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diff --git a/old/66874-h/66874-h.htm b/old/66874-h/66874-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 27be96c..0000000 --- a/old/66874-h/66874-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11744 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd"> - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en"> - -<head> - -<link rel="icon" href="images/img-cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover" /> - -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8" /> - -<title> -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Cameronians, Volume 2, -by James Grant -</title> - -<style type="text/css"> -body { color: black; - background: white; - margin-right: 10%; - margin-left: 10%; - font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; - text-align: justify } - -p {text-indent: 4% } - -p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } - -p.t1 {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 200%; - text-align: center } - -p.t2 {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 150%; - text-align: center } - -p.t2b {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 150%; - font-weight: bold; - text-align: center } - -p.t3 {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 100%; - text-align: center } - -p.t3b {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 100%; - font-weight: bold; - text-align: center } - -p.t4 {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 80%; - text-align: center } - -p.t4b {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 80%; - font-weight: bold; - text-align: center } - -p.t5 {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 60%; - text-align: center } - -h1 { text-align: center } -h2 { text-align: center } -h3 { text-align: center } -h4 { text-align: center } -h5 { text-align: center } - -p.poem {text-indent: 0%; - margin-left: 10%; } - -p.thought {text-indent: 0% ; - letter-spacing: 4em ; - text-align: center } - -p.letter {text-indent: 0%; - margin-left: 10% ; - margin-right: 10% } - -p.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; - font-size: 80%; - margin-left: 10% ; - margin-right: 10% } - -.smcap { font-variant: small-caps } - -p.transnote {text-indent: 0% ; - margin-left: 10% ; - margin-right: 10% } - -p.quote {text-indent: 4% ; - margin-left: 0% ; - margin-right: 0% } - -p.finis { font-size: larger ; - text-align: center ; - text-indent: 0% ; - margin-left: 0% ; - margin-right: 0% } - -</style> - -</head> - -<body> - -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Cameronians, Volume 2 (of 3), by James Grant</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Cameronians, Volume 2 (of 3)</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0;'>A Novel</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: December 3, 2021 [eBook #66874]</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 THE CAMERONIANS, VOLUME 2 (OF 3) ***</div> - -<h1> -<br /><br /> - THE CAMERONIANS.<br /> -</h1> - -<p class="t3b"> - A Novel.<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - BY<br /> -</p> - -<p class="t2"> - JAMES GRANT,<br /> -</p> - -<p class="t3"> - AUTHOR OF<br /> - 'THE ROMANCE OF WAR,' 'OLD AND NEW EDINBURGH, ETC.<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - IN THREE VOLUMES.<br /> - VOL. II.<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - LONDON:<br /> - RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON,<br /> - Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen.<br /> -<br /> - 1881.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="t4"> - [<i>All Rights Reserved.</i>]<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t2"> - CONTENTS OF VOL. II.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - CHAPTER<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - I. <a href="#chap01">'A WEAK INVENTION OF THE ENEMY'</a><br /> - II. <a href="#chap02">CECIL RECEIVES HIS CONGÉ</a><br /> - III. <a href="#chap03">IN THE PRINCE'S STREET GARDENS</a><br /> - IV. <a href="#chap04">A FRUITLESS TASK</a><br /> - V. <a href="#chap05">THE REGIMENTAL BALL</a><br /> - VI. <a href="#chap06">HEW'S TRIUMPH</a><br /> - VII. <a href="#chap07">'I HAVE COME FOR YOUR SWORD'</a><br /> - VIII. <a href="#chap08">THE COURT-MARTIAL</a><br /> - IX. <a href="#chap09">A PAGE OF LIFE TURNED OVER</a><br /> - X. <a href="#chap10">GONE</a><br /> - XI. <a href="#chap11">'THE INITIALS'</a><br /> - XII. <a href="#chap12">TURNING THE TABLES</a><br /> - XIII. <a href="#chap13">BY THE MORAVA</a><br /> - XIV. <a href="#chap14">A MYSTERY</a><br /> - XV. <a href="#chap15">ON DUTY</a><br /> - XVI. <a href="#chap16">THE CASTLE OF PALENKA</a><br /> - XVII. <a href="#chap17">MARGARITA</a><br /> - XVIII. <a href="#chap18">CAPTAIN GUEBHARD</a><br /> - XIX. <a href="#chap19">THE BLACK MOUNTAINEERS</a><br /> - XX. <a href="#chap20">CECIL COMES TO GRIEF</a><br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> - -<p class="t2"> -THE CAMERONIANS. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER I. -<br /><br /> -'A WEAK INVENTION OF THE ENEMY.' -</h3> - -<p> -Hew resolved, as before, to lose no -time in putting Sir Piers on his -guard; he would give him an -'eye-opener,' he thought; and, in his -ignorance of military discipline and etiquette, -almost conceived that the baronet, as full -colonel of the regiment, might have power -to issue, perhaps, some very stringent and -crushing order concerning the culprit. -</p> - -<p> -Hew, among other 'caddish' tastes and -propensities, was fond of 'sherry-glass -flirtations' at bars and buffets, where sham -smiles are bartered for button-hole flowers, -amid bantered compliments and honeyed -small-talk, not always remarkable for its -purity; and while engaged in one of these -little affairs, he made the casual -acquaintance of Herr Von Humstrumm, the -regimental bandmaster, a somewhat -obese-looking German, with an enormous -moustache and his scrubby dark hair -shorn remarkably short; and from the -latter he drew—or alleged to Sir Piers -that he drew—some account of the family -and antecedents of Cecil Falconer; and -with these he came home highly elated; -and whatever the conversation really was, -the communications did not suffer diminution -in his relation of them; and he broke -the matter to Sir Piers in a cold, hard, and -exultant way, that could scarcely fail to -strike the latter as being, at least, -ungenerous. -</p> - -<p> -'I have discovered who and what our -hero is!' said he. -</p> - -<p> -'Our hero—who?' -</p> - -<p> -'Our late visitor and guest, Mr. Falconer.' -</p> - -<p> -'Captain Falconer. Well?' -</p> - -<p> -'I met the bandmaster the other day, at -a luncheon-bar, and he told me all about -him,' continued Hew, laughing immoderately. -</p> - -<p> -'I know that in Scottish regiments, -especially, every man's family is usually -known, his antecedents, and so forth.' -</p> - -<p> -'And <i>who</i> do you think this Falconer -proves to be?' asked Hew, with malignancy -flashing brightly in his parti-coloured eyes. -'A pauper with a long pedigree, you will -say. No, by Jove! he has not even <i>that</i>!' -</p> - -<p> -'What <i>do</i> you mean, Hew?' asked Sir -Piers, looking up from his chair, with -knitted brow. -</p> - -<p> -'I mean,' replied Hew, 'he may, like the -street balladers, sing -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - '"I never had a father,<br /> - I never had a mother,<br /> - I never had a sister,<br /> - I never had a brother,<br /> - For indeed I'm nobody's child!"'