovering about the -vicinity of Earlshaugh, was betaking himself thither, intent -on seeing his sister, the mistress thereof (whom he also -deemed his banker) concerning some of his monetary affairs, -and had been passing on foot by the narrow sheep-path that -skirted the verge of the dangerous Cleugh, when the -occasional cries of the sufferer reached his ear, and on peering -down he had speedily discovered by his voice <i>who</i> that -sufferer was. -</p> - -<p> -He paused for a minute till quite assured of the fact, and -though at a loss to conceive how the event had come to -pass, he proceeded with quickened steps for some miles, -till he reached the private entrance—for which he had a -key—but not for the purpose of raising an alarm, or -procuring or sending forth succour. Of that he had not the -least intention, as we shall show. 'In the place where the -tree falleth, there let it lie,' was the text of Mr. Hawkey -Sharpe just then. -</p> - -<p> -He found the entire household on the <i>qui vive</i>, and heard -that Roland Lindsay was missing, thus corroborating to the -fullest extent any detail that might be wanting, and obviating -all doubt as to the episode at the Cleugh. -</p> - -<p> -'What a fuss,' said he mockingly, 'about a storm of rain!' -</p> - -<p> -It now rested with him, by the utterance of a single word, -or little more, to save the missing one from a miserable and -lingering death; but that word remained unuttered, and -with a grim and mocking smile upon his coarse lips, and a -gleam of fiendish joy in his watery gray eyes, he proceeded -to his sanctum, up the old turret stair, without the sensation -of his steps going downward according to the household -tradition. -</p> - -<p> -'Lindsay lost in this storm!' he thought. 'How came -he to tumble or to be thrown down there—thrown, by -whom?' he added mentally, for his mind was ever prone to -evil. 'Then I am not wrong—it <i>was</i> his voice I heard at -the bottom of the Kelpie's Cleugh! Ha! ha! let him lie -there till the greedy gleds pick his bones to pieces! -Well—come what may, I have had no hand in <i>this</i>!' he -continued, thinking doubtless of the charge of No. 5 aimed at -Captain Elliot. -</p> - -<p> -Roland had often goaded Hawkey to the verge of madness -by his cool, haughty bearing and unassailable scorn, -even at times when the latter secretly amused him by the -'society' airs he strove to assume; but Hawkey's time for -vengeance seemed to have come unexpectedly and all -unsought for; and in fancy still he seemed to glare gloatingly -down into the dark chasm where the pale sufferer lay in his -peril, doubtless with many a bone broken, and the waters -of the burn rising fast, for the rain was falling in torrents, -and there was a <i>spate</i> in all the mountain streams. -</p> - -<p> -Hawkey threw off his soaked coat, invested his figure in -a loose, warm <i>robe de chambre</i>, and took a bottle of his -favourite 'blend' from his private cellarette, after which he -threw himself into an easy-chair, with his feet upon another, -and strove to reflect. -</p> - -<p> -'I always thought, if I could get rid of that fellow Lindsay -by fair means or foul, this place would certainly be mine, -unless Deb plays the fool—mine! The girl in my way is -nothing, yet I may have her too, and if not, the <i>other</i> one -with the yellow hair. After what I saw by a gleam of the -Macfarlanes' lantern to-night, the way seems pretty clear -now!' -</p> - -<p> -He tugged his straw-coloured moustache, and after fixing -his eyes with a self-satisfied glare on vacancy for a full -minute, rang the bell for supper imperiously. -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Hawkey Sharpe was one who never troubled himself -about the past, and seldom about the future; his enjoyment -was in the present, and the mere fact of living well and -jollily without having work to do. -</p> - -<p> -Just then he was pretty full of alcohol and exultant -hope—two very good things in their way to lay in a stock of. -He cared little what he did, but he dreaded greatly -discovery in any of his little trickeries. -</p> - -<p> -To him the world was divided into two portions, those -who cheat and those who are cheated. -</p> - -<p> -'Rid of Lindsay,' was the ever-recurring thought; 'rid of -his presence, local influence, and d——d impudence, I shall -have this place again more than ever to myself, if I can only -throw a little dust in Deb's eyes, and have, perhaps, my -choice of these two stunning girls when I choke off that -other snob, Elliot.' -</p> - -<p> -Excitement consequent on this most unlooked-for episode -at the Cleugh had nearly driven out of his mind the object -which had brought him that night to Earlshaugh, and his -last potations of hot whisky toddy at The Thane of Fife, a -tavern or roadside inn on the skirts of the park, had for a -time rather clouded his intellect, without, however, spoiling -his usually excellent appetite. -</p> - -<p> -Thus when Tom Trotter arrived with a large silver tray—a -racing trophy of the late laird's career—covered with a -spotless white napkin, and having thereon curried lobster, -mutton cutlets, devilled kidneys, and beef kabobs on silver -skewers, with a bottle of Mumm, he drew in his chair and -made a repast, all the more pleasantly perhaps that he heard -at intervals the clang of the great house bell overhead, and -saw the lanterns of the searchers like glow-worms amid the -storm of rain and wind, as they set forth again on their -bootless errand, and then a smile that Mephistopheles might -have envied spread over his face. -</p> - -<p> -'Lindsay lost!' he muttered jocularly. 'Well, there was -mair lost at Shirramuir when the Hielandman lost his faither -and mither, and a gude buff belt that was worth them -baith.' -</p> - -<p> -He had a habit, when liquor loosened his tongue, of -soliloquizing, and he was in this mood to-night. -</p> - -<p> -'Now, how to raise the ready!' he muttered, as he thrust -the silver salver aside, and drew the decanter once more -towards him, together with his briar-root and tobacco-pouch. -'The money I have lost must go to a fellow who is said to -possess the power of turning everything he touches to -gold—to gold! Gad, could I only do that, I wouldn't even -sponge on old Deb in Earlshaugh, or wait for a dead -woman's shoes. Besides, if I don't please her, she may -hand over the whole place to the Free Kirk; and, d—n -it, that's not to be thought of!—that body which, as she -always says, seceded so nobly, and scorned the loaves and -fishes. If I could only get hold of Deb's cheque-book; -but she keeps everything so devilish close and secure! -When a fellow comes to be as I am,' he continued, rolling -his eyes about and lighting his pipe with infinite -difficulty—'bravo!—there's a devil of a gust of wind—hope you like -it, Lindsay—when a fellow, I say, comes to be as I am, -with an infinitesimal balance at the banker's and not much -credit with his tailor, he can't be particular to a shade what -he does—and so about the cheque-book——' -</p> - -<p> -'What have you been doing <i>now</i>?' asked a voice behind him. -</p> - -<p> -His sister Deborah again! He grew very pale and nearly -dropped his pipe. 'How much had she overhead?' was -his first thought; 'curse this habit of thinking aloud!' was -his second. -</p> - -<p> -'You are always stealing on a fellow unawares, Deb,' said -he, in a thick and uncertain voice; 'it is deuced -unpleasant—startles one so.' -</p> - -<p> -Her face was pale as usual; but her eyes and mouth -expressed anger, pain, and a good deal of indignation and -contempt too. -</p> - -<p> -'What have you done?' she demanded categorically. -</p> - -<p> -'Nothing,' said he, striving to collect his thoughts; 'but -made my way here in a devil of a shower, for want of other -shelter.' -</p> - -<p> -'You know what has happened?' -</p> - -<p> -'To Lindsay—yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'You do?' she exclaimed, making a step forward, with a -hand on her side, as if her usual pain was there. -</p> - -<p> -'I know that he is absent—missing—that is all,' he replied -doggedly. -</p> - -<p> -'Nothing more?' -</p> - -<p> -'Nothing more—and care little, as you may suppose,' he -replied, avoiding her keen searching eye by carefully filling -his pipe. 'There is always some row on,' he grumbled; -'what a petty world this is after all—I wonder if the fixed -stars are inhabited.' -</p> - -<p> -'That will not matter to you, I should think.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'You will go some other way, I fear.' -</p> - -<p> -'Deb, your surmise is unpleasant.' -</p> - -<p> -The manner of Hawkey Sharpe to his sister had lost, just -then, much of its general self-contained assurance. She -detected the change, and it rendered her suspicious. -</p> - -<p> -'Save this poor little dog Fifine,' said she, caressing the -cur she carried under an arm, and which was greedily -sniffing the <i>débris</i> of Mr. Hawkey's supper, 'I do not know -a living creature who really cares for me!' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh—come now, Deb—hang it!' said her brother in an -expostulatory manner. -</p> - -<p> -'You have some object in coming here to-night,' said she -sternly; 'to the point at once, Hawkey?' -</p> - -<p> -'Well, since you force me, Deb—I have been unfortunate -in some speculations.' -</p> - -<p> -'Is it thus you describe your losses on the race-course?' -</p> - -<p> -'At the western meeting—yes—backed the wrong or -losing horse—<i>Scottish Patriot</i>—devil of a mess, Deb!' -</p> - -<p> -'And lost—how much? An unlucky name.' -</p> - -<p> -'Two thousand pounds—must have the money somehow—I'm -booked for it, and you know the adage— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "A horse kicking, a dog biting,<br /> - A gentleman's word without his writing,"<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -are none of them in my way.' -</p> - -<p> -'I know nothing of the adage, but this I know—there are -bounds to patience.' -</p> - -<p> -'My dear Deb!' said he coaxingly. -</p> - -<p> -'I have lost much—too much, indeed, through you—money -that might be put to good and holy uses—and now -shall lose no more!' -</p> - -<p> -Turning abruptly, she swept away and left him. -</p> - -<p> -He looked after her with absolutely a red glare of rage in -his pale gray eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'Good and holy uses—meaning the kirk of course!' he -muttered with a savage malediction. 'We shall see—we -shall see. She must have heard me muttering about her -cheque-book—ass that I am; but that money I must have -before three months are past if I rake Pandemonium for -it!' -</p> - -<p> -Again the clanging of the house bell fell upon his ear, and -he heard the storm as it rose and died away to rise again. -He took another glass of stiff grog and glared at the great -antique clock on the mantel-shelf. -</p> - -<p> -'Three in the morning,' he muttered. 'It must be all -over with <i>him</i> by this time—all over now!' -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap32"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXII. -<br /><br /> -PELION ON OSSA. -</h3> - -<p> -The rain and the wind were over; the storm had passed -away into the German Sea, as perhaps more than one luckless -craft found to its cost between Fife Ness and the shores -of Jutland. -</p> - -<p> -It was over in the vicinity of Earlshaugh; the sluices of -heaven seemed to have emptied themselves at last; but the -atmosphere, if clear, was damp and laden with rain, and the -masses of ivy, rent and torn by the wind, flapped against the -walls of the old manor-house. -</p> - -<p> -The hour was early; bright and clear the morning had -come from the German Sea, and a freshness lay over all the -fields and groves of the East Neuk. After such a terrible -night there seemed something fairy-like in such a morning -with all its details, but the excitement was yet keen in -Earlshaugh. -</p> - -<p> -The horse-chestnuts still wore their changing livery of -shining gold, and the mountain ash looked gray, but lime -and linden were alike nearly stripped of their leaves; and -when the breeze blew through the old oaks of the King's -Wood the pale acorns came tumbling out of their cups—the -tiny drinking-cups of the freakish elves that once abode in -the Fairy Den. -</p> - -<p> -Old Jamie Spens, the ex-poacher, now came with startling -tidings to Earlshaugh. A shepherd's dog—one of those -Scottish collies, of all dogs the most faithful, intelligent, and -useful, as they can discover by the scent any sheep that may -have the misfortune to be overblown by the snow, had been -seen careering wildly in the vicinity of the rocky Cleugh, -disappearing down it, to return to the verge barking and -yelping loudly, as if he had evidently discovered someone or -something there. -</p> - -<p> -Old Spens had looked down, and too surely saw the -young laird lying pale, still, and motionless. -</p> - -<p> -'Dead?' asked a score of voices. -</p> - -<p> -'After sic a nicht and sic a fa' what could ye expect?' said -the old man with tears in his eyes as he remembered -Roland's kindness to himself, adding, as he shook his grizzled -head, 'but I hope no—I hope no.' -</p> - -<p> -Spens had found Roland's gun, and a golden pheasant, -dead, near the edge of the Cleugh, for which a party at once -set out in all haste, Hester and Maude, pale and colourless -after such a sleepless night, too impatient to wait for the -pony phaeton which Jack Elliot offered to drive, preceding -them all, for the scene of the catastrophe was at some -distance from the house. -</p> - -<p> -'They laugh longest who laugh last,' muttered Hawkey -Sharpe to himself, as—while pausing on the brow of an -eminence beyond the Weird Yett—he saw this party setting -forth, a large group of servants and keepers with poles and -ropes—and he shook his clenched hand mockingly and -threateningly as he added, 'do your best, but -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - '"In the midst of your glee,<br /> - You've no seen the last o' my bonnet and me!"'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Annot did not accompany this excited party; it might be -that her strength was unequal to it at such an hour and over -such ground, or it might be that she had not heart enough -for it. There is no secret of the latter, says a French writer, -that our actions do not disclose; and as Annot's heart -seemed—well, Hester Maule cared not then to analyze it; -she was too disgusted to be angry. -</p> - -<p> -But Annot, in all her selfish existence, had never before -been, as she thought, face to face with the most awful -tragedy of life—Death—and she shrank from the too -probable necessity now. -</p> - -<p> -So she remained behind with Mrs. Lindsay. She was not -accustomed to such rough weather and such exhibitions; -she would get her poor little feet wet; she was subject to -catching cold; the morning was full of rain and wind—it -was still quite tempestuous—such was never seen in -London; so Maude and Hester swept away in contemptuous -silence, leaving her, well shawled and cowering close to the -fire in Mrs. Lindsay's luxurious boudoir, and thought no -more about her, as she remained motionless, silent, and with -her eyes certainly full of tears, fixed on the changing features -of the glowing coals, and seeing her hopes of Earlshaugh too -probably drifting far away in distance, now! -</p> - -<p> -Could this calamity be real? was the ever-recurrent -thought in the mind of Hester. It seemed too fearful—too -horrible to be true! Was she dreaming, and the victim of a -hideous nightmare, from which she would awake? -</p> - -<p> -With all their impatience and anxiety to get on, the -keepers, servants, and others stepped short in mistaken -kindness or courtesy to the two young ladies who accompanied -them; but in an incredibly short space of time the -yawning Cleugh was reached, where the shepherd's faithful -dog was still on guard, bounding to and fro as they -approached, barking and yelping wildly; and with hearts that -beat high and painfully—every respiration seeming an -absolute spasm—Hester and Maude, who clung to Elliot's arm, -reached the verge of the chasm, and on looking down saw -too surely—as something like a wail escaped the lips of -each—Roland lying at the bottom, still and motionless, half in -and half out of the burn's rocky bed, as he, by the last efforts -of his strength, had painfully dragged or wrenched himself. -</p> - -<p> -Exclamations of commiseration and pity were now heard -on every hand. -</p> - -<p> -'This way, lads—round by the knowe foot,' cried old -Gavin Fowler. -</p> - -<p> -'No—by the other way—the descent is easier!' said -Elliot authoritatively; but heedless of both suggestions, -Hester Maule, like the gallant girl as she was, took a path of -her own, and went plunging down the very face of the rocks, -apparently! -</p> - -<p> -A cry of terror escaped the more timid Maude, as Hester -seemed to stumble and fall, or sway aside, but rose again and, -trembling, sobbing violently, in breathless and mental agony, -her delicate hands, which were gloveless, now torn and -bleeding by brambles and thorns, her beautiful brown hair -all unbound and rolling in a cascade down her back, finding -footing where others would have found none, grasping grass -and heather tufts; while the more wary were making a -circuit, she was the first to reach him, and kneel by his -side! -</p> - -<p> -Raising his head, she laid her cheek upon his cold brow, -while her tears fell hot and fast, and for a moment she felt -that this helpless creature was indeed her own, whom even -Annot Drummond could not take from her then. -</p> - -<p> -How pale, cold, sodden, and senseless he seemed! With -a moan of horror that felt as if it came from her wildly -beating heart, Hester applied to his lips a tiny hunting flask -of brandy with which she had, with admirable foresight, -supplied herself, and almost unconsciously he imbibed a few -drops. -</p> - -<p> -'Roland!' said Hester, in an agonized voice. -</p> - -<p> -A litter flicker of the eyelashes was the only response. -</p> - -<p> -'Thank God, he lives!' exclaimed the girl. -</p> - -<p> -'Annot, Annot!' he murmured. -</p> - -<p> -'Always—always the idea of chat girl!' sighed Hester -bitterly, and she withdrew her face from its vicinity to his -as Elliot, Gavin Fowler, Spens, and others came splashing -along the bed of the stream from two directions, above and -below the Cleugh, and ample succour had come now. -</p> - -<p> -What his injuries were, whether internal or external, or -both, none could know then. He seemed passive as a child, -weak and utterly exhausted. To all it was but too apparent -that had succour been longer of coming it had come too -late; but now there was no lack of loving and tender hands -to bear him homeward, and into his father's house. -</p> - -<p> -'Annot's name was the first word that escaped his lips,' -said Hester, as with torn and tremulous fingers she knotted -up her back hair into a coil, and seemed on the verge of -sinking, after her recent toil, and under her present -excitement and anxiety. -</p> - -<p> -'That girl has been his evil genius—his weird—I think,' -said Maude, who never liked Annot, and mistrusted her; -'and he will never be free so long as this weird hangs -on him.' -</p> - -<p> -'She, a Drummond! The town-bred coward!' exclaimed -Hester, her dark violet eyes flashing fire, while she coloured -at her own girlish energy. -</p> - -<p> -'The sooner she changes it to some characteristic one like -Popkins or Slopkins the better,' said Maude; 'but I think -she would prefer Lindsay.' -</p> - -<p> -'Telegraph to Edinburgh at once for Professor —— and -Dr. ——,' said Mrs. Lindsay, naming two of the chief -medical men (as Roland was carried up to his room), and -evincing an interest that surprised Maude, and for which her -brother, Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, would not have thanked her. -</p> - -<p> -'I'll see to that myself,' said Jack Elliot, betaking himself -at once to the stable-yard that he might ride to the nearest -railway-station, and meantime send on to Earlshaugh the -best local aid that could be obtained in hot haste. -</p> - -<p> -Roland's injuries were serious undoubtedly, but not so -much so as had been feared at first. -</p> - -<p> -These were a partial dislocation of the left thigh bone and -a strain of the right ankle, both of which bade fair to mar -his marching for many a day; with a general shock to the -whole system consequent on the fall (which, but for the turfy -ledge of rock that broke it, would have proved fatal) and -the exposure to the elements for a whole autumnal night of -storm and rain. But with care and nursing, the faculty—after -pulling him about again and again till he was well-nigh -mad, after much tugging of their nether lips, as if in deep -thought, consultations over dry sherry and biscuit, and -pocketing big fees in an abstracted kind of manner—had -no doubt, not the slightest doubt, in fact, that with his -naturally fine constitution he would soon 'pull through.' -</p> - -<p> -A crowd of people always hovered about the gate-lodges; -women came from their cottages, weavers, perhaps the last -of their trade, from their looms, and the ploughmen from -their furrows to inquire after the health of the young laird, -for such these kindly folks of the East Neuk deemed Roland -still, for of the mysterious will they knew little and cared -less; horsemen came and went, and carriages, too, the -owners with their faces full of genuine anxiety, for the -Lindsays of Earlshaugh were much respected and well -regarded as being among the oldest proprietors in a county -that has ever been rich in good old historical families; and -the veteran fox-hunting laird had been a prime favourite in -the field with all his compatriots. So again, as before, -during Jack Elliot's mishap, the bell of the <i>porte-cochère</i> sent -forth its clang in reply to many a kind inquiry. -</p> - -<p> -And many agreed with Maude that none in Earlshaugh -were likely to forget the unfortunate shooting season of that -particular year, as this calamity seemed to surpass the last. -It was grief upon grief, like the classic piling of Pelion -on Ossa. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap33"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXXIII. -<br /><br /> -A TANGLED SKEIN. -</h3> - -<p> -Natheless the fair promises of the faculty, Roland Lindsay -seemed to hover between life and death for days. They -were a time of watching, hoping, and fearing, and hoping -again, till every heart that loved him grew sick with -apprehension and anxiety. -</p> - -<p> -At first he looked like one all but dead; the great charm -of his face lay in the earnest and thoughtful expression of -his eyes, and in their rich brown colour; both were gone now, -and the clearly cut and refined lips, that denoted a brave, -gentle, and kindly nature, were blue and drawn; and a -slight sword cut upon the cheek, won at Kashgate, looked -rather livid just then. -</p> - -<p> -He was exhausted, languid, and passive, but, at times, -seemed to awaken into quickened intelligence; then anon -his mind would wander a little, and the names of Hester -and Annot were oddly mingled on his feverish tongue. -</p> - -<p> -But there was great joy when he became sensible of the -perfume of flowers—the sweetest from the conservatory—culled -and arranged by the loving hands of the former, in -the vases that ornamented his room, and when he fully -recognised the latter in attendance upon him. -</p> - -<p> -'My little wife—my child-wife that is to be,' he whispered, -'you love me still, though I am all shattered in this -fashion?' -</p> - -<p> -Then Annot caressed his hand, and placed her cheek -upon it. -</p> - -<p> -Guests had all departed, the key was turned in the -gun-room door; the dogs were idle in their kennels, and only -Elliot, Hester, and Annot remained as visitors at Earlshaugh. -The great house seemed very silent now; but Roland, as -strength and thought returned, was thankful that the guests -he had invited were gone. The difficulty of their presence -had been tided over without any unpleasantness (save the -affair of Elliot and Sharpe), and now he felt only a loathing -of his paternal home, with an intense longing to be gone—to -get well and strong—to keep well, and then go, he cared -not where at first, so that Annot was with him, and then back -to the regiment as soon as possible, even before his leave -was ended. -</p> - -<p> -Annot was now—unlike the Annot who cowered over the -boudoir fire on the morning when Roland was rescued—most -effusive in her expressions of regard and compassion, -though she was perhaps the most useless assistant a nurse -could have in a sick room, the air of which 'so oppressed -her poor little head;' and thus she was secretly not -ill-pleased when her services there were firmly, but politely, -dispensed with by old Mrs. Drugget, the portly housekeeper, -who had nursed Roland and his dead brother many a time -in their earlier years, and now made herself, as of old, -mistress of the situation. -</p> - -<p> -Annot's bearing on the eventful morning referred to -rankled in the memory of Maude and Hester. They strove -to dissemble and veil their growing dislike to, and mistrust -of, her under their old bearing and cordiality of habit; but -almost in vain, despite her winning, clinging, and child-like -ways and pretty tricks of manner. These seemed to fall -flatly now on ear and eye, and soon events were to -transpire with regard to that young lady which gave them cause -for much speculation, suspicion, and positive anger. -</p> - -<p> -She was soon sharp enough to discover that there was a -growing cloud between them, and took the precaution of -giving a hint thereof to Roland. She was somewhat of a -flirt, he knew very well; but there was no one in the house -to flirt with, now that Malcolm Skene and all the others -were gone; and he had consoled himself with the reflection -that she was devoted to him, and that her little flirtations -had been of a harmless nature, and the outcome of a spirit -of fun and <i>espièglerie</i>. -</p> - -<p> -And if Hester and Maude were somewhat disposed to be -severe on Annot and reprehend this, he knew by experience -that ladies who adopt the <i>rôle</i> of pleasing the opposite sex -are rarely appreciated by their fair sisters. -</p> - -<p> -Mrs. Lindsay when she visited Roland from time to time, -as he thought to watch his progress towards health and -departure, felt thankful, though of course she gave no hint -thereof, that her brother had at least no active hand in the -misfortune that had befallen him. -</p> - -<p> -'The guests I somewhat intrusively invited here are all -gone, Mrs. Lindsay,' said he on one occasion, 'and I shall -soon relieve you, I hope, of the trouble my own presence -gives you.' -</p> - -<p> -'Captain Lindsay—Roland—do not talk so,' she replied, -either feeling some compunction then for the false position -of them both, or veiling her old constitutional dislike of him, -which, Roland cared not now. Calm, cold, self-contained, -and self-possessed, Mrs. Lindsay, as usual, was beautifully -and tastefully dressed in rich black material, with fine lace -lappets over her thick, fair hair, and setting off her -colourless and lineless face. Her expression, we have said -elsewhere, was not ill-tempered but generally hard and -unsympathetic, and now it was softer than Roland had ever -seen it, and something of a smile like watery sunshine -hovered about her thin and firm lips, and to his surprise -she even stroked his hair with something of maternal -kindness as she left him, pleased simply because he had uttered -some passing compliment to the effect that he was glad to see -her looking so well and in such good health. But she and -Maude were not, never were, and never could be, friends. -</p> - -<p> -'I should like to know precisely the secret of this prison -house,' thought the observant Annot, as she saw this unusual -action. -</p> - -<p> -If a 'prison house,' it suited her tastes admirably; but -she was fated to learn some of the secrets thereof sooner -perhaps than she wished. -</p> - -<p> -A month and more had passed now; Roland was becoming -convalescent; he could even enjoy a cigar or pipe -with Jack Elliot, and had been promoted from his bed to a -couch in a cosy corner of his room; and he felt that now -the time had come when he ought to break to Annot the -true story of how monetary matters stood with him at -Earlshaugh. -</p> - -<p> -A heavy feeling gathered in his heart as this conviction -forced itself upon him—a sensation as of lead; yet he -scorned to think that he would have to cast himself upon -her generosity, or ask for her pity. -</p> - -<p> -Compared with what might and ought to have been, his -prospects now were, in many respects, gloomy to look -forward to; but he had fully taken breathing time before -breaking to her news which, he greatly feared, might be -testing and grievously disappointing. -</p> - -<p> -But it would be unmanly to trifle longer with Annot, or -dally with their mutual fate. Yet how was he to preface -the most unwelcome intelligence that he was no longer—indeed, -never was—laird of that stately mansion and splendid -estate, with all its fields, wood, and waters? -</p> - -<p> -How he dreaded the humiliating revelation—yet why so, -if she loved him? -</p> - -<p> -Taking an opportunity when they were alone, and the -two other girls, escorted by Elliot, had gone for a 'spin' on -horseback, he drew her tenderly towards him, with one arm -round her slender waist and one hand clasping hers, which -still had his engagement ring on a baby-like finger, while -gazing earnestly down into her sunny eyes, which were -uplifted to his with something of inquiry in them, he said: -</p> - -<p> -'I have news, darling—terrible news to reveal to you at -last.' -</p> - -<p> -'News?' she repeated in a whisper. -</p> - -<p> -'Of a nature, perhaps, beyond your imagining,' said he -in a voice that became low and husky despite its tenderness. -</p> - -<p> -'What do you mean, Roland? You frighten me, dearest!' -</p> - -<p> -He pressed her closer to him, and she felt that his hands -were trembling violently. -</p> - -<p> -'Annot, I have a hundred times and more heard you say -that you loved me for myself, and would continue to love -me were I poor—poor as Job himself.' -</p> - -<p> -'Of course I have often said so, and I do love you; but -why do you ask this question now? What has happened? -Why are you so strange?' she asked, changing colour and -looking decidedly restless in eye and manner. 'Are you -not well? How cold your poor hands are, and how they -tremble!' -</p> - -<p> -She drooped her fairy-like head, with all its wealth of -shining golden hair, upon his shoulder, and looked upward -keenly, if tenderly, into his downcast eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'Has any new calamity occurred to distress you?' -</p> - -<p> -'Nothing that is new—to me.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why, then— -</p> - -<p> -'It is this. I am not Lindsay of Earlshaugh—not the -owner of the estate I mean. I am poor, poor, Annot, yet -not penniless; I have my old allowance and my pay—but -this beautiful estate is not mine.' -</p> - -<p> -'Not yours?' -</p> - -<p> -'No—not a foot of it—not a tree—not a stone!' -</p> - -<p> -Her lips were firmly set, and the rose-leaf tint in her -delicate cheeks died away. -</p> - -<p> -'Whose, then, is it?' -</p> - -<p> -'My father—weakly—my father——' -</p> - -<p> -'To whom did he leave the property?' she asked, lifting -her head from his shoulder and speaking with a sharpness -he did not then notice; 'is it as I have heard whispered?' -</p> - -<p> -'To my stepmother—yes. You knew of that—you -suspected it, my darling?' he added, with a sudden access -of hope and joy—hope in her unselfishness and purity of -love. -</p> - -<p> -She made no immediate reply. -</p> - -<p> -'Is this unjust will tenable?' she asked, after a time. -</p> - -<p> -'It is without flaw, Annot. My father left her all he -possessed, with the power of bequeathing it to whom she -pleases, without hindrance or restriction.' -</p> - -<p> -'Cruel and infamous! And who, my poor Roland, is -her heir?' -</p> - -<p> -'That reptile, Hawkey Sharpe, I presume.' -</p> - -<p> -Something between a gasping sigh and a nervous laugh -escaped Annot, who said, after a little pause, during -which he regarded her fair face with intense and yearning -anxiety: -</p> - -<p> -'I thought you as prosperous a gentleman as the Thane -of Cawdor himself; but this is terrible—terrible!' -</p> - -<p> -And as she spoke there was something in her tone -that jarred painfully on his then sensitive and overstrung -nerves. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Annot assured him of her unalterable love, whatever lay -before them—whatever happened or came to pass—was he -not her own—her very own! She wound her arms about -his neck; she caressed him in her sweet, and to all -appearance, infantile way, striving to reassure him; to soothe, -console, and implant fresh confidence in his torn and -humbled heart; but with all this, there was a new and -curious ring in her voice—a want of something in its tone, -and erelong in her eye and manner, that stung him keenly -and alarmed him. -</p> - -<p> -What did this mean? Did she resent his supposed -duplicity as to his means and position? But he consoled -himself that he would soon have her away from Earlshaugh, -with all its influences, associations, and the false hopes and -impressions it had given her, and then she would be his -own—his own indeed. -</p> - -<p> -'How loving, how true, gentle, and good she is! Do I -indeed deserve such disinterested affection?' were his -constant thoughts. -</p> - -<p> -He disliked, however, to find that Annot had begun to -cultivate the friendship of Mrs. Lindsay—"Deb Sharpe" as -she was uncompromisingly called by Maude, who was -always on most distant terms with that personage; and to -find that she was ever in or about her rooms, doing little -acts of daughter-like attention such as Maude, with all her -sweetness of disposition, had never accorded; even to -fondling, feeding, and washing her snarling pug Fifine; and -Mrs. Lindsay, of whom other ladies had always been -rather shy, and towards whom they had always comported -themselves somewhat coldly and with that cutting hauteur -which even the best bred women can best assume, felt -correspondingly grateful to the little London beauty for -her friendship and recognition. -</p> - -<p> -The splendour of the house, the richness of the ancient -furniture and appurtenances, the delicacies of the table, the -attendance, the comfortable profusion of everything, had -been duly noted and duly appreciated by Annot, and she -felt that it was with sincere regret she would quit the -fleshpots of Earlshaugh. -</p> - -<p> -More than once, when promenading about the corridors -with the aid of a stick, Roland had surprised her in -tears. -</p> - -<p> -'Tears—my darling—why—what!' he began. -</p> - -<p> -'It is nothing,' she replied, with a little flush. 'I am -oppressed, I suppose, by the emptiness and size of this -great house. I am such an impressionable little thing you -know, Roland.' -</p> - -<p> -'We can't amend the size of the house,' said he, smiling, -'but a cosier and a smaller one awaits us elsewhere, when -you are my dear little wife, and we quit this place, once so -dear to me, as I never thought to quit it in disgust—for -ever!' -</p> - -<p> -Seeing the varying moods of Annot, and the occasional -petulance, even coldness, with which she sometimes ventured -to treat Roland now, Hester, remembering that young -lady's confidences with reference to Mr. Bob Hoyle and -other 'detrimentals,' her avowed passion for money, and -how a moneyed match was a necessity of her life, and -knowing Roland's changed position and fortunes—Hester, -we say, was not slow in putting 'two and two together,' to -use a common adage, to the detriment of Annot in her -estimation. -</p> - -<p> -'I would that I were a strong-minded woman,' said the -latter reproachfully, as she and Roland lingered one evening -in a corridor that was a veritable picture gallery (for there -hung the Lindsays of other days, as depicted by the brushes -of the Jamesons, the Scougals, De Medinas, Raeburns, and -Watsons in the striking costumes of their times), and -Roland had been taking her a little to task for some of her -petulant remarks. -</p> - -<p> -'A strong-minded woman,' he repeated. 'Nonsense! -But why?' -</p> - -<p> -'Then I should cease to annoy you, and join an Anglican -Sisterhood, to nurse the poor and all that sort of thing.' -</p> - -<p> -She pouted prettily as she spoke—sweetly, with all her -softest dimples coming into play. -</p> - -<p> -'Are you not perfectly happy, Annot?' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, yes—yes!' she exclaimed, and interlaced her fingers -on his arm; yet he eyed her moodily, and lovingly, ignorant -of the secret source of her discontent or disquietude. -</p> - -<p> -'How can I take her to task,' thought he; 'already -too! so fair, so bright, with her hair like spun gold!' -</p> - -<p> -He tried to catch and retain her loving glance, but the -corners of her pretty mouth were drooping, and her eyes of -pale hazel looked dreamily and vacantly out on the far -extent of sunlit park and the white fleecy clouds that -floated above it; but he thought he read that in her face -which made him long for health and strength to take her -away from Earlshaugh to the new home he had now begun -to picture, and seldom a day passed now without something -occuring to increase this wish. -</p> - -<p> -'Roland,' said Maude on one occasion, as she drove -him out through the pleasant lanes in her pretty pony phaeton, -'that odious creature Hawkey Sharpe is still, I understand, -hovering about here.' -</p> - -<p> -'Bent on mischief, you think?' -</p> - -<p> -'Too probably.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well, I am powerless to prevent him. He is, you -know, his sister's factotum and now all but Laird of -Earlshaugh.' -</p> - -<p> -Though possessing no brilliant beauty, the face of the -sunny-haired Maude was one usually full of merriment, and -capable of expressing intense tenderness—one winning -beyond all words; but it grew cloudy and stern at the -thought of 'these interlopers,' as she always called -them—Deborah Sharpe and her obnoxious brother. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap34"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXXIV. -<br /><br /> -THE PRESENTIMENT. -</h3> - -<p> -Among her letters one morning—though her chief correspondent -was her father, the old Indian veteran at Merlwood, -whose shaky caligraphy there was no mistaking—there came -one which gave Hester a species of electric shock. It bore -the postmarks 'Egypt' and 'Cairo,' with stamps having the -Pyramids and Sphinx's head thereon. -</p> - -<p> -'From Malcolm Skene!' she said to herself; 'Malcolm -Skene, and to <i>me</i>!' -</p> - -<p> -She hurried to her room that she might read it in solitude, -for it was impossible that she could fail to do so with deep -interest after all that Malcolm Skene had said to her, and -the knowledge of all that might have been—yea, yet perhaps -might be; but the letter, dated more than a month before at -Cairo, simply began:— -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="noindent"> -'MY DEAR MISS MAULE, -</p> - -<p> -'My excuse for writing to you,' he continued, 'is—and -your pardon must be accorded to me therefore—that I am -ordered on a distant, solitary, and perilous duty, from which -I have, for the first time in my life, a curious, yet solemn, -presentiment that I shall never return. -</p> - -<p> -'This emotion may, please God, be a mistake; and I -hope so, for my dear mother's sake. It may only be that -superstition which some deem impiety; but we Skenes of -Dunnimarle have had it in more than one generation—a -kind of foreknowledge of what was to happen to us, or to -be said or done by those we met. As some one has it, the -map of coming events is before us, and the spirit surveys -it, and for the time we are translated into another sphere, -and re-act, perhaps, foregone scenes. Be that as it may, -the unbidden emotion of presentiment seems to have some -affinity to that phenomenon.' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -'What a strange letter; and how unlike Malcolm—thoughtful -and grave as he is!' was Hester's idea. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -'I read a few days ago that some calamity had occurred -at Earlshaugh; that my dear old friend and comrade -Roland had met with an accident—had <i>disappeared</i>! What -did that mean? But too probably I shall never learn now, -and, as I have not again seen the matter referred to in -print, hope it may all be a canard—a mistake. -</p> - -<p> -'You remember our last interview? Oh, Hester, while -life remains to me I shall never, never forget it? I think -or hope you may care for me now in pity as we are separated—or -might learn to care for me at a future time. Tell -me to wait that time; if I return from my mission, Hester, -and I shall do so—yea, were it seven years, if you wish it -to be—if at the end of those seven years you would lay -your dear hand in mine and tell me that you would be my -wife. -</p> - -<p> -'The waiting would be hard; yet, if inspired by hope, I -would undergo it, Hester, and trust while life was spared to -me. We are told that "the meshes of our destiny are -spinning every day," silently, deftly, and we unconsciously -aid in the spinning—scarcely knowing that—as we stumble -through the darkness to the everlasting light—the dangers -we have passed by, and the fires we have passed through, -are all, in different ways, the process that makes us godlike, -strong and free.' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Much more followed that was a little abstruse, and then -he seemed to become loving and tender in spite of the -manner in which he strove to modify his letter. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -'I depart in an hour, and tide what may, my last thoughts -will ever be of you—my last wish a prayer for your happiness! -My life's love—my life's love, for such you are still—once -more farewell! -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -'MALCOLM SKENE.' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Certainly the gentle-hearted Hester could not but be -moved by this letter, coming as it did under all the circumstances -from the writer in a remote and perilous land. She -looked at the date after perusing the letter more than once, -and her spirit sank with a dread of what might have -transpired since then. -</p> - -<p> -She recalled vividly the face of Malcolm Skene, and his -eyes, that were soft yet full of power, more frequently grave -than merry, and his firm lips. He was a man whose -features and bearing would have been remarkable amid any -group of men, and the first to arrest a woman's attention -and arouse her interest. -</p> - -<p> -But as she re-read his expressions of love she shook her -handsome head slowly and gravely, and thought with -Collins: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - Friendship often ends in love,<br /> - But love in friendship never!'<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -To this letter a terrible sequel was close at hand. This she -found in the newspapers of the following day, and while her -whole mind was full of that remarkable and most unexpected -missive to which she could send no answer: -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -'Captain Malcolm Skene, who with a native guide quitted -Cairo some weeks ago, has not been heard of since he -entered the Wady Faregh, at a point more than ten Egyptian -<i>shoni</i> or thirty miles British, beyond Memphis, which was -not in his direct way. -</p> - -<p> -'This energetic and distinguished young officer is the -bearer of despatches to the Egyptian Colonel commanding -a Camel Battery and Black Battalion near Dayer-el-Syrian, -which district he certainly had not reached when the latest -intelligence came from that somewhat desolate quarter. -</p> - -<p> -'Doubts are now—when too late—entertained as to the -fidelity of Hassan Abdullah, his guide. A camel supposed -to have been his has been found dead of thirst in the -desert, and as there have been some dreadful sand-storms -in that district, the greatest fears are entertained at -headquarters that Captain Skene has perished in the -wilderness—dying in the execution of his duty to his Queen and -country, as truly and as bravely as if he had met a soldier's -death in battle.' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -The paper slipped from Hester's hands, and she sank -forward till her forehead rested on the sill of a window near -which she sat. She knew this paragraph meant too probably -a terrible and unknown death, the harrowing details of -which might—nay, too surely, never would—be revealed—death -to one who had loved her but too well, and thus all -her soul became instinct with a tender and fearful interest -in him. -</p> - -<p> -'Poor Malcolm—poor Malcolm Skene!' she murmured -again and again, while her face, ashy white, was hidden in -her hands. -</p> - -<p> -Few women can fail to take a tender interest in the fate -or future of any man who has been <i>interested</i> in them. -</p> - -<p> -For a long time she sat still—nay, still as a statue, but -for the regular and slow rising and falling of the ribbons -and lace at her bosom, and the ruffling of her dark brown -hair in the breeze that came through the open window, -kissing her white temples and cooling her eyelids. -</p> - -<p> -Then she recalled her father's strange and weird story of -his father's dream, vision, or presentiment, before the -storming of Jhansi, where the latter fell; and thought with -wonder, could such things be? -</p> - -<p> -She confided the letter and its contents to her bosom -friend Maude; but she could not—for cogent reasons—bring -herself to say a word on the subject to Roland, whose -mind, however, was full enough of the newspaper report -of his old friend's misfortune, or as he never doubted -now—evil fate! -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap35"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXXV. -<br /><br /> -LOST IN THE DESERT. -</h3> - -<p> -Natheless his somewhat gloomy letter to Hester Maule, -Malcolm Skene, though feeling to the fullest extent the -influence of the presentiment of evil therein referred to, was -too young, and of too elastic a nature, not to feel also a -sense of ardour, enterprise, and enthusiasm at the -confidence reposed in him by his superiors. With an inherent -love of adventure and a certain recklessness of spirit, he -armed himself, mounted, and quitted his quarters at Cairo -just when the first red rays of the morning sun were tipping -with light the summit of the citadel or the apex of each -distant pyramid, and rode on his solitary way—solitary all -save Hassan, the swarthy Egyptian guide provided for him -by the Quartermaster-General's Department. -</p> - -<p> -He had been chiefly selected for the duty in question—to -bear despatches to the <i>Amir-Ali</i>, or Colonel, commanding -the Egyptian force at Dayr-el-Syrian, in consequence of his -proficiency in Arabic—the most prevailing language of the -country. -</p> - -<p> -He and his guide were mounted on camels. Skene's was -one of great beauty, if an animal so ungainly can be said -to possess it, with a small head, short ears, and bending -neck. Its tail was long, its hoofs small, and it was swift of -action. The rider was without baggage; he wore his fighting -kit of Khakee cloth and tropical helmet with a pugaree. -He had his sword and revolver, with goggles, and a pocket -compass for use if his guide in any way proved at fault. -</p> - -<p> -Unnoticed he traversed the picturesque streets that lay -between the citadel and the gate that led by a straight road -towards the castle and gardens of Ghizeh, passing the groups -and features incident to Cairo: a lumbering train of British -baggage waggons, escorted by our soldiers in clay-coloured -khakee with bayonets fixed; an Egyptian officer in sky-blue -uniform and red tarboosh 'tooling' along on a circus-like -Arab; a whole regiment of darkies, perhaps with rattling -drums and French bugles; strings of maimed, deformed, -and blind beggars; private carriages with outriders in -Turkish costumes of white muslin with gold embroideries, -and bare-legged grooms; 'the gallant, gray donkeys of -which Cairo is so proud, and which the Cairenes delight in -naming after European celebrities, from Mrs. Langtry to -Lord Wolseley;' singers of Nubian and Arabian songs and -dealers in Syrian magic, all were left behind, and in the cool -air of the morning Malcolm Skene found himself ambling -on his camel under the shadows of the lebbek trees, with -wading buffaloes and flocks of herons on either side of the -road as he skirted the plain where the Pyramids stand—the -Pyramids that mock Time, which mocks all things. -</p> - -<p> -He was too familiar with them then to bestow on them -more than a passing glance, and rode forward on his -somewhat lonely way. Hassan, his guide, like a true Arab, -uttered a mocking yell on seeing the vast stony face of the -Sphinx—an efrit—fired a pistol, and threw stones at it, as -at a devil, and then civilization was left behind. -</p> - -<p> -Trusting to his guide Hassan, Skene was taken a few -miles off his direct route southward down the left bank of -the Nile, and while riding on, turning from time to time to -converse with that personage, who was a typical Fellah—very -dark-skinned, with good teeth, black and sparkling -eyes, muscular of form, yet spare of habit, and clad simply -in loose blue cotton drawers with a blue tunic and red -tarboosh—it seemed that his face and voice were somehow -not unfamiliar to him. -</p> - -<p> -But where, amid the thousands of low-class Fellaheen in -Cairo, could Malcolm Skene have seen the former or heard -the latter? Never before had he heard of Hassan -Abdullah even by name. But 'strange it is, for how many -days and weeks we may be haunted by a <i>likeness</i> before we -know what it is that is gladdening us with sweet recollections, -or vexing us with some association we hoped to have -left behind.' -</p> - -<p> -Memphis, with its ruins and mounds, in the midst of -which stand the Arab hamlets of Sokkara and Mitraheny, -was traversed with some difficulty, though the site is now -chiefly occupied by waste and marshes that reach to the -sand-hills on the edge of the desert; but from Abusir all -round to the west and south, for miles, Skene and his guide -found themselves stepping from grave to grave amid bones -and fragments of mummy cloth—the remains of that wondrous -necropolis which, according to Strabo, extended half -a day's journey each way from the great city of Central Egypt. -</p> - -<p> -'Ugh!' muttered Malcolm Skene, as he guided the steps -of his camel and lighted more than one long havannah, -'this is anything but lively! What a dismal scene!' -</p> - -<p> -'The work of the Pharaohs,' said Hassan, for to them -everything is attributed by the Fellaheen, who suppose they -lived about three hundred years ago. -</p> - -<p> -But Memphis was ere long left in his rear, and night was -at hand, when—according to Hassan Abdullah's statement, -on computation of distance—they should reach and halt at -certain wells, about ten <i>shoni</i> distant therefrom, in the direct -line to the Wady Faregh. -</p> - -<p> -Memphis was, we say, left behind, and the two rode -swiftly on. His former thoughts recurring to him, Malcolm -Skene, checking his camel to let that of his guide come -abreast of him, said to the latter: -</p> - -<p> -'Your face is singularly familiar to me. Did we ever -meet in Cairo?' -</p> - -<p> -Hassan grinned and showed all his white teeth, but made -no reply. -</p> - -<p> -'Your face <i>has</i> some strange mystery for me,' resumed -Skene, with growing wonder, yet fearing he might make the -man think he possessed the evil eye; 'it seems a face -known to me—the face of the dead in the garb of the -living.' -</p> - -<p> -'And it is so, <i>Yusbashi</i> (captain), so far as <i>you</i> are -concerned,' was the strange reply of the Fellah as his black -eyes flashed. -</p> - -<p> -'What do you mean?' -</p> - -<p> -'We met in the roulette saloon of Pietro Girolamo.' -</p> - -<p> -'Right! I remember now; you are one of the fellows I -fought with. I thought you were killed in that row!' -</p> - -<p> -'Nearly so I was, and by <i>you</i>.' -</p> - -<p> -This was an awkward discovery. -</p> - -<p> -'But you escaped?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes; thanks to an amulet I wear—a verse of the Koran -bound round my left arm.' -</p> - -<p> -To trust such a rascal as Skene now supposed this fellow -must be was full of peril. To return and seek another -guide, when he had proceeded so far upon his way, would -argue timidity, and tempt the 'chaff' of the more heedless -spirits of the mess; thus it was not to be thought of. -</p> - -<p> -He could but continue his journey with his despatches, -and watch well every movement of his guide; but to have -as such one of the ruffians and bullies of Pietro Girolamo -was certainly an unpleasant discovery—one with whom he -had already that which in these parts of the world is termed -a <i>blood feud</i>, seemed to be the first instalment of his gloomy -presentiment. -</p> - -<p> -Hassan Abdullah had been—he could not conceive how -or why—chosen or recommended as a guide by those in -authority; and if false, or disposed to be so, he veiled it -under an elaborate bearing of servility and attention to -every wish and hint of Skene. Thinking that he could not -make any better of the situation now, Malcolm was fain to -accept that bearing for what it might be worth, and, to veil -his mistrust, adopted a new tone with Hassan, and instead -of listening to directions from him, began to give orders -instead. But, ignorant as he was of the route, this system -could not long be pursued. -</p> - -<p> -As he rode on he thought of Hester Maule, and how she -would view or consider his letter. Would she answer it? -He scarcely thought she would do so—nay, became certain -she would not. Under the circumstances in which they -had parted after that interview in the conservatory at -Earlshaugh, and with the grim presentiment then haunting him, -it was beseeming enough in him perhaps to have written as -he did to her; but not for her to write him in reply unless -she meant to hold out hopes that might never be realized. -</p> - -<p> -What amount of ground they had traversed when the -sun verged westward Malcolm scarcely knew, as the way -had been most devious, rough, and apparently, to judge of -the guide's indecision more than once, very uncertain; but -the former judged that it could not have been more than -thirty miles from Memphis as the crow flies. -</p> - -<p> -Dhurra reeds, date, and cotton-trees had long since been -left behind, and before the camel-riders stretched a pale -yellow waste of sand, strewed in places by glistening -pebbles. Malcolm Skene thought they were now entering -the lower end of the Wady Faregh, between El Benat and -the Wady Rosseh, and on consulting his pocket-compass -supposed the Dayr Macarius Convent must be right in his -front, but distant many miles, and the post of Dayr-el-Syrian, -for which he was bound, must be about ten miles -further on; but Hassan Abdullah knew better; and when -near sunset that individual dismounted and spread his dirty -little square carpet whereon to say his orisons, with his face -towards Mecca, his head bowed, his beads in his dingy -hands, and his cunning eyes half closed. None would have -thought that a Mussulman apparently so pious had only -hate and perfidy in his heart for the trusting but accursed -infidel, or <i>Frenchi</i>, as he called Skene—the general name in -Egypt for all Europeans—as the latter seated himself by the -side of a low wall half buried in the drifted sand—the -fragment of some B.C. edifice—and partook of his frugal meat, -supper and dinner combined. -</p> - -<p> -Far, far away in the distance Memphis and the Valley of -the Nile were lost in haze and obscurity; westward the sun, -like a ball of fire—a blood-red disc of enormous -proportions—shorn of every ray, was setting amid a sky of gold, -crimson, and soft apple-green, all blending through each other, -yet with light strong enough to send far along the waste -they had traversed the shadows of the two camels of Skene -and of Hassan. -</p> - -<p> -The former recalled with a grim smile Moore's ballad: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Fly to the desert, fly with me!'<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -and thought the desert looked far from inviting. -</p> - -<p> -His only table appurtenance was the jack-knife hung from -his neck by a lanyard, and as issued to all ranks of our -troops in Egypt, and with that he cut his sandwiches, now -dry indeed by this time, and opened a tiny tin of preserved -meat, which he washed down by a mouthful from the -hunting-flask, carried in his haversack. -</p> - -<p> -As he sat alone eating his frugal meal, which from -religious scruples Hassan declined to share with him—or -indeed anything save a cigar—Skene, though neither a -sybarite nor a gourmand, could not help thinking regretfully -of the regimental mess-table in the citadel of Cairo, -possessing, like other such tables, all the ease of a kindly -family circle, without its probable dulness; of the dressing -bugle, and the merry drums and fifes playing the 'Roast -Beef of Old England;' the quiet weed after dinner, a stroke -at billiards, a rubber of short whist while holding good -cards; and just then civilization and all the good things of -this earth seemed very far off indeed! -</p> - -<p> -When he and Hassan started again to reach the wells—where -they were to procure water for themselves and their -camels, and were to bivouac for the night, no trace of these -could be found, though the travellers wandered several miles -in different directions; and, as the sun set with tropical -rapidity, Skene—his water-bottle completely empty—with -his field-glass swept the horizon in vain for a sight of those -gum-trees which were said to indicate the locality of the -springs in question; and then he began more than ever to -mistrust the good faith, if not the knowledge, of Hassan -Abdullah. -</p> - -<p> -So far as their camels were concerned, Skene had no cause -as yet for any anxiety, as these animals, besides the four -stomachs which all ruminating quadrupeds possess, have a -fifth, which serves as a reservoir for carrying a supply of -water in the parched and sandy deserts they are so often -obliged to traverse. -</p> - -<p> -A well—one unknown to Hassan, apparently—they -certainly did come upon unexpectedly, but, alas! it was dry. -Malcolm Skene looked thirstily at the white stones that lined -or formed it, glistening in the light of the uprisen moon, and -with his tongue parched and lips hard and baked he thought -tantalizingly of brooks of cool and limpid water, of iced -champagne and bitter beer! -</p> - -<p> -He haltered his camel, looked to his arms and laid them -half under him, and resting his head against the saddle of -his animal, strove to court sleep, against the labours of the -morrow, thinking the while that the labours of Sisyphus -were almost a joke to the toil of the duty he had -undertaken. -</p> - -<p> -At a little distance on the other side of the dried-up -fountain, Hassan, whom he watched closely for a time, took -his repose in a similar fashion. -</p> - -<p> -The night in the desert was not altogether unpleasant, for -that rarefied clearness of sky which renders the heat of the -sun so intolerable by day, makes the sky of night surpassingly -beautiful, and that is the time when, if he can, the -traveller should really make his way over the sandy waste. -</p> - -<p> -With early morning, and while the red sun was yet below -the hazy horizon, came full awakening after a somewhat -restless night, broken by periods of watchfulness and -anxiety, and tantalized by dreams of flowing and sparkling -water, which left the pangs of growing thirst keener than -ever. -</p> - -<p> -Hassan, however, seemed 'fresh as a daisy,' having, as -Malcolm strongly suspected, some secret store of his own -selfishly concealed about him. -</p> - -<p> -They gave their camels a feed of their favourite food, the -twigs of some thorny mimosa that grew near the dried-up -well—scanty herbage of the desert—and then Malcolm, who -distrusted the skill or fealty, or both, of Hassan Abdullah, -while the latter was kneeling on his prayer carpet, turned to -consult his pocket compass with reference to the direction -in which to steer through the waste of sand which now -spread in every direction around them. -</p> - -<p> -It was gone! -</p> - -<p> -Nervously, with fingers that trembled in their haste, he -searched his haversack, turning out its few contents again -and again, and cast keen glances all around where he had -been overnight, but no sign or trace of that invaluable -instrument, on which too probably his life depended, was there! -</p> - -<p> -Fiercely he turned to Hassan, then just ending his morning -prayer and folding up his carpet, suspecting that the soft -and swift-handed Egyptian must have filched it from him -during sleep—yet he had felt so wakeful that such could -scarcely be the case. -</p> - -<p> -'My compass!' he exclaimed. -</p> - -<p> -'What of it, <i>Yusbashi</i>?' -</p> - -<p> -'Have you seen it?' -</p> - -<p> -'I—not I; and if I did, do you think I would touch it?' -</p> - -<p> -'It is <i>ifrit</i>—the work of the devil—an affair of which I, -as a true Mussulman, can know nothing.' -</p> - -<p> -'But how about the way to go now?' said Malcolm Skene -in genuine perplexity and alarm, looking all around the -vicinity of the stony hole, called a well, for the twentieth time. -</p> - -<p> -'The <i>Frenchi</i> will be told all of the way that his servant -knows,' replied Hassan with a profound salaam, while bending -his head to hide the leer of his stealthy and glittering -eyes. -</p> - -<p> -Skene thought for a moment. Should he take this fellow -at his word; threaten him with death if he did not produce -the pocket compass, or knock him down with the butt-end -of his pistol and then search his pockets? -</p> - -<p> -An open quarrel was to be avoided. Skene felt himself to -be a good deal, if not wholly, at the fellow's mercy. The -latter could only delude him so far, at the risk of perilling -himself; but he might, on the other hand, lure and betray -him into the hands of the enemy, several of whom, under a -leader named Sheikh Moussa Abu Hagil, were hovering on -the skirts of the desert in various directions—a man known -to have been a faithful adherent and kinsmen of the captive -Zebehr Pasha. -</p> - -<p> -Nothing seemed to remain for Skene but to accept as -before the guidance of Hassan Abdullah, so, after the latter -had breakfasted on a few dates and the former on a simple -ration from his haversack, once more they headed their -course into what seemed to be an endless and markless -waste of sand. -</p> - -<p> -Apart from the bodily pangs of thirst, anger, doubt, and -anxiety were gathering in the mind of Malcolm; but he -sternly resolved that the moment he became assured of -Hassan Abdullah deluding or betraying him he would shoot -that copper-coloured individual dead, as if he were a reptile -or a wild beast. And Hassan no doubt knew quite enough -of life in his own country to be aware that he rode on with -his life in his hands. -</p> - -<p> -So another night and day passed away. -</p> - -<p> -And now, as we have referred to the desert here and elsewhere -in the Soudan, it may seem the time to give a description -of what such a waste is, and the scene that now spread -before the anxious and bloodshot eyes of Malcolm Skene; -for it has been justly said that he who has never travelled -through such a place can form no idea of a locality so -wondrous—one in which all the ordinary conditions of -human life undergo a complete change. -</p> - -<p> -Once away from the valley of the Nile, all between the -fourteenth degree and the shore of the Mediterranean, a -tract of more than eight hundred thousand square miles <i>is -desert</i>, treeless, waterless, without streams or rivulets, and -almost without wells, which, when they exist, are scanty, few, -and far apart. 'The first thing after reaching a well,' says a -recent writer, 'is to ascertain the quantity and quality of its -water. As to the former, it may have been exhausted by a -preceding caravan, and hours may be required for a new -supply to ooze in again. The quality of the desert water is -generally bad, the exception being when it becomes worse, -though long custom enables the Bedouins to drink water so -brackish as to be intolerable to all except themselves and -their flocks. Well do I remember how at each well the -first skinful was tasted all round as epicures sip rare wines. -Great was the joy if it was pronounced <i>moya helwa</i>, "sweet -water;" but if the Bedouins said <i>moosh tayib</i>, "not good," -we might be sure it was a solution of Epsom salts.' -</p> - -<p> -The desert now traversed by Skene was composed of -coarse sand, abounding in some places with shells, pebbles, -and a species of salt. In some parts the soil was shifting, -and so soft that the feet—even of his camel—sank into it -at every step; at others it was hard as beaten ground. Here -and there grew a few patches of prickly plants, such as he -remembered to have seen in botanic gardens at home, with -small hillocks of drifted sand gathered round them; and as -he rode on he felt as if he had about him the awful sensations -of vastness, silence, and the sublimity of a calm and -waveless ocean—but an ocean of sand, arid, and gloomy, -dispiriting and suggestive of death—but to the European -only; as the Bedouins, whose native soil it is, are, beyond all -other nations and races, gay and cheerful. -</p> - -<p> -During August and September the winds in Egypt retain -a northerly direction, and the weather is generally moderate; -but Malcolm Skene was in the desert now, and under the -peculiar influences of that peculiar region. -</p> - -<p> -Then at times is to be encountered the mirage, or Spirit of -the Desert, as the Arabs call it, when the eyes of the -wanderer there are deluded by the seeming motion of distant -waves; of tall and graceful palms tossing feathery leaves in -the distance, when only the sun-scorched sand is lying, -mocking him with the false show of what his soul longs for, -and his overheated brain depicts in glowing colours. -</p> - -<p> -Riding mechanically on—uncomfortably, too, all unused -as he was to the strange ambling action of a camel—oppressed -by thirst which he could see no means of quenching, -and knowing not when he might be able to do so—oppressed, -too, by the glare of a cloudless sun growing -hotter and hotter—more mighty than ever it seemed to be -before—Malcolm Skene was soon to become conscious that -the sense of vision was not the only one by which the -mysterious desert mocks its sojourner with fantastic tricks; -and once he became sensible of that strange and bewildering -phenomena referred to by the author of 'Eothen' in his -experiences of Eastern travel. -</p> - -<p> -He seemed, overpowered by the heat, to fall slowly -asleep—was it for moments or minutes?—he knew not; but he -seemed also to be suddenly awakened by the familiar but -far-off sounds of drums beating, to the wailing of a bagpipe -playing 'The March of Lochiel,' as he had often heard it -played by the Queen's Own Cameron Highlanders, in the -citadel of Cairo. -</p> - -<p> -He started and listened, his first idea being naturally that -he was partly under the power of a dream; but it seemed as -if minutes passed ere these sounds, in steady marching -cadence, became fainter and then died away. -</p> - -<p> -Utterly bewildered, he was quite awake now. Under the -same influence, and in the same place, it was the bells of his -native village that were heard by the writer referred to, and -who says: 'I attribute the effect to the great heat of the sun, -the perfect dryness of the clear air through which I moved, -and the deep stillness of all around me. It seemed to me -that these causes, by occasioning a great tension and -susceptibility of the hearing organs, rendered them liable to -tingle under the passing touch of some new memory that -must have swept across my brain in a moment of sleep.' -</p> - -<p> -And so doubtless it was with Malcolm Skene, who, sunk -in thought and lassitude, was pondering deeply over the -strange dream—if dream it was—when he was roused by the -voice of Hassan Abdullah, as it amounted to something like -a shriek. -</p> - -<p> -'The <i>Zobisha</i>—the <i>Zobisha</i>!' he exclaimed, with a terror -that was too genuine to be affected in any way. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap36"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXXVI. -<br /><br /> -ALONE! -</h3> - -<p> -It was about noon, now, and with a start, roused from his -day-dream and half-apathy, Malcolm Skene looked about -him and saw that he had then to face one of the most -appalling, yet sublime, sights of the desert—a sand-storm—at -that season when the Egyptian winds approach the -Southern tropic, and they are more variable and tempestuous -than during any other season of the year—a state in -which they remain till February. -</p> - -<p> -Distant about two miles, he suddenly saw the <i>Zobisha</i>, as -Hassan called it—several lofty pillars of sand travelling over -the waste with wondrous swiftness. The tallest was vertical, -the others seemed to lean towards it, and, at the bases of all, -the sand rose as if lashed by a whirlwind into a raging sea, -amid which tough mimosa bushes were uprooted and swept -away like feathers. -</p> - -<p> -The whirlwind subsided, but the mighty cloud of sand and -small pebbles which it had raised high in the darkened -heavens, almost to the zenith, continued to tower before the -two sojourners in the desert for more than an hour—purple, -dun, and yellow in hue at times, and anon all blended -together. -</p> - -<p> -Brave though he was, a nameless dread such as he had -never felt before possessed the soul of Skene at a sight so -unusual and terrific; and there flashed upon his mind the -recollection of his letter to Hester, and how true his -presentiment seemed to be proving now, for he felt on the verge -of suffocation. -</p> - -<p> -Hassan Abdullah, who in his prayers usually sighed for -the Paradise of the Prophet, with his seventy houris awaiting -him in their couches of hollow pearl, the fruits of the Tree -of Toaba, and springs of unlimited lemonade, now prayed -only for his own safety, while both their camels forgot their -usual docility, and became well nigh unmanageable with -terror. -</p> - -<p> -The air was full of impalpable dust. To avoid suffocation -or blindness therefrom, Skene dismounted, tied his -gauze pugaree tightly over his face, and placing his camel -between him and the skirt of the blast, which now developed -into a wind-storm, sweeping the column of sand with wondrous -speed before it, stooped his head close to the saddle -and held on to a stirrup-leather. -</p> - -<p> -On came the wind-storm, and before he had time to -think, to express wonder to Hassan as to what it could be, -the tornado swept over the desert, carrying before it mimosa -bushes and cacti, clouds of shining pebbles, the withered -fragments of an old gum-tree, and the white bones of a dead -camel. -</p> - -<p> -How his animal withstood the sharp and sweeping blast -that darkened all around them, Malcolm Skene knew not; -but he found his hands torn from the stirrup-leather, and -himself flung furiously and helplessly amid the sand, which -half covered him. -</p> - -<p> -After a time, gasping, with his throat, nostrils, and ears -full of dust, he struggled to his feet and looked around him, -and saw, already far distant, the sand-cloud borne away by -the mighty wind, then in its wild career to some other quarter -of the desert. -</p> - -<p> -Above him the sky was again cloudless; the air all still -and clear; the awful and angry rush of the wind-storm was -past. -</p> - -<p> -But where was Hassan Abdullah? -</p> - -<p> -A speck vanishing away in the far distance showed but too -plainly where he had gone with all the speed his camel could -achieve—a natural swiftness now accelerated by the -extremity of fear; and in another minute even that moving -speck disappeared, and Malcolm Skene found himself -alone—guideless and ignorant of which way to turn his steps in -the appalling solitude of the desert. -</p> - -<p> -What was he to do now? -</p> - -<p> -Follow in the route Hassan had taken, and which that -wily personage no doubt knew led to some haunt of men, -or abode of such civilization as existed there? -</p> - -<p> -Even that he could not do. The horizon showed no -point to indicate where the speck he knew to be Hassan -and his camel had vanished. -</p> - -<p> -Malcolm's alarm for the future exceeded his just anger -and indignation for the present at this sudden and -unexpected desertion; but action of some kind became -necessary, and though apparently he could not be worse -off than where he was, every step he took might be -leading further from the path he should pursue to -Dayr-el-Syrian—further from a well or succour, and nearer to -'dusty death.' -</p> - -<p> -After glancing at the trappings of his camel, he remounted -and rode forward slowly, fain to suck for a moment even a -hot pebble of the desert in hope to produce a little moisture -in his mouth, while consulting a small pocket map he possessed. -</p> - -<p> -If Hassan had not misled him wilfully, and they had not -overshot the proper distance, to judge by the position of -the sun, he supposed that Dayr-el-Syrian, where the -Amir-Ali's command was encamped, should be somewhere on his -right; but, if so, ere this he should have come to the -sequestered Macarius Convent—so called from St. Macarius -the Elder, of Egypt, a shepherd of the fourth century, who -(so runs the story) dwelt for sixty years in the desert; but -of that edifice he saw no sign or vestige, and he saw, by -the same map, that if he had <i>passed</i> it and gone through the -extreme end of the Wady Faregh, then before him must lie -the 'Petrified Forest,' of which he knew nothing, and of -which he had never heard before, lying apparently more -than a hundred miles westward of Cairo—a distance which -it seemed almost incredible he had so nearly travelled, and -the very name of which was suggestive of something of -horror and dismay. -</p> - -<p> -Again and again, with hollow and haggard eyes, he swept -the desert through his field-glass, seeking to note a bush or -tree that might indicate where a fountain lay; but in vain, -and the pangs of thirst increased till they became gnawing -and maddening. -</p> - -<p> -He would certainly die soon! -</p> - -<p> -More than once he looked, too, in the desperate hope of -seeing Abdullah returning; but equally in vain. -</p> - -<p> -As he rode on under the scorching sun—scorching even -while setting—with his head nodding on his breast through -weakness, there came before him day-dreams of runnels of -gushing water—their very sound seemed to be in his ears—of -'a wee burnie wimpling under the lang yellow broom,' in -the shady woods of Dunnimarle, and the rustle of their -leaves seemed overhead! -</p> - -<p> -The poor old mother there, to whom he was as the apple -of her eye—Hester too—would never know of all he endured -and would have to endure inexorably till the bitter end -came; and just then, more than even his mother, dove-eyed -Hester Maule seemed all the world to him! -</p> - -<p> -Well—'Time and the hour run through the roughest day.' -</p> - -<p> -With that appreciation of trifles peculiar to us all in -moments of dire perplexity or intense excitement, he was -remarking the vast length of shadow thrown across the -level waste, by the light of the now nearly level sun—the -shadow of himself and his camel—when a sudden acceleration -in the speed of the latter attracted his attention; it -began to glide over the desert sand more swiftly than ever, -guided by some instinct implanted in it by nature, and in a -few minutes it brought him to a little spot of green—an -oasis—amid which, fenced round by stones and large pebbles, -lay a pool of water! -</p> - -<p> -'A well—a well—water—water at last!' exclaimed Skene -with a prayer on his lips, as he threw himself beside it. -Forgetting thoughts of all and everything, past and future, -in the mingled agony and joy of the present, he crawled -towards it on hands and knees, tossed aside his tropical -helmet and drank of it deeply, thirstily, greedily, laving his -face and hands in it often, and he was not sure that his -tears did not mingle with the water as he did so—tears of -gratitude. -</p> - -<p> -By nature and its physical formation, less athirst than his -rider, the camel drank of the pool too, but scantily. Skene -then filled his water-bottle with the precious liquid, as if he -feared the well might dry up, even as he watched it; and -then (after tethering his camel) he stretched himself beside -it, and, utterly worn out by all he had undergone in mind -and body, fell into a deep and dreamless slumber, -undisturbed alike by flies or mosquitoes. -</p> - -<p> -How long he slept thus he knew not, but day had not -broken, and the waning moon was shining brightly when he -awoke. He was already too much of a soldier to feel -surprise on awaking in a strange bed or place; but some of his -surroundings there were sufficiently strange to startle him -into instant wakefulness and activity. -</p> - -<p> -'It is the Frenchi—the Infidel!' he heard the voice of -Hassan exclaim, and he found himself surrounded by a -crowd of armed Arabs, foremost among whom stood Pietro -Girolamo—the rascally Girolamo of Cairo, who, having -made even that city too hot to hold him, had, for the time, -sought refuge with the denizens of the desert. -</p> - -<p> -Partly clad and partly nude, with plaited hair, forms of -bronze colour, their teeth and eyes gleaming bright as the -swords and spears with which they were armed, Malcolm -Skene saw some twenty or more Soudanese warriors, on foot -or camel-back, around him, and gave himself up for lost -indeed, as his sword and revolver were immediately torn -from him. -</p> - -<p> -Uttering a yell, Girolamo was rushing upon him with -upraised knife, when he was roughly thrust back by a tall and -towering Arab, who dealt him a sharp blow with the butt-end -of his Remington rifle—so much as to say, 'I command -here.' -</p> - -<p> -Clearly seen and defined in the light of a moon which -was silvery, yet brilliant as that of day, Skene saw before -him in this personage an Arab of the Arabs. -</p> - -<p> -His bronzed face was nearly black by nature and exposure -to the scorching tropical sun. His arms, legs, and neck -were bare, and their muscles stood forth like whipcord. -His nose was somewhat hawk-like; his eyes were keen as -those of a mountain eagle, and his shark-like teeth were -white as ivory, in contrast to the skin of his leathern -visage. -</p> - -<p> -His hair, which flowed under a steel cap furnished with a -nasal bar, was black as night, and shone with an unguent -made from crocodile fat by the fishers of Dongola; and -save for his shirt of Dharfour steel and Mahdi tunic and -trousers, he looked like a mummy of the Pharaohs -resuscitated and inspired by a devil. -</p> - -<p> -His arms were a long cross-hilted sword, a dagger, and a -Remington rifle. -</p> - -<p> -Such was the Sheikh Moussa Abu Hagil, kinsman of -Zebehr Pasha—like Zebehr, almost the last of the great -slave-dealers—and whose prisoner Malcolm Skene now -found himself—whether for good or for evil, he could not -foresee; but his heart too painfully foreboded the <i>latter</i>! -</p> - -<p> -'Sheikh,' said he, 'you will consider me as a prisoner of -war, I trust?' -</p> - -<p> -'We shall see—there are things that are as bad as death, -and yet are not death,' was the grim and enigmatical reply -of Moussa Abu Hagil, which Skene knew referred to torture -or mutilation, by having his hands struck off, like those of -some prisoners he had seen. -</p> - -<p> -For many a day after, the friends of Malcolm Skene -searched the public prints in vain for further tidings of him -than we have given three chapters back. -</p> - -<p> -Applications to the War Office and telegrams to headquarters -at Cairo were alike unavailing, and received only -the same cold, stereotyped answer—that nothing was known -of the fate of Captain Malcolm Skene but what the news -papers contained. -</p> - -<p> -His supposed fate and story were deemed as parallel with -the Palmer tragedy on the shore of the Red Sea; but more -especially with that of his countryman, Captain Gordon, an -enthusiastic soldier, who, missing Colonel Burnaby's party -which he was to accompany with the desert column, -perished in the wilderness, far from the Gakdul track—but -whether at the hands of the Arabs, or by the horrors of -thirst, was never known. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap37"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXXVII. -<br /><br /> -THE FIRST QUARREL. -</h3> - -<p> -In his anxiety to leave Earlshaugh, Roland writhed under -his convalescence, thus retarding in no small degree his -complete recovery, and keeping him chained to a sofa in his -sitting-room, when otherwise he might have been abroad in -the grounds, though the brown foliage and the falling leaves, -with the piping of the autumn winds, were not calculated -much to raise the spirits of the ailing. -</p> - -<p> -The partridges had become wild; the pheasants were still -in splendid order, and cub-hunting was beginning in those -districts where it was in vogue; but no one in Earlshaugh -House thought of any of these, yet cub-hunting, as an -earnest of the coming season, had been one of Roland -Lindsay's delights. -</p> - -<p> -However, he had other more serious and bitter things to -think of now; and for cub-hunting or fox-hunting, never -again would he set out from Earlshaugh and feel the joyous -enthusiasm roused by seeing the hounds 'feathering' down -a furrowed field with all their heads in the air, or find -himself crossing the fertile and breezy Howe of Fife, from -meadow to meadow, and field to field, over burns, hedges, -and five-foot drystone dykes, then standing erect in his -stirrups and galloping as if for life after the streaming pack, -as they swept over 'the Muirs of Fife' which merge in the -rich and extensive plains of the famous East Neuk. -</p> - -<p> -Hunt he might elsewhere in the future, but never again -where he and his fathers before him had hunted for generations, -though Mr. Hawkey Sharpe was then actually doing -so, and with horses from 'his sister's' stables at Earlshaugh! -</p> - -<p> -During this period of convalescence and enforced idleness -Roland became conscious of a kind of change—subtle -and undefinable—in Annot. She—in a spirit of maidenly -reserve—was apparently in no hurry for the completion of -arrangements about their marriage. -</p> - -<p> -She left all these <i>pro tem.</i> in the hands of 'mamma' in -South Belgravia; and the old lady's letters—changed in -tone—were full of suggested delays, doubts, and difficulties in -finally fixing a period to her daughter's engagement with -Roland; the said letters, of course, bearing on the -all-important matter of settlements, which—as circumstances now -stood at Earlshaugh—he was utterly at a loss how to make -without the advice, more than ever, of the family agent, old -Mr. M'Wadsett of Thistle Court. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile, full of themselves and their own affairs, and -of their marriage, which was now fixed for an early day, and -before Jack Elliot's return to Egypt, Maude and the latter -were less observant than Hester of what transpired at -Earlshaugh during Roland's convalescence. -</p> - -<p> -Attended by old Buckle, Annot had gone to see the -hounds throw off, and in following the field for some little -way contrived to lose her venerable groom, whom no doubt -she deemed a bore; and while he was searching for her -hopelessly over a Fifeshire muir she came home to one of -the park gates attended by a gentleman in hunting costume, -with whom she seemed on pretty intimate terms—a -circumstance which, when mentioned, she laughingly -explained away. -</p> - -<p> -But at a subsequent period she was seen by Maude and -Hester riding in the park with one supposed to be the same -stranger, but at a considerable distance. -</p> - -<p> -The two girls could see that the pair were going slowly -together—perhaps their cattle were tired, but, as Maude -said, that was no reason why they should ride so near each -other that his right hand could rest on her saddle-bow. -</p> - -<p> -'Who is he? I don't like this,' said Maude. -</p> - -<p> -But Hester remained silent and full of her own thoughts. -</p> - -<p> -Other meetings between these two became whispered -about, rather intangibly, however, and then rumour gave the -gentleman the name of Hoyle. -</p> - -<p> -'Hoyle?' thought Hester, and she remembered Annot's -confidence about her Belgravian admirer, 'the Detrimental' -Bob Hoyle. -</p> - -<p> -Annot blushed deeply and painfully with a suffusion that -dyed her snowy neck and face to the temples, and which -was some time in passing away, when questioned on this -matter by Maude, who she knew mistrusted her, and -falteringly she asked: -</p> - -<p> -'How did you learn his name?' -</p> - -<p> -'It dropped from you incidentally when speaking to -Elliot.' -</p> - -<p> -'Did it?' said she, with a pallid lip. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, when hunting, at a house in the neighbourhood.' -</p> - -<p> -'I—I know no one—I mean no harm—and Roland cannot -ride to hounds just now,' urged Annot, a little piteously, -and adopting her child-like manner. -</p> - -<p> -'Then neither should you, Annot.' -</p> - -<p> -'I will do so no more, Maude—and I give you my word,' -she added emphatically, and with an air of perfect candour, -'that I shall never again see Mr. Hoyle!' -</p> - -<p> -Then Maude kissed her, but, as she did so, it scarcely -required so close an observer as Hester to detect the actual -dislike—all sweet and lovely as her face was—that lurked -under her cousin's affected cordiality. -</p> - -<p> -But the latter's indignation returned when the pledge was -broken. -</p> - -<p> -Deeming all this most unfair to Roland, his sunny-haired -sister consulted with Hester, but that young lady nervously -declined to involve herself in the matter, though Roland -nearly took the initiative one day (when Hester was -arranging some fresh flowers in his room) with reference to -Annot's now frequent absences and seeming neglect of -him. -</p> - -<p> -'Does the dear girl shrink from me, Hester,' said he, -'because I am pale and thin—wasted and feeble—after that -cursed accident?' -</p> - -<p> -'Surely not, Roland!' -</p> - -<p> -'It seems very like it, by Jove!' he grumbled almost to -himself. -</p> - -<p> -In the dark violet eyes of Hester there shone at that -moment, as she bent over the flower-vases, a strange -light—the light that is born of mingled anger and love. -</p> - -<p> -Maude thought it very strange that in all reports of the -meets, hunting and county packs, etc., the name of -Mr. Hoyle never appeared among others, nor were her -suspicions allayed by the idea of Jack Elliot, that 'he was -probably a duffer whose name was not worth mentioning.' -</p> - -<p> -But gossip was busy, and Roland's loving and tender -sister's complaints of Annot seemed to become the echo of -his own secret and growing thoughts, which rose unpleasantly -now on Annot's protracted absences from his society, -and a new and undefinable something in her manner that, in -short, he did not like. -</p> - -<p> -The half-uttered hints of Maude—uttered painfully and -reluctantly, trembling lest she should become a -mischief-maker—stung him deeply, more deeply than he cared to -admit. -</p> - -<p> -'What has Annot done now?' he asked on one occasion, -tossing on his sofa and flinging away a half-smoked cigar. -'It seems to me that if a woman is popular with our sex she -becomes intensely the reverse with her own.' -</p> - -<p> -'Roland,' urged Maude, 'you are unnecessarily severe, -on me at least.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well—perhaps the atmosphere of this place is corrupting -her; I don't wonder if it is so; we live here in one of -deceit,' said he bitterly. 'Poor little Maude,' he added -more gently, 'home is no longer home to you now.' -</p> - -<p> -'I shall soon have another,' said Maude, with brightness -dancing in her eyes of forget-me-not blue. -</p> - -<p> -'Bui I must have this matter out with Annot—ask her to -come to me.' -</p> - -<p> -And when Annot came, with all her strange and flower-like -fairness of colour and willowy grace, how fragile, soft, -and <i>petite</i> she looked, with her minute little face and wealth of -golden hair, her bright inquiring eyes, their expression just -then having something of alarm mingled with coyness in -them! -</p> - -<p> -How could he be angry with her? What was he to -say—how to begin? -</p> - -<p> -We say there was alarm in her expression, for she saw -near Roland's hand his powerful field-glasses, with which he -was in the habit of amusing himself in viewing the far -stretch of country extending away to the distant hills. He -could also view the park, which was much nearer. -</p> - -<p> -She knew not <i>whom</i> he might have seen there, and the -little colour she had died away. -</p> - -<p> -'What is it, Roland?' she asked; 'you wish to speak -with me.' -</p> - -<p> -How terrible it is, says someone, to confront direct and -apparently frank people! 'To state in precise terms the -offences of all those who incur our displeasure would -occasion a good deal of humming and hawing, and, it is to -be feared, invention on the part of most of us in the course -of twelve months. We have wrought ourselves up to -the pitch of a very pretty quarrel, and it is dreadfully -embarrassing to be called upon to state our grounds -for it.' -</p> - -<p> -So it was with Roland. He had worked himself up to a -point which he failed just then to sustain, while in her -manner there was a curious mixture of the caressing and the -defiant; but when she tried some of her infantile and clinging -ways, Roland became cold and hard in the expression of -his mouth and eyes, though she hastened to adjust the -sofa-cushion on which his head reclined. -</p> - -<p> -'You wish to speak with me, Maude said,' remarked -Annot, in a low voice, while looking down and somewhat -nervously adjusting a flower in her girdle. -</p> - -<p> -Roland did not reply at once. She eyed him furtively, -and then laughed. -</p> - -<p> -'I do not understand your mirth,' said he coldly. -</p> - -<p> -'Nor I your gloom, Roland dear; but then you are far -from well.' -</p> - -<p> -He sighed, as if deprecating her manner. -</p> - -<p> -'Am I to be scolded, like a naughty child?' she asked. -</p> - -<p> -'You seem to feel that you deserve it.' -</p> - -<p> -'But I won't be scolded—and for what?' -</p> - -<p> -'Acting as you ought not to do.' -</p> - -<p> -'How?' -</p> - -<p> -'Riding to see the hounds throw off, without my -knowledge, and escorted only by an old groom, whose place -another has taken more than once.' -</p> - -<p> -He paused, loth to say more. His proud soul revolted -at the idea of being jealous—vulgarly, grotesquely jealous -of anyone; yet he eyed her with pain and anger -mingled. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, you refer to Bob Hoyle—poor Bob! Hester -knows about him,' said Annot, after a little pause, in -which she grew, if possible, paler, and certainly more -confused. -</p> - -<p> -'He is not a visitor here—and yet you have been seen -with him in the park and lawn.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes. Can I be less than polite when he escorted me -home from the meet—in the dusk, too?' -</p> - -<p> -'And who the deuce is Bob Hoyle?' -</p> - -<p> -'I have mentioned him to Hester,' replied Annot, still -evasively. -</p> - -<p> -'But who is he visiting in this locality?' -</p> - -<p> -'I do not know.' -</p> - -<p> -'Not know—how?' -</p> - -<p> -'Simply because I never asked him.' -</p> - -<p> -'Strange!' -</p> - -<p> -'Not at all, Roland dear, when I think and care so little -about him.' -</p> - -<p> -She tried a tiny caress, but he turned from her, -embittered and humiliated. -</p> - -<p> -Disappointment, shame, sorrow, and mortification were -all gathering in his heart, as doubts of Annot grew there too; -and in his then weak and nervous state he actually trembled -to pursue a subject so obnoxious. Was it to be the old -story; -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Of one that loved, not wisely, but too well;<br /> - Of one not easily jealous, but, being wrought,<br /> - Perplexed in the extreme.'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -A little silence ensued, during which, as he looked upon -her in all her fair beauty, so unstable of purpose, and so -humble in heart is one who loves truly that he felt inclined -to throw himself upon her affection for him, and only -beseech her to be careful. -</p> - -<p> -She was—he thought—young, artless, rash, and perhaps -knew not how unseemly, especially in a censorious country -place, were these mistakes of hers. But her manner -repelled him. The half-grown sensation of softness died -away, and irritation came instead. So he said bluntly: -</p> - -<p> -'Annot, I tell you plainly that there must be no more of -this sort of thing.' -</p> - -<p> -Her usually sweet little lips curled defiantly, and she -eyed him inquiringly now. -</p> - -<p> -'Dare you try to make me believe that what you admit -is all that has occurred?' -</p> - -<p> -'I do not wish to try and make you believe anything,' she -replied sullenly, yet in a broken tone. -</p> - -<p> -'This is worse and worse,' said Roland in a husky voice. -</p> - -<p> -'Are you jealous of him?' she asked, with a laugh that -had no mirth in it. 'Surely not; he is but a boy.' -</p> - -<p> -'I am, and shall be, jealous of no one, Annot!' -</p> - -<p> -'He speaks to me; it is not my fault—and is always -polite. Do not let us squabble, dearest Roland—I do so -hate squabbling,' said she, selecting a white bud from -among the flowers at her waist and pinning it in his -hole; but Roland's blood was too much up to be -propitiated by a white bud, so Annot had recourse to a few -tears; but, so far from there being peace between them, -matters waxed more unpleasant still. -</p> - -<p> -'Why has this Mr.—ah—Hoyle—as you name him, -never called here, nor left even a card?' -</p> - -<p> -'I cannot tell.' -</p> - -<p> -Yet he is an old London friend, and has come almost -to the house door!' -</p> - -<p> -'I cannot tell,' repeated Annot. -</p> - -<p> -'Ycu have met him on the skirts of the park?' -</p> - -<p> -'By the merest chance.' -</p> - -<p> -'These chances would seem to have occurred too often,' -interrupted Roland, greatly ruffled now, yet feeling sick at -heart; 'so let us come to an end!' -</p> - -<p> -'By—by parting?' she asked, with pale lips. -</p> - -<p> -'It is easily done; I am going back to the regiment in a -little time, and gossips will soon cease to link my name with -yours, when you——' -</p> - -<p> -'How cruel of you, Roland!' she said, and she looked at -him entreatingly for a moment with her small hands clasped, -and then turned away her face. -</p> - -<p> -'It may be merely flirtation or folly that inspires you; -but beware, Annot, how you treat me thus, and remember -that lovers' quarrels are not <i>always</i> love renewed.' -</p> - -<p> -He felt and feared that a gulf which might never be -bridged over was widening suddenly between them. Had -she asked him just then, with all his anger, to kiss her once -and forgive her, he would have yielded too probably; but -the little beauty, all unlike her usually pliant, soft, and -clinging self, held haughtily aloof and said: -</p> - -<p> -'Am I to give you back your ring, and relinquish all that -it involves?' -</p> - -<p> -'No, Annot, no, no,' exclaimed Roland, not yet prepared -for such a climax. -</p> - -<p> -With an angry sob in her slender throat she tried to twist -it off, but in vain; and they regarded each other with a -curiously mingled expression which they never forgot—he -sorrowfully and indignantly; she saucily and defiantly. -</p> - -<p> -'Have you anything more unpleasant to say to me, -Roland?' she asked. -</p> - -<p> -'Only that I begin to wish, Annot—oh, my God—that -we had never, never met!' -</p> - -<p> -'Indeed! Good-bye.' -</p> - -<p> -'Good-bye.' -</p> - -<p> -She swept away. What a change—was it witchcraft?—had -come ever the once playful, childlike, and winning little -Annot! Roland's heart was sick and crushed, and he began -to have a growing and unpleasant suspicion that he had -made, as he thought, 'a confounded fool of himself.' -</p> - -<p> -'Thank Heaven, Hester! I shall soon have the sea rolling -between me and this place,' said he, when, after a time, he -told his cousin, the early playmate and sweetheart of other -days, the story of this interview and his complaint against -Annot. 'Regrets are useless; we cannot change the past; -but I have neither the inclination nor the capacity to face all -the circumstances that seem to surround me in Earlshaugh -now.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why has he addressed me in his distress, and on this -subject?' thought Hester almost angrily; 'how can I -sympathize with him in the matter? And he comes to me at a -time, too, when I know we may be soon parted for ever, and -when my thoughts are as full of him as they were in that old -time that can return no more.' -</p> - -<p> -Piqued at and disappointed with Annot, a curious and -confusing emotion came more than once into the mind of -Roland—one described by a Scottish writer as feeling 'that -had he not, and had he been, and if he could he might—in -line, he thought the medley which many a man thinks when -he knows that he loves one, and only <i>one</i>; but under suasion -and pressure would find it just possible to yield to <i>other</i> -distractions.' -</p> - -<p> -Annot did not afford him many opportunities of recurring -to their first quarrel or effacing its memory; and from that -hour she kept indignantly and sullenly aloof, as much as she -could in courtesy do, from Maude and Hester—to their -surprise—spending most of her time in the apartments and -society of Mrs. Lindsay. -</p> - -<p> -But once again, in the long shady avenue near the Weird -Yett, when Maude was idling there, under the cold blue sky -of an October evening, with Jack Elliot—idling in the -happiness a girl feels when on the brink of her marriage -with the man she loves with all the strength of her warm -heart—the man whose voice and the mere touch of whose hand -gives joy—she felt that heart turn cold when she detected -Annot—her brother's <i>fiancée</i>—bidding a hasty adieu to the -stranger before referred to—clad in a red hunting coat, and -leading his horse by the bridle. -</p> - -<p> -So a crisis of some kind was surely at hand now! -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap38"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXXVIII. -<br /><br /> -THE CRISIS. -</h3> - -<p> -What did, or what could, Annot mean by this studied -duplicity and defiance of propriety? thought Maude; but -ere she could reflect much on the subject, or consider how -to speak to Roland about it, or whether she should simply -let him discover more for himself, the crisis referred to in -our last chapter came to pass, and the possible '<i>other</i> -distractions' that had occurred, in his irritation, to Roland's -mind were forgotten by him then. -</p> - -<p> -Notwithstanding what had passed between them, the -charm of Annot's manner, her graceful and piquant ways, -impelled or allured him again, and his passionate love for -her swelled up at times in his breast. Was he not to make -one more effort, or was it too late to win her love again? -</p> - -<p> -Like one who when drowning will cling to a straw, -Roland, with all his just indignation at Annot, clung to his -faith in her; but they had parted with much apparent -coldness; and, as we have said, in that huge old rambling -mansion of Earlshaugh, as it was easy for people to avoid -each other it they wished to do so, he had not again met -her alone. -</p> - -<p> -Thus any explanation was deferred, and, with all his love, -he felt painfully that if he once began fully to doubt her and -surrendered himself to that idea, all would be lost; and yet -he had little cause for confidence now, apparently. -</p> - -<p> -From her own lips again he resolved—however galling to -his pride—to hear his fate, of her wishes and of her love, if -the latter still was his; and thus he asked her by note to -meet him in the library, at a time when they were sure to be -undisturbed, as Mrs. Lindsay was usually indisposed at the -hour he selected, and Maude, Jack, and Hester would be, -he knew, absent riding. -</p> - -<p> -From his own lips Annot had been fully informed of how -his father's will was framed, but her ambition went far beyond -that of Becky Sharp when the latter thought she would be -a good woman on five thousand a year, would not miss a -little soup for the poor out of that sum, and could pay -everybody when she had it. -</p> - -<p> -Annot, though apparently passive no longer, feigned a -desire to continue 'the entanglement,' for such she deemed -it—this engagement to Roland, begun at Merlwood. She -had a secret gratitude for the information that had come to -her in time of his future prospects. She could have -continued to love him after a fashion of her own, and perhaps -as much as it was in her selfish nature to love anyone; but -it must be as proprietor of Earlshaugh, of which she had an -overweening desire to be mistress, and, moreover, she never -meant to form or face 'a moneyless marriage.' -</p> - -<p> -And now in this meeting with Roland she felt that a -crisis in her fate had come; that the sooner it was over and -done with the better; and with a power of will beyond what -anyone could have conceived a girl so soft and fair, so -small in stature and lovely in feature might possess, she kept -her appointment; but, without referring even to Lucrezia -Borgia, who was a golden-haired little creature, with a feeble -and vapid expression of face (as Mrs. Jameson tells us), -does not history record how often fair little women have -been possessed of iron will and nature? -</p> - -<p> -Annot accorded her soft cheek to Roland's lip so coldly -that he scarcely touched it! -</p> - -<p> -Both looked pale, though they stood, when regarding each -other, in the red light of the October sunset, that streamed -like a crimson flood through a deeply embayed old window -near them. -</p> - -<p> -Annot wore a dark dress, and round her slender throat a -high ruffle of black lace, which, like the jet drops in her -tiny ears, enhanced the marvellous fairness of her skin, as -Roland remarked, for even such trifling details failed to -escape him in that time of doubt and exceeding misery. -</p> - -<p> -'You have not kept me waiting,' said she with a smile, -and as if feeling a dire necessity for saying something. -</p> - -<p> -'Was it likely I should do so, Annot, when I have -counted every moment of time since I sent my little note to -you?' replied Roland, feeling instinctively from what he -saw in her eye and manner that the dreaded time had -come! -</p> - -<p> -'How silly—useless I mean, such impatience, when we -meet daily somewhere—at meals and so forth!' said she, -looking out upon the far expanse of green park, steeped in -the hazy sunshine of one of the hot evenings of October. -</p> - -<p> -'Annot,' said Roland impatiently, and striking a heel on -the floor as he spoke, 'after what passed between us last—a -conversation alike distasteful and painful—I can no longer -endure the suspense, the agony your conduct and bearing -cause me. Do you really wish all to be at end between us?' -</p> - -<p> -His eyes were bent eagerly upon her face, the muscles -of which certainly quivered with emotion—either love or -shame, he knew not which—and he took her hands in his, -but relinquished them; his own were hot and trembling as -if he had an ague, white hers were firm and cold as they -were white and beautiful. -</p> - -<p> -'It was a joke—a petulant joke, your proposal to give -me back your ring and break our engagement—was it not, -darling?' he asked after a brief pause. -</p> - -<p> -'It was <i>no</i> joke,' replied Annot, with still averted eyes, in -which, however, there was not a vestige of those sympathetic -tears, which, fur effect, she had usually so near the surface -on trivial occasions; 'it cost me much to utter the few -words I said—but I meant them.' -</p> - -<p> -'You did?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—Roland.' -</p> - -<p> -'And that was to be your only reply to my remonstrances?' -</p> - -<p> -'Made as these remonstrances were—yes. You are too -exacting, Roland; and—and—' she added with a bluntness -that jarred on his ear, 'it is so tiresome being long engaged, -mamma says.' -</p> - -<p> -'I am sorry you quote her; but we can end it without an -unseemly quarrel, surely.' -</p> - -<p> -She shook her head, and all her hair shone like a golden -aureole in the sunlight; and with all his just anger Roland -looked at her as if his mind were leaving him. -</p> - -<p> -'In short, mamma also says——' -</p> - -<p> -'Mamma again!—says what?' -</p> - -<p> -'That we are evidently unsuited for each other.' -</p> - -<p> -'When did she discover this? Her letters to me have -never breathed a suspicion of it.' -</p> - -<p> -Annot did not reply, but continued to trace the pattern -of the carpet with a foot like that of Cinderella. -</p> - -<p> -'When did she adopt this new view?' asked Roland, -almost sternly. -</p> - -<p> -'Recently, I suppose.' -</p> - -<p> -'We know our own minds, surely, so what can her -capricious ideas matter to us? If you love me, Annot, -they can make no difference.' -</p> - -<p> -She only winced a little, and averted her face still more, -as if she dared not meet his dark, earnest, and inquiring -eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'Speak!' he exclaimed. -</p> - -<p> -'Women change their minds often, it is said—why may -not I, by advice?' -</p> - -<p> -'God keep me, Annot! Then the change is with yourself? -Has our past, so far as you are concerned, been all -duplicity and falsehood?' -</p> - -<p> -'As when last we spoke on this matter, your language is -unpleasant, Roland,' said Annot, as if seeking a cause for -indignation or complaint. -</p> - -<p> -'Is this a time to mince matters? Surely you loved me?' -</p> - -<p> -'You—you were so fond of me, that I could not help -liking you in return, Roland,' said she, trembling and -confusedly; 'we were thrown so much together, and—and you -see——' -</p> - -<p> -'That I have been befooled!' he interrupted her with -bitterness and a gust of anger. -</p> - -<p> -'Do not use such a rough expression,' said she, recovering -herself; 'and please don't allow listeners to think we are -rehearsing for amateur theatricals.' -</p> - -<p> -For a moment concentrated fury flashed in Roland's dark -eyes. -</p> - -<p> -Then he regarded her wistfully again, and his gust of -anger gave way to an emotion of infinite tenderness. -</p> - -<p> -'Annot,' he exclaimed, caressing her hands, on which, -truth to tell, his hot tears dropped. 'Oh, my darling, tell -me that you do not mean all this—that you are not in cruel -earnest and oblivious of all the past.' -</p> - -<p> -'I never loved you——' -</p> - -<p> -'Never loved me?' said he hoarsely, -</p> - -<p> -'As you wished to be; it was to serve my own ends—my -own purpose that I simulated—then—so hate me if you -can!' -</p> - -<p> -'Hate you,' he faltered, utterly crushed and bewildered -by her words. His eyes were lurid now, for anger again -mingled with love in them. 'Surely this is all some bad -dream, from which I must awaken.' -</p> - -<p> -'It is no dream,' said Annot, turning with an unsteady -step as if she would pass him; but he barred her way. -</p> - -<p> -'Do you mean that you loved some one else?' he asked. -</p> - -<p> -'Do not ask me.' -</p> - -<p> -'I have the right to do so!' -</p> - -<p> -'No, Roland—you have not.' -</p> - -<p> -'You surely did at one time love me, Annot, or your -duplicity is monstrous, till—till this fellow Hoyle came -upon the tapis? Was it not so?' he asked, almost piteously, -for his moods varied quickly. -</p> - -<p> -'Not quite; and I can't be poor, that is the plain English -of it; I can't be a struggling man's wife, as I now know -yours must be, as Earlshaugh——' -</p> - -<p> -'Belongs to another, and not to me, you mean?' -</p> - -<p> -She was silent. Selfish though she was to the heart's -core, a blush crossed her cheek, a genuine blush of shame -at her own blunt openness, and it was but too evident -that she had schooled herself for all this—had screwed her -courage to the sticking point. -</p> - -<p> -'Then I have only been a cat's-paw, and you have loved, -if it is in your nature to love, another all the time?' said -Roland hoarsely, as he drew back a pace with something of -horror and disgust in his face now. -</p> - -<p> -Almost pitifully did this cruel girl regard his face, which -had become ashy gray, the wounded and despairing love he -felt for her passing away from his eyes, while his figure, she -could not but admit, was straight, handsome, and proud in -bearing as ever, when compared with that of the <i>other</i>, who -was in her mind now. -</p> - -<p> -'All is over, then, and there is no need to torture or -humiliate me further,' said he. -</p> - -<p> -'All is over—yes,' she replied, with a real or affected -sob; 'and you will, I hope, bless the day when I left you -free to win a richer bride than I am, Roland. Forgive me, -and let us part friends.' -</p> - -<p> -'<i>Friends!</i>' he exclaimed, in a low voice of reproach, -bitterness, and rage curiously mingled. -</p> - -<p> -Resolute to act out the scene to the last detail, she slowly -drew her engagement ring off her finger—like the marriage -ring, the woman's badge of servitude according to the old -English idea, but of eternity with every other people, past -or present—laid it on a table near him, and gliding away -without another word or glance, they separated, and Roland -stood for a minute or so as if turned to stone. -</p> - -<p> -Then, like one in a dream, he found himself walking -slowly to and fro, forgetful even of his temporary lameness, -on the terraced path beneath the towering walls of the old -house. -</p> - -<p> -The engagement ring—how tiny it looked!—was in his -hand, and with something like a malediction he tossed it -into a sheet of deep ornamental water that lay thereby, and -there too, perhaps, he would have tossed all the other -beautiful and valuable presents he had given her; but these -the fair Annot did not as yet see her way to returning, and, -sooth to say, he never thought of them. -</p> - -<p> -So—so he was 'thrown over' for one who seemed most -suddenly and unaccountably to have come upon the tapis, -but chiefly because he was a kind of outcast—a disinherited -man. Had she not told him so in the plainest language? -</p> - -<p> -The situation was a grotesquely humiliating one. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, to be well and strong and fit to march again!' he sighed. -</p> - -<p> -In the expression of his dark eyes there was now much of -the bitterness, keenness, and longing of a prisoner looking -round the cell which he loathed, and from which he desired -to be gone; and more than once, in the solitude of his -room, he closed his eyes and rested his head upon his arms, -as if he wished to see and hear of his then surroundings -no more. -</p> - -<p> -Even the caresses of Maude—even Hester's gentle voice -and soft touch failed to rouse him for a time. -</p> - -<p> -Some days elapsed before Roland—after thinking over -again and again all the details of this most singular episode, -the strangest <i>crisis</i> in his life—could realize that it was not -all a dream, and that the relations between himself and -Annot had undergone such a complete revolution that their -paths in life must lie apart for ever, now. -</p> - -<p> -But he was yet to learn the more bitter sequel to all -this. -</p> - -<p> -Roland naturally thought that as the doctors would -scarcely yet permit him to quit Earlshaugh and travel, now -Annot Drummond would take her departure to Merlwood or -London; but this she did not do, and seemed, with intense -bad taste, to adopt the rôle of being his stepmother's guest, -while sedulously avoiding him, so he began to make his -arrangements for decamping without delay. -</p> - -<p> -In bidding adieu, out of mere courtesy to Mrs. Lindsay, -Roland never referred to the existence of Annot. -Neither did she. -</p> - -<p> -Was this good feeling, or was she endorsing the new -situation adopted by Annot? -</p> - -<p> -He cared not to canvass the matter even in his own mind; -but ere he quitted Earlshaugh he was yet, we have said, to -learn the sequel to all this. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap39"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXXIX. -<br /><br /> -TURNING THE TABLES. -</h3> - -<p> -His sword and helmet cases, his portmanteau and travelling -rugs were duly strapped and placed in the stately old -entrance-hall in readiness, as Roland was to be off by an -early morning train, and never again would he break bread -in the home of his forefathers. Every link that bound him -to Earlshaugh was broken now, and he felt only a feverish -restlessness to be gone! -</p> - -<p> -Ere that came to pass, Roland's eyes were fated to be -somewhat roughly opened. -</p> - -<p> -All that day the nervous quivering of his nether lip, his -unusual paleness—notwithstanding his apparent calm—showed -to his sister that he was deeply agitated, and was -suffering from passionate, if suppressed, emotion. -</p> - -<p> -In the deepening dusk of his last evening at Earlshaugh -he had, cigar in mouth, strolled forth alone to con over his -own bitter thoughts, and nurse his wrath 'to keep it warm,' -or inspired by a vague idea that he would sort his mind, -which was then in a somewhat chaotic condition. -</p> - -<p> -The evening—one of the last in October—was cool, and -the wind wailed sadly in the task of stripping the trees of -their withered leaves, though at no time of the year do they -look so beautiful in the Scottish woods as in autumn, save, -perhaps, when they first burst forth in their emerald -greenery. -</p> - -<p> -Round the tall old mansion, down the terraced walks, -past the lakelet and through the grounds he wandered till he -reached a kind of kiosk or summer-house, built of fantastic, -knotty branches, roofed with thatch, and furnished with a -rustic seat—a damp and gloomy place just then. He threw -himself upon the latter, and, resting his head upon his hand, -proceeded to chew the cud of bitter fancy that had no -sweet in it. -</p> - -<p> -The period had vanished when existence seemed full of -joyous dreams and a course of glowing scenes. The world -was still as beautiful, no doubt, but it sparkled no more with -light and colour for him; idols had been shattered—ideals -had collapsed, and it seemed very cold and empty now. -</p> - -<p> -How long he had been there he scarcely knew—perhaps -half an hour—when in the gloom under the half-stripped -trees he heard voices, and saw two figures, or made out a -male and female lingering near the summer-house, which he -dreaded lest they should enter, when he discovered them to -be Annot—Annot Drummond, muffled in a cosy white fur -cloak of Maude's—and, Heaven above!—of all men on -earth—Hawkey Sharpe! -</p> - -<p> -For a moment or two Roland scarcely respired—his heart -seemed to stand still. Intensely repugnant to him as it was -to act as eavesdropper on the one hand, on the other he was -proudly and profoundly reluctant to confront those two. -There he remained still, hoping every moment they would -move on and leave the pathway clear; but they remained, -and thus he heard more than he expected to hear from such -a singular pair. -</p> - -<p> -He had now a clue to the reason of Annot's reluctance to -leave Earlshaugh, of her protracted visit as the guest of -Mrs. Lindsay, and why latterly she had so mysteriously and -sedulously cultivated the friendship of that lady. -</p> - -<p> -The question, was it honourable to remain where he was, -flashed across Roland's mind! It was not incompatible -with honour under the peculiar circumstances, so he heard -more. -</p> - -<p> -'That nonsense has surely come to an end, or are you -still engaged to him?' said Hawkey, who held her hands -in his. -</p> - -<p> -Annot was silent. Could she be temporizing yet? -</p> - -<p> -'Do you think he loves you as well as I do?' urged -Hawkey Sharpe, bending over her. -</p> - -<p> -Still she was silent. -</p> - -<p> -'If so, why has he ever left you, even for an hour, to shoot -and so forth, as he has often done? Speak, Annot. Surely -I may call you Annot now.' -</p> - -<p> -Still there was no reply. It seemed as if she was thinking -deeply—thinking how best to reply, to play her cards or to -temporize; but to what end, when all was over between her -and Roland now? -</p> - -<p> -'You <i>were</i> engaged to him?' said Hawkey again, with a -little impatience of manner. -</p> - -<p> -'By a chain of circumstances over which I had no control,' -replied Annot in a faltering voice; 'in his uncle's -house at Merlwood I was——' -</p> - -<p> -'Was—is it ended?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—for ever.' -</p> - -<p> -'Thank God for that! Did you think you loved him?' -asked Hawkey with a grin. -</p> - -<p> -'I believe that I did—or ought—I was so silly—so -simple—so——' -</p> - -<p> -'There—there—I don't want to worry you.' -</p> - -<p> -'But he loves me, I know that,' said Annot in a low -voice—true to her vanity still. -</p> - -<p> -'That I can well believe—who could see you and not love -you?' said Hawkey gallantly. -</p> - -<p> -'I could never marry a poor man,' said Annot candidly. -</p> - -<p> -'Well—he is poor enough.' -</p> - -<p> -'And live on, eating my heart out in struggles such as -some I have seen,' continued Annot as if to herself. -</p> - -<p> -'Though here in Earlshaugh just now, what is he, this -fellow Lindsay, but a penniless pretender!' exclaimed Sharpe, -fired with animosity against Roland; who thus heard his -name, his position, and the dearest secrets of his heart -openly canvassed by this presumptuous and low-born fellow, -and with Annot too—she who, till lately—but he could not -put his thoughts in words—they seemed to choke him; and -the whole situation was degrading—maddening! -</p> - -<p> -'Well,' chuckled Sharpe, 'he is out of the running now; -and then you and I understand each other so well, my little -golden-haired pet! so true it is that "when a woman of the -world and a man of the world meet, whatever the circumstances -may be, or the surroundings, in a moment there is -rapport between them, and all flows along easily." I thought -when Lindsay fell into the Cleugh,' he added, with a coarse -laugh, 'that he had betaken himself off to something that -suited him better than fighting the Arabs. But it is long ere -the deil dies—now he is well and whole again, and looks -every inch like the Lindsay in the gallery, with the buff coat -and a dish-cover on his head, that led a brigade of horse -against the English at Dunbar. Well, the old place has -done with that brood now; and after Deb, Earlshaugh -must be mine—mine—shall be <i>ours</i>, Annot, for ever and -aye!' -</p> - -<p> -The breeze caught the lace of her sleeve, and, lifting it, -showed the perfect and lovely contour of her soft white arm, -on which Hawkey Sharpe fastened his coarse lips with a -fervour there could be no doubting. -</p> - -<p> -Kissed by him? Roland felt perfectly cured. The -desecration, the dishonour, seemed complete! It is but -too probable that Mr. Hawkey Sharpe felt the exultation -of revenge and triumph in every kiss he took, even though -he believed them to be unseen. -</p> - -<p> -Though it was now apparent that she had thrown 'dust' -in Roland's eyes by using the name of <i>another</i>, and had thus -doubly lied to him, the blow did not fall so unexpectedly, -yet the degradation of it was complete. -</p> - -<p> -Hoyle was a myth—a blind to throw him off the right -track—and he had been discarded, not for that personage, -but for Hawkey Sharpe. This was truly to find -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'In the lowest deep a lower deep'<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -of utter humiliation! -</p> - -<p> -At last they passed onward, and he was again alone. -</p> - -<p> -'I have undergone something like the torture of the -rack,' said he with a bitter laugh, when he related to Maude -and Hester what he had been compelled to overhear in the -summer-house, and the latter thought of that eventful evening -at Merlwood, when she so unwittingly had in like manner -been compelled to lurk in the shrubbery and hear a -revelation that crushed her own heart to the dust. -</p> - -<p> -Thus, though he knew it not, the tables were turned on -Roland with a vengeance. -</p> - -<p> -Like Hester, he could not agree with Romeo— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'How sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,'<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -when the said tongues addressed all their sweetness to -others. -</p> - -<p> -'She is an ungrateful, selfish, horrible girl—I'll never -forgive her—never!' said Maude, almost sobbing with -anger. -</p> - -<p> -'How filthy lucre rules the world now!' exclaimed Roland. -'Do such girls as she ever repent the mischief they make—the -hearts they have broken?' -</p> - -<p> -'As if hearts break nowadays? she would ask,' said Hester -with something of a smile. -</p> - -<p> -'Likely enough—it is her style, no doubt. But can you, -Hester, or anyone, explain this cruel duplicity? To me it -seems as if I were still in the middle of a horrid dream—a -dream from which I must suddenly wake. That she, so -winsome and artless apparently—so gentle and loving, -should become so cold, so calculating, so mercilessly cruel -now!' -</p> - -<p> -'I always mistrusted her,' said Maude bitterly. 'People -call her eyes hazel—to me they always seemed a kind of -vampire-green.' -</p> - -<p> -Roland made no reply, but he was thinking with Whyte-Melville: -</p> - -<p> -'Who shall account for the fascination exercised by some -women upon all who approach their sphere? The peculiar -power of the rattlesnake, whose eye is said to lure the -conscious victim unresistingly to its doom, and the attractive -properties possessed by certain bodies, and by them used -with equal recklessness and cruelty, are two arrangements of -Nature which make me believe in mesmerism.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well—to-morrow I quit this place without beat of drum!' -exclaimed Roland. -</p> - -<p> -'For Edinburgh?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—to the Club.' -</p> - -<p> -'And then?' -</p> - -<p> -'For Egypt. There I shall live every day of my life as if -there were no to-morrow.' -</p> - -<p> -'Nonsense!' said Jack. 'You'll get over all this in -time—a hit in the wing, that is all!' -</p> - -<p> -Old Johnnie Buckle, who had forebodings in the matter -of Roland's departure, had tears in his eyes as he drove him -in the drag to the railway station next morning, and as he -wrung his hand at parting he said—showing that he knew -precisely of the double trouble that had fallen on the young -Laird: -</p> - -<p> -'Better twa skaiths than ae sorrow, Maister Roland,' -meaning that losses can be repaired, but grief may break -the heart; 'and mind ye, sir,' he added, as the train started, -'a' the keys o' the country dinna hang at ae man's belt, and -ye'll wear your ain bannet yet!' -</p> - -<p> -And on this <i>bouleversement</i> we need scarcely refer to the -emotions of those who loved Roland best. -</p> - -<p> -Jack Elliot, as he selected a cigar to smoke and think the -situation over, deemed that Roland was well out of the -whole affair; Maude, who was preparing for her departure -from Earlshaugh, like Hester, was furiously indignant; but, -for reasons of her own, the thoughts of the latter were of a -somewhat mingled nature. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap40"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XL. -<br /><br /> -THE NEW POSITION. -</h3> - -<p> -Though, by her own admission, not entirely ignorant of -Annot's secret springs of action, that social buccaneer, -Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, was exultantly defiant about his victory -over, and revenge on, Roland Lindsay, for such he deemed -the new position to be; and in his pale gray eyes, as he -thought over it, there gleamed a savage light, such as it is -said 'men carry when the thirst for blood possesses them.' -</p> - -<p> -Roland, whom latterly Mrs. Lindsay had learned to like -better than was her wont, was now gone, and would nevermore, -she was assured, repass the door of Earlshaugh, and -she actually felt as much regret for him as it was in her hard, -cold nature to feel. He had been kind, her heart said to -herself, and his soft, gentle, and polished manners contrasted -most favourably with those of the few men she met now, -and especially with those of her brother Hawkey. -</p> - -<p> -'The self-contained bearing, the habitual repose of one -who mixes in good society, invariably displays,' it is said, -'a striking dissimilarity to those who, immersed in the -business of life, have not such opportunities. Women note -these things keenly; especially do they regard the carriage -of those whom they believe to move in circles above their -own.' -</p> - -<p> -With regard to Annot, as one connected by marriage with -the Lindsay family, she was not sorry at the turn affairs had -taken with regard to that enterprising young lady and her -brother, Hawkey Sharpe. Socially, Annot was far beyond, -or above, the bride he could ever have hoped to win, and -she might be the means of raising him, steadying and curing -him of his horsy, low, and gambling propensities, which had -made him prove a great anxiety in many ways, with all his -usefulness to herself, since, on her husband's death, she -became mistress of Earlshaugh. -</p> - -<p> -'Thanks, Deb, old girl,' said he, as he pocketed a cheque -of hers for fifty pounds, and thought gloomily over the two -thousand that would in time become inexorably due and -must be paid, or see him stigmatized as a <i>welsher</i>! -</p> - -<p> -'Little does the outer world know of all I have to put up -with from you, Hawkey,' said she, with a sigh, as she -locked away her cheque-book, and he surveyed her with a -cool and discriminating stare through his eyeglass—the use -of which be affected in imitation of others—screwed into his -right eye. -</p> - -<p> -'It is too bad of you to talk to me in that way, Deb,' -said he, 'when I have cut out and relieved you of the -presence of that impudent beggar, Lindsay. Miss Drummond, -as an only daughter, must, I suppose, be the heiress -to something or other.' -</p> - -<p> -'I thought she would never look with favour on you—but -treat you as Maude did,' said Mrs. Lindsay, slowly -fanning herself with a large black lace fan. -</p> - -<p> -Hawkey laughed maliciously; then he suddenly set his -teeth together and exclaimed: -</p> - -<p> -'Maude! I'll pay <i>her</i> out yet—she and I have not -squared our accounts—I shall be even with her before long. -As for little Annot not looking at me—by Jove, she has -looked and said all I could have wished. She is not so -"stand-off" and unapproachable as you may think all her -set to be, when a fellow knows the way to go about it—as I -rather flatter myself I do,' he added, caressing his -straw-coloured and tenderly-fostered moustache, and pulling up -his shirt-collar. -</p> - -<p> -'But where have you and she met, since you ceased to -occupy your rooms here?' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh—with the hounds—in the park—wherever I wished, -in fact. You and she, Deb, will get on excellently together, -if we all play our cards well now—I marry one of the -family, don't you see? Then, I haven't a doubt that Annot -has money.' -</p> - -<p> -'Did she give you reason to suppose she has?' -</p> - -<p> -'N—no—not exactly—well?' -</p> - -<p> -'She will succeed to whatever her mother may -have—little, probably.' -</p> - -<p> -'Will have, or <i>may</i> have—shady that! Well, unlike -most heiresses, she's a deuced pretty little girl, Deb, and -suits my book exactly. So, with your assistance, we shall -be all right.' -</p> - -<p> -'My assistance?' -</p> - -<p> -'Of course.' -</p> - -<p> -'Bright, soft, and girlish as she seems, I suspect there is -not a more artful damsel in London,' said Mrs. Lindsay -shrewdly. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh bosh, Deb! Well, if it be so, two can do the artful -game; but does not your own knowledge of human nature -lead you to see,' he added sententiously, 'that art and -prudence too give place when love comes on the scene?' -</p> - -<p> -'Love—yes—are you quoting a play? Will this fancy of -hers last—if fancy it is?' -</p> - -<p> -'Why not?' -</p> - -<p> -'You are not a gentleman in her sense of the word.' -</p> - -<p> -'You are deuced unpleasant, Deb!' said he, contemplating -his spiky nails. -</p> - -<p> -'And her sudden quarrel with Roland Lindsay—if -quarrel it was—I do not understand.' -</p> - -<p> -'I do. He is a poor beggar—dropped out of the -hunt—and I—I am——' -</p> - -<p> -'What?' -</p> - -<p> -'Supposed to be your heir,' said he, putting the -suggestion gently; 'long, long may it be only -supposition, Deb; but a few thousands yearly—say -five—would make us all right, and then we have the run -of the house here—what more do we want? So all will be -right, even with the county, I say again, if we only play -our cards well.' -</p> - -<p> -She had played <i>her</i> cards well in the past time, she -thought, as Hawkey, whom conversation always made -thirsty, left her in quest of a brandy and soda. -</p> - -<p> -Seated in her luxurious boudoir, her memory went back -to the days of her early life, as an underpaid and -hard-worked governess; and then to those when she became the -humble and useful companion to Roland's mother, and, -after her death, a kind of guardian to Maude on the latter -leaving school. Then came the accident that befel the old -Laird in the hunting-field at Macbeth's Stank—a wet ditch -with a 'yarner' on each side, the terror of the Fife Hunt, -but said to have been leapt by the usurper's horse when he -returned from Dunnimarle after slaying the family of -Macduff; and how necessary she made herself to the -suffering invalid; how (artfully) she seemed to anticipate -his thoughts, to understand all his wants, his favourite -dishes and so forth; and how grateful he became to her, -and how she clung to him like a barnacle or octopus, -without seeming to do so. How necessary he soon found -it to have a clever, sensible, and loving woman—one rather -handsome, too—to look after him, when his two sons—especially -that spendthrift in the Scots Guards—seemed to -regard him as only a factor or banker to draw upon without -mercy; and so he married her one morning when the -weather was very cold; when the early snow was on the -Ochil summits and powdering the Lomonds of Fife, and -<i>then</i> she knew that she was the wife of a landed gentleman -of old and high descent—Colin Lindsay, Laird of Earlshaugh! -</p> - -<p> -She was, of course, to be a second mother to Maude (who -declined to view her as such) and to his two sons if they -became careful; and meantime, ere dying, he handed over -to her, by will, as stated, beyond all hope of disputing it at -law, every wood, acre, and tree he possessed, causing much -uplifting of hands and shaking of heads in ominous wonder -throughout the county, and more especially in the East -Neuk thereof. -</p> - -<p> -But she bore herself well, dressed richly as became her -age and new station—kept a handsome carriage with her -late husband's arms—the fesse chequy argent and azure for -Lindsay—thereon in a lozenge; but was rarely seen in the -company of Maude, who did not, would not, and never -could, approve of the position so ungenerously assigned to -herself and her only surviving brother Roland, who had -been much less to blame than his senior of the Household -Brigade. -</p> - -<p> -And Mrs. Lindsay was just then beginning to discover -that she was likely to have—in the person of her brother, as -an intrusive, if sometimes necessary factotum—something -of a skeleton in her cupboard at Earlshaugh. -</p> - -<p> -Since the Laird's death, Hawkey Sharpe had loved well -to pose as a man of influence and importance—more than -all, as the probable and future proprietor of Earlshaugh; -and liked to imagine how all would look up to him then -and seek his favourable notice. -</p> - -<p> -His sister's secret and deadly ailment was to him a -constant source of anxiety that was <i>not</i> borne of affection; -he dreaded, also, her 'kirk proclivities,' and the influence -possessed over her 'by that old caterpillar, the minister.' -'I'll have to look sharp now after my own interests—old -Deb is getting rather long in the tooth for me,' he would -think at times. -</p> - -<p> -Treated as she had been by Maude and others of the -family since her marriage, she could not have a very kindly -feeling to the Lindsay line. 'Blood is warmer than water,' -says our Scottish proverb; and Hawkey was the only -kinsman she had in the world that she knew of; but, a -scapegrace, a spendthrift, and toady to herself, as she knew -him to be, some of her sympathies were just then rather -more with the disinherited Roland Lindsay than Mr. Hawkey -Sharpe would have relished, had he in the least -suspected such a thing. -</p> - -<p> -And Annot's thoughts on reviewing her new position were -rather of a mingled sort, and something of this kind: -</p> - -<p> -'I am going to marry this man Hawkey Sharpe. Odious -man! I cannot pretend, even to myself, to be much in love -with him—if at all; yet I am going to marry him—and -why? Because I love the splendid patrimony that, in time, -will become his; this beautiful estate, this grand old house, -the parure of family diamonds, and the settlements that -must be made upon me. I always meant to marry the first -wealthy man who asked me, and now I am only true to my -creed—the creed mamma taught me. Can anyone blame -me for that? Of course I would rather a thousand times -have had poor Roland with Earlshaugh, because he is a man -that any woman might love and be proud of; but failing him, -I must put up with the person and name of—Hawkey -Sharpe. Can anyone think it very wicked that I—a -penniless little creature—should prefer such a well-feathered -nest as this to that gloomy and small poky house in South -Belgravia, with its one drab of a servant, cold meat, shabby -clothes, and all its sordid concomitants? No; give me the -ease, the prosperity, the luxury, and the flesh-pots of -Earlshaugh, with its manor and lands, wood, hill, and field.' -</p> - -<p> -But it was a considerable relief to her mind—shamelessly -selfish though she was—when within twenty-four hours after -Roland's departure her two cousins and Jack Elliot (whose -faces she cared never to see again) also left for the capital, -and she remained behind the guest of—Mrs. Lindsay. -</p> - -<p> -'As for Roland,' Annot thought, '<i>he</i> will get over our -little affair easily. He loved me, no doubt, but love we -know to be only a parenthesis in the lives of most men.' -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap41"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XLI. -<br /><br /> -THE CAPTIVE. -</h3> - -<p> -We must now change the scene to the Soudan—<i>Beled-es-Soudan</i>, -or 'The Land of the Blacks,' so called by ancient -geographers—whither a single flight of imagination will take -us without undergoing a fortnight's voyage by sea to Alexandria, -<i>viâ</i> the Bay of Biscay, with its long, heavy swells, and -the Mediterranean, which is not always like a mill pond; -and then a long and toilsome route across the Lower and -Upper Provinces to where the Sheikh Moussa Abu Hagil -was journeying towards his remote home, with the luckless -Malcolm Skene in his train—a place on the borders of the -Nubian Desert, not far from the Nile, in the neighbourhood -of the third cataract, and situated about midway between -Assouan, the name of which had not, as yet, become a -'household word' with us, and Khartoum, where then the -well-nigh despairing Gordon was still waging his desperate -defence against the Mahdi. -</p> - -<p> -By this time how weary had the eye—yea, the very soul—of -the luckless captive become of the desert scenery, in a -land visited only by a few bold travellers, who in times past -had accompanied the caravans from one valley to another. -There the desert sand is deep and loose, with sharp flinty -stones, in some places sprinkled with glistening rock salt, -and showing here and there a grove of dwindled acacias or -tufts of colocynth and senna, to relieve the awful dreariness -of its aspect. -</p> - -<p> -The water in the pools, even in the rainy season, is there -black and putrid; hence the Arabs of the district remove -with their flocks to better regions, where the higher -mountains run from Assouan to Haimaur. -</p> - -<p> -Steering, as it were, unerringly by landmarks known to -themselves alone, the Sheikh Moussa Abu Hazil and his -followers made progress towards his home—or zereba—in -the quarter we have mentioned. -</p> - -<p> -Malcolm Skene had now been conveyed so far inland by -his captors that escape seemed hopeless; yet, buoyed up by -the secret chance that such <i>might</i> come, he struggled on -with the party day by day, ignorant of the fate that awaited -him, though he could never forget that of Palmer and his -companions on the shore of the Red Sea. -</p> - -<p> -More than once Hassan Abdullah mockingly held before -him the pocket compass, which, of course, he had contrived -to abstract on some occasion. Its loss did not matter much -now, but it was eventually appropriated by the Sheikh -Moussa, whether it were <i>efrit</i> or not; and Hassan, who -seemed inclined to resent this, received in reward a blow -from their leader's lance. -</p> - -<p> -The latter, who, in some respects, was not unlike the -published portraits of his kinsman Zebehr, was at the head of a -body of Bedouins, not Soudanese. Each tribe of these wild -horsemen is considered to have an exclusive property in a -district proportioned to the strength and importance of the -tribes, but affording room for migration, which is -indispensable among a people whose subsistence is derived from -cattle, and the spontaneous produce of the sterile regions -they inhabit. Thus they often join neighbouring tribes, -Emirs and Sheikhs, in the hope of an advantageous change. -In this manner were this Bedouin troop under the banner of -Sheikh Moussa. -</p> - -<p> -All were thin and hardy men, with the muscles of their -limbs more strongly developed than the rest of the body; -their strength and activity were great, and their power of -abstinence such that, like their own camels, they could -travel four or five days without tasting water. Their deep -black eyes glared with an intensity never seen in Northern -regions, and gave full credence to the marvellous stories -Skene had heard of their extraordinary powers of discriminating -vision and the acuteness of their other senses. -</p> - -<p> -Unlike the nearly nude warriors of the Mahdi, these -Bedouins under their floating burnous wore shirts of coarse -cotton with wide and loose sleeves—a garment rarely -changed or washed. Over this some had a Turkish gown -of mingled cotton and silk, but most of them wore a mantle, -called an <i>abba</i>, like a square, loose sack, with slits for the -arms, woven of woollen thread and camel's hair, girt by a -girdle, and showing broad stripes of many colours; but -trousers of all kinds seemed superfluities unknown. -Picturesque looking fellows they were, and reminded Skene of -the descriptive lines in Grant's 'Arabia': -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Freedom's fierce unconquered child,<br /> - The Bedouin robber, nursling of the wild,<br /> - With whirlwind speed he guides his vagrant band,<br /> - Fire-eyed and tawny as their subject sand:<br /> - On foam-flecked steeds, impetuous all advance,<br /> - Whirl the bright sabre, couch the quivering lance,<br /> - Or grasping, ruthless, in the savage chase,<br /> - The belt-slung carbine and spike-headed mace,<br /> - Ardent for plunder, emulate the wind,<br /> - Scorn the low level, spurn the world behind;<br /> - While the dense dust-cloud rears its giant form,<br /> - And, rolled in spires, revealed the threatening storm.'