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -And adopting the tone and manners of a -street-singer, Hew gave this verse with -extreme zest and almost fierce exultation, -acting the part with such broad vulgarity -that his hearer winced; but well did Hew -know that he was bringing the strongest -argument to bear upon the weakest point -in the character of Sir Piers—an inordinate -pride of birth and family. -</p> - -<p> -'Good God! you don't say so, Hew?' -exclaimed Sir Piers, more sorrow than -anger predominating in his mind for a -time—but a time only. -</p> - -<p> -'Fact, though,' replied Hew, carefully -selecting a cigar from his silver case, 'if -a certain chain of deductions may be -trusted, and I know that the thought of -his obscure birth is gall and wormwood to -him—have seen him blush for it more than -once, at Eaglescraig.' -</p> - -<p> -'His father——' began Sir Piers. -</p> - -<p> -'Nobody knows who that illustrious -individual was. I suppose he doesn't -know himself, though he must have had -one.' -</p> - -<p> -'And his mother?' -</p> - -<p> -'Was a singer, or actress, or something -of that kind. Folks in the musical world, -like folks on the turf, all know something -of each other, and so this fellow, Von -Humstrumm, assured me that—that it is -all as I say; and thus his excellence as a -singer and pianist is accounted for at once. -The Herr told me that he had performed -at her private concerts given in the house -of a noble lady in Belgravia, when the -inner drawing-room was turned into quite -a beautiful <i>bijou salon de concert</i>, and even -royalty was present. Pretty circumstantial that!' -</p> - -<p> -'Extraordinary!' -</p> - -<p> -'Not at all; there is nothing extraordinary -in this world. Thus I should not -wonder if the fellow once figured before -the footlights! Gad, if the Cameronians -only knew of this, they'd put him in -Coventry—force him to quit!' -</p> - -<p> -'Then how the devil does this band-master -come to know, if they don't?' said -Sir Piers, pacing the room in great -annoyance of spirit. 'I don't understand all -this! Was he not a Sandhurst cadet?' -</p> - -<p> -'I don't know, and don't care,' responded -Hew, with an access of sullenness. -</p> - -<p> -'He certainly seems a finished gentleman!' -</p> - -<p> -'I have heard you admire his hands as -being white and shapely,' said Hew, with a sneer. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes; but what of that?' -</p> - -<p> -'Did you ever observe his mode of -gesticulating with them?' -</p> - -<p> -'No.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well, <i>I</i> have, and to me it seemed to -indicate foreign blood and player-like -proclivities.' -</p> - -<p> -Hew's hands were neither white nor -shapely, and certainly bore no indication -of that refinement of race on which his -listener set such store. -</p> - -<p> -'We have not heard the last of this -fellow,' he resumed, after a pause. -</p> - -<p> -'The last! What do you mean?' -</p> - -<p> -'His interference in our family affairs. -A card-playing fortune-hunter, as I -denounced him to be before; he was here no -longer ago than yesterday afternoon, -pursuing his designs upon our soft-hearted, -and I must say, remarkably soft-headed, -Mary! I felt inclined to chuck him through -the window. Must not this matter be -stopped, sir, and with the strong hand?' -</p> - -<p> -'Stopped; I should think so. Should he -attempt to cross me, he'd better touch -the fuse of a live shell!' replied the old -man sharply, while memory went back to -the bitter times when his young Piers, so -loved, petted, and prized, forgot the high -traditions of his family, and daringly linked -his fate with a humble girl, whom the -proud baronet declined to receive or recognise, -most unwisely, as he thought at times now. -</p> - -<p> -'We are an old family, Hew,' he resumed, -after a pause; 'and you will be the -inheritor of my title in an untarnished -condition; but you must not rest upon it -alone, and, with Mary's money added to -what I have to leave you—Eaglescraig, -wood and wold, tower and -manor-place—great things may be achieved. You will -cherish Mary when I am gone, even as I -have cherished her; for I have nothing -else now,' he added, as he thought of his -dead son and the never-to-be-forgotten -night of the dread and shadowy vision. -</p> - -<p> -'I cannot persuade her to enter even -into a preliminary and formal engagement -with me,' said Hew, after another pause. -</p> - -<p> -'But,' urged the general, polishing his -bald head with fidgety irritation, 'surely, -by this time, something is understood?' -</p> - -<p> -'That—that she will one day be my wife?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, of course.' -</p> - -<p> -'But when?' -</p> - -<p> -'When I issue <i>the order</i>!' said Sir Piers, -as he stood with his back to the fire and his -feet planted on the hearthrug in orderly-room fashion. -</p> - -<p> -Hew smiled feebly, as if he feared Mary -would care little for such a ukase. -</p> - -<p> -'Devil take this forthcoming ball!' he -exclaimed suddenly. 'That fellow will be -there, of course.' -</p> - -<p> -'In his regimentals, too—a good old -phrase that!' said Sir Piers. 'But the ball -is somewhat of a nuisance, especially as -Mary is not yet <i>disillusionné</i>. Yet she is -not a child, that I may prevent her going -to where she has set her heart upon. But -one thing is certain; she must neither -speak to, nor dance with him on that occasion.' -</p> - -<p> -'I should think not!' said Hew, savagely. -</p> - -<p> -'It is very unfortunate for you, my dear -lad, if she has conceived any absurd fancy -for this young man.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, I don't care much for that, or -whether or not the bloom is quite wiped off -the plum,' was the nonchalant reply of -Hew, at whose remark the general elevated -his eyebrows. -</p> - -<p> -When Mary heard of this alleged conversation, -of which Hew lost no time in acquainting -her, though ignorant as to -whether the matter in regard to poor -Falconer was a deliberate fabrication of -his rival or a coarse exaggeration, she -only smiled scornfully at it, as 'a weak -invention of the enemy;' but her conviction -was, that whether invention or not, it -was calculated to have a most fatal influence -upon the already sweet relations -between herself and Cecil; and we can -but hope that its truth or falsity will be -discovered in the sequel. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER II. -<br /><br /> -CECIL RECEIVES HIS CONGÉ. -</h3> - -<p> -Sir Piers' indignation with Cecil -Falconer for presuming to -address his ward in the language -of love was very great, and he was in the -act of 'nursing his wrath to keep it warm,' -and studying how to circumvent one whom -he deemed only a well-accredited adventurer, -when next afternoon the latter, all -unaware of <i>how</i> the general had been -schooled to view him, was ushered into the -library, where the former was idling over -the preceding evening's <i>War-Office Gazette</i>. -'It is easier to conceive than describe,' -says Oliver Goldsmith, 'the complicated -sensations which are felt from the pain of -a recent injury and the pleasure of -approaching vengeance.' The two were -suddenly face to face! -</p> - -<p> -But Sir Piers, a courteous soldier and -gentleman of the old school, though smarting -and indignant, was resolved, that whatever -turn the conversation took, he neither -forgot their relative positions of host and -visitor, or as officers in her Majesty's -service. -</p> - -<p> -He felt himself, however, on the horns of -a dilemma. He had no precise right, he -thought, to act on Hew's painful information -in any way, obtained, as it was, from -a source so subordinate; and he could not, -without some distinct reason, forbid his -recently welcome guest to visit his house, -though he was resolved to tell old Tunley -to strike his name off the visitors' list. -Unaware of all the mischief that was -brewing, Falconer advanced cordially -towards the old general, who rose and gave -him his hand, if not very frankly, and said, -stiffly: -</p> - -<p> -'Captain Falconer, I congratulate you -on your promotion, sir; I hope it will -prove an incentive to future good conduct -and <i>esprit de corps</i>; but avoid cards, -sir—avoid cards!' -</p> - -<p> -Ignorant of how the speaker viewed him -as a gambler, almost an adventurer and -man of obscure birth, all as alleged by -Hew, Falconer was alike surprised by this -pointed remark and rather indignant at the -tone in which it was said, and the general -bearing adopted by Sir Piers. -</p> - -<p> -He now inquired for the ladies, and was -snappishly told that 'they were well, -sir—well;' but whether at home or not, Sir -Piers did not condescend to say; so -Falconer almost held his breath at every -sound, expecting Mary to enter the room; -but he hoped in vain, for never even once -did a light footstep or the rustle of a dress -announce her vicinity. However, he had -barely seated himself, when Sir Piers, as if -reading his very thoughts, said bluntly: -</p> - -<p> -'I wished to see you, sir, on a subject -that has recently come to my knowledge. -You have been addressing Miss Montgomerie -in terms which no honourable man -would do, without the full permission of -those who are nearest and dearest to her, -and have thus her welfare and her future -at heart.' -</p> - -<p> -Falconer, who felt painfully that in tone, -bearing, and expression of eye, Sir Piers -was now very unlike the hearty and -hospitable veteran who welcomed him to -Eaglescraig, said, with a somewhat -faltering voice: -</p> - -<p> -'All who have the happiness to know -Miss Montgomerie will ever have her -welfare and happiness at heart, Sir Piers.' -</p> - -<p> -'Am I right in asserting what I do, -Captain Falconer?' asked the latter, -ignoring his remark. -</p> - -<p> -'Before being borne away by my feelings, -and permitting myself to address your -grand-niece——' -</p> - -<p> -'And ward. Yes, sir—well?' -</p> - -<p> -'I ought, doubtless, to have obtained -your sanction——' -</p> - -<p> -'Or sought for it—well, sir—well?' -</p> - -<p> -'And have satisfied you as to—as to——' -</p> - -<p> -'Your means and position?' interrupted -the old man, impatiently. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, Sir Piers,' said Falconer, taking -up his hat, which he relinquished. -</p> - -<p> -'By the way, it has never occurred to -me to ask you fully and distinctly who you -are—but now I seem to have some right -to do so?' said Sir Piers, as all Hew's -promptings came to memory. -</p> - -<p> -'Who I am?' exclaimed Falconer, -partially cresting up his head, yet colouring -too evidently with mental pain, as the -keen eyes of his questioner could see. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, sir.' -</p> - -<p> -'I am, as you know, Captain Cecil -Falconer, of the Cameronian regiment,' he -replied, somewhat haughtily. -</p> - -<p> -'Anything more?' -</p> - -<p> -'In what way?' -</p> - -<p> -'Family—antecedents. The devil! do -you think that I would permit a nameless -stranger to address Miss Montgomerie as -you have done?' -</p> - -<p> -'I am not rich, certainly—the reverse -rather.' -</p> - -<p> -'I don't care an <i>anna</i> for that, as we -say in India; but as regards family——' -</p> - -<p> -'Suffice it that I am utterly alone in the -world,' interrupted Cecil, with a cadence -in his voice that made the general feel -some pity for him, though not inclined to -yield an inch, for his words seemed to -corroborate all that Hew had alleged or -inferred. 'When my poor mother died, I -seemed, for a time, to lose the last link -that bound me to the world. To her I -owe education, position, the commission I -hold—everything!' -</p> - -<p> -And now, when he spoke of his mother, -his voice grew soft and infinitely tender, -and a subdued light shone in his averted -eyes—the light of love and a great -reverence. -</p> - -<p> -'And your father?' said the general, in -a softer voice. -</p> - -<p> -'I can remember but faintly: he died -when I was very young. My mother -never ceased to sorrow for him, and yet -I fear, at times, that her marriage had not -been a happy one, or that he had not -deserved one so brilliant and talented as -she was.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oho!' thought the general; 'this refers -to the musical world, evidently. Hew is -right, after all.' -</p> - -<p> -'It was selfish of me, perhaps, to leave -her to be a soldier, for she was alone in -life; but it was inspired by love for her, -and to gain her esteem, that I worked so -hard to become worthy of her, and rise in -all that might promote me in my profession. -In the School of Musketry at -Hythe, in signalling and telegraphy, at -the School of Engineering in Chatham, I -won first-class certificates, and laid them, -like a happy school-boy, in her lap. Since -then I have passed out, one of the first, -from the Staff College; and if I went to -India——' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah yes; go to India, sir, that is the -place!' said the general, soothed a little -and almost forgetting the 'cards.' 'But -our conversation has wandered from the -subject that introduced it,' he resumed, -'pulling himself together,' and resolved to -be cool and determined, and for Hew's -sake to end for ever this love-affair. 'In -addition to what I said, sir, I have to add, -that an honourable man should not make -advances to an heiress—I mean if he is -poor—and, in my time, all the Cameronians -were men of honour!' -</p> - -<p> -Falconer thought that a Cameronian -might still very well make love to a pretty -girl with a long purse, and not forfeit that -commodity which the general so -unpleasantly emphasised; but an emotion of -hopelessness began to creep into his heart, -and he rose from his seat, though reluctant -to withdraw: yet the interview was fated -to have an abrupt and harsh <i>finale</i>. -</p> - -<p> -'Captain Falconer,' said Sir Piers, after -a little pause, 'Miss Montgomerie has -never disobeyed me since she came to my -house an orphan; since she was a little -child that stood upon my knee and nestled -her face in my neck, begging me to tell -her the same story over and over again—often -an Indian yarn of snakes, tigers, and -what not—and I know that she won't -disobey me now.' -</p> - -<p> -'I hope not, Sir Piers, so far as I am -concerned.' -</p> - -<p> -'I am averse to long and vague -engagements, and have made up my mind to -terminate hers by a speedy marriage with -her <i>fiancé</i>, Hew Montgomerie, my heir of -entail, as you know. They must marry at -once, or—or——' -</p> - -<p> -'Or what, Sir Piers?' asked Falconer in -a low voice. -</p> - -<p> -'She loses every shilling of her fortune -by marriage with another.' -</p> - -<p> -'Gladly—oh, how gladly!—would I take -her penniless; but I shall not be guilty of -injustice towards her; she would be -permitted to choose for herself. God help -us!' said Falconer, in a very broken voice. -'Good Sir Piers, let me see her once -again, I implore you, just for five minutes,' -he added, scarcely aware of what he was -saying. -</p> - -<p> -'Better not, better not, sir; it is useless,' -said the general, growing stern; 'much -mischief may be done in five minutes. -Once and for ever, sir, let this folly end! -I brought you most unwisely to my house, -and you used your time there in seeking -to detach the affections of my ward, Miss -Montgomerie, from her affianced husband. -Of the good taste that inspired such a line -of secret conduct, I say nothing; but I -repeat, that this scheme on your part (I -speak not of folly on hers, for I hope she -has been guilty of none) must end; and I -have the honour to wish you—good-morning.' -</p> - -<p> -He rang the bell, and with a heart -swollen by many emotions, Falconer -bowed and quitted the room. As he did -so, there was in his face an expression of -painful humiliation mingled with reproach, -that powerfully brought back another and -an almost similar scene, when he had -expelled from Eaglescraig his son Piers, and -when kindly old John Balderstone strove—but -in vain—to effect a reconciliation -between them. -</p> - -<p> -His cool dismissal by the general, and -the curious questions of the latter, made -Cecil's blood boil with indignation. Had -he only known all, it might have proved a -bad business for the bones of Mr. Hew -Montgomerie. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Despite the injunction laid upon him, -the moth could not be kept from the candle. -A fortnight had passed since the general's -ukase had gone forth, and yet almost daily, -by accident, design, or tacit understanding, -Cecil and Mary met, and had the joy of -lingering in each other's society, and -riveting still closer the links of love that -bound them to each other, but not without -a dread of being watched or discovered by -Hew, whose favourite haunts, however, lay -far apart from theirs. -</p> - -<p> -The spacious gardens, the parks, the -hills, the half-empty West-end squares and -crescents, the picture-galleries and -promenades, afforded many facilities for such, -apparently unpremeditated, meetings as -theirs, and to Mary it seemed as if she had -only now commenced to live, and as if all -her past life had only been leading up to -this, the end of which she, happily, could -not then foresee. -</p> - -<p> -As for Cecil, the very demon of restlessness -seemed to have taken possession of -him. Save when on duty, the Cameronians -never saw him, and he was never -happy save when, if not with Mary, searching -for her in those lounges where; in the -limited circle of the Modern Athens—the -City of Idlers—everyone is almost sure to -meet everybody else. -</p> - -<p> -But he had one special annoyance to -contend with. All the regiment knew -that he had been the general's special guest -at Eaglescraig, and deemed it strange that -at all his dinners and dances given to them -now, <i>he</i> was never present. Why was -this? All deemed it 'deuced odd,' and -Cecil writhed under their surmises, some -of which were repeated to him by Leslie -Fotheringhame and Dick Freeport, and a -sentiment of defiance became engendered -in his mind. -</p> - -<p> -And it was with fresh annoyance that on -parade some morning, or at mess in the -evening, he heard some heedless fellow -extolling the rare beauty of the general's -ward, and mingling the praises thereof -with the extreme appreciation of his wines -and the culinary efforts of his <i>chef</i>; and -somewhat of a crisis was put upon this, -when Sir Piers dined with the regiment, -'in full fig,' and wearing all his medals, on -the anniversary of its embodiment, the -19th April, 1689, and treated Falconer -with a coldness of bearing that was but too -apparent to all; thus rousing a kind of -resentment in his heart, and a greater -inclination to defy him in the matter of his -now secret engagement with Mary, for -such it formally was: but then, how about -the terrible power Sir Piers held over her -in virtue of her father's eccentric will! -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER III. -<br /><br /> -IN THE PRINCES STREET GARDENS. -</h3> - -<p> -Among those invited to the house -of Sir Piers Montgomerie was -Leslie Fotheringhame, of course; -but he knew, from Falconer, that -Annabelle Erroll was still a guest of the -family, as she and Mary were a pair of -inseparables; and compunction for his past -treatment of her, and doubt of how she -remembered him now, with a great fear of -being contemptuously ignored by her, led -him to decline, on every occasion, the -invitation accorded, on various pretences. -</p> - -<p> -Annabelle Erroll knew of this, and was -piqued accordingly, so the old breach -between these two grew wider, if possible. -Cecil and Mary, as 'a fellow feeling -makes us wondrous kind,' had a great -desire to make peace between them; the -former had told her of the love-making -and quarrel by the river, and her sympathy -was readily enlisted in the matter. -</p> - -<p> -'You do love him still!' said Mary, as -the two were exchanging confidences in -the seclusion of their mutual dressing-room -at night; 'at least I know, by your -changing colour whenever his name is -mentioned, that you have not forgotten -how to do so.' -</p> - -<p> -'One cannot forget having loved—or -having loved him, at least,' replied -Annabelle, in a soft voice. -</p> - -<p> -'Would you marry him if he asked you now?' -</p> - -<p> -'Decidedly not!' exclaimed Annabelle, -whose golden hair was floating over her -snowy neck, while, unaided, she was plaiting -it up with deft fingers and throwing it -this way and that, in masses, turning her -graceful head sideways to see how they -fell, and perhaps to admire the charming -curve of her own white shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -'You do not believe me?' she said, as -Mary laughed at her reply. -</p> - -<p> -'No—because, as I said, at the very -mention of his name, even by me, your -cheek flushes and your voice trembles.' -</p> - -<p> -'If they do, it is with just anger,' said -Annabelle, 'and you are mistaken, dear -Mary; and I have read, that when an -estrangement begins between two who have -loved each other, it is like a tiny stream of -water, which goes on widening and deepening -day by day, until it becomes a river no -bridge can span.' -</p> - -<p> -'Will I ever be estranged from Cecil?' -thought Mary. 'Oh no—no—no!' -</p> - -<p> -Various pretty and amiable little schemes -formed by Mary to bring them together, -with Cecil's aid, failed, and yet their meeting -ultimately came to pass in the most -commonplace way imaginable. -</p> - -<p> -With the opening season come the weekly -promenades in the beautiful Princes Street -Gardens, where the regimental bands play -in the afternoons, for the delectation of -the fashionables and idlers of the West -End. -</p> - -<p> -Bordered on one side by the most -magnificent terrace and promenade in Europe, -and on the other by the emerald-green -bank of the Castle Hill, with all its waving -trees, and by the mighty mass of the beetling -rock on which stands the hoary fortress -of a thousand memories, and more than a -thousand years, these gardens are altogether -unique; and already they were in almost -their summer glory, for the air of the valley -in which they lie was fragrant with the -perfume of mignonette, of clove-carnations, -roses, and heliotrope. -</p> - -<p> -The carefully kept shrubberies were gay -with borders of brilliant flowers, and amid -this varied foliage the laburnum stood up -in all the glory of green and gold. In -swarms the happy children were gambolling -and playing about on the velvet sward or -chasing in zigzag fashion the bees and -butterflies. -</p> - -<p> -The fair promenaders were in all the -bright gaiety of their spring costumes, -and the grand echoes of the castle rock -were responding to the music of the band -under our friend Herr von Humstrumm, -when Falconer and Leslie Fotheringhame -came sauntering through the throng arm-in-arm, -the former watchful for the figure -of Mary, and the latter languidly indifferent -of all on whom he cast his critical eyes, in -one of which a glass was fixed. -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly Fotheringhame, who was -rather a nonchalant personage, started, -and the glass dropped from his eye, for, -sooth to say, perhaps he could see better -without it. -</p> - -<p> -A young lady passed near him, with -other two—an elder and a younger—unseen -by Falconer, who was looking in an -opposite direction; and there can be no -doubt Fotheringhame looked after her with -a yearning in his gaze, so sudden, passionate, -and tender, as must have touched her heart -had she seen it; but Annabelle Erroll, for -it was she, was all unconscious of his -presence. Her companions, we need scarcely -say, were Mary Montgomerie and Mrs. Garth, -an old lady who still dearly 'doted -on the military.' -</p> - -<p> -Fotheringhame's first inclination was to -quit the promenade and effect an escape; -his second thought was to stay, and see -her once—only once again. And in sudden -silence he continued to walk slowly to and -fro with Falconer, till the abrupt turn of -a narrow shrubberied avenue brought them -both face to face with the three ladies, and -there was no retreating; for as Hew -disliked society of this kind, and was never -present, Mary felt perfect confidence, and -welcomed Cecil with one of her brightest -smiles, while he—reading her wish at a -glance—hastened to utilise the occasion by -presenting 'his friend, Fotheringhame of -Ours,' to Mrs. Garth and 'Miss Erroll.' -</p> - -<p> -'In for it, by Jove!' muttered Fotheringhame -under his heavy black moustache, -as he lifted his hat, and saw before him, in -her rare blonde beauty and magnificence of -style, now fully developed by a few short -years, the girl whose artless heart he had -won only to cast it at her feet—unclaimed—unprized! -</p> - -<p> -Mary's bright little face was dimpling -and rippling all over with pleasure, triumph -and exultation—all the more so, when she -saw that Leslie Fotheringhame was a man -of whom any woman might be proud, more -than ordinarily handsome, with an unmistakable -tone, air, and bearing, that doubtless -came of his early Lancer training; and -now they were all conversing together with -apparent ease; for although Mrs. Garth -knew what the wishes and orders of Sir -Piers were regarding Mary and Cecil -Falconer, she did not conceive that they -extended to the precluding of recognition in -a public place. -</p> - -<p> -But had even the suspicious Hew been -there, not even he, on seeing the quiet and -respectful way in which Cecil raised his hat -and lightly took the gloved hand of Mary, -could have detected that there was between -them the soft and sweet and inexpressible -charm and link of a secret understanding. -And indeed none who saw the apparently -cool composure with which she greeted -him, and talked of the beauty of the -weather, the serenity of the sky, of the -music then being discoursed by his -regimental band, could have suspected that -but an hour or so before, in a shady and -sequestered place elsewhere, he had showered -kisses on her lips, and hair, and eyes, -and pressed her to his breast, '<i>á la</i> Huguenot,' -again and again. -</p> - -<p> -If deceit were practised in all this, it was -not their fault, but was born of the pressure -that was put upon them. -</p> - -<p> -As the pair now began to promenade -together, Cecil of course absorbed Mary, -whom Mrs. Garth could not leave; it thus -became a matter of course that Annabelle -fell to the lot of Fotheringhame, more -than perhaps her proud heart assented to. -His manner was careful, studied, and deeply -courteous. She could not, as yet, detect -the slightest sadness in his glance or tone, -or aught of tenderness or reproach either, -so well did he veil his manner, and yet his -heart was full of her; and thus these two, -who had been so much to each other—all -the world once—were meeting and acting -just as those do who have known each -other for half an hour, or less. -</p> - -<p> -So they walked slowly on and on, all -unaware apparently that they were instinctively -seeking the quiet and lonely avenues -of the garden, yet talking the merest -commonplace all the while, though drinking -in each other's voices and tones, till the -groups of promenaders were all left far -behind, and the music of the band sounded -so faint and distant that the hum of the -honey-bees could be heard among the flowers. -</p> - -<p> -Then a silence—a long and awkward -pause occurred; they felt that platitudes -were failing them, and that they had a -lack of words—a lack that is said to prove -the deepest love, for where 'there is adoration -there is paradise,' and Fotheringhame -began to feel much of the old adoration in -his heart for Annabelle. -</p> - -<p> -'I have been on a long visit to Mary -Montgomerie, at Eaglescraig,' said the -latter, after a pause, during which she -became very pale. 'She would insist upon -me coming to Edinburgh with her; but -the season here is nearly over, and I go -back to mamma.' -</p> - -<p> -'In Perthshire?' -</p> - -<p> -'In Perthshire,' she repeated mechanically. -</p> - -<p> -'Near where the silver birches overhang -the Tay?' he asked with a caressing -smile. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—and very soon,' said she, turning -as if to retire. -</p> - -<p> -'But not before our ball,' said he eagerly. -'You accepted our invitation?' -</p> - -<p> -'Mary pressed me to do so,' she replied, -colouring; 'and now we must hasten back -to her and Mrs. Garth, for we are quite -losing all that lovely music of Gounod's.' -</p> - -<p> -'Stay one moment—do bear with me,' -said he in an agitated voice. -</p> - -<p> -'I do not understand,' she began falteringly, -and then paused, yet looking him -fully, firmly, and sadly in the eyes; 'have -you aught to say to me?' -</p> - -<p> -'So we meet again face to face, after all -these changeful years, Annabelle!' -</p> - -<p> -'I am simply Miss Erroll to you, Captain -Fotheringhame.' -</p> - -<p> -'I am only Lieutenant Fotheringhame -now. If you remember the past——' -</p> - -<p> -'Could I forget it?' she asked with -sparkling eyes, while nervously twirling -her parasol upon her shoulder, by its -handle. -</p> - -<p> -'Then pardon it, I pray you,' he urged -in a voice which more than one woman had -found it difficult to resist. -</p> - -<p> -'Who is it that says, "Flowers and -love have but a season"?' she asked with -a little bitterness in her usually sweet tone. -</p> - -<p> -'Annabelle!' -</p> - -<p> -'I repeat to you, sir, that you must -know me as Miss Erroll. I have been -thoughtless in coming so far from my friends.' -</p> - -<p> -'I am wrong in forcing my society upon -you,' said he sadly; 'but that is a matter -easily amended. In wronging you, as I -did, dearest Annabelle, I wronged myself, -and have suffered deeply accordingly.' -</p> - -<p> -'Our meeting to-day has been—on both -sides, unavoidable, Captain Fotheringhame. -Let us return—if it is the best way to spare -you further pain.' -</p> - -<p> -She spoke very calmly and deliberately, -yet it cost her a terrible and painful effort. -She knew that she loved him still; she felt -even the eloquence of his silence, if such a -term can be used, and now dared not lift -her eyes to meet his gaze. -</p> - -<p> -'Annabelle,' said he again, and took her -hand in his; then a quiver passed over her -delicate form, but the proud girl accorded -no other sign as yet of the power he still -possessed over her. 'Do you despise me—do -you hate me?' -</p> - -<p> -'Hate you—despise you?—why use -language so strong? Oh no, no, Leslie, -far from either—far from either!' she -exclaimed, as if her heart would burst, -and tears welled up in her dark blue eyes. -</p> - -<p> -Then the artificial barrier himself had -raised between them seemed to give way, -and he told her in the tenderest and most -earnest of words how fondly he loved her still. -</p> - -<p> -'Let us not cast away the chance of -reconciliation that God in His great kindness -has accorded us, Annabelle,' he urged, -pathetically; 'as I loved you first, I love -you now—nay, a thousandfold more, for I -have learned the value of the heart with -which I so cruelly trifled; and now, I pray -you—I beg of you to be my wife, -Annabelle, my wife!' -</p> - -<p> -She shook her head, and withdrew her -hand. -</p> - -<p> -'Is it to be thus?' he said sadly, but not -reproachfully. -</p> - -<p> -She made no reply, but kept her long -lashes down and her soft eyes fixed on the -gravelled path. -</p> - -<p> -'Let us be now, as we were then, in the -sweet summer days, when the silver birches -cast their shadows on the Tay; and let us -forget my folly, my wickedness—all that -estranged me from your loving heart and -divided us, Annabelle, when that fair