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Malcolm Skene found that he was rather a favourite with -these wild fellows from the facility with which he could -converse with them in Arabic; and though he knew not the -<i>thousand</i> names that language is said to possess for a sword, -he could repeat to them the <i>Fatihat</i>, or short opening -chapter of the Koran, called that of prayer and -thanksgiving; and they accorded him great praise accordingly. -And, sooth to say, any Christian may repeat it without evil, -as it simply runs thus in English: -</p> - -<p> -'Praise be to God, the Lord of all creatures; the Most -Merciful; the King of the Day of Judgment! Thee do we -worship, and of Thee do we beg assistance. Direct us in -the right way of those to whom Thou hast been gracious; -not of those against whom Thou art incensed, nor of those -who go astray.' -</p> - -<p> -But he knew the hostility of the slimy and savage Greek, -Pietro Girolamo, and of the cowardly and false Egyptian, -Hassan Abdullah, was undying towards him, and that they -only waited for the opportunity to take his life, if possible -unknown to the Sheikh, and then achieve their own escape -from the latter. -</p> - -<p> -On every occasion that suited they reviled him, spat on -him, and hurled pebbles at him; but if their hands wandered -instinctively to pistol or poniard he had but to utter -the magic words to the Sheikh Moussa, 'Ana dakheilak!' -(I am your protected), and the lowering of the lance-head in -threat sufficed to send them cowed to the rear. -</p> - -<p> -Moussa now made Skene acquainted with a fact which, -though explanatory as to the reason why his life was spared, -did not prove very soothing or hopeful; that he meant to -retain him at his zereba as a hostage for his kinsman Zebehr -Pasha, 'then under detention at Cairo by those sons of dogs -the English—<i>Allah bou rou Gehenna</i>!' -</p> - -<p> -Hence, as yet, Malcolm knew that his life was deemed of -some value to his captors, who did not then foresee the -future deportation of the king of the slave dealers, by Lord -Wolseley's orders, to Gibraltar. -</p> - -<p> -To escape, on foot or horseback, or in any way elude the -Bedouin guard, seemed to him a greater difficulty than to -achieve the same thing from Soudanese, so well were the -former mounted, so amply armed, so fleet and active in -movement, and every way so acute, eagle-eyed, serpent-like -in wile and wisdom and relentless as a tiger in fury and -bloodshed. -</p> - -<p> -Even if he could successfully elude them, what lay before -him—what behind, the way he must pursue, if ever again he -was to reach the world he had been reft from! The -desert—the awful, trackless desert he had traversed in their -obnoxious company, but could never hope to traverse it -alone—the desert, where water is more precious to the -traveller than would be the famous Emerald Mountain of -Nubia itself! It barred him out from civilization as -completely as if it had been the waves of a shoreless sea. -</p> - -<p> -The Sheikh often rode by his side, and asked him many -perplexing questions about Europe and the land of the -French, of which the inquirer had not the most vague idea, -or of how the red soldiers Of the mysterious Queen reached -Egypt, or where they came from; of Stamboul, which he -thought was in Arabia; of India, which he thought was in -Russia—of who were the English, and who the British that -always aided them; adding, as he stroked his great beard, -that 'it mattered little, as they must all perish—<i>Feh sebil -Allah</i>!' (for the cause of God). -</p> - -<p> -He hated them with a bitterness beyond all language, as -interferers with the traffic in <i>djellabs</i>, as the slave-dealers -term their human wares; and for the losses he had -sustained at their hands, like Osman Digna, when some of his -dhows were captured on their voyage to Jeddah by British -cruisers; and ultimately even Suakim became so closely -watched by the latter that his caravan leaders had to deposit -their captives by twos and threes at lonely places on the -shore of the Red Sea, to transmit them across it when -occasion served. Then when he came to speak of the -Anglo-Egyptian slave convention, which was the ruin of the traders -in human flesh, he gnashed his teeth, his black eye-balls -shot fire, and he looked as if with difficulty he restrained -himself from pinning Skene to the sand with his lance. -</p> - -<p> -It was the ruin of the Soudan, he declared, as the -Christians only wished to liberate all slaves that they might -become their property. He had struggled against this, he -said, with voice and sword till the summer of 1881, when -the Mahdi, Mahommed Achmet Shemseddin, issuing from -his cave on the White Nile, proclaimed himself the New -Prophet. Then he cast his lot with the latter, and in two -years after served with him at the capture of El Obeid, and -the slaughter of the armies of Hicks and Baker, when they -won together a holy influence and a military reputation, -which were greatly enhanced by subsequent conflicts and -events. -</p> - -<p> -Such was the stern, unpleasant, and uncompromising -individual in whose hands Malcolm Skene found himself -retained as a hostage, in a trifling way it seemed, for -Zebehr-Rahama-Gymme-Abel, better known as Zebehr Pasha, -whilom the friend of General Gordon, but in reality the -most slippery, savage, and bitter enemy of Britain in the -present time. -</p> - -<p> -And full of the heavy thoughts his entire circumstances -forced upon him, somewhere about the first of November -he found himself, with his escort, approaching a zereba -which had been one of the headquarters of Zebehr, but -latterly assigned to his kinsman, Sheikh Moussa, and the -very aspect of it made even the stout heart of Malcolm -Skene sink within him, as he had been prepared for a tented -camp, or wigwam-like village, but not for the place in which -he found himself, and which was one of those described by -Dr. Schweinfurth, the great German traveller, when he visited -Zebehr Pasha a short time before. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap42"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XLII. -<br /><br /> -THE ZEREBA OF SHEIKH MOUSSA. -</h3> - -<p> -At some little distance from the Nile, but what distance, -whether one or ten <i>shoni</i>, Skene could not then discover, -stood the zereba to which the Sheikh had lately fallen -possessor after Zebehr (who had been lord of thirty exactly -similar), in a strip of green, where a few palms, lupins, and -beans grew in an amphitheatre of small mountains—rocky, -jagged, volcanic in outline and aspect. A few camels and -donkeys grazed spectral-like in the vicinity amid a silence -that was intense, and in a district where there were no -flights of birds as in Egypt, and no wide reaches of valley -covered with green and golden plenty. -</p> - -<p> -Through a gorge in the steep rocky mountains, whose sides -were blackened by the sun of unknown ages, and broken -into fragments by some great convulsion of nature, the zereba -was entered. -</p> - -<p> -It was a group of well-sized huts, enclosed by tall hedges, -in the centre of which stood the private residence of Sheikh -Moussa, having various apartments, wherein usually armed -sentinels, black or swarthy, half-nude, with glowing eyes and -bright weapons—swords and spears or Remington rifles—kept -guard day and night. -</p> - -<p> -Through these, as one who was to be treated, as yet, with -hospitality at least, Malcolm Skene was conducted by a -couple of handsomely attired slaves (for here the power of -the Anglo-Egyptian Convention was <i>nil</i>), who gave him -coffee, sherbet, and a tchibouk, all most welcome after the -last day's toilsome march; and, throwing himself upon a -carpet and some soft skins, he strove to collect his thoughts, -to calculate the distance and the perils that lay between him -and freedom, and to think what was to be done now! -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile the Bedouins were grooming their horses outside, -laughing, chatting, smoking, and drinking long draughts -of <i>bouza</i> from stone jars—a kind of Nubian beer made from -dhurra. -</p> - -<p> -'People always meet again,' said Pietro Girolamo with a -savage grin, showing all his sharp, white teeth beneath a -long and coal-black moustache. 'The world is round, you -know, Signor, though the Sheikh thinks it flat—flat as my -roulette-table at Cairo. Ah, Christi! we have not forgotten -that; sooner or later people always meet again, and so shall -we.' -</p> - -<p> -And with these words, which contained a menace, the -Greek withdrew to some other part of the zereba, where he -seemed to be somewhat at home, as he was—Skene afterwards -discovered—father of the third and favourite wife of -Sheikh Moussa. -</p> - -<p> -The chambers, or halls—for such they were—seemed -silent—save a strange growling and the rasping of iron -fetters—and empty now, though there sometimes, in the -palmy days of the slave trade, as many as two thousand -dealers in <i>djellabs</i> gathered with their chained and wretched -victims every year. -</p> - -<p> -'The regal aspect of these halls of State,' says -Dr. Schweinfurth, 'was increased by the introduction of some -lions, secured, as may be supposed, by sufficiently strong -and massive chains.' -</p> - -<p> -It was the rattle of the latter and the growling of the lions -that Malcolm Skene heard with more bewilderment than -curiosity on the subject. -</p> - -<p> -Here in his favourite abode, Zebehr, says the doctor, -was long 'a picturesque figure, tall, spare, excitable, with -lions guarding his outer chamber, and his court filled with -armed slaves—smart, dapper-looking fellows, supple as -antelopes, fierce, unsparing, and the terror of Central -Africa; while around him gathered in thousands infernal -raiders, whose razzias have depopulated vast territories. -Superstitious, too, was Zebehr, for in his campaign against -Darfour, he melted down two hundred and fifty thousand -dollars into bullets—for no charm can stay a silver bullet—and -cruel as death itself! A word from him here raised the -Soudan in revolt against Gordon in 1878; and it was only -after some fierce righting that Gessi Pasha succeeded in -breaking the back of the revolt. After hunting the slave -raiders like wild beasts, he captured and shot eleven of -their chiefs, including Suleiman, the son of Zebehr. Hence -the blood-feud between Gordon and Zebehr which led the -latter to refuse to accompany the former to Khartoum. -The slave-dealers were slain in hundreds by natives whom -they had plundered. Zebehr's letters were found, proving -that he had ordered the revolt; but no action was taken -against him, and he continued to live in luxurious detention -at Cairo.' -</p> - -<p> -When Baker Pasha was organizing his forces to relieve -Tokar, he asked that Zebehr might go with him at the head -of a Nubian division. Zebehr and Sheikh Moussa Abu -Hagil raised the blacks, but the Anti-Slavery Society -protested against the employment of the former as improper -and in the highest degree perilous. Sir Evelyn Baring -pleaded for Zebehr and Moussa, but Lord Granville was -inexorable. He wrote: 'The employment of Zebehr Pasha -appears to her Majesty's Government inexpedient both -politically and as regards the slave trade.' -</p> - -<p> -Thus far some of the history of yesterday, which, -nevertheless, may be new to the reader. -</p> - -<p> -On his first entering the zereba Skene had returned the -formal welcome or greeting of Sheikh Moussa—touching -his forehead, lips, and breast—a symbolic action signifying -that in thought, word, and heart he was his. -</p> - -<p> -Pietro Girolamo, the Greek Islesman from Cerigo, was—we -have said—the father-in-law (at least one of them) to -Moussa Abu Hagil. -</p> - -<p> -Malcolm Skene came to the knowledge of that connection -through a stray copy of the now pretty well-known Arabic -newspaper, the <i>Mubashir</i>, which he found in the zereba; -and the columns of which contained a memoir of that enterprising -Sheikh, and in retailing some startling incidents in -his life gave a little light on certain habits of the dwellers in -the desert. -</p> - -<p> -Girolamo had been the skipper of one of his slave dhows, -or armed brigs, in the Red Sea, during the palmy times, -when as many as five thousand head of slaves were exposed -annually in the market place of Shendy—a traffic in which -Moussa, like his kinsmen, Zebehr Pasha, had grown enormously -rich; and, for a suitable sum, he bought a daughter -of Girolamo, a beautiful Greek girl. She became his third -wife, and died in giving birth to a daughter, the inheritor of -her pale and picturesque beauty, though shaded somewhat -by the Arab mixture in her blood; but in her fourteenth -year—a ripe age in those regions of the sun—her charms -were said to surpass all that had seen before and had become -the exaggerated theme of story-tellers and song-makers, even -in the market places and the cafés of Damanhour and -Cairo. -</p> - -<p> -The girl was named Isha (or Elizabeth) after her mother, -and educated in such accomplishments as were deemed -necessary to the wife of a powerful and wealthy Emir, for -such Moussa destined her to be, if not perhaps of his friend -and leader the Mahdi Achmet when the time came; but -the old brigand—for the slave dealer was little better in -spirit or habit when not absent fighting, plundering, and -raiding in search of <i>djellabs</i>—seemed never happy save when -in the society of this daughter, his only one, his other -children being sons, four of whom had fallen in battle -against Hicks on the field of Kashgate. -</p> - -<p> -Notwithstanding all the care with which the women of the -East are secluded in the <i>Kah'ah</i>, or harem, Isha had a lover, -a young Bedouin warrior named Khasim Jelalodeen, who, -though he had no more hope of winning her to share his -humble black tent than of obtaining the moon, loved her -with all the wild passion of which his lawless Arab nature -was capable. -</p> - -<p> -To have whispered of this passion to the Sheikh Moussa, -whom we have described as resembling a mummy of the -Pharaohs' time resuscitated, would have ensured the -destruction of Khasim, who had only his sword, his rifle, and a -horse with all its trappings. -</p> - -<p> -Yet Isha was not ignorant of the love the Bedouin bore -her, as he had a sister named Emineh, who was a kind of -companion and attendant of the former, and went between -the lovers as carefully and subtly as any old <i>Khatbeh</i>, or -betrother in the Abdin quarter in Cairo in the present -hour—thus freely bouquets, symbolically arranged—the -simple and beautiful love-letters of Oriental life, were -exchanged between them through the kind agency of -Emineh. -</p> - -<p> -Sheikh Moussa loved his brilliant little daughter, but he -loved money more; and when a caravan, under an old -business friend of his named Ebn al Ajuz (or 'the son of the -old woman,' obtained by his mother's prayers in the mosque -of Hassan at Cairo) passed <i>en route</i> from Darfour for the -capital and Assiout, laden with ivory, gum, and slaves—chiefly -women and girls, the dealer, having heard of the -beauty of Isha, applied to the Skeikh, and made him an -offer which, as both were in the trade, he found himself—filial -regard and affection apart—bound to consider. -</p> - -<p> -Moussa, to do him justice, had no great inclination to sell -his daughter, the light of his household, though he had -remorselessly sold the daughters of others by the thousand; -yet he was curious to know her value, as prices had gone -down even before the arrival of Gordon at Khartoum, -especially when Ebn al Ajuz spoke of the sum he was -prepared to give, and that the purse-holder was no other than -that generally supposed misogynist, the Khedive himself. -</p> - -<p> -He introduced the merchant to her apartments in order -to show her merits and discover the price, of which he could -judge, however, by his own business experience. -</p> - -<p> -Her rooms, covered with soft carpets, having luxurious -divans, decorated ceilings, and tiled floors, with beautiful -brackets supporting finely wrought vessels, and having large -windows of lattice work, others of stained glass, representing -floral objects, bouquets, and peacocks, Arabic inscriptions -and maxims written in letters of gold and green, received no -attention from the turbaned and bearded slave-dealer, whose -attention was at once arrested by Isha, who had been clad, -she knew not why, in her richest apparel, with her eyebrows -needlessly blackened and her nails reddened by henna. -</p> - -<p> -Ebn al Ajuz, whom long custom had rendered a dispassionate -judge of beauty in all its stages, from the fairest -Circassian with golden hair to the dark and full-lipped woman -of Nubia, was struck with astonishment by the many -attractions of the half-Greek girl. -</p> - -<p> -'Allah Kerim!' he exclaimed. 'With her face, form, and -entire appearance I have not the slightest fault to find,' he -frankly acknowledged; 'every motion, every attitude, every -feature display the most beautiful grace, symmetry, and -proportion. Allah! she should be named Ayesha, after the -perfect wife of the prophet!' -</p> - -<p> -On hearing this a blush burned in the face of the girl, and -she pulled down her yashmac or veil. -</p> - -<p> -The merchant pressed Moussa to name her price, as they -sat over their pipes and coffee; and so greatly did avarice -exceed affection, that Moussa, who—said the writer in the -<i>Mubashir</i>—it was thought would not have exchanged his -daughter for the Emerald Mountain itself, was so dazzled by -the offer made that he agreed to sell her, and preparations -even were at once made for her departure, despite her tears, -her entreaties, and her despair. -</p> - -<p> -Khasim Jelalodeen was filled with grief and consternation. -Oh for Jinn or Efrits, the spirits born of fire, to aid him! -</p> - -<p> -He had his fleet horse corned, refreshed by a bitter -draught of <i>bouza</i> (not water), saddled, and in constant -readiness for any emergency; and in the night, well armed, -with his heart on fire and his brain in a whirl, he made his -way secretly and softly to that part of the zereba in which -the <i>Kah'ah</i>, or women's apartments, were situated—an act -involving his death if caught, and caught he was by the -guards of Moussa, who were about to slay him on the spot; -but immemorial usage has established a custom in the Desert -that if a person who is in actual danger from another can in -anticipation claim his protection, or touch him barehanded, -his life is saved. -</p> - -<p> -He passed himself as a <i>Karami</i>, or mere robber, and as -such was made a close prisoner, destined to await the -pleasure of Moussa, who had just then a good deal to -occupy his mind. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile Emineh, having ascertained exactly where her -rash, bold brother was in durance, contrived to introduce -herself there next night with a ball of thread, and tying an -end thereof to his right wrist she withdrew, winding it -carefully off as she went, till she penetrated to the sleeping -apartment of Moussa, and applying the other end to his -bosom woke him, saying in Arab fashion: -</p> - -<p> -'Look on me, by the love thou bearest to God and thy -own self, for <i>this</i> is under thy protection!' -</p> - -<p> -Then the startled and angry Sheikh arose, took his sword, -and followed the clue till it guided him to where Khasim, -the supposed <i>Karami</i>, was confined, and he was compelled -to declare himself the protector of the latter. His bonds -were taken off; the thongs with which his hair, in token of -degradation, had been tied were cut with a knife; he was -entertained as a newly-arrived guest, and was then set at -liberty. -</p> - -<p> -Emineh gave him his horse and arms, and he took his -departure from the vicinity of the zereba, but only to watch -in the distance. -</p> - -<p> -'In due time the caravan of Ebn al Ajuz came forth from -the gates and boundaries of thorny hedge, and the lynx-eyed -Arab, Khasim, with his heart beating high, watched it -from the concealment of a mimosa thicket, and knew the -curtained camel litter which contained the object of his -adoration, as the flinty-hearted Moussa was seen to ride -beside it for a time. -</p> - -<p> -The love of Khasim was not that of the educated, the -cultivated, as it is understood in other parts of the world—the -cultivated in music, art, and literature—but of its kind -it was a pure, ardent, and passionate one, and in its fiery -nature unknown to 'the cold in clime and cold in blood.' -</p> - -<p> -He would bear her away, he thought; she would yet be -his bride, won by his spear and horse, like the bride of -many an Arab song and story; they would have a home -among the fairy-like gardens of Kordofan and beyond the -mountains of Haraza. Was he not invulnerable? Had he -not an amulet bound to his sword-arm by the Mahdi -himself—an amulet before which even the bullets and bayonets -of the British had failed? -</p> - -<p> -So the caravan with Isha wound on its way towards the -Desert! -</p> - -<p> -How dark the red round sun had suddenly become. -Khasim looked up to see if it still shone, and it was setting -fast, amid clouds of crimson and gold, throwing long, long -purple shadows far across the plain, and there in its sheen -the Nile was running swiftly as ever—swift as life runs in -the Desert and elsewhere! -</p> - -<p> -Out of the latter arose a cloud of dust, with many a -glittering point of steel! The caravan was suddenly -attacked, its column broken and pierced by a band of wild -Kabbabish Arab horsemen, fifty in number at least, and led -by that slippery personage, the Mudir of Dongola, on whom -the British Government so grotesquely bestowed the Cross -of St. Michael and St. George—a gift ridiculed even by the -<i>Karakush</i>, or Egyptian <i>Punch</i>. -</p> - -<p> -A conflict ensued; revolvers and Remington rifles were -freely used; saddles were emptied, and sabres flashed in -the moonlight. General plunder of everything was the real -object of the Mudir and his Kabbabishes; to rescue Isha -was the sole object of Khasim, who charged in among -them. -</p> - -<p> -Amid the wild hurly-burly of the conflict, the shrieks of -the women, their incessant cries of <i>walwalah!</i> the grunting -of the camels, the yells of the Arabs, and amid the dense -clouds of dust and sand raised by hoofs and feet, Khasim -Jelalodeen speedily found the litter in which the daughter -of Moussa was placed, and was in the act of drawing forth -her slight figure across his saddlebow—horror-stricken -though the girl was, albeit she had seen death in more than -one form before—when the merchant, Ebn al Ajuz, -exasperated to lose her after all the treasure he had spent, -shot her dead with his long brass pistol; but ere he could -draw another Khasim clove him to the chin, through every -fold of the turban, by one stroke of his long and trenchant -Arab sword, and, with a wild cry of grief and despair, -spurred his horse into the desert and was seen no more, -though rumour said he joined the banner of Osman Digna -before Suakim. -</p> - -<p> -So this was a brief Arab romance of the nineteenth century -as acted out in a part of the world which changes not, -though all the world seems to change elsewhere. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Most wearily passed the time of Malcolm Skene's -captivity in the zereba of Moussa Abu Hagil. Weeks became -months, and the closing days of the year found him still -there, and necessitated to be ever watchful, for both -Pietro Girolamo and Hassan Abdullah had, he knew, -sworn to kill him if an opportunity were given them; and -nothing had as yet stayed their hands but the influence -of the Sheikh, who protected him for purposes of his -own. -</p> - -<p> -Thus his life was in hourly peril; the bondage he endured -was maddening, and he could not perceive any end to it -or escape from it save death. As for escape, a successful -one seemed so hopeless, so difficult to achieve, that it -gradually became useless to brood over it—without arms, a -horse, money, or a guide. -</p> - -<p> -He knew that he must now be deemed as one of the dead -by his regiment, by the authorities, and, more than all, by -his widowed mother and dearest friends, and have been -mourned by them as such. -</p> - -<p> -Rumour had said ere he left Cairo that a relieving column -was to start for Khartoum. How that might affect his fate -he knew not; it might be too late to help him in any way, -and to be <i>too late</i> was the order of our affairs in Egypt -now. -</p> - -<p> -So time passed on, and he was in darkness as to all that -passed in the outer world. -</p> - -<p> -At last there came tidings which made the Sheikh -Moussa eye him darkly, dubiously, and with undisguised -hostility—tidings which Malcolm Skene heard with no -small concern and alarm. -</p> - -<p> -These were the close arrest of Zebehr Pacha as a traitor -to the Khedive Tewfik, and his sudden deportation from -Cairo beyond the sea to Gibraltar, by order of Lord -Wolseley. -</p> - -<p> -This event, thought Skene, must seal his own fate as an -enforced and most unwilling hostage now! -</p> - -<p> -The golden grain, the full-eared wheat and bearded -barley had been gathered in every field and on every -upland slope around his home; the year had deepened into -the last days of autumn; the woods and orchards of ancient -Dunnimarle were odorous of autumnal fruit and dying -leaves; the skies were gray by day and red and gloomy at -eve. -</p> - -<p> -White winter had come, and every burn and linn been -frozen in its rocky bed; the thundering blasts that swept -the bosom of the Forth had rumbled down the wide -chimneys of Dunnimarle and swept leaves and even spray -against the window panes; while the aged trees in the glen -below had shrieked and moaned ominously in the icy -winds till winter passed away, and people began hopefully -to speak of the coming spring, but still a lone mother -mourned for her lost son—her handsome soldier son, ever -so good, so tender, and so true to her, now gone—could -she doubt it?—to the Land of the Leal! -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap43"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XLIII. -<br /><br /> -A MARRIAGE. -</h3> - -<p> -While Malcolm Skene was counting the days wearily and -anxiously, and, in common parlance, 'eating his heart out,' -in that distant zereba, near the Third Cataract of the Nile, -time and events did not stand still with some of his friends -elsewhere; among these certainly were Roland Lindsay and -Hester Maule, and the latter did indeed mourn for the hard -and unknown fate of one whose love she never sought but -surely won. -</p> - -<p> -Roland did not start immediately for Egypt after turning -his back in mortification and disgust on Earlshaugh, but for -a brief time took up his quarters at the United Service Club -in Edinburgh with Jack Elliot. The speedy marriage of -the latter and Maude, who had gone to Merlwood with -Hester, was then on the tapis, and fully occupied the -attention of all concerned. -</p> - -<p> -It was impossible for anything like love to exist long, -after the rude shock—the terrible awakening—Roland had -received; yet ever and anon he found himself rehearsing -with intense bitterness of spirit the memory of scenes and -passages between himself and Annot—drivelling scenes he -deemed them now! How had he said to her more than -once: -</p> - -<p> -'My darling—my darling! Be true to me; the day -when I cease to believe in you will kill me—you are such a -child—you know so little of the world, sweet one!' -</p> - -<p> -'So little of the world—a child!' thought he. 'What an -ass I was! I am not killed by it, and she has been false as -the devil. How came I to say things that seemed so -prophetic?' -</p> - -<p> -Thus, as he thought over all the love and blind adoration -he had lavished on her, he felt only rage and sickness at his -own folly. He saw it all now, when it was too late—too -late! -</p> - -<p> -What human heart has not learned the bitterness of these -two bitter words, in many ways, through life? -</p> - -<p> -Yet, tantalizingly, she would come before him in dreams, -and thus recall him to the words of an old sonnet— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Half pleading and half petulant she stands;<br /> - Her golden hair falls rippling on my hands;<br /> - Her words are whispered in their old sweet tone.<br /> - But neither word nor smile can move me now—<br /> - There is an unseen shadow on her brow.<br /> - I cannot love, because all trust is gone!'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -It was a very awkward subject for Hester to approach, -yet, seeing him so moody, so silent and trist, when first -again he came to Merlwood, she said to him timidly and -softly: -</p> - -<p> -'Forget the past, Roland. She made no real impression -on your heart, but affected your imagination only.' -</p> - -<p> -And now he began to think that such was indeed the -case; while to Maude it seemed strange indeed that Annot -Drummond should be at Earlshaugh, posing as the future -mistress thereof, while she and her disinherited brother were -a species of outcasts therefrom. -</p> - -<p> -Earlshaugh—the old house of so many family traditions -and memories—was very dear to Maude in spite of all the -dark and mortifying hours she had lately spent under its -roof. What races and frolics and fun had gone on there in -the past time, when she, her brothers, and Hester Maule -were all happy children, in the long corridors and ghostly -old attics, under the steep roofs and pointed turrets where -the antique vanes creaked in the wind; and how greater -seemed their fun when the rain storms of winter or spring -came rattling down on the old stone slates, and they all -nestled together under the slope, with a sense of protection -and power unknown in future years—so the girl's heart clung -to the old roof-tree with a love that nothing in the future -could destroy. -</p> - -<p> -There was no use thinking of all these and a thousand -other things, as her home was now to be wherever that of -Jack Elliot was. -</p> - -<p> -Some of her regrets at times were shared by Roland, for -they were a race peculiar to—but not alone in—Scotland, -these Lindsays of Earlshaugh. -</p> - -<p> -They had ever been high in pride and strong in self-will, -lording it over their neighbours in the Howe and East Neuk -of Fife, in the days when many a barbed horse was in stall, -and many an armed man, 'boden in effeir of weir,' sat at -the Laird's table; proud of their ancient pedigree and many -heroic deeds, all unstained by timidity in war, and foreign -gold in time of peace—a stain few Scottish noble families -are without; proud of the broad lands that had come to -them not by labour or talent certainly, but by the undoubted -right to be lords of the soil by inheritance, when the soil was -not held by a mere sheepskin, but by the sword and -knight-service to the Scottish Crown. -</p> - -<p> -And now to return to more prosaic times. We have said -that there was a chronic antagonism between Maude and -her stepmother, Mrs. Lindsay; then, when Roland hurried -to quit Earlshaugh, she and Jack resolved to get married, -and married they were, quite quietly, as Roland was in -haste to be gone to Egypt, and they were to pass a brief -honeymoon ere Jack followed him—as he had inexorably to -take his turn of service there too. -</p> - -<p> -Of the Earlshaugh will, and Maude's small inheritance -under it, Jack made light indeed. -</p> - -<p> -'What matters it?' said he; 'I am Elliot of Braidielee, -and there will be our home-coming, when we have smashed -up the Mahdi, and I can return with honour!' -</p> - -<p> -At this marriage Annot Drummond was not present—no -invitation was given to her, and Mrs. Lindsay excused -herself through illness. Maude laughed at her apology. -</p> - -<p> -'Though we were grown up, and so beyond her reach in -some respects, she has been like the typical stepmother of -the old fairy tales,' said the girl, who, sunny-haired, -blue-eyed, and bright, looked wonderfully beautiful, apart from -t lat strange halo which surrounds every bride on her -marriage day. -</p> - -<p> -'All weddings are dull affairs, and we are well out of this -one—don't you think so?' said Annot coyly to her new -lover. -</p> - -<p> -'Perhaps, but ours won't be so,' replied Hawkey Sharpe -with a knowing wink. 'I expect it will be rather good -fun.' -</p> - -<p> -She shivered a little at his bad style. The visits that are -usually paid and received, the letters that are usually written, -the choosing of much useless millinery, furniture, plate, and -equipages, and the being 'trotted out' for the inspection of -mutual friends were all avoided or evaded by the quiet mode -in which Jack Elliot and Maude were made one, and their -nuptials a fact accomplished; but there was no time for -'doing' Paris, Berlin, the Riviera, or Rome, as Jack was -bound for Egypt within a tantalizingly short period, so he -secured a charming little villa for his bride in the southern -and perhaps most pleasing quarter of the Modern Athens -till he could return—if he ever did return—from that land -of disease and death, where so many of our young and brave -have found their last home. -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Hawkey Sharpe at Earlshaugh laughed viciously when -he read the announcement of the marriage in the newspapers. -It was not a pleasant laugh, even Annot thought, -and boded ill to some one. -</p> - -<p> -Maude seemed beyond his reach now, so far as he seemed -concerned; but there remained to him still hatred and -revenge, as we may have to show. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap44"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XLIV. -<br /><br /> -THE TROOPSHIP. -</h3> - -<p> -So while Jack and Maude were absent on their brief -honeymoon Roland bade adieu to Hester, his old uncle Sir -Harry, and to pleasant Merlwood ere turning his steps to -the East. -</p> - -<p> -As he looked on the refined face of the girl, with her -long-lashed gentle eyes, for the last time, something of the old -tenderness that Annot had clouded, warped, or won away, -came into his heart again, and he longed to take her kindly -in his arms ere he went, but stifled the desire, and simply -held forth his hand when she proffered her pale and -half-averted cheek. He dared not kiss away the quiver he saw -upon her lips. -</p> - -<p> -'Good-bye, dear Hester,' said he. 'Have you not a -word or two that I may take with me—such as a dear sister -might give?' -</p> - -<p> -But her still quivering lips were voiceless; the forced -smile on them was gone, and the soft light of her violet-blue -eyes was quenched as if by recent tears; sweet eyes they -were, dreamy and languid, their white lids fringed by lashes -long and dark. -</p> - -<p> -Roland noted this with a heavy heart, and thought his -gentle cousin never looked so beautiful or attractive as then, -when her little hand, which trembled, was clasped for the -last time in his, and she withdrew to the end of the room. -</p> - -<p> -'Good-bye, nephew,' said Sir Harry, propping himself on -a stout Indian cane. 'God keep you from harm, and may -every good attend you; but,' he added, his keen eyes -glistening angrily through the film that spread over them, -'does your conscience quite absolve you?' -</p> - -<p> -'In what, uncle?' -</p> - -<p> -'What? Why, your conduct to my girl—your cousin -Hester,' said Sir Harry, in a low voice. -</p> - -<p> -'Uncle?' -</p> - -<p> -'Did you make no effort when last at Merlwood here to -win her admiration, her regard, her love? Did you not -simply play with her heart, and deem it perhaps flirting?—hateful -word! In all her anguish—and I have seen it—she -has never had a word of reproach for you, whatever her -thoughts, poor child, may be; but please to think another -time, Roland, and not attempt your powers of fascination -and to act the lady-killer, lest you crush a heart that might -be a happy one.' -</p> - -<p> -Roland felt himself grow pale as he listened wistfully, -half mournfully, to these merited but most unexpected -remarks from the abrupt old gentleman, to whom he was -sincerely attached. Knowing their truth, an emotion of -shame, with much of reproach or compunction, gathered in -his heart, and he muttered something apologetic—that he -had no longer the position or prospects he once had—that -Earlshaugh was no longer his—and felt in some haste to be -gone, though he was shocked to see that the old man -appeared to be suddenly and sorely broken down in health. -The Jhansi bullet had worked its way out at last, but left a -wound that would neither heal nor close; and hence, perhaps, -the irrepressible irritability that led to these reproaches, -some part of which reached the ear of Hester, and covered -her with the deepest confusion, and made her welcome the -moment of Roland's final departure; and then she said: -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, papa, how could you speak as you did? Roland -made me no proposal, asked me for no regard, and I gave -him—no promise. I have known him, you are aware, all -my life, and I do love him very dearly—but as a brother—nothing -more,' added poor Hester with a very unmistakable -sob in her slender throat. 'You do him injustice—he has -not wronged me; but you know well how others have -wronged him.' -</p> - -<p> -But her father only resumed the amber mouthpiece of his. -hookah, and continued to smoke in uncomfortable silence. -</p> - -<p> -So Roland was gone, and apparently out of her life more -than ever now. -</p> - -<p> -Notwithstanding that he certainly had not treated her -well at Merlwood, Hester was for a time quietly inconsolable -for his departure, which he had taken in a mood of -mind rendered so stern and reckless by the episode of -Annot, that she pitied him. -</p> - -<p> -He would, she knew, court danger and wounds; seek -perhaps every chance of being killed—dying far away from -friends and kindred—dying a soldier's death without -getting, perchance, even a grave in the hot sands of the -desert. -</p> - -<p> -He would, she feared, rush on his fate; 'but men often -make their own fate; they are weak who are blindly guided -by circumstances,' she had read. 'It is given us to -distinguish right from wrong; and if men persist in wrong -when the right is before them, then be the consequences on -their own head.' -</p> - -<p> -The necklet—the gift he had given her at Merlwood—was -clasped lovingly round her throat now, and its pendant -nestled in her breast. -</p> - -<p> -'The future is vague!' thought Hester; 'but one thing -is sure, we shall never be as we have been—what we were -to each other at one time—he and I. Shall we ever meet -again—who can say? The sea is treacherous with its -storms and other perils—the war is too dreadful to think -of! We may never, never see each other more, and the -last hour he passed here may have been the last we shall -have spent together in this world.' -</p> - -<p> -If he survived everything and came back again, could she -be like the Agnes of 'David Copperfield'? She feared not. -Therein she had read the story of a noble woman who -had secretly loved a man all her life—even as she had loved -Roland, and who yet showed no sign of sorrow when he -married another woman. Agnes was David's counseller and -friend until he was nearing middle age, and it was only -when he asked her to be his wife that she made the simple -confession of her lifelong love. -</p> - -<p> -She pondered over all these things as she wandered alone -by the wooded Esk, the placid murmur of whose flow as it -lapped among the pebbles was the only sound that broke -the silence of the rocky glen, while at the same hour Roland -was amid a very different scene—one of high excitement, -noise, and bustle, almost uproar. -</p> - -<p> -Alongside a great jetty in Portsmouth Harbour H.M. troopships -<i>Bannockburn</i> and <i>Boyne</i> were taking troops and -stores on board for Alexandria, and on the poop of the -former, a floating castle of 6,300 tons, Roland stood amid a -group of officers, whose numbers were augmenting every -few minutes, and the interest and excitement were -increasing fast, as it was known that when the great -white-hulled trooper cleared out the Queen had sent special -orders that the ship was to keep well to the westward, that -she might meet her in her own yacht and pay farewell to -the troops on board, mustering about six hundred men of -various arms of the service, and a host of staff and other -officers, including some of Roland's regiment. -</p> - -<p> -A handsome fellow the latter looked in his blue braided -patrol-jacket, and white tropical helmet, with his sword -clattering by his side. -</p> - -<p> -'When shall I be again in mufti?' thought he with a -laugh (using that now familiar term that came back from -Egypt of old with the soldiers of Abercrombie), and hearty -greetings met him on every hand. -</p> - -<p> -'Lindsay—it is! I didn't know you were rejoining,' -exclaimed a brother officer, whose wounded arm was still in a -sling. 'I thought your leave was not up till March.' -</p> - -<p> -'I have resigned more than two months of it, Wilton,' -replied Roland. -</p> - -<p> -'What an enthusiast, by Jove!' -</p> - -<p> -'Not more than yourself, whose wound must be green yet.' -</p> - -<p> -'Welcome—Roland,' cried another, a cheery young sub. with -a hairless chin like an apple; 'you are just the man we -want for the work before us.' -</p> - -<p> -'That is right—jolly to see you again!' said a third. -</p> - -<p> -'We missed you awfully, old fellow!' exclaimed a fourth. -</p> - -<p> -Flattering were the greetings on every side as he stood -amid the circle of Hussars, Lancers, Artillery, and others, -neither perhaps the handsomest nor the tallest amid that -merry and handsome group, but looking a soldier every -inch in his somewhat frayed and faded fighting kit, which -had seen service enough a short time before. -</p> - -<p> -'Here comes Mostyn of ours,' said Wilton, as a very -devil-may-care-looking young fellow, in the new khakee -uniform, with a field-glass slung over his shoulder, came -up. 'How goes it, Dick?—heard you had committed -matrimony.' -</p> - -<p> -'Not such a fool, Wilton.' -</p> - -<p> -'We heard you were rather gone with that elderly party -at Dover—the lass with all the rupees,' he added in a -would-be <i>sotto voce</i>. -</p> - -<p> -'On the War Office principle that an old girl makes a -young widow? No, Wilton, my boy,' said Mostyn as he -lit a cigarette, 'I leave these little lollies for such as you. -Her rupees were all moonshine, and her <i>poudre de riz</i> -was a little too plain; but I shouldn't like to have a -wife who pays her milliner's bills out of her winnings at -Ascot.' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah, Lindsay,' said an officer of another corps who had -just marched his little detachment on board, and gave -Roland, familiarly, a slap on the shoulder, 'how are -you—going out again to the land of the Pyramids? Just keep -your eye on my fellows for a minute, will you, while I get -some tiffin below—hungry as a hawk—tore through London -to reach the Anglesea Barracks to-day; had only time to -get a glass of sherry and a caviare sandwich at the Rag, -then to get goggles and gloves, etc., in Regent -Street—ta-ta—will be on deck in a minute.' -</p> - -<p> -The old familiar rattling society was delightful again, -even with its rather exaggerated gaiety and banter, and all -about him were so heedless, so happy, and full of the -highest spirits, that it was impossible not to feel the -contagion. -</p> - -<p> -The bustle, though orderly, was incredible, and the -shipment of stores of all kinds seemed endless, including -ammunition, carts and waggons, draught and battery horses, -with thousands upon thousands of rounds of Martini-Henry -ball-cartridges, and innumerable rounds of filled -shells for thirteen and sixteen-pounder guns. -</p> - -<p> -As senior officer of the mixed command going out, -Roland certainly found that he had work cut out for him -just then, and no time for farther regretting or thinking of -the past, amid all the details consequent on embarkation for -foreign service. -</p> - -<p> -The medical examinations were over elsewhere; but there -were 'returns,' endless, as useless apparently, to be made up -and signed in duplicate; inspection of equipments; extra -kits at sea to be seen to, and dinner provided for the -embarking soldiers, the arms racked and two men per company -told off to look after them, extra dogs on the upper deck -to be pursued, caught, and sent ashore despite the -remonstrances of owners, with the excess of baggage; chests -piled upon chests were being sent down below, with bedding, -valises, uniform cases, bullock trunks, and tubs; the -knapsacks to be stowed away over the mess-tables, sentries -posted on the baggage-room and elsewhere. -</p> - -<p> -Amid all this a buzz of conversation was in progress at -the break of the poop among soldiers and their friends, -some of whom had contrived to get on board, and to one -of these in which there was something absurd he could not -help listening. -</p> - -<p> -'Sorr, is Tim Riley aboord?' asked a young Irish labourer, -looking anxiously and with a somewhat scared look about -him. -</p> - -<p> -'Who the devil is Tim Riley?' asked a petty officer in -charge of the gangway. -</p> - -<p> -The Irishman slunk back and addressed a somewhat -<i>insouciant</i>-looking English recruiting sergeant, with ribbons -fluttering from his cap, and whose business then could only -be to get a few stray 'grogs' before the bell sounded for -'shore.' -</p> - -<p> -'Sergeant, dear, may be you know Tim Riley who inlisted -into the sogers?' -</p> - -<p> -'Tim Riley? How do you spell his name?' -</p> - -<p> -'Devil a one of me knows, but he was a boy from Dublin.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, I knewed him well. He's a colonel now,' replied -the sergeant. -</p> - -<p> -'A colonel—oh, glory be to God! Is it Tim, whose ears -I've warmed many a time for stealing the ould man's Scotch -apples? Where is the shilling, sergeant?' -</p> - -<p> -'Now be off and make an <i>omadhaun</i> of yourself,'said one -of the 18th. 'I knew Thady Boyle; he 'listed as a -captain—devil a less—in the Royal County Down, and when he -joined he was put in the black-hole by a spalpeen of an -English corporal.' -</p> - -<p> -The bustle of the embarkation seemed endless, but at last -the bugle sounded, and a bell clanged for all visitors to quit -the ship; the various gangways were run ashore, the screw -began to revolve, and H.M.S. <i>Bannockburn</i> was off. -</p> - -<p> -While the air seemed to vibrate with cheers, the great -white trooper, slowly and stately in aspect, came out of the -harbour between the Blockhouse Fort and the Round -Tower, and steamed abreast of the crowded Clarence -Esplanade, which was gay with people even at that season, -and there the soldiers, as they clustered like red bees on the -vessel's side and in the lower rigging, could see the troops -of jolly children with frocks and trousers tucked up paddling -in the water, so far as they dared venture, or making breakwaters -and fortifications of sand as actively as if they had to -defend the shores of old England. -</p> - -<p> -Portsmouth, its spires, batteries, and ultramural line of -magnificent, but now obsolete, batteries and casemates, its -masts and shipping, was becoming shrouded in the golden -haze of evening, and the farewell greetings of the women on -board the harbour craft and those of the youthful tars of the -old <i>St. Vincent</i> had died away astern; but cheers rose in -volleys, if we may use the term, when the <i>Bannockburn</i> -neared Cowes, where the Queen—the Queen herself—was -known to be in the <i>Alberta</i> yacht, which had the Royal -Standard floating at her mainmast head, and every heart -beat high as the vessels neared each other, and the -Queen—a small figure in black—was seen amid a group waving -her handkerchief. -</p> - -<p> -Roland had only two buglers on board, but these poured -forth the Royal Anthem with right good will from their -perch in the foretop, while instead of the boatswain's shrill -whistle the steam siren was sounded. The Royal yacht -steamed round the towering trooper, which slackened speed, -and the signal fluttered out, 'You may proceed.' -</p> - -<p> -Once more the hearty cheers responded to each other -over the water; again the little white handkerchief was seen -to wave as the yacht led the way down the Solent and -through Spithead, that famous reach and roadstead, the -rendezvous of our fleets in time of war. -</p> - -<p> -'Farewell, God speed you!' came the signal from the -yacht once more, and the <i>Bannockburn</i> stood out to sea -under the lee of the beautiful Isle of Wight. -</p> - -<p> -The boats were all finally secured; the anchors hauled -close up to the cat-heads by the cat-fall; the forecourse and -maintopsail were set to accelerate her speed, and the -troop-ship stood on her voyage down the Channel. -</p> - -<p> -The high excitement of the last few hours had now completely -passed away. On deck the half-hushed groups of -soldiers in their gray greatcoats were lingering, watching the -occasional twinkling of the shore lights, taking their last look -of old England; and when night had completely fallen, and -the bugles had blown tattoo, the Mother of Nations had -faded out in the distance as the ship gave the land a wide -berth. -</p> - -<p> -Weary with the unintermitting toil and bustle of the day, -Roland, after mess, betook himself with a cigar to his own -little cabin; a small substitute certainly for the luxuries of -Earlshaugh, as was his sole retinue now, for the staff there; -his single soldier-servant by this time had made his bed, -arranged his toilette and sea-going kit, and put the entire -place in the most perfect order; and of old, Roland knew -well how invaluable a thorough soldier-servant is. -</p> - -<p> -'What cannot he do with regulation pipe-clay?' it has -been asked. 'In his hands it is omnipotent over cloth. -He can charm stains and grease-spots thereout, even as an -Indian juggler charms snakes; and what sleight of hand he -exercises over your garments generally. The tunic, grimed -and mud-bespattered, he can switch and cane, and, when -folded away, it comes out as from a press. Trousers baggy -at the knees as the historical parachute of old Mrs. Gamp, -are manipulated into their former shape. Compared to the -private valet, always expensive and frequently mutinous, he -is a pearl of the greatest price. His cost is a dole, and, -thanks to the regimental guard-room, he can always be kept -within control.' -</p> - -<p> -In the great cabin, which was brilliantly lighted still, -Roland heard the loud hum of many voices where the -jovial fellows he had left were lingering over their wine -and talking unlimited 'shop'—discussing everything, from -Lord Wolseley's supposed plan of the Soudan campaign to -the last fashion in regimental buttons. -</p> - -<p> -How he envied the jollity and lightheartedness of his -brother-officers—Dick Mostyn in particular. -</p> - -<p> -Dick had not lost an inheritance nor a false love to boot, -certainly; but it was nothing to him that his pockets were -well-nigh empty, his banker's account over-drawn, and that -he had debts innumerable, all but paid by the proverbial 'a -roll on the drum;' his talent for soothing irate tailors had -failed him; still his wardrobe was faultless; he still wore -priceless boots and irreproachable lavender kids as steadily -as he retained his step in the waltz and his seat in the -saddle, which would be of good service to him if he joined -the Mounted Infantry. He could take nothing deeply to -heart, and even now, leading the van in Bacchanalian noise -and jollity—a verse of his song—it was from poor 'Tilbury -Nogo,' ran through the cabin, and just then it seemed -exactly to suit Roland's frame of mind as he lounged on a -sofa with his uniform jacket unbuttoned: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'I sigh not for woman, I want not her charms—<br /> - The long waving tress, the melting black eye—<br /> - For the sting of the adder still lurks in her arms,<br /> - And falsehood is wafted in each burning sigh;<br /> - Such pleasure is poisoned, such ecstasy vain—<br /> - Forget her! remembrance shall fade in champagne!'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap45"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XLV. -<br /><br /> -THE DEATH WRESTLE. -</h3> - -<p> -Tidings had come, as stated, to the zereba of Sheikh -Moussa of the deportation of his kinsman Zebehr in a -British ship of war as a State prisoner to Gibraltar, and -Malcolm Skene—no longer cared for as a hostage—found -himself in greater peril than before among his unscrupulous -captors. -</p> - -<p> -He was conscious that his movements by day were -watched more closely than ever now, and by night he was -always placed in a close prison beyond the court wherein the -lions were chained. -</p> - -<p> -Other Sheikhs came and went, with their standard-bearers -and horsemen; conferences were evidently held with -Moussa Abu Hagil; Skene found himself an object of growing -hostility, and suspected 'that something, he knew not -what,' was in progress; that Gordon had actually been -victorious or rescued at Khartoum, or some great battle had -been lost by the Mahdi. -</p> - -<p> -He could gather from his knowledge of the language, and -the remarks that were let fall unwittingly in his hearing that -the zereba was to be abandoned for a general movement on -Khartoum, or for another fortified post farther up the -country—a move worse for him; and the consequent preparations, -therefore, packing tents, provisions, and spoil, had -begun. -</p> - -<p> -To save further trouble, and gratify the lust of blood -which forms a part of the Oriental nature, he might be -assassinated after all—after having found protection under -the roof and eaten the salt of Moussa—killed as poor -Hector MacLaine was killed after the battle of Candahar, -two or three years before this time. -</p> - -<p> -The expression of Moussa's face as he regarded him -occasionally now, was neither pleasant nor reassuring; his -deep set eyes, when he was excited, glared with fire, like -lights in the sockets of a skull; and Malcolm Skene never -knew when the supreme moment might come. -</p> - -<p> -In the morning he had no assurance that he should see -night—in the night that he would be a live man in the -morning. -</p> - -<p> -Anything—death itself—were better than this keen and -cruel suspense. -</p> - -<p> -One evening about sunset there was a vehement beating -of tom-toms, and a body of Baggara Arabs, some on -horseback, others on camels, but many on foot—a fierce and -jabbering mob, all but nude—though well-armed with -bright-bladed Solingen swords and excellent Remington rifles, -passed the zereba, bound for some point of attack; and the -Sheikh Moussa, with every man he could muster, joined -them in hot haste. -</p> - -<p> -So great had been the bustle and hurry of their departure -that Malcolm Skene, to his astonishment, found himself -forgotten, overlooked; and, full of hopeful thoughts, he lay -quiet and still in the poor apartment allotted to him, -watching the strange constellations and stars unknown to Europe -through the unglazed aperture that served as a window, and -listening to the silence—if we may use such a paradox—a -silence that seemed to be broken only by the pulsations of -his own heart, as hope grew up in it suddenly, and he -thought that, considering a kind of crisis that had come in -his fate, now or never was the time to make a stroke for -liberty, and to elude, if possible, the few Arabs who were -left to watch the gates in the dense mimosa hedge that -surrounded the zereba. -</p> - -<p> -To elude them—but how? -</p> - -<p> -The stars were singularly bright even for that hemisphere; -but there was no moon as yet, fortunately, and softly quitting -his hut, he looked sharply about the 'compound,' as it -would be called in India, and found himself alone there, -unnoticed and unseen. He drew near the hedge in the -hope of finding, as he ultimately did, an opening in that -barrier, a thinner portion of its dense branches, close to the -ground, and at once he proceeded to creep through. -</p> - -<p> -How easy it seemed of accomplishment just then; but -when the zereba was full of armed men, and watchers and -sentinels were numerous, the attempt would have been useless. -</p> - -<p> -Slowly, softly, and scarcely making a twig or a thorn crack, -he drew himself through on his hands and face ere many -minutes passed; minutes? they could not have been more -than five, if so many; but with life trembling in the balance, -to poor Skene they seemed as ages. -</p> - -<p> -At last he was through! -</p> - -<p> -He was outside that hated place of confinement, every -feature of which he knew but too well, and every detail of -which he loathed; and yet he was not quite free. Keen -eyes might see him after all, and every moment he expected -to hear an alarm. -</p> - -<p> -He thanked Heaven for the absence of the moonlight, -and, favoured by the obscurity, crept on his hands and -knees for a considerable distance ere he ventured to stand -erect, to draw a long breath, and with a prayer of hope -and thankfulness on his lips, set out at a run towards the -Nile. -</p> - -<p> -By the oft-studied landmarks he knew well in what direction -the great river lay, a few miles off, however. -</p> - -<p> -A boat thereon, could he but find one, might be the means -of ultimate escape, by taking him lower down the stream to -more civilized regions. -</p> - -<p> -Anyway, he could not be worse off, be in greater hourly -peril, or have a more dark future, than when in the -zereba, unless, too probably, thirst and starvation came -upon him. -</p> - -<p> -While the darkness of night lasted, he had a certain chance -of safety and concealment, and he dared scarcely long for -day and the perils it might bring forth in a land where every -man's hand was certain to be against him. -</p> - -<p> -He was totally defenceless, unarmed—oh, thought he, -for a weapon of any description, that he might strike, if not -a blow for liberty or life, at least one in defiance and for -vengeance! -</p> - -<p> -So, full of vague and desperate yet hopeful ideas, he -pushed in the direction to where he knew the river lay. On -its banks he hoped to obliterate or leave behind all trace of -his footsteps, for he knew but too well the risk he ran of -recapture on his flight or absence being discovered; and -that there were Arabs in the zereba who had applied themselves -diligently to the study of tracking or tracing the human -foot. -</p> - -<p> -So acute are these men of vision that they can know -whether the footsteps belong to their own or to another -tribe, and consequently whether a friend or a foe has passed -that way; they know by the depth of the impression -whether the man bore a load or not; by the regularity of -the steps whether the man was fatigued or fresh and active, -and hence can calculate to a nicety the chances of -overtaking him; whether he has trodden in sand or on grass, -and bruised its blades, and by the appearance of the traces -whether the stranger had passed on that day or several days -before. -</p> - -<p> -Malcolm Skene knew all this, and that with dawn they -would be like scenting beagles on his trail, hence his intense -anxiety to reach the river's bank. -</p> - -<p> -Swiftly the dawn came in, red and fiery, and his own -shadow and the shadows of every object were cast far -behind him. He looked back again and again; no sign of -pursuit was in his rear. In the distance he saw a few Arab -huts with <i>sakias</i> or water-wheels, and then with something -like a start of joy that elicited an exclamation, he got a -glimpse of the river, rolling clear and blue, its banks a stripe -of narrow green, between the rocky, rugged, inexorable -black mountains; but there no boat floated on and no sail -whitened the yellowish blue of the Nile. But the morning -light was vivid, the breeze from the river was pleasant and -exultant, the glories of Nature were around him, yet anxiety -made him gasp for breath as he struggled forward. -</p> - -<p> -Not a bird or other living thing was visible. The silence -was intense, and not even an insect hummed amid the scrub -mimosas; the hot, red sun came up in his unclouded glory. -All seemed sad, solitary, yet intensely sunny. -</p> - -<p> -Ere long he did hear a sound of life; it was the shrill cry -of a little naked boy attending on a <i>sakia</i> wheel. Irrigation -is done by the latter, which is driven by oxen turning a -chain of water-jars, which admits of being lengthened as the -river falls. It is usually enclosed in an edifice like an old -tower, green with creeping plants, and as the boy drives the -oxen, his cry and the creaking of the great wheel are sounds -that never cease, day or night, by the Nile. -</p> - -<p> -To avoid this <i>sakia</i> and its too probable surroundings or -adjuncts, Malcolm Skene turned aside into a rocky chasm -that overhung the river at a considerable height, and then, -far down below, on the blue surface of the stream and -between its banks, which in some places were barred in by -rocks, blackened by the sun and rent by volcanic throes -into strange fragments, and which in others, where the desert -touched the stream, was bordered by level sand, he saw a -sight which, were he to live a thousand years, he thought he -could never, never forget! -</p> - -<p> -There, about half a mile distant, was a regular flotilla of -boats, manned by redcoats, with sails set and oars -out—broad-bladed oars that flashed like silver as they were -feathered in the sunshine, pulled steadily against the -downward current of the river, and all apparently advancing -merrily within talking distance—a sight that made his heart -leap within his breast, for he knew that this was a relieving -column, or part of it, <i>en route</i> for Khartoum! -</p> - -<p> -For a minute he stood still, as if he could scarcely believe -his senses, or that he was not dreaming—paralysed, as it -were, with this sudden joy and sight—one far, far beyond -his conception or hope of ever being realised. -</p> - -<p> -He stretched his tremulous hands towards these advancing -boats; he fancied he could hear the voices and see -the faces of the oarsmen in their white helmets and red -coats; and never did 'the old red rag that tells of Britain's -glory' seem more dear to his eye and more dear to his heart -than at that supreme moment! -</p> - -<p> -What force might already have passed up? -</p> - -<p> -How many days had they been passing, and if so, how -narrowly had he escaped being left behind? This was -assuredly the Khartoum Expedition, or part of it, and the -recent bustle, consternation, and excitement at the zereba of -Moussa Abu Hagil were quite accounted for now. -</p> - -<p> -The sight of his comrades imbued him with renewed -strength of mind and purpose, and his whole soul became -inspired with new impatience, hope, and joy—hope on the -eve of fulfilment. -</p> - -<p> -While looking about for a means of descent to the river -bank, from whence to attract the attention of the nearest -crew, he heard a sound like a mocking laugh or ironical -shout. He turned and looked back, and—with what -emotions may be imagined, but not described—he beheld a -man clad like an Arab, and covering him with a levelled rifle, -at about a hundred yards' distance. -</p> - -<p> -The condition of his uniform—in tatters long since—had -not been improved by the thorns of the prickly zereba hedge -in his passage through it; his helmet had since given place -to a tarboosh, and, all unkempt and unshorn, his aspect was -somewhat remarkable now, but quite familiar to Pietro -Girolamo—for Girolamo it was—who knew him in an -instant. -</p> - -<p> -Whether the revengeful Greek had tracked him or not, or -whether Moussa's followers were within hearing of a musket-shot, -Skene might never know; the fact was but too evident -that, intent on death and dire mischief, the Ionian Isleman -and <i>ci-devant</i> gambling-den keeper was there, with his white, -pallid visage, fierce hawk nose, long jetty moustache, and -gleaming black eyes. -</p> - -<p> -Every detail of his tantalising and most critical position -flashed on the mind of Malcolm Skene. -</p> - -<p> -On one hand were the boats of the River Column—life -and freedom! -</p> - -<p> -On the other, death—no captivity, but death, certain and -sure; for even if he escaped Girolamo, in the direction where -the zereba lay he could now see a cloud of dust, and amid it -the dusky figures of men and camels, with the gleam of -burnished steel, and then within almost his grasp, was -Girolamo, rifle in hand, arresting his path to the boats. -</p> - -<p> -With another mocking laugh, the Greek levelled his -weapon more surely, took aim, and fired. -</p> - -<p> -Skene heard—yes, felt—the bullet whiz past his ear. -Powerless, defenceless, unarmed, his heart burned with rage -and desperation at the narrow escape his life had; but -discretion and scheming were then the better part of valour, -and, with thought that came upon him quick as a flash of -lightning, instead of risking another discharge, he resolved -to feign death, and, after reeling round as if shot, he fell on -the ground. -</p> - -<p> -Then he heard the steps of his would be assassin approach -ing him slowly and steadily, to give a <i>coup de grace</i> if requisite -with his knife, perhaps, rather than to seek plunder, as Skene, -he knew, would possess nothing worth taking. -</p> - -<p> -Restraining his breath till the Greek was close upon him, -Skene lay still; and then, as the former was about to stoop, -he sprang to his feet and confronted him. So startled was -Girolamo by this unexpected movement that the rifle -dropped from his hand, slipped over the rocks, and the two -enemies were face to face on equal terms, for Girolamo was -minus knife or poniard. -</p> - -<p> -He clenched his teeth; his glittering eyes blazed; his long, -lean fingers were curled like the claws of a kite; and he -uttered strange, guttural sounds of astonishment and rage; -but Skene had no time to lose. -</p> - -<p> -Straight out from the shoulder he planted his left fist, -clenched, with a dull thud on the hooked beak of Girolamo, -followed by a similar application of his right, and knocked -him with a crash on the rocks. -</p> - -<p> -Agile as a tiger and blindly infuriated like one, the Greek -sprang again to his feet, and was rushing forward like a mad -thing to get Skene's throat in the grasp of his long and -powerful fingers, which would speedily have strangled the -life out of him, but the latter bestowed upon his antagonist -another 'facer,' which sent more than one of his sharp teeth -rattling down his throat and loosened many of the rest, -covering his pale face with blood; but, blinded by fury—a -fury that endowed his wiry form with double strength—he -closed in, and contrived to encircle Skene in his grasp—an -iron one; for, long accustomed to a seafaring life, his -muscles and nerves were like bands of steel, and now came -the tug of war, even while distant cries came to the ears of -the wrestlers. -</p> - -<p> -No sound escaped either now, but hard and concentrated -breathing; it was a struggle for death or for life, and each -scarcely paused a moment to glare into the other's eyes. -Fiercely as the first of his race and name is said to have -grappled with the wolf in the wilds of Stocket Forest, did -Skene grapple with his athletic adversary. -</p> - -<p> -Near the edge of the rocks that overhung the river at the -end of the chasm, backwards and forwards they swayed, -locked in a savage and deadly grasp. Finding that every -effort to uproot Skene, to get him off his legs and throw -him, so that he might resort to strangulation, proved -unavailing, he strove to drag him towards the Nile, in the -hope of flinging him down the bank; but whether the said -bank was a precipice of a hundred feet or only the drop -of a few yards Skene knew not, and in the blind fury -of the moment, with pursuers coming on, never thought -of it. -</p> - -<p> -Nearer and nearer the verge, by sheer strength of muscle -and weight of limb, the Greek was dragging him, and -already some shouts in English ascending from the bosom -of the river evinced that the struggle was visible from the -boats; but Skene now gave up all hope of being able to -conquer his opponent or free himself from his terrible -grasp, and had but one thought—that if he perished, Pietro -Girolamo should perish too! -</p> - -<p> -Now they were at the edge, the verge of what was -evidently a precipice of considerable height, and more -fiercely and breathlessly than ever did they wrench, sway, -and grasp each other, their arms tightening, as hatred, rage, -and ferocious dread grew apace together—the clamorous -dread that one might escape the doom he meant to mete -out to or compel the other to share with him. -</p> - -<p> -As last a species of gasping sigh escaped them. Both -lost their footing at once and fell for a moment through the -air; they then crashed upon bushes and stones, and without -relaxing their grasp rolled over and over each other -with awful speed down a precipitous steep, sending before -and bringing after them showers of gravel and little stones, -crashing through mimosa bushes and other scrub, maimed, -bruised, and covered with each other's blood, for some forty -feet or so. -</p> - -<p> -Mad was the thirst for each other's destruction that -inspired these two men; for Malcolm Skene, by the peril and -circumstances of the time, was reduced to the level of the -Ionian savage with whom he fought—if fighting it could be -called. -</p> - -<p> -Another moment and they had rolled into the Nile—a -fall, ere it was accomplished, that in a second seemed to -compress and contain the epitome of life, and down they -went under the surface, cleaving the water at a rate that -seemed to take all power out of heart and limb, and, parting, -they rose at a little distance from each other. -</p> - -<p> -Faint and breathless Skene went down again, water bubbling -in his eyes, choking in his throat, and all breath had -left him ere he rose to the surface again, and saw Girolamo -clinging to a rock round which swept the beginning of a -rapid. He was visible for a moment only; exhaustion -made him relax his hold. He sank, rose again only to sink; -then a hand was visible once or twice above the water as he -was swept away into eternity by the fierce current that -bubbled round the sun-baked rocks. -</p> - -<p> -Then Skene felt hands laid upon him, and while English -voices and exclamations came pleasantly to his half-dulled -ears, he was dragged by soldiers on board one of the -boats, where he lay so completely exhausted as to be almost -insensible; and he had not fallen into the river a moment -too soon, for, just as he did so, a group of armed Arabs, -the followers of Moussa Abu Hagil, crowned with a spluttering -fire of musketry, and with wild gesticulations, the rocks -above the Nile. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap46"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XLVI. -<br /><br /> -MAUDE'S VISITOR. -</h3> - -<p> -'The lives of some families,' it is said, 'are exactly like a -pool in which—without being exactly stagnant—nothing -occurs to ruffle the surface of the water from year's end to -year's end, and then come a series of tremendous splashes, -like naughty boys throwing stones.' -</p> - -<p> -So it was with the Lindsays of Earlshaugh latterly, as we -will soon have to show. -</p> - -<p> -The few weeks of his leave of absence that intervened -before Jack Elliot would have inexorably to start for Egypt, -glided happily and all too swiftly away, when he and Maude -took up their residence at the pretty villa in the southern -quarter of Edinburgh, near the ancient Grange Loan; and -often if they sat silent, or lingered hand in hand amid the -faded flower-beds of the garden, they seemed to be only -listening—if one may say so—to the silent responses of their -own hearts, and that language of instinct understood only -by kindred souls. -</p> - -<p> -'We have not exactly Aladdin's lamp in the house, -Maude,' said Jack laughingly, 'nor have we all the luxuries -of our future home at Braidielee, where now conservatories -are springing up, a billiard-room being built, and gardens -laid out, all for you; but we are happy as people can -be——' -</p> - -<p> -'Who have a coming separation to face and to endure, -Jack,' she interrupted, with a break in her voice. -</p> - -<p> -In the newspapers they read the announcement of the -marriage, at Earlshaugh, of 'Hawkey Sharpe, Esq., to Miss -Annot Drummond, of South Belgravia,' at which Jack -laughed loud and long. -</p> - -<p> -'Well, Roland <i>is</i> lucky to be out of the running there!—Sharpe, -Esq.—I wonder he did not add "of Earlshaugh," -and doubtless the creature would figure in all Roland's -splendid jewels and gifts. Pah!' said he; but the gentle -Maude had a kind of pity for the girl, and her views of the -matter were somewhat mingled. -</p> - -<p> -Annot's mother had toiled always in the matrimonial -market—long unaided by the young lady herself—and now -the latter had landed a golden fish at last, as she thought, in -the future heir of Earlshaugh—Mr. Hawkey Sharpe! -</p> - -<p> -No longer was she to be perplexed by questions how few -or how many thousand a year had such as Bob Hoyle, and -on other delicate matters dear to the Belgravian mater, and -concerning 'detrimentals.' After more than one season -spent in the chase, after dinners that were too costly for a -limited exchequer, handsome dresses and much showy -appearance, laborious days and watchful nights, snubs and -disappointments—<i>homme propose, femme dispose</i>—Annot -was fairly off her hands, and to be a 'Lady of that -Ilk.' -</p> - -<p> -She had played her cards in Scotland beautifully! -</p> - -<p> -And now came to pass the event which ruffled the calm -pool of Maude's existence, when within three days of -Elliot's departure to rejoin the army in Egypt. The crisis -from which she ever shrank seemed now to have come! -</p> - -<p> -Oftentimes before this had she wondered whether it were -possible such unbroken happiness as her present life would -ever come again, despite the tender, earnest, and trusting -love that glowed in her breast; and on one particular -evening, when Jack Elliot was absent making some final -preparations, and would not be home till late, she sat alone, -striving to prepare herself for the change, the solitude and -anxiety that were to come, and praying tearfully for strength -to pass the bitter ordeal—the wrench that was before them -both. -</p> - -<p> -This happy, happy honeymoon of a few weeks was drawing -to its close, and her soft blue eyes grew very full as she -thought over the whole situation, when a visitor was suddenly -announced. -</p> - -<p> -A showily-dressed and smart-looking little woman, about -thirty years of age apparently, rather pretty, but flippant and -nervous in manner, and having a slight <i>soupçon</i> of 'making-up' -about her cheeks and eyelashes, was ushered in, and -eyed, with some boldness and effrontery (to conceal the -nervousness referred to), Maude, who, by force of habit, -bowed and indicated a seat, which her visitor at once took, -and threw up her veil. -</p> - -<p> -Maude saw that her features were good, but this colouring -and expression made them cunning and daring, if somewhat -remarkable and attractive. -</p> - -<p> -Maude then remembering that this person had not sent -in a card or announced herself, inquired to what she owed -the occasion of her visit. -</p> - -<p> -'The occasion—you'll soon know that—too soon for -your own peace of mind, poor girl! You are—Miss -Lindsay?' -</p> - -<p> -'I was Miss Lindsay,' replied Maude. -</p> - -<p> -'And who are you now?' -</p> - -<p> -Maude stared at her visitor with some alarm. -</p> - -<p> -'If you take an interest in Captain Elliot, it is a pity,' -continued the latter. -</p> - -<p> -'Interest—pity?' questioned Maude, rising now, and -drawing near to the handle of the bell. -</p> - -<p> -'Take my advice in time, and don't touch that!' said her -strange visitor with sudden insolence of manner, while -something of malevolence and triumph sparkled in her dark -eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'You must be mad, or——' -</p> - -<p> -'Tipsy, you would say—I am neither; but I have that to -say which you may not wish to furnish gossip for your -servants, so do not summon them until I am gone.' -</p> - -<p> -'Will you be so kind as to state at once the object of -your visit?' said Maude, with as much hauteur as she could -summon to her aid. -</p> - -<p> -'So you are his wife—a doll like you! Mrs. Elliot of -Braidielee, you think yourself!' said the woman mockingly; -'I fear I have that to tell which your dainty ears will not -find very pleasant. But "gather ye rosebuds while ye -may;" for ere long only the leaves, dead and without -fragrance, will be left you!' -</p> - -<p> -Maude felt herself grow pale and tremble; she knew that -there was a great lunatic asylum somewhere in that quarter -of the city, and began to fear that her visitor was an escaped -patient. She moved a step towards the bell again, and cast -a lingering, longing glance at it, on which the woman again -said sharply: -</p> - -<p> -'Don't! Listen to me, I tell you!' -</p> - -<p> -Placing her elbows on a small Chippendale table, off -which, without ceremony, she thrust a few books, she rested -her chin upon her left hand, and looking at the shrinking -Maude steadily and defiantly—for the perfect purity of the -girl, her position in life, her whole aspect and bearing filled -this fallen one—for fallen she was—with rivalry, envy, and -hatred, she asked: -</p> - -<p> -'Now, who do you think I am?' -</p> - -<p> -'That I have yet to learn,' replied Maude, who was -moving towards the door, when the next words of the -woman arrested her steps. -</p> - -<p> -'Learn that I am Captain John Elliot's—lawful wife!' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh—she is mad!' thought Maude, who neither tottered, -nor fainted, nor made any outcry, deeming the bold -assertion as totally absurd. -</p> - -<p> -'You don't believe me, I suppose?' -</p> - -<p> -'You must hold me excused if I do not,' replied Maude, -thinking that she must temporise with a woman who, for all -she knew, might bite her like a rabid dog; for poor Maude -had very vague ideas of the ways and proclivities of lunatics -in general. -</p> - -<p> -She had but one desire, to rush past, to gain the door and -escape; but was baffled by the expression of the woman's -watchful black eyes. That she was not and never had been -a lady was evident; neither did she seem of the servant -class; so Maude's inexperienced eye was unable to fix her -place in the scale of society, though her costume was -good—if showy—even to her well-fitting gloves. -</p> - -<p> -'You would wish to see my marriage-lines, I doubt not,' -said the visitor with a smile, drawing a couple of folded -papers from her bosom; 'but perhaps you had better read -this first. I am a great believer in documentary evidence, -and hope you are so too.' -</p> - -<p> -Somewhat ostentatiously she flattened out a letter on the -table, but carefully kept her hands thereon, as if in fear -that it might be snatched away by Maude; and impelled by -an impressible but hideous emotion of curiosity the latter -drew near, and the woman with a slender forefinger traced -out the lines she wished her to read—lines that seemed to -seal the fate of Maude, whose dull eyes wandered over -them like one in a dreadful dream—for the letter, if a -forgery, was certainly to all appearance in the handwriting -of Jack Elliot, and some of its peculiarities in the formation -of capitals and certain other letters seemed to her too -terribly familiar and indisputable. -</p> - -<p> -They seemed to sear the girl's brain—the words she read—but -summoning all her self-control, and seeming scarcely -to breathe, she permitted as yet no expression of sorrow, of -passion, or emotion of any kind to escape her. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="noindent"> -'DEAREST LITTLE WIFE, -</p> - -<p> -'I write you, Maggie, as I promised, as I cannot see -you before leaving for Egypt, and fear the sorrow of such -another parting as our last may kill me, for you know that -all the love of my heart is yours, though I have been -entrapped into a marriage with Maude Lindsay—a mad -entanglement, for which I ask your forgiveness and pity, -that you may not bring me to punishment and shame. I -will buy your silence at any price; let me have back the -marriage certificate and all letters, and I herewith enclose a -blank cheque for you to fill up at your pleasure. This I -do, dear little one, for the sake of our old——' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Here Maude reeled, for the room seemed to revolve round -her. -</p> - -<p> -'There!' said this odious woman exultingly, as she -hastened to refold the letter and replace it in her breast, -'will you deny it longer?' -</p> - -<p> -The speaker showed neither the certificate nor the blank -cheque; but poor Maude had seen enough. She fainted, -and when she recovered her obnoxious visitor was -gone—gone, but had left a dreadful sting behind. -</p> - -<p> -Had her presence and her story been all a dream? No! -There was the chair in which she had been seated; there -was the little Chippendale table on which she had spread -the terrible letter that told of Jack's perfidy; and there on -the floor, just where she had thrown or thrust them, lay the -scattered books—his presents in the past time. -</p> - -<p> -She cast herself on the sofa—she could neither think nor -weep; her heart beat painfully—every pulsation was a -pang! What was she to do—whither turn for advice before -madness came upon her? -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -'Well, my old duck, Maggie, you have earned your -money fairly, by all accounts—and my wonderful caligraphy -was quite a success!' said Hawkey Sharpe, exploding -with laughter, when he heard the narration of his 'fair' -compatriot or conspirator, as he handed her a twenty-pound -note, and drove with her townward in the cab with which -he had awaited the termination of her visit at the Grange -Loan. 'By Jove! a pleasant home-coming that fellow will -have! "All men are brothers," says the minister of -Earlshaugh; Cains and Abels, say I.' -</p> - -<p> -'I don't care about him or what he may suffer—you men -are all alike, a bad, false, cruel lot,' replied the woman; -'but, with all her airs and graces, her haughtiness and her -touch-me-not manner, I <i>am</i> sorry for what that poor girl -may be—nay, must be—enduring now.' -</p> - -<p> -'The devil you are! all things are fair in love and war—and -this is <i>war</i>!' said Hawkey, still continuing his bursts of -malignant laughter; 'would she care for what you might -endure?' -</p> - -<p> -'I am sure she would—her face and her voice were so -sweet and gentle.' -</p> - -<p> -'For all that she would draw aside her skirt if it touched -yours, as though there was a taint in the contact.' -</p> - -<p> -The woman made no reply, but glared at him with defiant -malevolence in her bold black eyes, and now seemed -shocked at the very act which, a few minutes before, had -given her much malignant satisfaction. -</p> - -<p> -But we have not heard the last of Mr. Hawkey Sharpe's -skill in caligraphy. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap47"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XLVII. -<br /><br /> -THE RESULT. -</h3> - -<p> -Sense returned to the unhappy creature ere her servants -discovered her or knew that the mysterious visitor had departed. -</p> - -<p> -'It cannot be! It cannot have happened—it is too -dreadful—too cruel!' she repeated to herself again and -again; but could she doubt the tenor of the letter she had -seen and read—the letter in her husband's own handwriting? -'Oh, Heaven!' she murmured; 'our days together have -been so blithesome and so happy, even when their brightest -hours were clouded by a separation to come; but Oh, not -such a separation as this! What have I done that God -deems me so unworthy—that I am tortured, punished thus?' -</p> - -<p> -'There is scarcely in the whole sad world,' it is said, 'and -in the woeful scale of mental suffering, aught sadder than -the helpless struggle of a poor human heart against a -crushing load of misery, strengthening itself in its despair, -taking courage from the extremity of its wretchedness in the -frenzied whispers of reassurance.' -</p> - -<p> -Thus did Maude continue to whisper to herself: 'It -cannot be—it cannot be!' -</p> - -<p> -She passed her hot hand several times across her -throbbing forehead; her brain was too confused—too -unable yet to grapple with this disillusion, the miserable -situation, and with all the new and sudden horrors of her -false and now degraded position in the world—in society, -and in life! -</p> - -<p> -She had heard stories; she had vague ideas of the -temptations to which young men—young officers more than -all—are subjected; and Jack might have been the victim of -some hour of weakness, or evil, or treachery. -</p> - -<p> -Holding by the bannisters, she ascended to her bedroom—<i>their</i> -room, as it was but one short hour ago—and there -on every hand were souvenirs of Jack which had once -seemed so strange amid the appurtenances of her toilet; the -slippers she had worked for him were under the -dressing-table; his razors and brushes lay thereon; his pipes littered -the mantelpiece; and his portmanteaux and helmet-case, -ready for Egypt, stood in a corner. -</p> - -<p> -Novels Maude had read, plays she had seen, stories she -had heard of, in which concealed marriages and other -horrors had been amply detailed; and in the heart of one of -these episodes she now found herself, as they crowded on -her memory with bewildering force and pain. -</p> - -<p> -She strove to think, to gather her thoughts, in vain. -Jack could not be so vile, and yet there was that -letter—that horrible letter! -</p> - -<p> -'If this woman is his wife—what then am I? Oh, horror -and misery—horror and misery!' thought Maude, covering -her face with her tremulous hands, while the hot tears -gushed between her slender fingers. -</p> - -<p> -Was all this happening to her or to some one else? She -almost doubted her own identity—the evidence of her -senses. A moment or two she lingered at a window -wistfully looking over the landscape, which she had often -viewed from thence with Jack's arm round her, and her -head on his shoulder, watching dreamily the light of the -setting sun falling redly on the long wavy slope of the lovely -Pentlands, or the nearer hills of Braid, so green and pastoral, -the scene of Johnnie of Braidislee's doleful hunting in the -ancient time, and where in a lone and wooded hollow lies the -dreary Hermitage beside the Burn, haunted, it is said, in the -present day by the unquiet spirit of the beautiful Countess -of Stair, the victim of a double and repudiated marriage, and -whose wrongs were of the days when George IV. was king; -and now as Maude looked, the farewell rays of the sun were -fading out on the summit of bluff Blackford, the haunt of -Scott's boyhood, and then the sober hues of twilight followed. -Of the hill he wrote: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Blackford! on whose uncultured breast<br /> - A truant boy I sought the nest,<br /> - Or listed as I lay at rest;<br /> - While rose on breezes thin<br /> - The murmur of the city crowd:<br /> - And from his steeple jangling loud<br /> - St. Giles's mingling din.'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -'All is over and ended—God help me!' wailed the girl -many times as she wrung her white and slender hands, and -yet prepared nervously and quickly to take measures that -were stern and determined. There seemed to be a strange -loneliness in the sunset landscape as she turned from it, and -thought how beautiful, yet cruel and terrible, the world of -life can be, and choking sobs rose in her throat. -</p> - -<p> -Should she await Jack's return—face him out and demand -an explanation? No, a thousand times no; there seemed -degradation in receiving one. Her resolution was taken; -she would leave now and for ever, and now with the coming -night a long journey to London was to be faced—to London, -where she would quickly be lost to all the world that knew -her once. -</p> - -<p> -Jack would not be home (home!) for hours yet, but no -time was to be lost, and action of any kind was grateful to -her tortured spirit. -</p> - -<p> -She quickly dressed herself for travelling; reckoned over -what was in her purse, and what was in her desk, and for -more than an hour sat writing—writing endless and incoherent -letters of farewell and upbraiding—letters which she -tore in minute fragments by the score, as none of them -seemed suitable to the awful occasion. At last she feverishly -ended one; placed it in an envelope, addressed it—oh how -tremulously!—and placed it on the toilet table, where he was -sure to find it when she would be far away. -</p> - -<p> -'I now know all—all about "Maggie!"' ran the letter. -('Who the devil is Maggie?' thought the terrified and -bewildered Jack when he <i>did</i> come, to peruse it.) -</p> - -<p> -'You cannot forget that I once loved you—that I love -you still, when—oh, my God!—I have no right to do so, -nor can you forget the misery that obliges me to take this -step and leave you. Oh, Jack! Jack! -</p> - -<p> -'God forgive you, but you have broken my heart! -</p> - -<p> -'When you read this, Jack, I shall be gone—gone to -London or elsewhere—to where you shall never be able to -follow or to trace me in my hiding place. -</p> - -<p> -'The horrors of a public scandal must be avoided; but -how, and however cautious our mode of action?' -</p> - -<p> -'I shall never see you more—never from this evening; -never again hope for a renewal of happiness; and yet with -all your perfidy, Jack, your memory will always be most -precious to me, and I only fear I shall always love you too -well!' -</p> - -<p> -Much more in the same incoherent style followed. -</p> - -<p> -Time was short; she moved about noiselessly. She -drew sharply off her bracelet and brooch, which were gifts -of Jack's; she did more; she drew off her wedding ring -with its keeper, her engagement ring also, and placed them -in another envelope; she put a few necessary garments and -toilet appurtenances into a travelling-bag, stole from the -house, found a cab, and ordered the man to drive her at -once to the railway station for London. -</p> - -<p> -It was night, now, and the silent suburbs had been left -behind, and the cab, swift and well-horsed, and all unlike a -London 'crawler,' bowled through the busy streets that -were flooded with light. -</p> - -<p> -She was off—the die was cast! Nothing occurred to -hinder or delay her, nor did she wish for any such thing at -that time. -</p> - -<p> -It was not too late to return; but why should she -return—and to <i>whom</i>?—'Maggie's' husband? and she set her -little teeth firmly and defiantly, as she was driven along the -platform of the Waverley Station, with the city lights -towering high in the air above her, and where the train that -was to bear her away was all in readiness for starting. -</p> - -<p> -A new but unnatural kind of life seemed opening up to -her, and under her thick Shetland veil her hot tears welled -freely. Until she was quite alone now, she knew not what -a feature Jack had been in her life, what an influence his -presence had upon her; and now their days of earnest and -peaceful love were over, and his whispers of endearment -would fall upon her ear no more. Withal, she had a -stunned feeling, and she began to accept her present -position as if it was the result of something that had -happened long, long ago, with a kind of desperate resignation -and grim indifference as to what her own future might -bring forth. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap48"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XLVIII. -<br /><br /> -'INFIRM OF PURPOSE!' -</h3> - -<p> -The night, one of the last of autumn, was very cold. She -had secured a compartment to herself, fortunately; but -there was no kind hand to adjust her rugs, to see that the -foot-warmer was hot, to provide her with amusing periodicals, -or attend to her little comforts in any way. She did not -miss them, but she missed Jack. -</p> - -<p> -All her actions were mechanical, and it was not until she -was fairly away in the last train for the South, and had -emerged from the Gallon Tunnel, leaving Edinburgh with -all its lights and lofty mansions behind, that she quite knew -she was—vague and desperate of purpose—on her way to -London. -</p> - -<p> -As the hours dragged slowly on—so slowly in strange -contrast to the lightning-like speed of the clanking train -that bore her away—she thought, would she ever forget -that dreadful and hopeless night journey—in itself a -nightmare—fleeing from all she loved, or had loved her, with no -future to realise? Would she ever forget that dreadful, -mocking woman, with her painted cheeks and cunning -black eyes—her letter and her visit, every incident and -detail of which seemed photographed in her heart and on -her brain? -</p> - -<p> -Mentally she conned over and thought—till her head -grew weary—of the letter she was to write Roland on the -subject, and how this new distress must pain and shock -him. -</p> - -<p> -On, on went the train; the stars shone bright in the -moonless sky; the smoke of the engine streamed far -behind, and strange splashes of weird light were cast on -hedges, fields, and trees, on bank cuttings and other -features on either side of the way. -</p> - -<p> -Now she had a glimpse of Dunbar, with its square church -tower of red sandstone; now it was Colbrands-path, with all -its wild woods and ravines; anon it was the German Sea, -near Fast Castle, rolling its free waves in white foam against -steep and frowning precipices; and a myriad lights gleaming -on the broad river far down below announced the bordering -Tweed at Berwick, and Scotland was left behind. -</p> - -<p> -She lowered the windows from time to time, for her -temples felt hot and feverish. She seemed to have nothing -left her now but light and air, and just then the former was -absent and the latter choking; and to her tortured soul life -had but lately seemed so beautiful. -</p> - -<p> -'How proud I was of his love! oh happy, happy days -that can return no more!' were her ever recurrent thoughts. -</p> - -<p> -Yet such love as he had professed for her had been but -a disgrace and a sham! With all her affection, earnest and -true, when she reflected how far he must have gone, and so -daringly, out of his way to deceive her, and to throw dust -in the eyes of her and her brother Roland, she felt one -moment inclined to hate and scorn him, and the next her -heart died within her at such a state of matters; and, with -all her shattered trust, love came back again—but love for -what—for <i>whom</i>? -</p> - -<p> -Then came other thoughts. -</p> - -<p> -Why had she been so precipitate? What if the whole -apparent catastrophe was some dire but explainable -mistake? Why had she not consulted Hester, who was so -clever, so gentle, and loving, and her old uncle, Sir Harry? -But he was old and sorely ailing now. -</p> - -<p> -<i>Infirm of purpose</i>, she began to fear that she had been -perhaps too rash, and starting up, as if she would leave the -carriage, she began to think—to think already—that to -undo all she had done, she would give her right hand. -</p> - -<p> -Her left—it bore no wedding-ring now. She looked at -her watch—midnight; long ere this Jack must have known -that she had discovered all! -</p> - -<p> -Morning drew on, and in its colder, purer air and -atmosphere her thoughts seemed to become clearer, and as the -train glided on through the flat and monotonous scenery of -England she began to consider the possibility that she -might have been deceived—that she had been too swift in -avenging her wrongs, or supposed wrongs—and this -impression grew with the growing brightness of the reddening -dawn, and with that impulsiveness which was characteristic -of her, an hour even before the dawn came, she resolved -that she would return—she would face the calamity out; -she would cast herself upon her friends—not on the world; -but how to stop the train, which flew on and on, inexorably -on past station after station, every one of which seemed -almost dark and deserted. -</p> - -<p> -The steam was let off suddenly; the speed of the train -grew slower and slower; it stopped at last in an open and -sequestered place, on an embankment overlooking a great -stretch of darkened, dimly seen, and flat country, half -shrouded, as usual, in haze and mist. -</p> - -<p> -Heads in travelling caps and strange gear were thrust -from every window; inquiries were made anxiously and -angrily; but no answer was accorded; the officials seemed -all to have become very deaf and intensely sullen, while no -passenger could alight, as every door was securely locked, to -their alarm and indignation. -</p> - -<p> -There was evidently an accident or a breakdown—a -block on the line somewhere, no one knew precisely what. -Signals were worked and lights flashed to avert destruction -from the front or rear, and when the rush of a coming train -was heard, 'the boldest held his breath for a time,' till it -swept past—an express—on another line of rails. -</p> - -<p> -If she were killed—smashed up horribly like people she -had often read of in railways accidents, would Jack be sorry -for her? There was a kind of revengeful pleasure in the -thought, the conviction that he would be, even while she -dropped a few natural tears over her own untimely demise. -</p> - -<p> -The excitement grew apace. The next train might <i>not</i> -be on the other line, and the mental agony of the travellers -lasted for more than an hour—an hour of terror and misery, -and of the wildest impatience to Maude, who in the tumult -of her spirits would have welcomed the crash, the destruction, -and, so far as she was personally concerned, the death -by a collision, to end everything. -</p> - -<p> -At last the steam was got up again, and slowly the train -glided into the brilliant station at York just as dawn was -reddening the square towers of its glorious minster, and the -pale girl sprang out on the platform to find that the train for -Edinburgh had passed nearly two hours before, and that she -would have to wait—to wait for hours with what patience -she could muster. -</p> - -<p> -Great was the evil and distress Hawkey Sharpe, in a spirit -of useless revenge, had wrought her. -</p> - -<p> -How slow the returning train was—oh, how slow! It -seemed to stop everywhere, and to be no sooner off than it -stopped again. Stations hitherto unnoticed had apparently -sprung up like mushrooms in the night, and the platforms -were crowded with people perpetually getting in or going -out. -</p> - -<p> -How long ago it seemed since last night—since that -fatal visit, and since she left her pretty home, if home it -was. -</p> - -<p> -Even then, in the dire confusion and muddle of her -thoughts, they lingered lovingly on the apparently remote -memory of the happiest period of her young life—the -day when Jack Elliot first said he loved her, and she -had the joy of believing him to be entirely her own, to go -hand-in-hand with through the long years that were to -come—and now—now! -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Looking forward to ample explanations from him, perhaps -an entire reconciliation with him if these explanations -were complete—or she knew not what—how the revolving -wheels of the train seemed to lag! Then she would -close her tear-inflamed eyes and strive not to think at -all. -</p> - -<p> -Already the Lion mountain of Arthur Seat, and the -Gallon with its Grecian columns, were rising into sight, and -she would soon be at her destination. -</p> - -<p> -To save appearances even before her servants—a somewhat -useless consideration then—as even without the usual -sharpness of their class they must now be aware of the fact -that something unpleasant was on the <i>tapis</i>, and that their -mistress had, unexplainedly, been absent from her own home -for a whole night and longer; as the train approached the -capital, Maude smoothed her sunny-brown hair, adjusted -her laces, and bathed her pale face with <i>eau-de-cologne</i>. Oh, -how grimy the process made her handkerchief after the dust -of her long and double journey! -</p> - -<p> -The afternoon of the day was well advanced when -Maude, still paler, weary, unslept, and unrefreshed, faint -from want of food and the wear and tear of her own terrible -thoughts, arrived once more at the pretty villa Jack's -love had temporarily provided for her. -</p> - -<p> -The blinds were all closed as if death were in its walls, -and her heart died within her. -</p> - -<p> -She rushed up to her room; it might just be the case -that Jack might not have returned, and she might still -find the packet she had addressed to him and her incoherent -letter of farewell. -</p> - -<p> -Is she in time? Yes—a letter is there—a packet on her -toilet-table; she <i>is</i> in time—and makes a snatch of it. It -is addressed not to her but to Hester Maule at Merlwood; -so Jack had been there and was gone, as were also his -portmanteaux, his sword, and helmet-case. -</p> - -<p> -In wild and vague search she moved swiftly from room to -room. -</p> - -<p> -'Jack—Jack!' she called in a low voice that sounded -strangely resonant in the silent rooms; but there was no -answer, nor did any sound evince that he was in her vicinity. -A chill crept over her, and she strove in vain to shake it off -as her wondering servants gathered round her, and from -them she soon learned all. -</p> - -<p> -Their master had returned late last night—had got her -letter, and, after a time, had driven away to catch the first -early train for London—on his way to Egypt, he simply -said. Egypt! His train must have passed her somewhere -on the line. Where was she to seek him—where telegraph -to him? Who was to advise her now? -</p> - -<p> -He had made up a packet of her letters, her rings, and -other little mementos she had left, with a brief and certainly -incoherent note to Hester Maule; addressed it with a -tremulous hand and carefully sealed it with his familiar -signet, bearing the baton or on a bend engrailed of the -Elliots of Braidielee; and then, throwing himself into a -cab, had driven away with no other trace than his farewell -words given to the startled domestics. -</p> - -<p> -Apart from the humiliation of uselessly attempting to -explain matters to them, it was somewhat gratifying to -Maude to learn that after his return 'the poor master' had -been for a time quite quiet, as if stunned; then that he had -been like 'a tearing lunatic'; had telegraphed to Merlwood, -to Braidielee, and even to Earlshaugh for tidings of -her, but in vain; and in the latter instance, fully informing -Hawkey Sharpe that the train the latter had laid was ending -in an explosion; and then that 'the master' had set off by -daybreak. -</p> - -<p> -He was not at his club in Queen Street. -</p> - -<p> -Could he have taken London <i>en route</i> to Southampton, in -the wild, vague hope of tracing her? -</p> - -<p> -Eventually she was made aware that he had written to his -own agents, and to Mr. M'Wadsett, to endeavour to elucidate -the mystery which hung over the actions of Maude, the -author of the forged letter, and to look after her during his -probably prolonged absence in Egypt. -</p> - -<p> -Thus, in rage and bewilderment, grief and anxiety, had -Jack Elliot taken his departure, never doubting that they -were both the victims of some nefarious plot, which he had -not then time to unravel. -</p> - -<p> -He was indignant, too, that Maude should so cruelly -mistake and doubt him. He started for Egypt some twenty-four -hours sooner than he need have done, and hence came -fresh complications. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, what new and unexpected worry is this, Maude?' -exclaimed Hester Maule, when a few hours later the girl -threw herself speechless and in a passion of tears into her -arms. -</p> - -<p> -And now, or eventually, three lives they were interested -in beyond all others (if Malcolm Skene survived), would be -involved in the terrible risks of the war in the Soudan. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap49"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XLIX. -<br /><br /> -CHRISTMAS DAY IN CAMP AT KORTI. -</h3> - -<p> -The last days of December saw Roland Lindsay with his -regiment—the 1st Battalion of the South Staffordshire—of -old, the 38th—a corps of the days of Queen Anne—the -corps of the gallant old Luke Lillingston, who led the troops -in Wilmot's West Indian Expedition of 1695—toiling in the -boats up the great river of Egypt against strong currents by -Kodokal, and within sight of the ruins of old Dongola—ruins -of red brick covering miles—by Debbeh, where the -currents were stronger still, and awnings could not be used, -though the heat was 120 degrees, and the men became -giddy and distracted by the white glare and the hot simmering -atmosphere, with lassitude and thirst, and where it was -so terrible at times, to emerge from the shadow of some -impending rock, once more to plod and pull the heavy oar -under the fierce and fiery sun. Though occasionally spreading -the big sails like wings on each side of the boats, they -would have a pleasant hour's run in the evening ere darkness -or a rapid barred their upward way. -</p> - -<p> -Then, on the redly-illuminated waters of the mighty and -mysterious river, the white sails of the squadron would show -up pleasantly in the twilight, after the landscape had been -ablaze with that rich profusion of colour only to be seen -where dark rocky hills, yellow desert sand, and patches of -verdant vegetation border, as they do on the upper reaches -of the Nile. -</p> - -<p> -Then, when darkness came, the boats would close in with -the shore, where they were moored to a bank, and the sails -were lowered and stowed on board; while under the feathery -palms, or date trees, fires were lighted, the frugal ration of -bully-beef, onions, and potatoes was cooked and eaten amid -the jollity and lightness of heart which are ever a characteristic -of our soldiers, and then the poor fellows would coil -themselves up to sleep and prepare for the coming toil of the -morrow. -</p> - -<p> -On the 22nd of December the camp at Korti was reached -at 9.30 in the evening, after a hard struggle amid a labyrinth -of sand banks. Roland found the camp to be prettily -situated on the edge of the river, and surrounded by mimosa -trees, and there the advanced guard of the expedition, -detailed to relieve Gordon and raise the siege of the doomed -city, was now assembling fast. -</p> - -<p> -It was a spot never trod by Britons before. There the -caravans from Egypt to Sennar quit the Nile and proceed -across the Bayuda Desert, the route from Dongola being -easy for travelling, and the land on both banks of the river -rich and fertile. -</p> - -<p> -At Korti, where now every hour or so our bugles were -blown, there stood in the days of Thothemus III. a great -temple dedicated to Isis, whose tears for the loss of Osiris -caused the regular inundations of the Nile. -</p> - -<p> -Under some wide spreading trees the tents of the Camel -Corps were pitched along the western bank of the latter; -and the whole scene there was most picturesque. The leafy -shade tempered the fierce heat of the sun, and, after their -long toil in the boats and over the burning sands and -glittering rocks, our soldiers were charmed for a time with the -place; but some wrath was excited when it was discovered -that a correspondence between a French journalist in the -camp of the Mahdi before Khartoum, and a clique in Cairo, -supplied the former with the fullest information of Lord -Wolseley's proceedings, with hints as to the best means of -baffling them. -</p> - -<p> -Though the enemy were at some distance, every precaution -was taken against a surprise by night. Cavalry vedettes -were posted out beyond the camp by day, and strong -outlying pickets, with chains of advanced sentries by night; -but, as Christmas Day drew near, considerable anxiety was -felt in the camp at Korti at the total cessation of all news -from blockaded Khartoum, which was two hundred and -sixty miles distant by the desert, and by river where the -former touched the latter at Gubat or Abu Kru. -</p> - -<p> -The total strength of the advanced force at Korti, after -the departure of Roland's regiment, was under two thousand -five hundred men, with six screw guns, two thousand two -hundred camels and horses, two pinnaces, and sixty-four -whale boats, while the 19th Hussars, when the advance -began, had orders to ride by the western bank of the Nile -and act as scouts to the Khartoum relief column. -</p> - -<p> -By this time there was not a single sound garment in the -latter—the result of fifty days' river work from Sarras. The -mud-stained helmets were battered out of all shape; the -tunics and trousers were patched with cloth of every kind -and hue; officers and men had beards of many days' -growth, and the skin of their faces was peeled off in strange -and uncouth patches, the result of incessant exposure to the -fierce sun by day and the chill dews by night. -</p> - -<p> -Christmas morning, 1884, was ushered in by a church -parade, and by prayer, when the whole force—slender -though it was—was present, under the feathery palms, by -the banks of the Nile, that river of mystery, which has its -rise in a land unknown; and at night the soldiers gathered -round two great camp-fires and made merry, singing -songs, and doubtless thinking of those who were far away at -home. -</p> - -<p> -It was on this occasion that the South Staffordshire, -under the gallant Eyre, raised three hearty cheers, when, -from the rear, a telegram was brought, sent all the way from -their second battalion in England, wishing 'all ranks a happy -Christmas and a brilliant campaign.' -</p> - -<p> -And happy and jolly all certainly were, though they were -now in the region of bully-beef, for they fared on hard -biscuits and coffee in the morning, with bully-beef for tiffin, -and bully-beef for dinner. -</p> - -<p> -As the evening of Christmas Day closed in, Roland, with -a cigarette in his mouth, reclined on the grass under a -mimosa bush, watching the picturesque groups of tanned -and tattered soldiers that hovered round the two great -watch-fires, which cast weird patches of light on the feathery -palms, the glittering piles of arms, the few white tents -occupied by Lord Wolseley's staff and officers of rank; on -the long rows of picketed camels; on the distant figures of -the advanced sentinels seen darkly against the sky of pale -green and orange that showed where the sun had set beyond -Gebel Magaya in the Bayuda Desert; on the quaint boats -and barges moored in the Nile; and on the broad flow of -that majestic river, reddened as it was by the flames, to -which the active hands and sharp bill-hooks of the soldiers -added fuel every moment; while the high spirits of the -troops—seldom wont to flag—were irrepressible then in the -great hope of getting on—getting on and reaching Khartoum—to -shake hands with Gordon ere it might be—too late! -</p> - -<p> -In three days the South Staffordshire were to start and -take the lead in that eventful expedition, and led by jovial -Dick Mostyn, Wilton, and other kindred spirits; already the -soldiers were chorusing a song with which they meant to -bend their oars; and more than once, as they sang, they -turned to where their favourite officer, Roland Lindsay, lay -looking on, for he was one of those men who are by nature -and habit born to be the leader of others, and possessing -that kind of magnetic influence which inspires confidence. -</p> - -<p> -Roland had plenty of spirit, bodily vigour, and perseverance; -but when a halt came, and with it a brief term of -rest, he could not help indulging in occasional regretful -thoughts, haunting memories, and wishes that were hopeless. -He had, as Annot anticipated, got over his rudely-dispelled -passion for her, true love it could not have been, he flattered -himself now, and he was fully justified in dismissing <i>her</i> -from his mind; and in that matter he was disturbed by the -fact no more 'than a nightmare disturbs the occupations of -the dreamer, as he goes about his business on the following -day in the full light of heaven, and with his brain clear of -the idle fantasies of the darkness.' -</p> - -<p> -But now he could not help thinking of Hester Maule, -especially as he had seen her last, when she stood at the -door of Merlwood, and murmured good-bye, her hand in -his, her dark blue eyes dimmed with gathering tears—the -tears that he knew would fall when he was gone—her graceful -head drooping towards him, and how he now, as then, -longed to whisper in her little white ear the words he scarcely -knew how to utter, and which were withheld through very -shame of himself. -</p> - -<p> -Earlshaugh he deemed, of course, now gone from his -family for ever; well, it was only one more case of the now -daily sinking out of sight, the decay or destruction of good -old Scottish families, while mushrooms came up to take their -place in the land, though seldom in history. -</p> - -<p> -Roland had and still loved Hester, and in his heart -believed in her as an embodiment of all that is good and -pure in womanhood; but rather unwisely had allowed the -fact to be guessed at by her, thinking that she understood -him, and that his declaration might be made at any time; -and, as we have shown, he was quite upon the point thereof, -when Annot Drummond came with her wiles and smiles to -prove the evil genius of them both. -</p> - -<p> -In connection with Annot's name he almost let his scornful -lips form a malediction now—that name once linked -with the dearest and fondest terms his fancy could frame. -Yet he could not even now class all women under her -category, and believe that beauty was given them for the -sole purpose of winning men's hearts without losing their -own. But his reflections at times on his own folly were -fiery and bitter for all that; and as a sedative he enjoyed -to the utmost extent the daily excitement of active service -now in that remarkable land, the Soudan. -</p> - -<p> -Christmas-night in the camp at Korti was indeed a merry -one, and although under the eyes of Lord Wolseley and his -staff, the soldiers were in no way repressed in their jollity -and fun—for a little of the latter goes a long way in the -army—and, all unlike the Northern Yule to which they were -accustomed, it was without snow or icicles, holly-berries, -mistletoe, and plum-pudding; but those who lingered round -these watch-fires on the arid sand of the Soudan had many -a kindly and tender thought of the bright family circles, the -loved faces, and household scenes of those who were dear -to them, and were so far, far away beyond the drear Bayuda -Desert, and beyond the seas, in many a pretty English -village, where the Christmas carols were being sung while -the chimes rang joyously in the old ivied steeple, in memory -of the star that shone over Bethlehem—the herald of peace -and goodwill to men. -</p> - -<p> -Ere that festival came again more than one battle had to -be fought—Khartoum would be lost or won—Gordon saved -or abandoned and betrayed—and many a young heart that -was full of joy and hope would be as cold as inexorable -death could make it; but no thought of these things marred -the merry night our soldiers spent as they turned into the -bivouac at Korti—for though called a camp, it was scarcely -a complete one. -</p> - -<p> -Dick Mostyn had procured some wine from an enterprising -Greek sutler; and this he shared freely with Lindsay -and others while it lasted. -</p> - -<p> -Though poor, and such as was never seen on the mess-table, -it was voted 'capital stuff,' in that part of the world, -and Dick—with a sigh—wished his 'throat was a mile long,' -as he drained the last of it. -</p> - -<p> -'Such a wonderful flow of spirits you always have, Dick!' -said Lindsay. -</p> - -<p> -'Well—I have made up my mind to be jolly, remembering -Mark Tapley and his Eden,' replied Mostyn. -</p> - -<p> -'Jolly on your couch—the sand?' -</p> - -<p> -'Jolly as a sandboy—yes; yet not disinclined to pray for -the man who invented a good feather-bed, even as Sancho -Panza did for him who invented sleep.' -</p> - -<p> -Indeed, Mostyn admitted that he was happier in the -Soudan than he had been in England. -</p> - -<p> -He had fluttered the dovecots of the West End with -tolerable success, and might have 'bagged an heiress,' as -he phrased it; but high stakes at his club, bets on every -possible thing; a bad book on the Derby, ditto on the -Oaks; unpaid accounts—St. John's Wood and 'going to -the devil on all fours,' marred his chances; then his gouty -old governor had come down upon him with his -'cut-you-off-with-a-shilling face;' and Dick -thought he was well out of -all his troubles, and had <i>only</i> the Arabs to face in the Soudan. -</p> - -<p> -Next day the regiment was inspected and highly -complimented by Lord Wolseley, as 'the first to come up with -the boats,' adding, 'I know you will do credit to the county -you are named after and to the character you have won. I -am proud to have such a battalion on service with me.' -</p> - -<p> -This ceremony was scarcely over and the soldiers' dinner -drum been beaten as a summons once more to bully-beef -and hard biscuits, when a few boats brought up a -detachment that marched at once into camp, where crowds -gathered round them, as newcomers, to hear the last news -from the rear, as letters were becoming scarce and -newspapers just then still more so. -</p> - -<p> -A tall officer who was in command, with his canvas -haversack, water-bottle, revolver-case, and jack-knife dangling -about him, and whose new fighting suit of gray contrasted -with the tattered attire of Roland and others, came towards -them with impatient strides. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap50"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER L. -<br /><br /> -THE START FOR KHARTOUM. -</h3> - -<p> -'Elliot, can this be Jack Elliot?' exclaimed Dick Mostyn -as he screwed an eyeglass into his left eye. 'By Jove, he -looks as if he had a bad toothache! What's up, Jack—lost -your heart to some fair Cairene on the Shoubrah road—eh?' -</p> - -<p> -'Jack Elliot it is!' said Roland, as the officer in question, -after 'handing over' his detachment, made his way to the -quarters of the South Staffordshire, 'you are just in time to -go up the river with us. We are on the eve of starting for -Khartoum.' -</p> - -<p> -'At last!' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, at last,' continued Roland, as they grasped each -other's hands, and the latter, when looking intently into his -brother-in-law's face, detected a grave, grim, keen-eyed, -harassed, and even haggard expression, which was all unlike -the jovial, free, and open one he was wont to see there. -'Why, Jack,' said he, 'what the devil is up? Are you ill -with fever, or what? Did you leave all well at home?' he -added as he drew him aside. -</p> - -<p> -'Well—yes—I suppose; but ill or well, thereby hangs a -tale—a devil of a tale; but ere I can tell it, give me -something to drink, old fellow—my water-bottle is empty—flask -ditto, and then I shall relate that which you would rather -not hear.' -</p> - -<p> -Jack unbuckled and flung his sword aside, while Roland -hastily and impatiently supplied his wants, and then heard -his brief, rapid, and startling story, winding up with the -disappearance of Maude from the villa, and the incoherent and -mysterious letter of farewell she left for him. -</p> - -<p> -'After this—the deluge!' exclaimed Roland in the direst -perplexity. -</p> - -<p> -'God and my own heart only know what it cost me to -start for the seat of war, leaving Maude, as I did, untraced, -unfollowed, and undiscovered; but I had neither time nor -an address to follow up,' sighed Elliot; 'and God only -knows, too, how all this has cut her as it must have cut -her—my poor darling—to the soul!' -</p> - -<p> -The meeting of Roland and Jack Elliot was one of -perplexity, gloom, and genuine distress. Far away from the -land where they could be of help or use in unravelling the -mystery, or succouring Maude, whom they deemed then a -houseless fugitive, they felt themselves miserably powerless, -hopeless, and exasperated; but curiously, perhaps, they -never thought of suspecting the real author of the mischief, -and were utterly at a loss to conceive how such a complication -and accusation came about in any way. -</p> - -<p> -Neither Jack nor Roland could know or conceive that -she was safe under her uncle's wing at Merlwood. Thus -they had to endure the anxiety of supposing her, with all -her beauty, refinement, and delicacy, to be adrift in some -homeless, aimless, and despairing way in London—haunted -by anger and terror of an injury and irreparable wrong. -The contemplation of this state of affairs filled the minds of -both with incessant torture—a torture for which there was -no relief, and would be none, either by letter or telegraph, -for a long time, if ever, to them, as inexorably—in two days -now—the regiment would be again on the Nile. -</p> - -<p> -'Reason how we may,' was the ever-recurring and gloomy -thought of Roland now, 'it has been said that Fate does -certainly pursue some families to their ruin and extinction, -and such is our probable end—the Lindsays of Earlshaugh!' -</p> - -<p> -And so, apart from their brother officers, these two -conversed and talked of the mysterious episode of the woman -and her claims again and again, viewing it in every imaginable -way, till they almost grew weary of it, in the hopelessness -of elucidating it while in the Soudan; and as for -poor Malcolm Skene and <i>his</i> fate, that was supposed to -be a thing of the past, and they ceased to surmise about it. -</p> - -<p> -At 2 p.m. on the 28th of December the start for Khartoum began! -</p> - -<p> -It was made by the South Staffordshire, under the gallant -Eyre, with exactly 19 officers and 527 men of the Regiment, -and 2 officers and 20 men of the Royal Engineers in 50 -boats, having the Staffordshire Knot painted on their bows, -the badge of the old '38th.' -</p> - -<p> -The sight was a fine and impressive one; the band was -playing merrily in the leading boat, as usual, Scottish and -Irish airs, as England, apparently, has none for any martial -purpose. Thus it is that Scottish and Irish quicksteps are -now ordered by the Horse Guards for nearly all the English -regiments, with Highland reels for the Cavalry, and one -other air in the 'Queen's Regulations,' with which we bid -farewell to the old colours, is 'Auld Lang Syne.' -</p> - -<p> -Steadily the whole battalion moved up stream, cheering -joyously—the first away for Khartoum—exhibiting a regularity -and power of stroke as they feathered their oars, and -showing how much recent practice had done to convert -them into able boatmen, and soon the camp was left -behind, and the boats had the bare desert on both sides of -the stream; but on and on they went, stemming the current -of the famous Nile, famous even in the remotest ages, -when the Egyptians worshipped the cow, the cat, the ibis, -and the crocodile, and when King Amenchat, sixth of the -Twelfth Dynasty, cut his huge river-like canal to join Lake -M[oe]ris, 250 miles lower down. -</p> - -<p> -On the 29th the Staffordshire boats were off the island -of Massawi, where the atmosphere was grilling, being 120 -degrees in the shade; but the soldiers were in the highest -spirits, their regiment being the leading one of the whole -army. -</p> - -<p> -One scorching day followed another, yet on and on they -toiled unwearyingly, passing Merawi and Abu Dom amid -date-trees and rank, gigantic tropical vegetation, till the -New Year's Day of 1885 found them nearing the foot of -a cataract, after passing which the River Column was to -form for its final advance on Khartoum. Already the -uniforms were more than ever ragged, and scarcely a man -had boots to his feet. -</p> - -<p> -Roland and Elliot had command of different boats, so -they could commune no more, even when they moored for -the night by the river's bank, when the crimson sun had set -in ruddy splendour beyond the gray hills of the Bayuda -Desert, and the dingy yellow of the Nile was touched by -the afterglow, in which its waves rippled in purple and silver -sheen, while the dark, feathery palms and fronds swayed -slowly to and fro in the friendly breeze, and the great -pelicans were seen to wade amid the slime and ooze where -the hideous crocodiles were dozing. -</p> - -<p> -In some places the boats were rowed between islets which -displayed a wondrous tropical wealth of dhurra, sugar-canes, -and cotton-trees, with palms innumerable. -</p> - -<p> -Officers and men—even chaplains—worked hard at the -oars in their anxiety to get on. For days some never had -the oar out of their hands; on others they were hauling the -boats over the rapids and up cataracts, where at times they -stuck in rocks and sandbanks, and had to be unloaded and -lifted bodily off. At times the pulling was awful, and the -hot sun scorched the back like fire, while the boats seemed -to stand still in places where the main stream forced itself -between masses of rock in a downward torrent, forming -ugly whirlpools, about which the only certainty was, that -whoever fell into them was drowned. -</p> - -<p> -'Pull for your lives,' was then the cry; 'give way, -men—give way with a will! Pull, or you'll be down the -rapids.' -</p> - -<p> -Then might be seen the men with their helmets off, -bare-headed, and braving sunstroke under that merciless -sunshine; steaming with perspiration—their teeth set hard—their -hearts panting with the awful and, at times, apparently -hopeless exertion of pulling against that mighty barrier of -downward rolling water against which they seemed to make -no head; yet ever and anon the cry went up: -</p> - -<p> -'Pull, my lads, cheerily—we'll shake hands with old -Gordon yet!' -</p> - -<p> -And so they toiled on—now up to their knees in mud, -now up to their chins in water, in rags and tatters, their -blistered and festered hands swathed in dirty linen bandages, -officers and men alike; often hungry, ever thirsty and weary, -yet strong in heart and high in impulse, as our soldiers ever -are when face to face with difficulty or death. -</p> - -<p> -Then a little breeze might catch the sails, carry the boats -ahead, and then a cheer of satisfaction would make the -welkin ring. -</p> - -<p> -Incredible was the amount of skill, care, and toil requisite -for getting the boats of the flotilla up the Nile, especially at -these places where with terrible force the rapids came in one -sheet of foam, with a ceaseless roar between narrow walls of -black rock at a visible incline, while at times the yells of -thousands of wondering natives on the banks lent a strange -and thrilling interest to the scene. -</p> - -<p> -'At low Nile,' says a writer, 'these rapids are wild and -desolate archipelagos, usually at least one or two miles in -length, while the river bank on either side presents a series -of broken, precipitous, and often inaccessible cliffs and -rugged spurs. Their sombre and gloomy appearance is -heightened by the colour of the rock, which, between high -and low water-mark, is usually of a jet hue, and in many -places so polished by the long action of the water, that it -has the appearance of being carefully black-leaded. One or -two big-winged, dusky birds may suddenly flap across, with -a harsh, uncanny cry, or some small boy, whose tailor's bills -must trouble him little, looks up from his fish-trap and -shrieks for backsheesh; but beyond these, and the ceaseless -rush of the water, sound or sight there is none.' -</p> - -<p> -Many of these islets are submerged at high Nile, creating -a number of cross currents which vary with the depth of -the water, and render navigation difficult to all, and -impossible to those who are unacquainted with each special -locality; thus the troops of the relieving column had before -them such a task as even Britons scarcely ever encountered -before; but the Canadians, under Colonel Kennedy, of the -Ontario Militia; the Indians, under the great chief White -Eagle, and the soldiers, all worked splendidly together. -</p> - -<p> -The 3rd of January saw the Staffordshire reach the -Bivouac of Handab, in a wild and rocky spot, and in a -position of peril between two great bodies of the enemy; -but cheerily the soldiers joined in the queer chorus of a -doggerel Canadian boat song adapted to the occasion by -the Indians, who, whilom, had made the poplar groves of -the Red River and Lake Winnipeg echo to it— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Pulley up the boat, boys, rolley up the sleeve,<br /> - Khartoum am a long way to trabbel!<br /> - Pulley up the boat, boys, rolley up the sleeve,<br /> - Khartoum am a long way to trabbel, I believe!'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap51"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER LI. -<br /><br /> -THE MARCH IN THE DESERT. -</h3> - -<p> -We have stated that Roland and his comrades were left -stationed at a point where they were menaced by two -forces of the enemy. -</p> - -<p> -'These were,' says Colonel Eyre, of the Staffordshire, in -his 'Diary,' 'the tribes whose people murdered poor Colonel -Stewart. They are entrenched twenty-three miles in front -of us up the river, and sent word that they were to fight. -They have a large force on the Berber Road, forty miles on -our flank; they were here two days ago, and took all the -camels in the district. We are encamped on a wild desert, -with ridges of rocky hills about two miles inland. We have -pitched our tents.' -</p> - -<p> -There we shall leave them for a time, and look back to -Korti, where some boats of troops arrived from Hannek, -twenty-three miles lower down the Nile, and in one of -these, tugging manfully at an oar, came the rescued -Malcolm Skene! -</p> - -<p> -His disappearance many weeks before—nearly three -months now—was well known to the troops; hence—though -in that fierce warfare, a human life, more or less lost or -saved, mattered little—his sudden appearance in camp, -when he reported himself at the headquarter tent, did make -a little stir for a time; and thus he was the hero of the -hour; but great and forward movements were in progress -now, and there was not much time to waste on anyone or -anything else. -</p> - -<p> -Though he had missed his corps, the Staffordshire, by -about twenty-four hours, it was with a source of intense -satisfaction that he found himself among his own countrymen -again—once more with the troops and ready for active -service of any kind. -</p> - -<p> -One thought was fully prominent in his mind, never again -would he be taken alive by the Soudanese. -</p> - -<p> -A horse, harness, and arms, belonging to some of the -killed or drowned, were speedily provided for him, and, by -order of the General commanding, he was attached to the -personal staff—<i>pro tem.</i>—of Sir Herbert Stewart, as his -great knowledge of the country and of Arabic might prove -of good service. -</p> - -<p> -Considering the treachery of Hassan Abdullah, his long -detention in the zereba of the Sheikh Moussa, and what his -too probable end would have been after the deportation of -Zebehr Pasha, with the recent close and deadly struggle he -had for life in the grasp of Girolamo, and how nearly he -escaped recapture and slaughter, Malcolm Skene had now -a personal and somewhat rancorous animosity to the -Soudanese. -</p> - -<p> -Now that he had not perished in the desert, in the river, -by Arab hands, or in any fashion as his troublesome -presentiment had led him to expect when he left Cairo guided -by that rascal Hassan on his lonely mission to Dayr-el-Syrian, -he felt a curious sense of mortification, compunction, -almost of regret, concerning the very tender and loving -letter of farewell he had written to Hester Maule; and -began to think it would be somewhat remarkable and awkward -if—after all—he should again meet her face to face in -society. -</p> - -<p> -Then again, as often before, he seemed to see in fancy -the conservatory at Earlshaugh, with its long and faintly lit -vistas of flowers, rare exotics, with feathery acacias and -orange trees and azaleas overhead; the gleam of the moonshine -on the adjacent lakelet; the tall slender figure and -soft dark eyes of Hester; and to his vivid imagination her -words and his own came back to him, with the nervous -expression of her sad and parted lips as she forbade him -ever to hope, and yet gave him no reason why! -</p> - -<p> -How long, long ago, it seemed since then! Yet he often -fancied himself saying to her: -</p> - -<p> -'Is the answer you gave me then still the same, dear -Hester?' -</p> - -<p> -Well—well—that was over and done with, as yet, and ere -dawn came in on the 29th of December he was roused by -the bugles sounding 'the assembly' for the advance. -</p> - -<p> -Lord Wolseley's orders were now that General Earle, -with an Infantry Brigade (including the Black Watch and -Staffordshire), was to punish the Monassir tribe for the -murder of Colonel Donald Stewart; while the Mounted -Infantry and Guards Camel Corps, under Sir Herbert -Stewart, were to advance on a march of exploration to -Gakdul, a distance of ninety miles, with a convoy of camels -laden with stores—a route between the deserts of Bayuda -and Ababdeh. -</p> - -<p> -A little after 3 a.m. on the 29th of December, the cavalry -scouts, under Major Kitchener, with some Arab guides, -moved off, and then Lord Wolseley gave his orders for the -column to get into motion, and strike straight off across the -pebble-strewn desert, towards the distant horizon, which -was indicated only by a dark, opaque, and undulating line, -against which a mimosa tuft stood up, and above which the -rays of the yet unrisen sun were faintly crimsoning the then -hazy sky, which otherwise as yet was totally dark. -</p> - -<p> -To Sir Herbert Stewart the final orders were brought by -Malcolm Skene, his new aide-de-camp. -</p> - -<p> -'You are to advance, sir, in column of companies, with -an interval of thirty paces between each, the Guards Camel -Corps and Engineers in front, the convoy and baggage next, -then the Artillery and Mounted Infantry, the Hussars to -form the advance and rear guards.' -</p> - -<p> -Malcolm saluted, reined back his horse, and betook him -to the inevitable cigarette, while the camels ceased to grunt, -and stalked off to the posts assigned them, and the column -began to move, so as to be in readiness to form a hollow -square at a moment's notice. -</p> - -<p> -To Malcolm Skene, even to him who had recently seen -so much, it was indeed a strange sight to watch the -departing camels, with their long, slender necks stretched out -like those of ostriches, and their legs, four thousand pairs -in number, gliding along in military order, silently, softly, -noiselessly, like a mighty column of phantoms, beast and -rider, until the light, rising dust of the desert blended all, -soldiers, camels, convoy, artillery, and baggage, into one -gray, uniform mass, which ere long seemed to fade out, to -pass away from the eyes of those who remained behind in -the camp. -</p> - -<p> -In case of an attack the Guards were to form square, -echeloned on the left front of the column; the Mounted -Infantry were to do the same on the right rear; but the -column was so great in length that it was feared their fire -would scarcely protect the entire line unless the usually -swift enemy were seen approaching in time to get the -baggage and convoy closed up; for, broad though the front -of this strange column, it was fully a mile long, and would -have proved very unwieldy to handle in case of a sudden -onslaught. Thus on the march it frequently halted, -dismounted, and, for practice, prepared to meet the enemy, -and was so formed that if the latter got among the camels -they would be exposed to an enfilading fire from two faces -each way. -</p> - -<p> -After a halt nine miles distant from Korti, and as many -to the left of the Wady Makattem, the march was resumed -under a peculiarly brilliant moonlight—one so bright that -few present had ever seen anything like it before. -</p> - -<p> -Not a cloud was visible in the far expanse of the firmament; -there were millions upon millions of stars sparkling, but -their brightness paled almost out in the brilliance of -the moon. There were no leaves to shine in the dew, but -showers of diamonds seemed to gem the yellow pebbles of -the desert; and had birds been there, they might have sung -as if a new day had dawned; yet how all unlike the warm -glow of an Egyptian day was the icy splendour of the -moonlight that mingled in one quarter with the coming redness -of the east. -</p> - -<p> -Every sword-blade, every rifle-barrel, every buckle and -stirrup-iron, glinted out in light, while the figures of every -camel and horse, soldier, and artillery-wheel were clearly -defined as at noonday; and no sound broke the stillness -save the shrill voices of the Somali camel-drivers. -</p> - -<p> -It was soon after this that Major Barrow, when scouting -with some Hussars, came upon a solitary messenger, bearer -of a tiny scrap of paper, no larger than a postage stamp—one -of the last missives from Gordon, dated 14th December, -he being then shut up in Khartoum. -</p> - -<p> -The moonlight faded; the red dawn came in, and still -the march of the column went on; in front a dreary, sandy, -and waterless desert; behind, the narrow streak of green -that indicated the course of the Nile; and now our officers -began to say to each other that 'if the camel corps alone -was from the first deemed sufficient to relieve Khartoum, -then why, at such enormous expense, exertion, and toil, -were 3,000 infantry brought blundering up the Nile? And -anon, if they were not sufficient, surely there was infinite -danger in exposing the corps, unsupported, to the contingency -of an overwhelming attack by the united forces of the -Mahdi.' -</p> - -<p> -It was found that there were wells, however, at Hamboka, -El Howeiyat, and elsewhere, far apart, and that so far as -water was concerned the practicability of the desert route to -Metemneh was proved by the march to Gakdul; after -reaching which Sir Herbert Stewart retraced his steps to -Korti; where two days afterwards, about noon, a cloud of -dust seen rising in the distance, almost to the welkin, -announced the return of his column, looming large and -darkly out of the mirage of the desert, in forms that were -strange, distorted, and gigantic, after leaving twenty -broken-down camels to die, abandoned in the awful waste. -</p> - -<p> -Just as Stewart came, the sound of Scottish pipes on the -Nile announced the arrival of the Black Watch in their -boats off Korti. All round the world have our bagpipes -sounded, but never before so far into the heart of the Dark -Continent. -</p> - -<p> -On Thursday, the 8th of January, the second advance -through the desert began, and the natives looked upon the -troops as doomed men. Three armies, larger and better -equipped, had departed on the same errand to 'smash up' -the Mahdi, but had been cut off nearly to a man, and their -unburied skeletons were strewn all over the country. -</p> - -<p> -All the officers in Sir Herbert Stewart's column were -strangers to Malcolm Skene, but such is the influence of -service together, <i>camaraderie</i> and companionship in danger -and suffering, that even in these days of general muddle and -'scratch' formations, he felt already quite like an old friend -with the staff and many others. -</p> - -<p> -The pebble-strewn desert was glistening in the moonlight, -when the column <i>en route</i> for Khartoum, <i>viâ</i> Gubat and -Metemneh, marched off at two in the morning, and ever -and anon the bugle rang out on the ambient air, sounding -'halt,' that the stragglers in the rear might close up, and -then the long array continued to glide like a phantom army, -or a mass of moving shadows, across the waste. -</p> - -<p> -Three hours afterwards, there stole upon one quarter of -the horizon a lurid gleam—the herald of the coming day; -then the bugles struck up a Scottish quick-step—the silence -was broken, and the men began to talk cheerily, and 'chaff' -each other, though already enduring that parched sensation -in the mouth, peculiar to all who traverse the deserts that -border on the Nile—a parched feeling for which liquor, -curious to say, is almost useless, and often increases the -torture—and all, particularly the marching infantry, in -defiance of orders, drank from their water-bottles -surreptitiously, even when it was announced that seventy more -miles had to be covered ere a proper supply could be -obtained from wells. -</p> - -<p> -Those at Hamboka, forty-seven miles from Korti, were -found full of dry sand—destroyed by the horsemen of the -Sheikh Moussa Abu Hagil, who was in that quarter; those -at El Howieyat, eight miles further on, were in nearly the -same condition, and already the soldiers were becoming -maddened by thirst. -</p> - -<p> -Day had passed, and again the weary march was resumed -in the dark. -</p> - -<p> -At the well of Abu Haifa, eighty miles from Korti, the -scene that ensued was exciting and painful—even terrible. -The orders were that the fighting men were to be first -supplied; and, held back by the bayonet's point, the -wretched camp-followers, Somali camel-drivers, and others -frantically tore up the warm sand with their hands in the -hope that a little water might collect therein, and when it -did so, they stooped and lapped it up like thirsty cats or -dogs. Others failed to achieve this, and with their mouths -cracked, their entrails shrivelled, their flashing eyes wild and -hollow, they rolled about with frenzy at their hearts, and -blasphemy on their lips. There was no reasoning with -them—they could no longer reason. -</p> - -<p> -Even the resolute British soldier could scarcely be -restrained by habitual discipline from throwing the latter -aside, and joining in the throng that surged around the -so-called well—a mere stony hole in the desert sand—while -in the background were maddened horses, and even the -ever-patient camels, plunging, struggling, unmanageable, and -fighting desperately with their masters for a drop of that -precious liquid. -</p> - -<p> -In the struggle here Malcolm Skene, as an officer, got his -water-bottle filled among the earliest, having ridden forward, -and with a sigh that was somewhat of a prayer he was -about to take a deep draught therefrom, when the wan face, -the haggard eyes, and parched lips of a young soldier of the -2nd Sussex caught his eye. Too weak to struggle, perhaps -too well-bred, if breeding could be remembered in that -hour of madness, or so despairing as to be careless, he had -made no effort to procure water, or if he did so, had -failed. -</p> - -<p> -Skene's heart smote him. -</p> - -<p> -'Drink, my man,' said he, proffering his water-bottle, -'and then I shall.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, may God bless you, sir,' murmured the poor -infantry lad fervently, as he drank, and returned the bottle -with a salute. -</p> - -<p> -Gakdul—hemmed in by lofty and stupendous precipices -of bare rock—was reached on the 12th January, when, amid -cheers and rejoicings, a plentiful supply of water was -obtained, after which preparations were made for the march -to Metemneh, where it was known that thousands were -gathering to bar our way to Khartoum. Yet Stewart's total -strength was only 1,607 men of all ranks, encumbered by -304 camp followers, and 2,380 camels and horses. The -halt of two days at Gakdul did wonders in restoring the -energies of men and cattle. -</p> - -<p> -There Malcolm Skene's knowledge of Arabic was frequently -in requisition. As yet the leaders of this advanced -column were utterly without any trustworthy intelligence as -to the movements of the Mahdi's army, for bands of prowling -robbers and the Bedouins of the Sheikh Moussa infested -every route in front and rear, keeping carefully out of sight -by day-time, but swooping down on the camping grounds by -night in the hope of finding abandoned spoil—perhaps sick -or wounded men to torture and slay. -</p> - -<p> -Sir Herbert Stewart arrived on the 16th of January within -a few miles of the now famous wells of Abu Klea, after a -waterless march of forty-three miles from those of El Faar, -and already even the poor camels had become so reduced -in physique that as many as thirty dropped down to die in -one day; but the troops reached a line of black sandstone -ridges lying westward of Abu Klea, and a squadron of -Hussars, whose horses were suffering most severely from -want of water, cantered forward to inspect the country, and -Malcolm Skene rode with them. -</p> - -<p> -At mid-day they found the enemy in a valley, where long -and reedy grass was waving in the hot breeze—a place -studded by several camel-thorns and acacias. The Arab -centre occupied a long and gentle slope, like the glacis of an -earthwork. -</p> - -<p> -Led by a Sheikh, about 200 mounted men advanced -resolutely and in tolerable order, opening fire with their -Remingtons on the Hussars. -</p> - -<p> -In their leader, Malcolm, through his field-glass, recognised -the Sheikh Moussa Abu Hagil, who alone of all his band -wore a suit of that mail armour of the Middle Ages, which -is thus described by Colonel Colborne, who says 'it was in -the Soudan' he first saw it, to his amazement: 'Whether -original or a copy of it, it was undoubtedly the dress of the -Crusaders. The hauberk was fastened round the body by -the belt, and formed a complete covering from head to foot. -The long and double-edged sword was worn between the leg -and saddle.' -</p> - -<p> -Moussa wore a flat-topped helmet with a plume, and -tippet of Darfour mail; his horse's head was cased in steel, -and covered by a quilt thick enough to turn a spear; but, -save their bodies, which were clad in Mahdi shirts, his -followers were naked—with their dark, bronze-like legs and -arms bare. -</p> - -<p> -Under their fire the reconnoitring force of Hussars fell -back, an operation viewed by Sir Herbert Stewart and his -staff from the summit of a lofty hill composed entirely of -black and shining rock, from whence he could see the whole -country for miles, and from where he ordered a general -advance. -</p> - -<p> -By difficult defiles, and in serious distress owing to the -want of water, the troops advanced in steady and splendid -order, the line being led by the Brigade Major, David, Earl -of Airlie, of the 10th Hussars—one of a grand old historic -race—round whose Castle of Cortachy a spectre drummer is -said to beat when fate is nigh—and he had brought the -whole into the valley by half-past two o'clock; then Sir -Herbert, having ascertained from Skene's report that the -wells of Abu Klea were too far in rear of the Arab position -to be accessible that night, resolved to fortify the ground -he occupied, a ridge rising gently from the Wady, but -broken before it reached the hills, while close in rear of -it was a grassy hollow, wherein the baggage animals were -picketed. -</p> - -<p> -Hasty parapets of stones, gathered from the ground -whereon the troops lay, were constructed along the front of -the position, flanked by <i>abattis</i> of thorny mimosa, while the -great hill of black rock referred to was occupied by a party -of signallers, who built thereon a redoubt; while a mile in -its rear, on the brow of a precipice, another fortlet was -formed as a rallying point in case of a reverse. -</p> - -<p> -With his staff and a few Hussars Sir Herbert now rode to -the front, and saw, as the ruddy sun began to set and cast -long shadows over the swelling uplands of the scenery, the -enemy in their thousands taking possession of a lofty hill -sixteen hundred paces distant on his right—a position from -whence they could completely enfilade his lines. Thus -ere darkness fell they secured the range, and from that time -no one could reckon on twenty minutes' sound sleep. -</p> - -<p> -Prior to that a couple of shells were thrown among them, -exploding with brilliant glares and loud crashes, on which -they retired a little or sank down, leaving two great white -banners floating out against the starry sky-line. -</p> - -<p> -All night long they 'potted' away with their Remingtons, -keeping up a desultory, but most harassing, fire, their long -range and trajectory placing every point in danger, and some -of their bullets fell whizzing downwards through the air upon -the sleepers. -</p> - -<p> -Many men were wounded, and many camels, too, and all -night long, while their rifle shots flashed redly out of the -darkness, they maintained a horrible din on their one-headed -war drums, making the hours hideous. -</p> - -<p> -All through the dark and moonless night these savage -sounds rose and swelled upon the dewy air, and formed a -fitting accompaniment to the wail of their pestering bullets -as they swept over the silent British bivouac. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap52"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER LII. -<br /><br /> -THE PRESENTIMENT FULFILLED. -</h3> - -<p> -So passed the night. -</p> - -<p> -On the morning of the 17th of January, early, and without -blast of bugle or beat of drum, a frugal breakfast—the -last meal that many were to have in this world—was served -round, and had been barely partaken of, when the Arab -skirmishers came swarming over the low hills on our right -flank, and opened fire with their Remingtons at eleven -hundred yards' range. -</p> - -<p> -With a succession of dreadful crashes, our shrapnel shell -exploded among them, tearing many to pieces and putting -the rest to flight; and after more than one attempt to lure -the enemy from their position had failed, at 7 a.m. Sir -Herbert Stewart began his preparations to advance, and -drive them from the wells of Abu Klea. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile the army of the Mahdi had been continually -appearing and disappearing in front, their many-coloured -pennons streaming out on the passing breeze, their long -sword-blades and spear-heads flashing brightly in the red -rays of the uprising sun, while the thunder of their -battle-drums and their savage wild cries loaded the morning -air. -</p> - -<p> -Five ranks deep, four thousand of them deployed in -irregular lines along a hollow in our front, led by mounted -sheikhs and dervishes, clad in richly-embroidered Mahdi -camises, and posted at intervals of twenty-five yards -apart—conspicuous among them Moussa Abu Hagil, in his -Darfour shirt of mail. -</p> - -<p> -They were posted on strong ground westward of the -wells, which our soldiers, sorely athirst, were full of anxiety -to reach; and as the camels were mostly to be left in the -rear, they were knee-haltered, and their stores and saddles -used to strengthen the parapets of the detached fortlets. -</p> - -<p> -In the fighting square which now advanced were only -one hundred camels for carrying litters, stores, water, and -spare ammunition. -</p> - -<p> -The Heavies on this eventful morning were led by -Colonel Talbot; the Guards by Colonel Boscawen; the -gallant Barrow led the Mounted Infantry, and Lord -Beresford the slender Naval Brigade. -</p> - -<p> -Men were being knocked over now on every hand, and -among the first who fell was Lord St. Vincent, of the -17th Lancers, who received a wound that proved mortal. -Under Barrow the Mounted Infantry went darting forward, -and the Arab skirmishers fell back before them, vanishing -into the long wavy grass from amid which the smoke of -their rifles spirted up. Skene had the spike of his helmet -carried away by one ball; his bridle hand sharply grazed by -another, but he bound his handkerchief about the wound -and rode on. -</p> - -<p> -By this time nearly an hour had elapsed since the zereba -and its fortlets had been left in the rear, and only two miles -of ground had been covered, and all the while our troops -had been under a fire from the sable warriors on the hill -slopes. -</p> - -<p> -'Halt!' was now sounded by the bugles, and the faces -of the square were redressed and post was to be taken on a -slope, which the enemy would have to ascend when attacking. -</p> - -<p> -Their total strength was now estimated at 14,000 men! -</p> - -<p> -Our dead men were left where they fell; but frequent -were the halts for picking up the wounded. Yet steady as -if on parade in a home barrack square, our little band -advanced, over stony crests, through dry water-courses, like -some hugh machine, compact and slow, firm and regular, -amid the storm of bullets poured into it from the front, from -the flanks, and eventually from the rear. -</p> - -<p> -At first the enemy swarmed in dark masses all along our -front, and for two or three miles on either flank groups of -their horsemen, with floating garments and glittering spears, -could be seen watching the advance of the hollow square -from black peaks of splintered rock. 'There was no -avenue of retreat now for us,' wrote one, 'and no one -thought of such a thing. "Let us do or die!" (in the -words of Bruce's war song) was the emotion of all; and -Colonel Barrow, C.B., with his "handful" of Hussars, -became engaged about the same time as the square.' -</p> - -<p> -He maintained a carbine fire, while General Stewart, with -his personal staff, including Major Wardrop, the Earl of -Airlie, and Captains Skene and Rhodes, galloped from point -to point, keeping all in readiness to repulse a sudden -charge; but, with all their bravery, it was a trial for our -Heavy Dragoons to march on foot and fight with infantry -rifles and bayonets—weapons to which they were totally -unaccustomed. -</p> - -<p> -The keen, yet dreamy sense of imminent peril—the -chances of sudden death, with the spasmodic tightness of -the chest that emotion sometimes causes, had passed from -Malcolm Skene now completely; he 'felt cool as a cucumber,' -yet instinct with the fierce desire to close with, to grapple, -and to spur among the enemy <i>sabre à la main</i>; and he -forgot even the smarting of his wounded bridle hand as the -troops moved onward. -</p> - -<p> -A few minutes after ten o'clock, when the leading face of -the square had won the crest of a gentle slope on the other -side of a hollow, a column of the enemy, about 5,000 strong, -was seen echeloned in two long lines on the left, or opposite -that face which was formed by the mounted infantry and -heavy cavalry, and looking as if they meant to come on now. -</p> - -<p> -They were still marshalled, as stated, by sheikhs and -dervishes on horseback, and, with all their banners rustling -in the wind, the battle-drums thundering, and their shrill -cries of 'Allah! Allah!' loading the air, they advanced -quickly, brandishing their flashing spears and two-handed -swords. Abu Saleh, Ameer of Metemneh, led the right; -Moussa Abu Hagil led the centre; and Mahommed Khuz, -Ameer of Berber, who had soon to retire wounded, led -the left, and our skirmishers came racing towards the -square. -</p> - -<p> -Strange to say, our fire as yet seemed to have little effect -upon the foe; very few were falling, and the untouched began -to believe that the spells of Osman Digna and the promises -of the Mahdi had rendered their bodies shot-proof; and -when within three hundred yards of the square they began -to rush over the undulating ground like a vast wave of black -surf. Now the Gardner gun was brought into action; but -when most required, and at a moment full of peril, the -wretched Government ammunition failed to act—the -cartridges stuck ere the third round was fired; the human -waves of Arabs came rolling down upon the square, leaping -and yelling over their dead and wounded, never reeling nor -wavering under the close sheets of lead that tore through -them now. -</p> - -<p> -Like fiends let loose they came surging and swooping on, -their burnished weapons flashing, and their black brawny -forms standing boldly out in the glow of the sunshine, -unchecked by the hailstorm of bullets, spearing the horsemen -around the useless Gardner gun, and fighting hand to hand, -Abu Saleh and the Sheikh Moussa leading them on, and -then it was that the gallant Colonel Burnaby, of the Blues, -fell like the hero he was. -</p> - -<p> -The wild and high desire to do something that might win -him a name, and make, perhaps, Hester Maule proud of -him, welled up in the heart of Malcolm Skene, even at that -terrible crisis, and he spurred his horse forward a few paces, -just as Burnaby had done, to succour some of the skirmishers, -who, borne back by the Arab charge, had failed to reach the -protection of the square, which was formed in the grand -old British fashion, shoulder to shoulder like a living -wall. -</p> - -<p> -By one trenchant, back-handed stroke of his sword, he -nearly swept the head off the yelling Arab, thereby saving -from the latter's spear a Foot Guardsman, who had stumbled -ere he could reach the square; but now Skene was furiously -charged by another, who bore the standard of Sheikh -Moussa. -</p> - -<p> -Grasping his spear by his bridle hand, he ran his sword -fairly through the Arab, who fell backward in a heap over -his horse's crupper, and then Skene tore from his dying grip -the banner, which was of green silk—the holy colour—edged -with red, and bore a verse of the Koran in gold (for -it was a gift from the Mahdi), and, regaining the shelter of -the square, threw his trophy at the foot of the General. -</p> - -<p> -'This shall go to the Queen—in your name, Captain -Skene!' said the latter. -</p> - -<p> -'The Queen—no, sir—but to a girl in Scotland, I hope, -whether I live or not!' replied Malcolm. -</p> - -<p> -It was sent to the Queen at Windsor eventually, however, -for Malcolm, now, when the square, recoiling before the -dreadful rush, had receded about a hundred yards, and the -Arabs were charging our men breast high, and the Heavies, -instead of remaining steady as infantry would have done, -true to their cavalry instincts were springing forward to -close with the foe, once more dashed to the front in -headlong fashion, and found himself beyond the face of the -square, opposed to a tribe of Ghazis, who were brandishing -their spears, hurling javelins, and hewing right and left with -their two-handed swords—all swarthy negroes from -Kordofan, and copper-coloured Arabs of the Bayuda Desert -with long, straight, floating hair. -</p> - -<p> -Heedless of death—nay, rather courting it as the path to -paradise—with weapons levelled or uplifted, they came -forward, with blood pouring from their bullet wounds in many -instances, some staggering under these till they dropped -and died within five paces of the square, while the others -rushed on, and the fight became hand to hand, the bayonet -meeting the Arab spear. On our side there was not much -shouting as yet, only a brief cry, an oath, or a short exclamation -of prayer or agony as a soldier fell down in his place, -and all the valour of the Heavies became unavailing, when -their formation was broken, when the foe mingled with -them, and they were driven back upon the Naval Brigade, -with its still useless Gardner gun, upon the right of the -Sussex Regiment, which strove to close up the gap. -</p> - -<p> -Then it was that Skene found himself opposed to Moussa -Abu Hagil, whose horse had been shot under him, and who, -half-blinded by his own blood streaming from a bullet-wound -from which his Darfour helmet failed to save him, fought -like a wild animal, slashing about with his double-edged -sword, which broke in his hand, and then using his -spear. -</p> - -<p> -Dashing at Skene with a demoniac yell, he levelled the -long blade of the weapon at his throat. Parrying the thrust -by a circular sweep of his sword, Skene checked his horse -and reined it backwards; but the length of Skeikh Moussa's -spear, nearly ten feet, put it out of his power to return with -proper interest the fury of the attack. Twice at least his -sword touched the Arab, thus making him, if more wary, all -the more eager and fierce, and there was a grim and defiant -smile on Skene's face as he fenced with Moussa and parried -his thrusts; but now he was attacked by others when scarcely -his horse's length from the face of the square. -</p> - -<p> -One wounded him in the right shoulder; Skene turned -in his saddle and clove him down. At that moment a -soldier—the young lad of the 2nd Sussex to whom he gave -his water-bottle at the well of Abu Haifa—ran from the -ranks and attacked another assailant of Skene, but perished -under twenty spears, and ere the latter could deliver one -blow again, he was dragged from his saddle, covered with -wounds in the neck and face—ghastly wounds from which -the blood was streaming—'each a death to nature,' and -literally hewn to pieces. -</p> - -<p> -So thus, eventually, was his strange presentiment fulfilled! -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile the Ghazis had forced their way so far into -the square that one was actually slain in the act of firing -the battery ammunition. Despite the great efforts of a -gallant Captain Verner and others, 'the Heavies were being -massacred; and after the fall of Burnaby, whom Sir William -Cumming, of the Scots Guards, tried to save, Verner was -beaten down, but his life (it is recorded) was saved by Major -Carmichael, of the Irish Lancers, whose dead body fell across -him, as well as those of three Ghazis.' -</p> - -<p> -The Earl of Airlie and Lord Beresford, fighting sword in -hand, were both wounded, and so furious was the inrush of -the Arabs, that many of them reached the heart of the -square, where they slew the maimed and dying in the -litters, and rushed hither and thither, with shrill yells, -streaming hair, and flashing eyes, until they were all shot -down or bayoneted to death. -</p> - -<p> -Fighting for life and vengeance, and half maddened to -find that their cartridges jammed hard and fast after the -third shot, our soldiers—in some instances placed back to -back—fought on the summit of a mound surrounded by -thousands upon thousands of dark-skinned spearmen and -swordsmen, hurling their strength on what were originally -the left and rear faces of the square, till, with all its defects, -our fire became so deadly and withering, that they began to -waver, recoil, and eventually fly, while the triumphant cheers -of our men rent the welkin. -</p> - -<p> -Away went the Arabs streaming in full flight towards -Berber, Metemneh, and the road to Khartoum, followed -by Barrow and his Hussars cutting them down like ripened -grain, and followed, to the screaming, plunging, and -crashing fire of the screw guns which now came into action -and pursuit with shot and shell. -</p> - -<p> -So the field and the walls of Abu Klea were won, but -dearly, as we had 135 other ranks killed, and above 200 -wounded, including camel drivers and other camp followers. -</p> - -<p> -The former were buried by the men of the 19th Hussars. -Earth to earth—dust to dust—ashes to ashes; three carbine -volleys rang above them in farewell, and all was over; while -the native slain were left in their thousands to the birds of -the air. -</p> - -<p> -The column reached the city of Abu Klea in the evening, -and then, parched and choked with thirst after the heat -and toil and fierce excitement of the past night and day, all -enjoyed the supreme luxury of the cold water from the -fifty springs or more that bubbled in the Wady. Round -these, men, horses, and camels gathered to quench their -thirst, that amounted to agony, by deep and repeated -draughts, while fires were lighted and a meal prepared. -</p> - -<p> -Next followed the battle of Gubat and the futile expedition -of Sir Charles Wilson, both of which are somewhat apart -from our story. -</p> - -<p> -The death of Colonel Burnaby, of the Blues, created a -profound sensation in London society, where he was a -great favourite; but there were many more than he to -sorrow for. -</p> - -<p> -Skene's fall made a deep impression among the Staffordshire, -as he was greatly beloved by the soldiers. -</p> - -<p> -'Poor Malcolm—killed at last!' said Roland, when the -tidings came up the river to the bivouac at Hamdab. He -should never see his brown, dark eyes again; feel the firm -clasp of his friendly hand, or hear his cheery voice -say—'Well, Roland—old fellow!' -</p> - -<p> -'But it may be my turn next,' thought he. -</p> - -<p> -'Poor Malcolm!' said Jack Elliot; 'I have known him -nurse the sick, bury the dead, sit for hours playing with a -soldier's ailing child, and once he swam a mile and more to -save a poor dog from drowning. -</p> - -<p> -And as he spoke, sometimes a tearless sob shook -Elliot's sturdy frame, and Roland knew that with his friend -Malcolm -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'All was ended now—the hope, the fear, and the sorrow;<br /> - All the aching of the heart, the restless, unsatisfied longing;<br /> - All the dull, deep pain and constant anguish of patience—<br /> - His love and his life had ended together!'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap53"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER LIII -<br /><br /> -A HOMEWARD GLANCE. -</h3> - -<p> -The action of one human being on another, by subtle -means, it has been said, is as effective as the action of light -on the air: that under the influence of Hawkey Sharpe -and certain new circumstances, Annot Drummond had -visibly deteriorated already. -</p> - -<p> -Her high-flown ideas and undoubtedly better breeding -had caused her to experience many a shock when in the -daily and hourly society of her husband, with all his vulgar -and horsey ways, and he was certainly far below that young -lady's high-pitched expectations and her love of externals. -</p> - -<p> -Her life at Earlshaugh had at first been getting quite like -a story, she thought, and a perplexingly interesting story, too, -with the high game she had to play for—a game in -manoeuvres worthy of Machiavelli himself. -</p> - -<p> -Annot, we know, was not tall; but her slight figure was -prettily rounded. She carried herself well, though too -quick and impulsive in her movements for real dignity, and -as Maude had said, she never could conceive her at the head -of a household, or taking a place in society. Now, as the -wife of 'a cad' like Hawkey Sharpe, the latter was not to -be thought of. -</p> - -<p> -Her pretty ways and glittering golden hair, which had -misled better men than the wretched Sharpe, were palling -even upon him, now; and her studied artlessness had given -place to a bearing born of vanity and her own success and -ambition, the sequel of which she was yet to learn, but -withal she was not yet lady of Earlshaugh. But, as a writer -says of a similar character, 'a self-love, that demon who -besets alike the learned philosopher with his own pet -theories; the statesman with his pet political hobbies; the -man of wealth with his own aggrandisement; and the man -of toil with his own pet prejudices—that insidious demon -had entire hold now of this silly little girl's heart, and closed -it to anything higher.' -</p> - -<p> -Married now, and safe in position as she thought herself, -Annot was no longer the coaxing and cooing little creature -she had been to Hawkey Sharpe; and rough and selfish -though he was, a flash of her eyes, or a curl of her lip cowed -him at times. She treated him as one for whom she was -bound to entertain a certain amount of marital affection, -but no respect whatever, and when she contrasted him with -Roland Lindsay and other men she had known, even poor, -weak Bob Hoyle, her manner became one of contempt and, -occasionally, disgust. -</p> - -<p> -But she had preferred the <i>couleur d'or</i> to the <i>couleur de -rose</i> in matrimony, and had now, as Hawkey said, 'to ride -the ford as she found it.' -</p> - -<p> -'Men like Roland,' said Annot to Mrs. Lindsay when -discussing her whilom lover, 'especially military men, see a -good deal of life, and experience teaches them how passing -a love affair may be.' -</p> - -<p> -'You mean——' began Mrs. Lindsay, scarcely knowing -what to say. -</p> - -<p> -'I mean that he must have played with fire pretty often,' -said Annot, laughing, but not pleasantly, 'and will forget -me as he must have forgotten others. I suppose our likes -and dislikes in this world are based upon the point that -somebody likes or dislikes ourselves.' -</p> - -<p> -Hawkey Sharpe's debts and demands since his marriage -had exhausted the patience if not quite the finances of his -sister: and now the bill, erewhile referred to—the racing -debt—was falling inexorably due, and how to meet it, or be -stigmatised as a 'welsher' on every course in the country, -became a source of some anxiety to that gentleman. -</p> - -<p> -To meet his other requirements, all the fine timber in the -King's Wood was gone—a clean sweep had been made -from King James's Thorn to the Joug Tree, that bears an -iron collar, in which for centuries the offenders on the -domains of Earlshaugh had suffered durance, and the once -finely foliaged hill now looked bare and strange; and for -angry remarks thereat, Willie Wardlaw, the gardener, and -Gavin Fowler, the head gamekeeper, aged dependants on -the house of Earlshaugh, as their fathers had been before -them, had been summarily dismissed by Mr. Hawkey Sharpe. -</p> - -<p> -A well-known firm of shipbuilders on the Clyde had -offered for the wood, and to the former the most attractive -part of the transaction, in addition to the good price, was -the fact that the money was paid down at once but it was -far from satisfying the wants of Mr. Hawkey Sharpe. -</p> - -<p> -'You know I disliked having that timber sold—that I -hated the mere thought of having it cut!' said Deborah to -him reproachfully, as she looked from the window into the -sunshine. -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' he asked sulkily; 'what the devil was the use of it?' -</p> - -<p> -'It was the favourite feature in the landscape——' -</p> - -<p> -'Of whom?' -</p> - -<p> -'My dead husband.' -</p> - -<p> -'Bosh!' exclaimed Hawkey, who thought this was (what, -to do her justice, it was not) 'twaddle.' -</p> - -<p> -They were together in his sanctum, or 'den,' which -passed occasionally as his office; though the table, like the -mantelpiece, was strewed with pipes, their ashes were everywhere, -and the air was generally redolent of somewhat coarse -tobacco smoke. -</p> - -<p> -Having a favour to ask, he had, in his own fashion, been -screwing his courage to the sticking-point. -</p> - -<p> -'You have been imbibing—drinking again?' said his pale -sister, eyeing him contemptuously with her cold, glittering -stare. -</p> - -<p> -'"I take a little wine for my stomach's sake and other -infirmities," as we find in 1st Timothy,' said he with a -twinkle in his shifty eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'The devil can quote Scripture, so well may you.' -</p> - -<p> -'That is severe, Deb,' said he, filling his pipe. -</p> - -<p> -'Come to the point.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well, Deb, dear, would it be convenient to you to—to -lend me a couple of thousand pounds for a few weeks? I -have hinted of this from time to time.' -</p> - -<p> -'Two thousand pounds! Not only inconvenient, but impossible,' -said she, twisting her rings about in nervous anger. -</p> - -<p> -'Why, Deb?' -</p> - -<p> -'I have not even a fifty-pound note in the house.' -</p> - -<p> -'But plenty lying idle at your banker's.' -</p> - -<p> -'Not the sum you seek to borrow just now. Borrow! -Why not be candid, and ask for it out and out? Two -thousand——' -</p> - -<p> -'I must have the money, I tell you,' he said, with sudden -temper, 'or—or——' -</p> - -<p> -'What?' -</p> - -<p> -'Be disgraced—that is all,' he replied, sullenly lighting -his huge briar-root. -</p> - -<p> -'Well, you must find it without my aid,' said she, coldly -and sullenly too. -</p> - -<p> -'Could you not raise it on some of your useless jewels? -Come, now, dear old Deb, don't be too hard upon a -fellow.' -</p> - -<p> -Anger made her pale cheek suffuse at this cool suggestion, -and she became very much agitated. -</p> - -<p> -'Now, don't cut up this way. It is your heart again, of -course; but keep quiet, and let nothing trouble you,' said -he, puffing vigorously. 'You have a lot of the Lindsay -jewels that are too old-fashioned for even you to wear.' -</p> - -<p> -'But not to bequeath.' -</p> - -<p> -'To Annot?' said he, brightening a little. -</p> - -<p> -'I am sick of you and your Annot,' exclaimed Mrs. Lindsay, -now all aflame with anger, and trembling violently. -</p> - -<p> -'Sorry to hear it,' said he, somewhat mockingly. 'We -have not yet quite got over our spooning.' -</p> - -<p> -'Don't use that horrid, vulgar phrase, Hawkey.' -</p> - -<p> -'Vulgar! How?' -</p> - -<p> -'One no doubt derived from the gipsies, when two used -one horn spoon. Annot, with all her apparent amiable -imbecility, is a remarkably acute young woman.' -</p> - -<p> -'She is—and does credit to my taste, Deb.' -</p> - -<p> -'One whom it is impossible to dislike, I admit.' -</p> - -<p> -'Of course.' -</p> - -<p> -'And also quite impossible to love.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, come now, poor Annot!' said Hawkey, with a kind -of mock deprecation; and then to gain favour he said, 'I -do wish, dear Deb, that you would see the doctor -again—about yourself.' -</p> - -<p> -'I have seen him; the old story, he can do nothing but -order me to avoid all agitation, yet you have not given me -much chance of that lately.' -</p> - -<p> -'But just once again, Deb—about this money——' -</p> - -<p> -'Another word on the subject and we part for ever!' she -exclaimed, and giving him a glance—stony as the stare of -Medusa—one such as he had never before seen in her -small, keen, and steely-gray eyes, she flung away and left -him. -</p> - -<p> -He gnashed his teeth, smashed his pipe on the floor, then -lit a huge regalia to soothe his susceptibilities, and thought -about <i>how</i> the money was to be raised. He knew his sister -had thousands idle in the bank, and have it he should at all -hazards! -</p> - -<p> -He had meant, too, if successful, and he found her -pliable, to have spoken to her again about making her will; -but certainly the present did not seem a favourable -occasion to do so. -</p> - -<p> -'Deb will be getting her palpitation of the heart, nervous -attacks, low spirits, and the devil only knows all what more, -on the head of this!' he muttered with a malediction. -</p> - -<p> -Hawkey had watched her retire through the deep old -doorway (under the lintel of which tall Cardinal Beatoun -had whilom stooped his head) and disappear along the -stately corridor beyond. Then he dropped into an -easy-chair—stirred the fire restlessly and impatiently, and drained -his glass, only to refill it—his face the while fraught with -rage and mischief. -</p> - -<p> -He drew a letter or two from a drawer—they were from -his sister—and he proceeded to study her signature with -much artistic acumen and curiosity. -</p> - -<p> -'Needs must when the devil drives!' said he, grinding his -teeth and biting his spiky nails; 'I have done it—and that -she'll know in time!' -</p> - -<p> -Done what? -</p> - -<p> -That the reader will know in time too. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap54"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER LIV. -<br /><br /> -THE LONG-SUSPENDED SWORD. -</h3> - -<p> -Sorrow is said to make people sometimes, to a certain -extent, selfish; thus sorrow in her own little secluded home -was, ere long, to render Hester, for a space at least, less -thoughtful of the grief which affected her cousin Maude. -</p> - -<p> -Hester was somewhat changed, and knew within herself -that it was so. -</p> - -<p> -She found that her daily thoughts ran more anxiously and -tenderly upon her father, and about his fast-failing health, -than on any other subject now. -</p> - -<p> -She lost even a naturally feminine interest in her own -beauty. Who was there to care for it? she thought. -</p> - -<p> -So on Sundays she sat in her pew, in the kirk on the -wooded hill, and there listened to the preacher's voice -blending with the rustle of the trees and the cawing of the -rooks in the ruined fane close by; but with an emotion in -her heart never known before—that of feeling that ere long -she would have a greater need of some one to lean on—of -something to cling to in the coming loneliness that her heart -foreboded to be near now. -</p> - -<p> -At last there came a day she was never to forget—a day -that told her desolation was at hand. -</p> - -<p> -Seated in his Singapore chair at breakfast one morning, -her father suddenly grew deadly pale; a spasm convulsed -his features; his coffee-cup fell from his nerveless hand; -and he gazed at her with all the terror and anguish in his -eyes which he saw in her own. -</p> - -<p> -'Papa—papa!' she exclaimed, and sprang to his side. -He gazed at her wildly, vacantly, and muttered something -about 'the Jhansi bullet.' Then she heard him distinctly -articulate her name. -</p> - -<p> -'Hester—my own darling—you here?' he said, with an -effort; 'how sweet you look in that white robe. I always -loved you in it, dear.' -</p> - -<p> -'My dress is rose-coloured—a morning wrapper, papa,' -said Hester, as the little hope that gathered in her heart -passed away. -</p> - -<p> -'So white—so pure—just like your marriage-dress, -Hester! But you wore it the first day I saw you, long -ago—long ago—at Earlshaugh, when you stood in the Red -Drawing-room—and gave me a bouquet of violets from -your breast. My own Hester!' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, papa—papa!' moaned the poor girl in dire distress, -for she knew he spoke not of her but of her mother, who -had reposed for years under the trees in the old kirkyard -on the hill; and a choking sob of dismay escaped her. -</p> - -<p> -It was a stroke of paralysis that had fallen upon the -Indian veteran, and he was borne to his bed, which he -never left alive. -</p> - -<p> -Hour after hour did Maude hang over him, listening to -his fevered breathing, and futile moanings, which no -medical skill could repress or soothe; and the long day, -and the terrible night—every minute seemed an age—passed -on, and still the pallid girl watched there in the hopeless -agony of looking for death and not for life. -</p> - -<p> -That long night—one of the earliest of winter—was at -last on its way towards morning. -</p> - -<p> -All was still in the glen of the Esk save the murmur of -the mountain stream and the rustle of the leaves in the -shrubberies without, and there was a strange loneliness, a -solemnity, in Hester's mind as she thought of Merlwood in -its solitariness, with death and life, time and eternity, so -nigh each other under its roof; and the ceaseless ticking of -an antique clock in the hall fell like strokes of thunder on -her brain, till she stopped it, lest the sound might disturb -the invalid. -</p> - -<p> -And in that time of supreme anxiety and sorrow the -lonely girl thought of her only kinsman, Roland Lindsay—the -friend of her childhood and early girlhood—the merry, -handsome, dark-haired fellow, who taught her to ride and -row and fish, and whom she loved still with a soft yet -passionate affection, that was strong as in the old days, for -all that had come and gone between them. -</p> - -<p> -Would he ever return—return to her and be as he had -been before—before Annot Drummond came? -</p> - -<p> -Another and a fatal stroke came speedily and mercifully; -the long-suspended sword had fallen at last, and the old -soldier was summoned to his last home! -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -A few days after saw Hester prostrate in her own bed and -in the hands of the doctors, her rich dark-brown hair shorn -short from her throbbing temples, feverish and faint, with -dim eyes and pallid lips that murmured unconsciously of -past times, of the distant and the dead—of her parents, of -camps and cantonments far away; of little brothers and -sisters who were in heaven; of green meadows, of garden -flowers and summer evenings, when she and Roland had -rambled together; and then of Egypt and the war in the -deserts by the Nile. -</p> - -<p> -After a time, when the early days of February came, -when the mellow-voiced merle and the speckle-breasted -mavis were heard in the woods by the Esk; when the -silver-edged gowans starred the grassy banks, and the -newly-dug earth gave forth a refreshing odour, and everywhere -there were pleasant and hopeful signs that the dreary -reign of winter was nearly over, Hester became conscious -of her surroundings, but at first only partially so. -</p> - -<p> -'Maude,' said she, in a weak voice to a watcher, 'dear -Maude—are you there?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes,' replied the cousin, drawing the sick girl's head -upon her bosom. 'Oh, Hester—my poor darling, how ill -you have been!' -</p> - -<p> -'Ill—I ill? I thought it was papa,' she said, with dilated -eyes. 'Is he well now?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes,' replied Maude, in a choking voice, 'well—very -well; but drink this, dearest.' -</p> - -<p> -'Where is papa—can I see him? Will you or the doctor -take me to him?' -</p> - -<p> -'He is not here,' began the perplexed Maude. -</p> - -<p> -'Not here; where then?' -</p> - -<p> -'You must wait, Hester, till you are well and strong—well -and strong; you must not speak or think—but eat.' -</p> - -<p> -Then a feeble smile that made Maude's tender heart ache -stole over Hester's pale face. -</p> - -<p> -'Where <i>is</i> papa?' the latter exclaimed suddenly, with a -shrill ring of hysterics in her voice. 'Ah—I know—I -remember now,' she added, with a smile, 'he is dead—dead!' -</p> - -<p> -'Born again, rather say, my darling,' whispered poor -Maude, choked with tears, as she nestled Hester's face in -her neck. -</p> - -<p> -'Dead—dead; and I am alone in the world!' moaned -Hester, as a hot shower of tears relieved her, and she -turned her face to the wall, while convulsive sobs shook her -shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -In time she was able to leave her bed—to feel herself -well, if weak—deplorably weak, and knew that she had -resolutely and inexorably to face the world of life. -</p> - -<p> -A pile of letters occupied her, luckily, for a time—letters -that were sad if soothing—all full of sympathy, tenderness, -and sincere regret, profound esteem, and so forth, for the -brave old man who was gone; even there was one from -Annot, but none from Roland or Jack. -</p> - -<p> -Where were they? Far away, alas! where postal arrangements -were vague and most uncertain. -</p> - -<p> -We have said that Hester had the world to face. Her -father's pay and pension died with him, and suddenly the -girl was all but penniless. Her father had been unable to -put away any money for her. People thought he might and -ought to have managed better; but so it was. -</p> - -<p> -Sir Henry's Indian relics, his treasured household gods, -such as the tulwar of the Amazonian Ranee of Jhansi, who -fought and died as a trooper when Tantia Topee strove to -save the lost cause, all of which had to Hester a halo of -love and superstition of the heart about them, were brought -to the auctioneer's hammer inexorably, and with the money -realised therefrom she thought to look about for some such -situation or employment as might become one in her -unfortunate position. -</p> - -<p> -As the relics went, her conscience smote her now, for the -recollection of how often she had grown weary over the -oft repeated Indian reminiscences of the poor old man, who -lived in the past quite as much, if not more, than in the -present. What would she not give to hear his voice once -again! And she remembered now how fond he was of -quoting the words of 'The Ancient Brahmin': -</p> - -<p> -'Happy is he who endeth the business of his life before -his death.... Avoid not death, for it is a weakness; fear -it not, for thou understandest not what it is; all thou -certainly knowest is, that it putteth an end to thy sorrows. -Think not the longest life the happiest; that which is best -employed doth the man most honour, and himself shall -rejoice after death in the advantages of it.' -</p> - -<p> -Like other girls who are imaginative and impressionable, -she had built her <i>châteaux en Espagne</i>, innocent edifices -enough, and romantic too, but now they had crumbled -away, leaving not one stone upon another. Her future -seemed fixed irrevocably; no idle dreams could be there, -but a life that would, too probably, be blank and dreary even -unto the end. -</p> - -<p> -We cannot be in the world and grieve at all times; but -yet one may feel a sorrow for ever. -</p> - -<p> -'I shall go and earn my living, Maude—be a governess, -or something,' she said, as her plans began to mature. 'It -cannot be difficult to teach little children; though I always -hated my own lessons, I know, even when helped -by—Roland.' -</p> - -<p> -'Nonsense, Hester!' exclaimed Maude; 'you shall live -with me and—and Jack, if he ever returns, and all is well. -You are too pretty to be a governess; no wise matron would -have you.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'Because all the grown sons and brothers would be falling -in love with you. So you must stay with me.' -</p> - -<p> -But Hester was resolute. -</p> - -<p> -To the many letters of the former—letters agonising in -tenor—addressed to Jack Elliot and to her brother Roland, -no answer ever came, while weeks became months; for -many difficulties just then attended the correspondence of -the troops that were on the arduous expedition for the relief -of Khartoum. -</p> - -<p> -Thus, amid all the sorrows of Hester, how keen and great -was the anxiety of Maude! -</p> - -<p> -Jack, her husband—if he <i>was</i> her husband—was now -face to face with the enemy—those terrible Soudanese—and -might perish in the field, by drowning, or by fever, -before she could ever have elucidated the mystery, the -cloud, the horrible barrier that had come between them. -</p> - -<p> -At times the emotions that shook the tender form of -Maude were terrible, since the night of that woman's visit, -when the iron seemed to enter her soul; and there descended -upon her a darkness through which there had come no gleam -of light. -</p> - -<p> -The past and the future seemed all absorbed in the blank -misery of the present, and as if her life was to be one career -of abiding shame, emptiness, and misery, as a dishonoured -wife—if wife she was at all! -</p> - -<p> -Hawkey Sharpe had inflicted the revengeful blow; the -woman, his degraded tool, had disappeared, and her story -remained undisproved as yet. Jack, as we have said, might -perish in Egypt, and the truth or the falsehood of that odious -story would then be buried in his grave! -</p> - -<p> -The pretty villa near the Grange Loan—the wood-shaded -Loan that led of old to St. Giles's Grange—she now went -near no more; it was torture to go back there—her home -it never could be. Turn which way she would, her haggard -eyes rested on some reminder of Jack's love or his presence -there—their mutual household Lares: her piano, Jack's -carefully selected gift; the music on the stand, chosen by -him, and with his name and 'love' inscribed to her, -just as she had left it; books, statuettes—pretty nothings, -alas! -</p> - -<p> -Her mind now pointed to no definite course; she felt -like a rudderless ship drifting through dark and stormy -waters before a cruel blast; in all, her being there was -no distinct resolution as yet what to do or whither to -turn. -</p> - -<p> -Yet, calm as she seemed outwardly, there was in her -tortured heart a passionate longing for peace, and peace -meant, perhaps, death! -</p> - -<p> -And all this undeserved agony was but the result of a -most artful but pitiful and vulgar vengeance! -</p> - -<p> -Whether born of thoughts caused by recent stirring news -from the seat of war, we know not; but one night Hester -woke from a dream of Roland—after a feverish and sleep-haunted -doze—haunted as if by the spiritual presence of one -who—bodily, at least—was far away. -</p> - -<p> -Waking with a start, she heard a familiar and firm step -upon the staircase, and then a door opened—the door of -that room which Roland had always occupied when at -Merlwood. -</p> - -<p> -'Roland—Roland!' she cried in terror, and then roused -Maude. -</p> - -<p> -There was, of course, no response, but a sound seemed -to pass into that identical room; she fancied she heard -steps—his familiar steps moving about, but as if he trod -softly—cautiously. -</p> - -<p> -Terror seized her, and her heart seemed to die within -her breast. -</p> - -<p> -She sprang from bed, clasped Maude's hand, and went -softly, mechanically to the room. It was empty, and the -cold light of the waning moon flooded it from end to end, -making it seem alike lone and ghostly. -</p> - -<p> -Her imagination had played her false; but she was painfully -haunted by the memory of that dream and the palpable -sounds that, after waking, had followed it; and hourly, in -her true spirit of Scottish superstition, expected to hear of -fatal tidings from the seat of war—like her who, of old, had -watched by the Weird Yett of Earlshaugh. -</p> - -<p> -Like poor Malcolm Skene was she, too, to have her -presentiment—her prevision of sorrow to come? -</p> - -<p> -It almost seemed so. -</p> - -<p> -But her thoughts now clung persistently to the hero of -her girlish days; he had behaved faithlessly, uncertainly to -her, she thought; yet, perhaps, he might come back to her -some day, if God spared him, and then he would find the -old and tender love awaiting him still. -</p> - -<p> -Yet Roland might come home and marry <i>someone else</i>! -No man, she had heard, went through life remembering -and regretting one woman for ever. Was it indeed so? -</p> - -<p> -But after the night of her strange dream the morning -papers contained the brief, yet terrible, telegram stating that -a battle had been fought at a place called Kirbekan, by -General Earle's column (of which the Staffordshire formed -a part), but that no details thereof had come to hand. -</p> - -<p> -The recent calamity she had undergone rendered Hester's -heart apprehensive that she might soon have to undergo -another. -</p> - -<p> -And ere the lengthened news of the battle did come, she -and Maude had left Edinburgh, as they anticipated, perhaps -for ever. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap55"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER LV. -<br /><br /> -WITH GENERAL EARLE's COLUMN. -</h3> - -<p> -While the column of Brigadier Sir Herbert Stewart was -toiling amid thirst and other sufferings across the vast waste -of the Bayuda Desert, and gaining the well-fought battles of -Abu Klea and Abu Kru, the column of Brigadier Earle had -gone by boats up the Nile to avenge the cruel assassination -of Gordon's comrade and coadjutor, Colonel Donald Stewart, -on Suliman Wad Gamr and the somewhat ubiquitous Moussa -Abu Hagil with all their people. -</p> - -<p> -The succession of cataracts rendered the General's progress -very slow; thus the 4th of January found his advanced -force, the gallant South Staffordshire, only encamped at -Hamdab, as we have stated a few chapters back. -</p> - -<p> -Suliman, on being joined by Moussa a few days after Abu -Klea, had fallen back from Berti, thus rendering it necessary -for General Earle to push on in pursuit, through a rocky, -broken, and savage country, bad for all military operations, -and altogether impracticable for cavalry. -</p> - -<p> -On the river the Rahami cataract proved one of great -danger and difficulty, and severe indeed was the labour of -getting up the boats. There the bed of Old Nile is broken -up by black and splintered rocks, between which it rushes in -snowy foam with mighty force and volume. -</p> - -<p> -The boats had to be tracked up the entire distance, often -with many sharp turns to avoid sunken rocks in the chasms; -and, as a large number of men were required for each boat, -the column, comprising the Staffordshire, the Black Watch, -a squadron of Hussars, and the Egyptian camel corps, with -two guns, had work enough and to spare. 'The perils and -difficulties,' we are told, 'were quite as great as any hitherto -encountered on the passage up the Nile. For the last six -miles below Birti the river takes an acute angle, and then as -sharply resumes its former course. The Royal Highlanders -were first up; but after they got their boats through, another -channel was discovered on the western side of the stream, -and as it turned out to be less difficult, the succeeding -regiments were enabled to come up more quickly. -</p> - -<p> -Roland's regiment remained in a few days encamped at -Hamdab. 'We are now leading the whole army,' says its -Colonel, the gallant and ill-fated Eyre, in his 'Diary,' 'and -are the first British troops that have ever been up the -Nile.' -</p> - -<p> -On the 6th of January there was a sand-storm from dawn -till sunset; it covered the unfortunate troops, who seemed -to be in a dark cloud for the whole day. Around them for -a hundred miles the country was all rocks, and yet bore -traces of once having a vast population. -</p> - -<p> -At Hamdab the river teemed with wild geese—beautiful -gray birds, with scarlet breasts and gold wings. Dick -Mostyn shot one, which Roland's soldier servant prepared -for their repast in a stew, that was duly enjoyed in the -latter's quarters—a hut made of palm branches and long -dhurra grass; while their comrade Wilton, when scouting on -Berber road, captured a couple of Arabs, who gave the -column a false alarm by tidings of an attack at daybreak, -thus keeping all under arms till the sun rose. -</p> - -<p> -The 18th was Sunday, when Colonel Eyre read prayers -on parade, and three days after came tidings of the battle of -Abu Klea, the death of Burnaby, after all his hair-breadth -escapes, and of many other brave men. -</p> - -<p> -'Poor Malcolm—poor Malcolm!' said Roland; 'what -dire news this will be for his old mother at Dunnimarle. -This event gives you your company in the corps——' -</p> - -<p> -'Don't speak of it!' interrupted Mostyn, with something -like a groan; 'I would to Heaven that poor Skene had -never given me such a chance.' -</p> - -<p> -The last days of January saw Earle's column making -a sweep with fire and sword of the district in which poor -Colonel Stewart and his companions had been murdered; -and on the 2nd of February it had reached a country -beyond all conception or description wild, and quite -uninhabited. -</p> - -<p> -The sufferings of Earle's troops were considerably severe -now. The faces and the knees of the Highlanders were -skinned by the chill air at night and the burning sun by -day; while, in addition, there were insects in the sand, so -minute as to be almost invisible, yet they got into the -men's ragged clothing, and bit hands and feet so that they -were painfully swollen. -</p> - -<p> -On the 9th of February Earle's column reached Kirbekan, -near the island of Dulka, seventy miles above Merawi, -which is a peninsular district of Southern Nubia, and the -enemy, above 2,000 strong, led by Moussa Abu Hagil, Ali -Wad Aussein, and other warlike Sheikhs, and chiefly -composed of the guilty Monnassir tribe, some Robatats and -a force of Dervishes from Berber, were known to be in -position at no great distance; thus a battle was imminent. -</p> - -<p> -Ere it took place Roland Lindsay and his friend Elliot -were destined to hear some startling news from home. At -this time all papers and parcels for the column got no -further than Dongola, but a few letters from the rear were -brought up, and the mail-bag contained one of importance -for Roland, and several for his friend Dick Mostyn. -</p> - -<p> -Lounging on the grass, under a mimosa tree, with a -cigarette between his teeth, and with just the same lazy, -<i>debonnair</i> bearing with which he had taken in many a girl -at home in pleasant England, lay Dick Mostyn reading -his missives. Some he perused with a quiet, <i>insouciant</i> -smile; they were evidently from some of the girls in -question. Others he tore into small shreds and scattered -on the breeze; they were duns. How pleasant it was to -dispose of them thus on the bank of the Nile! -</p> - -<p> -Roland, a little way apart, was perusing his solitary -letter. -</p> - -<p> -It was from Mr. M'Wadsett, the W.S., dated several -weeks back, from 'Thistle Court, Thistle Street, Edinburgh' -(how well Roland remembered the gloomy place under the -shadow of St. Andrew's Church, and the purpose of his -last visit there!); and it proved quite a narrative, and one -of the deepest interest to him. -</p> - -<p> -His uncle, Sir Harry, was dead, and his daughter Hester -was going forth into the world as a companion or governess. -(Dead! thought Roland; poor old Sir Harry!—and Hester, -alone now—oh, how he longed to be with her—to comfort -and protect her!) -</p> - -<p> -But to be a governess—a companion—where, and to -whom? His heart felt wrung, and he mentally rehearsed -all he had heard or read—but not seen—of how such -dependents were too often treated by the prosperous and the -<i>parvenu</i>; obliged to conform to rules made by others, to -perform a hundred petty duties by hands never before soiled -by toil; to never complain, however ill or weary she might -feel; to stumble with brats through wearisome scales on an -old piano; to be banished when visitors came, and endure -endless, though often unnecessary affronts. He uttered -a malediction, lit a cigar, and betook him again to his -letter. -</p> - -<p> -'About seeking a situation, I know there is nothing else -left for the poor girl to do,' continued the writer; 'but I -besought her to wait a little—to make my house her home, -if she chose, for a time; but she told me that she did not -mind work or poverty. I replied that she knew nothing of -either, but a sad smile and a resolute glance were my only -answer.' -</p> - -<p> -The old man's love of himself, his upbraiding words when -they last parted, and his own unkind treatment (to say the -least of it) of Hester, all came surging back on Roland's -memory now. -</p> - -<p> -'I shall not readily forget Miss Maule's passionate outburst -of grief and pain on leaving Merlwood,' continued the -old Writer to the Signet; 'but all there seemed for the -time to be sacred to the hallowed memories of her father, -her mother, and her past childhood! -</p> - -<p> -'And next I have to relate something more startling still—the -sudden death of your stepmother, and to congratulate -you on being now the true and undoubted <i>Laird of -Earlshaugh</i>. -</p> - -<p> -'Actuated, I know not precisely by what sentiment—whether -by just indignation at the character of her brother, -or by remorse for your false position with regard to the -property—Mrs. Lindsay, as an act of reparation, and to preclude -all legal action on the part of any heir of her own or of her -brother, Hawkey Sharpe, that might crop up, by a will -drawn out and prepared by myself, duly recorded at Her -Majesty's General Register House, Edinburgh, has left the -entire estate to you, precisely and in all entirety as it was -left to her. -</p> - -<p> -'She sent a message when she did this. It was simply: -"When my time comes, and I feel assured that it is not far -off now, and that I shall not see him again, he will know -that I have done my best." -</p> - -<p> -'There must have been an emotion of remorse in her -mind, as I now know that for some days before the demise of -your worthy father, he eagerly urged that you should be -telegraphed for, and more than once expressed a vehement -desire to see <i>me</i>, his legal adviser, but in vain, as -Mrs. Lindsay number two and her brother Hawkey barred the -way; so the first will in the former's favour remained -unaltered. -</p> - -<p> -'Since you last left home, Mr. Hawkey forged his sister's -name to a cheque for £2,000 to cover a bill or racing debt. -It duly came to hand. Mrs. Lindsay looked at the document, -and knew in an instant that her name had been used, -and, remembering the amount of Hawkey's demand on her, -knew also that she had been shamefully and cruelly -deceived. -</p> - -<p> -'The sequence of the numbers in her cheque-book -showed by the absence of the counterfoil where one had -been abstracted—that for the £2,000 payable to bearer. -In her rage she repudiated it, and the law took its -course. -</p> - -<p> -'The nameless horror that is the sure precursor of -coming evil took possession of her, and then it was that -she executed in your favour the will referred to, instigated -thereto not a little by Hawkey's incessant and annoying -references to her secret ailment—disease of the heart. -</p> - -<p> -'To me she seemed to have changed very much latterly. -Her tall, thin figure had lost somewhat of its erectness, and -her cold, steel-like eyes (you remember them?) were sunken -and dimmed. -</p> - -<p> -'Her illness took a sudden and fatal turn at the time that -rascal Hawkey was arrested; and she was found that evening -by Mrs. Drugget, the housekeeper, and old Funnell, the -butler, dead in the Red Drawing-room. Thus her strange -faintnesses and continued pallor were fully accounted for by -the faculty then. -</p> - -<p> -'When she was dead Mr. Hawkey was disposed to snap -his fingers, believing himself the lord of everything; but -the will prepared by me precluded that, and he was -forthwith lodged by order of the Procurator-Fiscal in the -Tolbooth of Cupar, where he can hear, but not see, the -flow of the Eden. -</p> - -<p> -'His wife, the late Miss Annot Drummond, on seeing -him depart with a pair of handcuffs on, displayed but small -emotions of regard or sorrow, but a great deal of indignation, -despair, and shame. She trod to and fro upon the -floor of her room during the long watches of the entire -succeeding night, tore her golden hair, and beat her little -hands against the wall in the fury and agony of her passion -and disappointment to find herself mated to a criminal; -and now she has betaken herself to her somewhat faded -maternal home in South Belgravia, where I do not suppose -we shall care to follow her.' -</p> - -<p> -'So, I am Earlshaugh again!' thought Roland with pardonable -exultation. His old ancestral home was his once -more. But a battle was to be fought on the morrow. -Should he survive it—escape? He hoped so now; life was -certainly more valuable than it seemed to him before that -mail-bag came up the Nile. -</p> - -<p> -Roland could not feel much regret for the extinguisher -which Fate had put upon the usurpers of his patrimony, -but he was by nature too generous not to recall, with some -emotions of a gentle kind, how Mrs. Lindsay had once -said to him in a broken voice, when he bade her farewell, -of something she meant to do, 'If it was not too late—too -late!' -</p> - -<p> -And when he had asked her <i>what</i> she referred to, her -answer was that 'Time would show.' -</p> - -<p> -And now time had shown. She had certainly, after all, -liked the handsome and <i>debonnair</i> young fellow who had -treated her with that chivalrous deference so pleasant to all -women, old or young. -</p> - -<p> -Roland, as he looked up at the luminous Nubian sky, -felt for a time a solemn emotion of awe and thankfulness, -curiously blended with exultant pride; that if he fell in the -battle of to-morrow he would fall, as many of his forefathers -had done, a Lindsay of Earlshaugh, but alas! the last of -his race. -</p> - -<p> -'By Jove, there is a postscript—turn the page, Roland!' -exclaimed Jack Elliot, who had been noting the letter, as -mutual stock, over his brother-in-law's shoulder. -</p> - -<p> -'Since writing all the foregoing,' said the postscript, 'I -find that your sister, Mrs. Elliot, appears to have had some -news, after receiving which she and Miss Hester have suddenly -left Edinburgh, but for <i>where</i> or with what intention I -am totally unable to discover.' -</p> - -<p> -'News,' muttered Roland; 'what news can they have had?' -</p> - -<p> -Roland, by the field telegraph rearward, <i>viâ</i>, Cairo, wired -a message to Mr. M'Wadsett for further intelligence, if he -had any to give, concerning the absentees, but no answer -came till long after the troops had got under arms to engage, -and Roland was no longer there to receive it. -</p> - -<p> -'By Heaven, this infernal coil at home is becoming more -entangled!' exclaimed Jack. 'Were it not for my mother's -sake I would hope to be knocked on the head to-day.' -</p> - -<p> -'Not for poor little Maude's sake?' asked Roland -reproachfully. -</p> - -<p> -'God help us both!' sighed Jack. -</p> - -<p> -'To every one who lives strength is given him to do his -duty,' said Roland gravely. 'Do yours, Jack, and no -more.' -</p> - -<p> -'To me there seems a dash of sophistry in this advice -now; but had you ever loved as I have done——' -</p> - -<p> -'Had I ever loved! What do you mean?' asked Roland, -almost impatiently. 'But there go the bugles, and we must -each to his company.' -</p> - -<p> -Then each, seizing the other's hand, drew his sword and -'fell in.' -</p> - -<p> -The mystery involving the fate of Maude and the movements -of both her and Hester were a source of intense pain, -perplexity, and grief to the two friends now, even amid the -fierce and wild work of that eventful 10th of February. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap56"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER LVI. -<br /><br /> -THE BATTLE OF KIRBEKAN. -</h3> - -<p> -On the night before this brilliant encounter the greatest -enthusiasm prevailed in the ranks of General Earle's column -at the prospect of a brush with the enemy at last, after an -advance of eighteen most weary miles, which had occupied -them no less than twenty days, such was the terrible nature -of the country to be traversed by stream and desert. -As a fine Scottish ballad has it: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'With painful march across the sand<br /> - How few, though strong, they come,<br /> - Some thinking of the clover fields<br /> - And the happy English home;<br /> - And some whose graver features speak<br /> - Them children of the North,<br /> - Of the golden whin on the Lion Hill<br /> - That crouches by the Forth.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - ''Tis night, and through the desert air<br /> - The pibroch's note screams shrill,<br /> - Then dies away—the bugle sounds—<br /> - Then all is deathly still,<br /> - Save now and then a soldier starts<br /> - As through the midnight air<br /> - A sudden whistle tells him that<br /> - The scouts of death are there!'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -At half-past five in the morning, after a meagre and -hurried breakfast—the last meal that many were to partake -of on earth—the column got under arms and took its march -straight inland over a very rocky district for more than a -mile, while blood-red and fiery the vast disc of the sun -began to appear above the far and hazy horizon. -</p> - -<p> -Of the scene of these operations very little is known. -Lepsius, in his learned work published in 1844, writes of -the ruins of Ben Naga, now called Mesaurat el Kerbegan, -lying in a valley of that name, in a wild and sequestered -place, where no living thing is seen but the hippopotami -swimming amid the waters of the Nile. -</p> - -<p> -Taking ground to the left for about half a mile the -column struck upon the caravan track that led to Berber, -and then the enemy came in sight, led by the Sheikhs -Moussa Abu Hagil, Ali Wad, Aussein, and others, holding -a rocky position, where their dark heads were only visible, -popping up from time to time as seen by the field-glasses. -</p> - -<p> -It was intended that the Monassir tribe, the murderers of -Donald Stewart and his party, should, if possible, be -surrounded and cut off; but they were found to be entrenched -and prepared for a desperate resistance on lofty ground near -the Shukuk Pass on a ridge of razor-backed hills, commanding -a gorge which lies between the latter and the Nile, and -the entrance to which they had closed by a fort and walls -loopholed for musketry. -</p> - -<p> -'The Black Watch and Staffordshire will advance in -skirmishing order!' was the command of General Earle. -</p> - -<p> -Six companies of the Highlanders and four of the latter -corps now extended on both flanks at a run. The Hussars -galloped to the right, while two companies of the Staffordshire, -with two guns, were left to protect the boats in the -river, the hospital corps, the stores, and spare ammunition. -</p> - -<p> -This order was maintained till the companies of skirmishers -gradually, and firing with admirable coolness and precision, -worked their way towards the high rocks in their front. -While closing in with the enemy, whose furious fusillade -enveloped the dark ridge in white smoke, streaked by -incessant flashes of red fire, men were falling down on every -hand with cries to God for help or mercy, and some, it -might be, with a fierce and bitter malediction. -</p> - -<p> -There was no time to think, for the next bullet might -floor the thinker: it was the supreme moment which tries -the heart of the bravest; but every officer and man felt that -he must do his duty at all hazards. Bullets sang past, -thudded in silvery stars on the rocks, cut the clothing, or -raised clouds of dust; comrades and dear friends were going -down fast, as rifles were tossed up and hands were lifted -heavenward—as, more often, men fell in death, in blood -and agony; but good fortune seemed to protect the -untouched, and then came the clamorous and tiger-like longing -to close in, to grapple with, to get within grasp of the foe! -</p> - -<p> -In this spirit Roland went on, but keeping his skirmishers -well in hand, till they reached the high rocks in front, when -they rushed between or over them; and there Colonel Eyre, -a noble, veteran officer, and remarkably handsome man, -who, though a gentleman by birth, had risen from the ranks -in the Crimea—then as now conspicuous for his bravery—fell -at the head of his beloved South Staffordshire while -attacking the second ridge, 'where, behind some giant -boulders, the Sheikh Moussa Abu Hagil was with his -Robatat tribe—the most determined of the Arab race.' -</p> - -<p> -The good Colonel was pausing for a moment beside two -of his wounded men. 'Colonel Eyre took one of them by -the hand,' wrote an officer whom we are tempted to quote, -'to comfort him a little. A minute after he turned to me -and said: "I am a dead man!" I saw a mark below his -shoulder, and said: "No, you are not." He looked at me -for a second, and said: "Lord, have mercy upon me—God -help my poor wife!" ... He was dead in a minute after -he was hit, and did not appear to suffer, the shock being so -great. The bullet entered the right breast, and came out -under the left shoulder.' -</p> - -<p> -Like a roaring wave the infuriated Staffordshire went on, -and then the Robatat tribe were assailed by two companies -of the Highlanders, led by their Colonel and General Earle -in person. 'The Black Watch advanced over rocks and -broken ground upon the Koppies,' says Lord Wolseley's -very brief despatch, 'and, after having by their fire in the -coolest manner driven off a rush of the enemy, stormed the -position under a heavy fire.' -</p> - -<p> -But desperate was the struggle prior to this. The Arabs, -from the cover of every rock and boulder, poured in a fire -with the most murderous precision, while our soldiers flung -themselves headlong at any passage or opening they found, -no matter how narrow or steep. -</p> - -<p> -Like wild tigers in their lair, the Arabs fought at bay, -having everywhere the advantage of the ground, and inspired -by a fury born of fanaticism and religious rancour, resolute -to conquer or die; but in spite of odds and everything, our -soldiers stormed rock after rock, and fastness after fastness, -working their way on by bayonet and bullet, the Black -Watch on the left, the old 38th on the right, upward and -onward, over rocks slippery with dripping blood, over the -groaning, the shrieking, the dying, and the dead. -</p> - -<p> -Here fell Wilton and merry Dick Mostyn, both mortally -wounded, rolling down the rocks to die in agony; and to -Roland it was evident that Jack Elliot was bitterly intent -on throwing his life away if he could, for he rushed, sword -in hand, at any loophole in the rocks from whence a puff of -smoke or flash of fire spirted out. -</p> - -<p> -But brilliant as was the rush of the Staffordshire, climbing -with their hands and feet, it was almost surpassed by the -advance of the Highlanders, for in the <i>élan</i> with which they -went on every man seemed as if inspired by the advice of -General Brackenbury when he said: 'Take your heart and -throw it among the enemy, as Douglas did that of King -Robert Bruce, and follow it with set teeth determined to -win!' -</p> - -<p> -When General Earle ordered the left half-battalion of the -Highlanders to advance by successive rushes, they went -forward with a ringing cheer and with pipers playing 'The -Campbells are coming,' and in another moment the scarlet -coats and green kilts, led by Wauchop of Niddry, had -crowned the ridge, rolling the soldiers of the Mahdi down -the rocks before their bayonets in literal piles that never -rose again, and then it was that Colonel Coveny, one of -their most popular officers, fell. -</p> - -<p> -Roland felt proud of his regiment, the old South Staffordshire, -but when he saw the tartans fluttering on the crest, -and heard the pipes set up their pæan of victory, all his -heart went forth to the Highlanders, who, ere these -successive rushes were carried out, had been attacked by a -most resolute band of the enemy, armed with long spears -and trenchant swords, led by a standard-bearer clad in a -long Darfour shirt of mail. -</p> - -<p> -The latter, the Sheikh Moussa Abu Hagil, was shot, and -as his body went rolling down, the holy standard was seized -in succession by three men of resolute valour, who all -perished successively in the same manner. Some of this -band now rushed away towards the Nile to escape the storm -of Highland bullets, but were there met by a company of the -Staffordshire and shot down to a man. -</p> - -<p> -Within the koppie stormed by the Highlanders was a -stone hut full of Arabs, who, though surrounded by -victorious troops, defiantly refused to surrender. General -Earle, a veteran Crimean officer of the old 49th, or -Hertfordshire, now rashly approached it, though warned by a -sergeant of the Black Watch to beware, and was immediately -shot dead. -</p> - -<p> -An entrance was found to be impossible, so securely was -the door barricaded. Then the edifice was set on fire by -the infuriated Highlanders, breached by powder, and all the -Arabs within it were shot down or burned alive. -</p> - -<p> -The enemy now fled on all hands, while the chivalrous -Buller, with a squadron of the 19th Hussars, captured the -camp three miles in rear of their position, and Brackenbury, -as senior officer, assumed the command. -</p> - -<p> -Our casualties were eighty-seven of all ranks killed and -wounded; those of the enemy it was impossible to estimate, -as only seventeen were taken alive, but their dead covered -all the position, and an unknown number perished in the -Nile. -</p> - -<p> -Untouched, after that terrible conflict of five consecutive -hours, Roland Lindsay and Jack Elliot grasped each other's -hands in warmth and gratitude when they sheathed their -swords and felt that their ghastly work was done. -</p> - -<p> -The subsequent day was devoted to quiet and rest, and on -the field, under a solitary palm tree, the remains of General -Earle, Colonels Eyre, Coveny, and all who had fallen -with them, were reverently interred, without any special -mark to attract the attention of the dwellers in the desert. -</p> - -<p> -After all this, Brigadier Brackenbury was about to march -in the direction of Abu Hammed, when unexpected instructions -from the vacillating British Government reached Lord -Wolseley from London, and the river column was ordered -to fall back on the camp at Korti, a task of no small -difficulty; and though a handful of men under Sir Charles -Wilson did reach Khartoum, as we all know, the movement -was achieved too late, and, cruelly betrayed, Gordon had -perished in the midst of his fame. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap57"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER LVII. -<br /><br /> -THE SICK CONVOY. -</h3> - -<p> -Repeatedly Jack Elliot thanked Heaven that his comrades -in the regiment had not got hold of his wretched story—that -he and his young wife had quarrelled—were actually -separated, and that she had run away from him because of -some other woman, as he knew well that but garbled versions -of the comedies or tragedies in the lives of our friends -generally reach us. -</p> - -<p> -The movements of the column were now so abrupt, and, -for a time, undecided, that no telegram in reply to his -message reached Roland from Edinburgh, and ere long he -had a new source of anxiety. -</p> - -<p> -Enteric fever, that ailment which proved so fatal to many -of our troops during this disastrous and useless war, fastened -upon poor Jack Elliot, and the column had barely reached -the camp at Korti when he was 'down' with it, as the -soldiers phrased it, and very seriously so—all the more -seriously, no doubt, that the tenor of Mr. M'Wadsett's -postscript left such a doubt on his mind as to the plans and -movements of Maude. -</p> - -<p> -His head felt as if weighted with lead—but hot lead; he -had an appalling thirst, and was destitute of all appetite even -for delicacies, and the latter were not plentiful, certainly, in -our camp at Korti. -</p> - -<p> -If he survived, which he thought was almost impossible, -he believed that he could never, never forget what he -endured in the so-called camp there—first, the languor and -disinclination for work, duty, exercise, even for thinking; -the pains in his limbs; his dry, brown tongue, that rattled -in his mouth; mental and bodily debility; and all the other -signs of his ailment, produced by exposure, by midnight -dew, and the bad, brackish water of the desert. -</p> - -<p> -Roland—of a hardier nature, perhaps—was unwearying in -his care of him, and thrice daily with his own hands gave -him the odious prescribed draught—hydrochloric acid, -tincture of orange, and so forth, diluted in Nile water—while -the once strong, active, and muscular Jack was weak as a -baby. -</p> - -<p> -Roland greatly feared he would die on his hands, and -hailed with intense satisfaction an order by which he was -personally detailed to take a detachment of certain sick -and wounded, including Jack Elliot, down the Nile to Lower -Egypt. -</p> - -<p> -In his tent, he was roused from an uneasy dream that he -was again lying at the bottom of the Kelpie's Cleugh at -Earlshaugh, by an orderly sergeant, who brought him this -welcome command about dawn, and noon saw him, with a -small flotilla of boats freighted with pain and suffering, take -his leave of the South Staffordshire and begin his journey -down the Nile, <i>viâ</i> New Dongola, the cataracts at Ambigol -and elsewhere, by Wady-Halfa and other points where -temporary hospitals or halting-places were established. -</p> - -<p> -Day by day the boats with their melancholy loads, sometimes -by oars, at others with canvas set, had dropped down -the Nile between barren shores overlooked by wild and -sterile mountains, where the sick were almost stunned -occasionally by the harsh yells of the watchful Arabs -echoing from rocks and caves! and, after turning a sharp angle, -Roland suddenly saw the island of Phite, with all its -numerous temples, before his flotilla, and as there was a -considerable flood in the river the cataract there became a -source of anxiety to him, and rather abated the interest with -which he might otherwise have surveyed the scene around -him. -</p> - -<p> -'Shellal! Shellal!' (the Cataract! the Cataract!) he heard -the yells of the naked Arabs, who hovered on the banks -expecting a catastrophe, which they would have beheld with -savage joy. -</p> - -<p> -The soldiers held their breath and hung on their suspended -oars, the blades of which dripped and flashed like -gold in the sheen of the setting sun; yet the boats glided -down the foaming rapid without a sound other than the rush -of the water; then came a sudden calm, an amazing -combination of light and colour on shore, and isle, and stream, -with the rays of the moon, in the blue zenith, conflicting -with those of the sun at the horizon. -</p> - -<p> -'On either side,' wrote one who was there, 'walls of -overhanging rock shut in the river, standing in pious -guardianship around the sacred isle. Beneath their frowning -blackness lapped and flowed a shining expanse of water -stained with crimson in the sunset's glow, in which a line of -tall and plumy palms were bending in the wind; to the east, -the Libyan sands poured in a golden stream through every -cleft and fissure in the darkling hills; and overhead, and all -about, floated a splendour of reddening fire. From their -station they seemed to look straight into the very heart of -the sunset when all the west had burst into sudden flames of -fire. The freshening wind tossed them in uncertain rise and -fall; the melancholy sound of the distant cataract, and now -and then the cry of some night bird cut sharply through -the stillness of the hour. An immense sense of loneliness -brooded over the empty temples and adjacent isles abandoned -by their forgotten gods, whose sculptured faces gazed -mournfully out from the crumbling walls, then flushed with -the supreme splendour of the dying day. -</p> - -<p> -A few miles further down, the Isle of Flowers, with all its -wondrous vegetation, and the many black rocks of Assouan -rising from a medley of dust, Roman ruins and feathery -palms were left astern; and of the long, long downward -journey some 450 miles were mastered, after which lay nearly -the same distance to Cairo. -</p> - -<p> -Often had the boats to pause in their downward way, -while the melancholy duty was performed of burying those -whose journey in life was over, by the river bank, uncoffined, -in nameless and unrecorded graves, where the ibis stalks -among the tall reeds, and the scaly crocodile dozes amid the -ooze. -</p> - -<p> -And as the boat in which he lay under an awning glided -down the Nile Jack Elliot was often in a species of stupor, -and muttered at times of his boyish days at the High School -of Edinburgh; of the brawling Tweed when he had been -wont to fish at Braidielee; of matches at Aldershot, and -clearing the hurdles in the Long Valley; but he was most -often a boy, a lad again in his fevered dreams, and seeking -birds' nests among the bonnie Lammermuirs, feeling the -pleasant breeze that came over the braes of the Merse, -while the sun shone on the pools and thickets of the Eye -and the Leader; but of Maude, strange to say, or their -mysterious separation, no word escaped him, till he became -conscious, and then Roland would hear him muttering as -he kissed her photo: -</p> - -<p> -'Where are you, my darling? Shall I ever look upon -your face again?' -</p> - -<p> -And with a wasted and trembling hand he would consign -the soft leather case to the breast of his tattered and faded -tunic. He was so weak, so utterly debilitated that sometimes -he shed involuntary tears—a sight that filled Roland -with infinite pity and commiseration, and a dread each day -that he might have to leave Jack, as he had left others, in a -lonely tomb by the river-side. -</p> - -<p> -Jack, poor fellow, was dwelling generally in a land of -shadows; familiar scenes and faces came and receded, and -loved voices came and sank curiously in his ear, while his -apparently dying eyes and lips pled vainly for one kiss of his -sunny-haired Maude to sweeten the bitter draught of that -death which seemed so close and nigh. -</p> - -<p> -But he was still struggling between life and eternity, when -in the ruddy haze Roland hailed the purple outlines of the -Pyramids in the Plain of Ghizeh, the ridge of the Jebel -Mokattam, the distant minarets and the magnificent citadel -of Cairo. -</p> - -<p> -On reaching the Kasr-el-Nil Barracks, Roland was ordered -to be attached for duty purposes to a regiment quartered -there till further orders, as no more troops were proceeding -up the Nile. -</p> - -<p> -Though the battle of Hasheen was to be fought and won, -and the lamentable fiasco of Macneill's zereba to occur at -Suakim, the war was deemed virtually over, as the cause -for it had collapsed by Gordon's betrayal and the fall of -Khartoum. -</p> - -<p> -With the general advance of the expedition under Lord -Wolseley to rescue Gordon, our story has only had a certain -connection—a mission undertaken far too late, but during -which the mind at home was kept at fever-heat by news -from that burning seat of strife, recording the sufferings of -our soldiers, and the bloody but victorious battles with the -Mahdists, till the dark and terrible tidings came, that just as -Wilson's column was ready to join Gordon, who had sent -his steamers to Metemneh to meet him—Khartoum, after a -defence perhaps unsurpassed in the annals of peril and -glory, had fallen by storm and treachery, and the people of -Britain were left to wonder, and in doubt, whether a -stupendous blunder or an unpardonable crime had been -perpetrated. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap58"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER LVIII. -<br /><br /> -IN THE SHOUBRAH GARDENS. -</h3> - -<p> -Roland lost no time in telegraphing home for news of the -missing ones, but received none; Mr. M'Wadsett was -absent from town, so he and Jack Elliot, who was far from -recovery yet, had to take patience and wait, they scarcely -knew for what. One fact was too patent, that both Hester -and Maude had disappeared—one too probably in penury -and the other in an agony of grief and shame. It was not -even known, apparently, whether they were together. -</p> - -<p> -They had vanished, and, save a cheque or two cashed by -Jack's bankers, left no trace of how or when; and a chilling -fear crept over the hearts of both men as to what might -have happened—illness, poverty, unthought-of snares, even -death itself. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile, 'the shadow, cloaked from head to foot, who -keeps the keys of all the creeds,' was hovering perilously -near Jack, for whom Roland procured quarters in a pleasant -house in the beautiful Shoubrah Road, near Cairo—a broad -but shady avenue formed of noble sycamores, the 'Rotten -Row' of the city, and day followed day somewhat -monotonously now, though a letter dated some weeks back from his -legal friend of Thistle Court gave Roland some occasion for -gratifying thought. -</p> - -<p> -'If you can return,' it ran, 'must I remind you that now -Earlshaugh is unoccupied; the land so far neglected, and -the tenants well-nigh forgotten; the rents are accumulating -at your bankers', but no good is done to anyone. Your -proper place and position is your own again; justice has -restored your birthright; so come home at once and act -wisely—home, my dear friend, and you shall have such a -welcome as Earlshaugh has not seen since your father came -back after the Crimean War.' -</p> - -<p> -Pondering over this letter and on what the future might -have in store, Roland was one afternoon idling over a -cigarette in the gardens of the Shoubrah Palace, an edifice -which rises from the bank of the Nile. On one side are -pleasant glimpses of the latter, with its palm-clad banks and -sparkling villages; on the other a tract of brilliantly tinted -cultivation, and beyond it the golden sands of the desert, -the shifting hillocks they form, and the gray peaks of several -pyramids. -</p> - -<p> -The gardens, surpassingly beautiful and purely Oriental -in character, are entered by long and winding walks of -impenetrable shade, from which we emerge on open spaces -that team with roses, with gilded pavilions and painted -kiosks. 'Arched walks of orange-trees with the fruit and -flowers hanging over your head lead to fountains,' says a -Jewish writer, 'or to some other garden court, where myrtles -border beds of tulips, and you wander on mosaic walks of -polished pebbles; a vase flashes amid a group of dark -cypresses, and you are invited to repose under a Syrian -walnut-tree by a couch or summer-house. The most striking -picture, however, of this charming retreat is a lake -surrounded by light cloisters of white marble, and in the -centre a fountain of crocodiles carved in the same material.' -</p> - -<p> -Lulled by the heat, by the drowsy hum made by the -sound of many carriages filled with harem beauties or -European ladies rolling to and fro on the adjacent -Shoubrah Road, with the ceaseless patter of hoofs, as -mounted Cairene dandies and our cavalry officers rode in -the same gay promenade, Roland reclined on a marble seat, -lit another cigarette, and watched the giant flowers of the -Egyptian lotus in the little lake, blue and white, that sink -when the sun sets, but open and rise when it is shining, till -suddenly he saw a young lady appear, who was evidently -idling in the gardens like himself. -</p> - -<p> -He could see that she was a European. With one glove -drawn off, showing a hand the pure whiteness of which -contrasted with her dark dress, she was playing with the water -of a red marble fountain that fell sparkling into the lakelet, -not ten yards from where he was seated, unseen by her. -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly his figure, in his undress uniform, caught -her eye; she turned and looked full at him, as if -spellbound. -</p> - -<p> -'Roland!' she exclaimed. -</p> - -<p> -'Hester—good heavens, can it be?—Hester, and <i>here</i>!' -said he. -</p> - -<p> -Hester she was; he sprang to her side, and they took -each other's hands, both for a moment in dumb confusion -and bewilderment. At the moment of this meeting and -before recognition, even when hovering near him, and he -had been all unconscious of who the tall and slender girl in -mourning really was, she had been thinking of him, and as -she had often thought— -</p> - -<p> -'I loved Roland all my life—better than my own soul; -but such a love as mine is too often only its own best -reward; and many a sore heart like mine learns that never in -this world is it measured to us again as we have meted it -out.' -</p> - -<p> -Thus bitterly had the girl been pondering, when she -found herself suddenly face to face with the subject of her -reverie, and, in spite of herself, a little cloud was blended -with the astonishment her eyes expressed. -</p> - -<p> -'Hester—what mystery is this? And are you not glad -to see me?' he asked impetuously. -</p> - -<p> -'Glad—oh, Roland! glad indeed, and that you escaped -that dreadful day at Kirbekan!' she replied, while her eyes -became humid now. -</p> - -<p> -'God bless you, my darling!' he exclaimed, as all his -soul seemed suddenly to go forth to her, and he would have -drawn her to him; but she thought of Annot Drummond, -and fell back a pace. 'Hester,' said he upbraidingly, 'will -you not accord me one kiss, darling?' -</p> - -<p> -She grew pale now, for she feared that her welcome had -been more cordial than he had any right to expect; but the -circumstances were peculiar, their place and mode of meeting -alike strange and unexpected; but it was impossible for -her not to guess, to read in his eyes, in fact, all the tender -passion of love, esteem, and kinship that filled his heart for -her now. -</p> - -<p> -'How well you are looking, Hester, after all you must -have suffered—some of the old rose's hue is back to your -cheek, darling.' -</p> - -<p> -'Don't speak thus, Roland—I—I——' she faltered. -</p> - -<p> -'Why not, Hester? You loved me, I know, even as I -loved you.' -</p> - -<p> -'Before that beautiful little hypocrite and adventuress -came,' said she, with quiet bitterness, 'I certainly did love -you, Roland——' -</p> - -<p> -'And love me still, Hester?' -</p> - -<p> -'Do I look as if I had let the worm in the bud feed on -my damask cheek?' said she, with a little gasping laugh; -'has my hair grown thin or white? How vain you are, -Cousin Roland!' -</p> - -<p> -'No, Hester' (how he loved to utter her name!); -'though I admit to having been a hopeless and thoughtless -fool—no worse; but, forgive me, dear Hester; I ask you -in the name of your good old father, who so loved us -both, and in memory of our pleasant past at Merlwood.' -</p> - -<p> -She made no answer; but her downcast eyes were full -of tears; her breast was heaving, and her lips were -quivering now. -</p> - -<p> -'It ought not to be hard to forgive you, Roland, as you -never said, even in that pleasant past, that you loved me; -and yet, perhaps—but I must go now,' she said, interrupting -herself, as she turned round wearily and vaguely. -</p> - -<p> -'Go where?' he asked. 'But how came you to be -here—here in Cairo—and whither are you going?' -</p> - -<p> -'To where I reside,' she replied, with a soft smile; for, -with all her love for him, and with all her supreme joy at -meeting him again thus safe and sound, and in a manner so -unprecedentedly peculiar, she was not disposed quite to -strike her colours and yield at once. -</p> - -<p> -'Reside!' thought Roland, with a flush of anger in his -heart; 'as companion, governess, nursing sister, or—what?' -</p> - -<p> -'To where I reside with Maude,' she added, almost -reading his thoughts. -</p> - -<p> -'Is Maude here, too?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes; we came together in quest of you and Jack. Oh! where -is he?—well and safe, too, I am sure, or you would -not be looking so bright. Maude left her home under a -mistake—the victim of a conspiracy, hatched, as we know -now, by that wretched creature Sharpe.' -</p> - -<p> -'And she is here—here in Cairo?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'This seems miraculous!' -</p> - -<p> -'Come with me to Maude.' -</p> - -<p> -'And then to Jack—to poor Jack, whom the sight of her -beloved face will surely make well and strong again.' -</p> - -<p> -And, as people in a dream, in another minute they were -in a cab—for cabs are now to be had in the city of the -Caliphs and the Mamelukes—and were bowling towards -one of the stately squares in the European quarter through -strangely picturesque streets of lofty, latticed, and painted -houses, richly carved as Gothic shrines, where, by day, the -many races that make up the population of Cairo in their -bright and varied costumes throng on foot, on horse or -donkey-back; and where, by night, rope-dancers, conjurers, -fire-eaters, and tumblers, with sellers of fruit, flowers, -sherbet, and coffee, make up a scene of noise and bustle beyond -description; and now certainly, with Hester suddenly -conjured up by his side, Roland felt, we say, as if in a dream -wild and sudden as anything in the 'Arabian Nights.' -</p> - -<p> -Does love once born lie dormant to live again? -</p> - -<p> -Judging by his own experience, he thought so, with -truth. -</p> - -<p> -More than once when he had gone forth into the world -with his regiment he had almost forgotten the little Hester -as she had been to him, a sweet, piquante, and dainty -figure amid the groves of Merlwood, and in the background -of his boyish days; then in his soldier's life, she would anon -flit across the vista of memory, fondly and pleasantly, till he -learned to love her (ere that other came, that Circe with her -cup and the dangerous charm of novelty); and now all his -old passion sprang into existence, holding his heart in its -purity and strength as if it had never wandered from -her—tender, unselfish, and true as his boyish love had been in -the past time; yet just then, by her side, and with her hand -within grasp of his own, he felt his lips but ill unable to -express all he thought and felt, and his fear of—<i>the refusal</i> -that might come. -</p> - -<p> -Then he was about to see his dearly-loved sister Maude; -but his joy thereat was clouded by the dread and knowledge -that poor Jack's life was trembling in the balance. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap59"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER LIX. -<br /><br /> -CONCLUSION. -</h3> - -<p> -The fond white arms of Maude were around Jack, his -head was pillowed on her breast; so the young pair were -once more together, and she had, of course, installed -herself as his nurse. -</p> - -<p> -Oh, how haggard, wan, wasted, and changed he was! -</p> - -<p> -He lay quiet, motionless, and happy, if 'weak as a cat,' -he said, with the hum of the great city of Cairo coming -faintly through the latticed windows that overlooked the -vast Uzbekyeh Square and its gardens, whilom a marsh, and -now covered with stately trees, under which are cafés for -the sale of coffee, sherbet, and punch, where bands play in -the evenings, and Franks and Turks may be seen with -Europeans in their Nizam dresses, and the Highlander in -his white jacket and tartan kilt. -</p> - -<p> -How delightful it was to have her dear caresses again—to -feel her soft breath on his faded cheek; all seemed so -new, so strange, that he almost feared the delicious spell -might break, and he, awaking, find himself again in his -grass hut at Korti, or gliding down the Nile in the whaleboat -of the old Staffordshire, with Arabs to repel, rocks to -avoid, and cataracts to shoot with oar and pole. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, Jack,' said Maude, for the twentieth time, 'forgive -and pardon me for doubting you; but that woman——' -</p> - -<p> -'A vile plot—backed up by a forged letter! My little -Maude, it would not have borne a moment's investigation!' -</p> - -<p> -'I know—I know now; but I was so terrified—so -crushed—so lonely! And then, think of the days and -nights of horror and agony I underwent. The woman -dying of a street accident in the Infirmary of Edinburgh, -signed a confession of her story—that she was the bribed -agent of Sharpe's plot. I wrote all about it, but you never -got my letter.' -</p> - -<p> -'And this was "the startling news" that made you so -suddenly leave Edinburgh?' -</p> - -<p> -'To come here in search of you. Oh, Jack! I was mad -to doubt you; but you would quite pardon me if you knew -all I have undergone. Shall I ever forget the night she -came—the night of that aimless flight south—aimless, save -to avoid you—but ending at York? Oh never, Jack, if I -lived a thousand years! I now know that it takes a -great deal to kill some people; yet I think that, but for -dear, affectionate Hester, I could not have lived very long -with that awful and never-ceasing pain gnawing at my -heart.' -</p> - -<p> -Jack raised her quivering face between his tremulous -hands, and looked into it fondly and yearningly. How full -of affection it seemed—so softly radiant with shy and lovely -blushes, while her eyes of forget-me-not blue never, even in -the past, shone with the love-light that illumined them now, -when sufferings were past and their memory becoming -fainter. -</p> - -<p> -'How long—how long it seems since we separated, and -without a farewell, Jack!' -</p> - -<p> -'A day sometimes seems an age—ay, even a day, when -matters of the heart are concerned.' -</p> - -<p> -'And a minute or two may undo the work of years—yea, -of a lifetime. But you must get well and strong, Jack, for -the homeward voyage. In a few days we shall have you -laughing among us again; and you will see what a careful -little nurse I shall prove.' -</p> - -<p> -Jack, withal, feared just then that there was but little -laughter left for him on earth; yet their reunion and the -presence of Maude acted as a wonderful charm upon him, -and from her loving little hands, instead of those of a stolid -hospital orderly, he now took his prescribed 'baby food' as -he called it—beef-tea, eggs beat up in milk, and port wine -elixir, with the odious 'diluted hydrochloric acid, one -drachm, and of quinine, eight drachms,' as ordered by the -medical staff. -</p> - -<p> -But he rallied rapidly, though Maude's heart beat -painfully when occasionally a ray of sunshine stole into the -room through the picturesque lattice-wood windows (which -in Cairo had not been superseded by glass) and rested on -his face, and she saw how pale and wan, if peaceful and -bright, the latter was now: and then if he spoke too much, -she placed her white hands on his lips, or silenced them -more sweetly but quite as effectually. -</p> - -<p> -Hester, when she first saw Jack Elliot, little imagined that -he would recover so rapidly. She had thought of Maude -and then of her own father. -</p> - -<p> -'Strange it is,' pondered the girl, 'that when one sorrow -comes upon us—a shock unexpectedly—we seem to see the -gradual approach of another, and so realize its bitterness -before it becomes an actual fact. Thus I felt, long before -poor papa died, that I should be alone and penniless in -the world.' -</p> - -<p> -'Hester!' exclaimed Roland, softly but upbraidingly, as -she said something of this kind to him. -</p> - -<p> -'Well, Roland,' said Hester, 'no one seemed to care where -I went or what became of me; all the world was indifferent -to me; I had lost all interest and saw no beauty -in it.' -</p> - -<p> -He had both her hands in his now, and was gazing into -her white-lidded and long-lashed dark-blue eyes. -</p> - -<p> -Then, as eye met eye, each saw a strange but alluring -expression in the other—the past, the present, and future -all mingled and combined—an expression of a nature deep -and indescribable. -</p> - -<p> -We do not mean to rehearse all that Roland said then. -If no woman can without some emotion hear a tale of love, -especially if told so powerfully as Roland was telling it then, -we may well believe how Hester's heart responded; and he -held her in his embrace, and kissed her again and again as -a man only kisses the girl he loves, and, more than all, the -one he hopes to make his wife. -</p> - -<p> -So everything is said to come in time to those who -wait. -</p> - -<p> -They were together again—together at last—and the -outer world and all other things thereof seemed to glide -away from them, leaving only love and peace and rest -behind—love and trust with the radiance of light! -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -THE END. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t4"> -BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLAYING WITH FIRE ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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