and -artful woman of the world, Blanche Gordon, -cast her meshes about me.' -</p> - -<p> -'And must I believe that you have -loved me all these years, and love me -still?' she asked softly, and with infinite -tenderness of tone. -</p> - -<p> -'God alone knows how tenderly, deeply -and reproachfully, Annabelle!' -</p> - -<p> -'But who knows how you might act if -she came with her beauty and her meshes -again?' asked Annabelle, who was smiling -now. -</p> - -<p> -'Do not be pitiless to me; and as for -her—that woman—she is married, so, -Annabelle——' -</p> - -<p> -'Hush—we are interrupted!' -</p> - -<p> -'They suddenly found themselves -environed by groups of idlers, and among -others came Mrs. Garth, with Mary and -Cecil, all of whom Leslie Fotheringhame -would have wished very far away—at -least on the cone of Arthur's Seat—at -that precise moment. -</p> - -<p> -Face to face again—at last, after all—after -all—with Leslie Fotheringhame, -Annabelle was thinking; his smile, his -voice and presence, were fast bringing -back the old and seemingly buried, yet -never forgotten love, to thrill her heart -and every pulse as in the bygone time! -</p> - -<p> -Her memory, her whole soul seemed to -go back more vividly to those hours which -neither he nor she had ever forgot, and -now, whilst listening to his voice, she -seemed to be out in the bright summer -sunshine on the rippling waters of the -glassy Tay, in his handsome boat with its -crimson velvet cushions; she heard the -plash of the sculls, the voices of the birds -among the graceful silver birches; she saw -the dragon-flies again whizz past, and the -brown trout leap from the azure stream; -and he too was in dreamland, and seemed -to hear her voice; as when he first heard it -singing: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Love me always, love me ever,<br /> - Said a voice low, sad and sweet;<br /> - Love me always, love me ever,<br /> - Memory will the words repeat.'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -So they parted happily, these two, with -hopes to meet again, at least once, before -the all-important night of the regimental -ball, now close at hand. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -That some mysterious change had come -over the once nonchalant Leslie Fotheringhame, -was soon apparent to the entire -mess. -</p> - -<p> -'What the dickens is up now?' said -Dick Freeport to Falconer, on this -subject; 'I am sure there is a woman in the -case; and I am sure that fellow never had -a love affair since he joined the regiment, -or sought peril by imploring Maud to come -into the garden.' -</p> - -<p> -'All the cause of his being more hardly -hit now, Dick,' said Falconer, laughing. -</p> - -<p> -'If it is the case it will be a horrible -pity!' said Freeport, as he shut his pet, -and carefully-coloured meerschaum up in -its crimson velvet case with an angry snap. -'"Of all the wonderful things, and there -are many," says Sophocles in one of his -choruses; "but none more wonderful than -man."' -</p> - -<p> -'Except woman, Dick, why didn't the -old Athenian add,' said Cecil, laughing; -'so be assured there is a woman at the -bottom of this change in Fotheringhame.' -</p> - -<p> -'Shall we have her at the ball?' -</p> - -<p> -'Most probably, so don't forget your -magic ring with the blue stone, Dick; but -you'll be hooked by a penniless girl some -day, Dick!' -</p> - -<p> -'A pity that will be, as manna does not -fall from heaven now; but——the fact is,' -continued the latter, still pursuing his -surmises on the changed habits and -bearing of Fotheringhame, 'that matrimony -spoils a fellow for the service on -one hand, and on the other, one can't -think of bringing a tenderly-nurtured -and high-bred lady into the meagre -surroundings, and rough and round of barrack -life.' -</p> - -<p> -'Of course not, Dick,' replied Falconer; -and yet—young though he was—he was -not without his new day-dreams of a -graceful and dove-like girl—of Mary -Montgomerie—with tender smiling eyes -and white hands, sitting opposite to him -in that dingy barrack room, with its plain -appurtenances. -</p> - -<p> -But Mary was an heiress, and to wed -and bring her there, would involve open -war with her guardian, and too probably -the loss of her inheritance! -</p> - -<p> -'Would I had never seen her!' thought -he; 'and yet—yet how vague and empty -now would life be without her!' -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER IV. -<br /><br /> -A FRUITLESS TASK. -</h3> - -<p> -Prior to all this, Sir Piers had -taken poor little Mary seriously -to task in person. -</p> - -<p> -She was full of her own fond, happy -thoughts, and in her own peculiar sanctum -or boudoir, when the general, influenced -no doubt by some recent remarks of -Hew, came in looking black as a thundercloud—as -black, at least, as he ever could -find it in his brave old heart to be with her; -and here she was queen, for her boudoir -was her pet place in the Edinburgh mansion. -</p> - -<p> -The walls were silver-grey, picked out -with bouquets of roses. There were -delicate cretonne hangings to match, and -funny little black and gold chairs with -crimson satin cushions; wood-brackets -from Switzerland, and all manner of pretty -china things, including porcelain pugs of -all sorts and sizes; and here she received -him with that charming, coaxing air, which -no one could resist, and Sir Piers, perhaps, -least of all. -</p> - -<p> -She knew that a lecture was coming, -and on what subject, too; thus she was a -little nervous, and her pretty dimples came -and went, so fast! -</p> - -<p> -It never occurred to Sir Piers that there -was gross selfishness in thus seeking to -control Mary, and to absorb her fortune -into the exchequer of the future baronets -of Eaglescraig; though he certainly deemed -that he was fully justified in preventing -another family mesalliance, and with a -nameless gamester. -</p> - -<p> -'Give way to the whim of a girl!' he -thought; 'no—no; I shall not be a -chicken-hearted fool in my old age!' -</p> - -<p> -'You have been out and abroad again, I -understand, and without Mrs. Garth, Mary,' -he began, while caressing her head, as -she seated herself on a low stool by his side. -</p> - -<p> -'I am close on twenty, and surely old -enough to be trusted out of sight now!' -said Mary, laughing. -</p> - -<p> -'Hew says no—when that fellow is about.' -</p> - -<p> -'Hew forgets himself!' said she, with a -shrug of her pretty shoulders; 'I shall -soon reach my twenty-first birthday, -dearest grand-uncle, and surely then I -shall be my own mistress,' she added, -laughing. -</p> - -<p> -To the general she had ever looked up -in a sweet, grave, old-fashioned and -child-like manner that gave him great power -over her, but this he felt was, somehow, -passing away. He felt some sympathy for -her too, for the human heart is, perhaps, -the only part of us that does not grow old -with years; but he deemed that he had a -duty to do, and heard her now with -uneasiness, as he withdrew his hand from her -head that nestled on his knee. -</p> - -<p> -'Even in your twenty-first year, child, -you will not be independent of me,' he -said; 'I have still a control over your -fortune, if I fail to control your future.' -</p> - -<p> -'I care not for it!' said she, pouting. -</p> - -<p> -'You know not what you possess, and -therefore know not what you would lose; -thus I am anxious—more than ever—to -lose no time in transferring you and your -heritage to the care of a husband I can -trust.' -</p> - -<p> -'Meaning the inevitable Hew!' she -exclaimed, with a little angry laugh. -</p> - -<p> -'Precisely, girl; I am proud to have an -inheritor of our own blood, to my family -honours, which, but for him, would pass -away. If my poor Piers had only -lived——' -</p> - -<p> -'I would to Heaven he had!' sighed -Mary, with all her heart. -</p> - -<p> -'You tell me, Mary, that when of age -you will be the mistress of your own -actions. True. You never talked to me -in this way before,' he continued, raising -his voice and starting to his feet; 'but I -tell you, that if you dare to countenance -that fellow Falconer——' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, uncle, don't break my heart by talking thus!' -</p> - -<p> -'Stuff! hearts don't break, though bones -do. Let there be no clandestine correspondence, -still less any meetings; but I -trust to your honour, Mary—I trust to -your honour, child.' -</p> - -<p> -She blushed deeply, painfully, for she -had an appointment with Cecil that very -afternoon. She remained silent, and Sir -Piers interpreted her silence his own way. -</p> - -<p> -He knew that they must inevitably meet -at the ball given by the regiment, and for -himself to be at that especial ball was, he -deemed, a duty he owed to the old corps; -so, as for the chances of Mary and Falconer -meeting, he would ensure that it would -only be as strangers in a crowded ball-room. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, Mary,' he resumed, 'I trust to your -honour, that you will keep this fortune-hunter -at a distance.' -</p> - -<p> -'I do believe, uncle—nay, I am certain -of it,' she said, in a pretty and coy, yet -half-petulant manner, 'that Captain -Falconer would marry me whether I had -money or not. Oh how I wish I were -without it!' -</p> - -<p> -'Indeed!' said he with a cynical smile; 'for -a commercial age, your ideas, my dear, are—to -say the least of them—rather peculiar.' -</p> - -<p> -'Now, you dear old pet, I wish you -would say no more on this subject,' said -Mary, glancing anxiously at a clock.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'Because, grand-uncle, I don't want to -marry anyone, and, any way, I will never -commit the sin—for such it would be—of -marrying one I do not, and never can love—there!' -</p> - -<p> -'Meaning our Hew?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, your Hew.' -</p> - -<p> -'Don't be silly, Mary,' persisted the old -man; 'you must and <i>shall</i> marry Hew, -and there is an end of it!' -</p> - -<p> -'But I have given my promise,' began -Mary, feeling weary and desperate. -</p> - -<p> -'Promise, to Captain Falconer? The -devil you have! Did he dare exact one?' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh no, no.' -</p> - -<p> -'How then?' -</p> - -<p> -'It came about somehow,' said Mary, as -her fitful colour came and went. -</p> - -<p> -'Did you promise—the devil, I'll -explode!—to—to—marry him?' asked the -general with his back against the mantel-piece. -</p> - -<p> -'No.' -</p> - -<p> -'What the deuce then? -</p> - -<p> -'To love him—and him only,' said Mary, -piteously, softly, and in a low voice, ending -in a little nervous laugh. -</p> - -<p> -'And all this has come of my own folly -at Eaglescraig! damme, I'll—I'll—choke!' -added the general, pale with anger, and -feeling awkwardly conscious of the futility -of it, with a genuine and honest fear of the -future, through his unjust ideas of Cecil -Falconer's character. -</p> - -<p> -'Dear old grand-uncle, you have been -more than a father to me, ever since I was -a tiny tot, just so high,' said Mary, holding -a little white hand about six inches from -the carpet; 'and you must pardon me for -all this—for Cecil does so love me,' she -urged with tears, 'most tenderly and -truly.' -</p> - -<p> -'Folly—folly, all! has life, has position, -no other claim on you than that? One born -of such lineage as ours,' he continued, -vaulting on his hobby-horse, 'requires to -consider matters deeply. Disobey me, and I -hand over your fortune to Hew; it shall -never be made ducks and drakes of by a -gambler and adventurer! By your father's -will (how often am I to tell you this?) it is -absolutely in my power to disinherit you, -if you wed without my consent.' -</p> - -<p> -'A most cruel and illegal will!' -</p> - -<p> -'Devised to save you from yourself, and -with a strange prevision of that which was -to come.' -</p> - -<p> -'Unjust! why should the dead be so -loth to lose their grasp on, their power -over, the living?' -</p> - -<p> -'Your father's great dread was fortune-hunters, -lest you should be sought—as -Falconer seeks you—for your money. -Moreover, if this young fellow really loves -you, child, he ought to think more of your -happiness than daring to seek your hand.' -</p> - -<p> -'Daring?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, I say so, considering his origin! -You are a romantic little goose! But -girls in your position must not think of -men in his.' -</p> - -<p> -'Were you not a captain once?' asked -Mary, softly. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, and a jolly ensign too; but then, -as now, I was Piers Montgomerie of the -Eaglescraig! My darling Mary, you are -the apple of my old eye, and I should like -to see you safe and sound under Hew's -protection, ere the last bugle sounds for me, -and summons me away to the Land of the -Leal; Hew, save yourself, is the nearest -to me in blood now that my Piers is gone, -finding his grave I know not where—know -not where!' he added in a broken voice, as -he recalled the real or fancied, but terrible -vision he had seen years ago, now. 'If -money can bring happiness you and Hew -should certainly have something very like -it,' said he, returning to the charge. -</p> - -<p> -'We should be very, very miserable—at -least I should—with all our united -wealth.' -</p> - -<p> -'Tut, tut! how much more miserable -would you be without it?' asked the -general; 'and yet, sooth to say, pet Mary, -I shall give you even to Hew grudgingly.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' asked Mary, hopefully. -</p> - -<p> -'Because,' said the old man, with great -tenderness, drawing her head into his -neck, 'then you will be for ever, not mine -as you are now, little one, but another's! -Where Hew goes, you will go; our old -life will be gone; a new one will open to -you, and I shall be a lonely, old, old man, -lonely as when, years ago, I lost Piers!' -</p> - -<p> -'But I am not yet married to Hew,' -said Mary, kissing both his withered -cheeks, from which the red tan of the -Indian sun had long since vanished. -</p> - -<p> -So there was a kind of loving armistice -between them for the present; but all the -general had said against Cecil increased -Mary's loathing of Hew, a loathing that -took the place of the toleration with which -she had hitherto accepted, not his peculiar -mode of courtship, but the mere fact of -a residence with him in the same family -circle. -</p> - -<p> -And now, as she recalled all Hew's -scandalous hints and rumours, she -remembered the mutual impression which she -and Annabelle shared at Eaglescraig, that -by the expression of his face, the young -subaltern Falconer <i>had</i> a history; and yet -she loved him not the less because, like -Quentin in Scott's 'Ayrshire Tragedy,' he -was: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'A young man, gentle-voiced and gentle-eyed,<br /> - Like one whom all the world had frowned on.'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -So the moment Mary was left to herself, -she put on a thick Shetland veil, which -very effectively concealed her lovely little -face, and set forth in haste to hold a certain -tryst; thus the worthy old general's task -had proved as yet a very fruitless one. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER V. -<br /><br /> -THE REGIMENTAL BALL. -</h3> - -<p> -There is so close a family -likeness among regimental balls in -their general details, that we -need scarcely describe that of the -Cameronians, the chief importance of it to our -story being the events that came of it. -</p> - -<p> -All Edinburgh said it would be 'the -ball of balls,' and beat those given a month -before by the Dragoon Guards and Royal -Archers. The officers were, of course, all -dancing men, and there were few or no -married ones to throw 'cold water' on the -extravagances of the rest. It was held in -the Music-hall and Assembly-room, two -magnificent saloons connected by a stately -vestibule, a place generally well patronised -as a promenade between the dances. Each -of these halls are about a hundred feet in -length, and the first-named, on these occasions, -is usually set apart for waltzes alone; -here was the band of the regiment, in the -lofty orchestra, under the guidance of -Herr von Humstrumm, while a fashionable -quadrille band was in the gallery of the -Assembly-room, which has one of the -finest floors in Europe. -</p> - -<p> -A guard of honour, a hundred strong, -under Captain Acharn, occupied the -entrance to receive duly the commander-in-chief, -Sir Piers, and other general officers; -trophies of arms, shields, and claymores, -the grouped banners of extinct Scottish -regiments from the castle armoury, a -double avenue of azaleas and myrtles, -foliage and Chinese lanterns, with jets of -perfumed water, spouting and sparkling in -marble and alabaster basins, all testified to -the good taste of Cecil Falconer and the -ball-committee, who were there in 'full -puff,' to receive the guests, who were now -arriving as fast as the carriages could set -them down at the east and west <i>portes-cochère</i>. -</p> - -<p> -Yellow banners, with the trophies of the -regiment, drooped over the staircases: -'Egypt' with the sphinx, 'Corunna,' -'China' with the fiery dragon, and lastly, -'Abyssinia'; and ever and anon the grand -and inspiriting crashes of military music -swept through the double halls. Kilted -officers from the Highland depôt battalions, -in various tartans; gentlemen in -Highland dresses, Hussars and Lancers, -made gay the scene. And the costumes of -the ladies, the result of many an anxious -consultation with mammas and <i>modistes</i> as to -what would be prettiest and most effective, -completed a scene in which a great amount -of feminine loveliness and grace was not -wanting. -</p> - -<p> -In the vestibule, the young second -lieutenants were flying hither and thither, -supplying the ladies with enamelled -programmes; the rooms were crowded by a -glittering throng, and already the dancing had -begun, when the voice of Acharn, calling -the guard to attention, and the clatter of -their rifles as they came to the 'present,' -announced the arrival of Sir Piers and his -party, and Falconer felt his heart give a -responsive leap. -</p> - -<p> -Roused and inspired by the music, the -regimental trophies and familiar badges, -and by all his congenial surroundings, the -old general looked so bright and happy -and he seemed to grow so young again -that Hew, in his impatience to succeed -him, might have thought that the Parcæ—if -he ever heard of them, which is -doubtful—were forgetting to shorten his span. -</p> - -<p> -Smiling blandly on all, with all his -medals and orders glittering on his gallant -old breast, in full uniform, with sash and -belt of gold, he moved through the -brilliant throng, with Mary—Mary seeking -for one face only—leaning on his arm; -and he accorded even a pleasant bow to -Cecil, as the latter hurried to his place in -the dance with a tall and handsome girl, -having arranged that Dick Freeport and -Mary should be their <i>vis-à-vis</i>. -</p> - -<p> -Once or twice as the night wore on, -Mrs. Garth, from her place among the -chaperons, detected a shadow cross the -general's face, and knew that the sight of -the familiar 'number,' the trophies and -the uniforms, brought back to memory -many a long-vanished face, and among -them, doubtless, that of his only son. -</p> - -<p> -Circumstanced as they were, Cecil felt -all the mortifying absurdity of not putting -his name even once on Mary's card, and -permitting others to fill it—a rapid process; -but there was a nameless sweetness in the -conviction of the secret understanding that -existed between them, and that she had -specially implored him not to ask her. -The general's alternate fits of kindness and -severity, and his quick and impetuous -temper, worried her. In his household he -was absolute, or had all the desire to be -so; and thus with all her love and respect -for him, a steady emotion of utter rebellion -was gathering in Mary's heart; and when -she saw Cecil at the ball, she resolved that -it would go hard with her if, by some little -manœuvring, they did not achieve one -dance, together. -</p> - -<p> -Yet her card was filled fast, as she had -passed through the vestibule—the whole -garrison fighting gallantly to get their -names inscribed upon it—and she was -overwhelmed with petitions for dances -more than she could accord. All the subs -had come to the ball prepared to fall in -love with her; and, as Dick Freeport said, -they were in duty bound to do so. -</p> - -<p> -The dark dress of Mary—perhaps a -curious one for a ball—black tulle, -gracefully trimmed with ears of silver wheat, -made the pure delicacy of her complexion, -her white shoulders, round, polished and -snowy arms, bare from above the dimpled -elbow, all more startlingly fair. She had a -complete suite of diamond and pearl -ornaments. Even to her lover's eyes, she -looked more than usually lovely; there -was a tender flush on her soft cheeks, and -purest pleasure sparkled in her soft face, -as she swept round in the waltz with -Fotheringhame, who was whispering to her -of Cecil; and her lithe form seemed full -of firm, yet delicate, strength and vigour. -</p> - -<p> -'Beg pardon,' said Hew, who was no -waltzer, but had ventured on one round -dance with Annabelle Erroll, presuming -on her good nature, and after cannoning -against several exasperated lancers and -others, finally did so against Falconer; 'a -gay scene,' he added breathlessly. -</p> - -<p> -'Hope you will enjoy yourself,' was -Cecil's commonplace reply to Hew, in -whose eyes, even at that moment, he could -read deep and defiant hostility, but -partially veiled by a well-bred smile. -</p> - -<p> -Remembering their gambling experiences, -Acharn, a grim, dark officer, who -had now dismissed the guard and taken his -place among the dancers, would have -opposed the invitation of Hew to the ball; -but Falconer, loth to put a slight upon the -general, and supposing that he had nothing -personally to fear in his presence, enclosed -a card to his would-be rival, and hence his -appearance on the night in question. -</p> - -<p> -He was disposed to be silent and sulky—silent -in consequence of a total absence -of ideas; and sulky, because of Mary's too -apparent happy preoccupation, and her -succession of brilliant partners. Most—if not -all—of the Cameronians were as good -performers on a well-waxed floor as at -anything else that is manly, and, as we have -already hinted, the floor of the Edinburgh -Assembly-room is simply the perfection -of what that for a ball should be. -</p> - -<p> -'What a cub that fellow Hew is!' said -Fotheringhame to Cecil in passing, with -Annabelle on his arm, her pale blue -costume becoming her light blonde beauty -well. 'Can it be possible,' he whispered -to her, 'that such a girl as your friend can -be capable of marrying one man while -loving another—marrying this Hew Caddish -Montgomerie while loving Cecil Falconer?' -</p> - -<p> -'I should hope not.' -</p> - -<p> -'But women are such strange creatures!' -</p> - -<p> -'Men are stranger still,' she retorted, -with a bright smile; 'but here comes our -odious Hew—and I promised him this waltz.' -</p> - -<p> -'He imposes on your good-nature; -bother the fellow!' -</p> - -<p> -'Our dance, I think,' said Hew, lounging up. -</p> - -<p> -'Number seven,' said Annabelle, affecting -to consult her card, while Fotheringhame -gave him an impatient stare, for his dislike -of Hew was great. -</p> - -<p> -'How handsome your cousin Miss -Montgomerie is,' said he. -</p> - -<p> -'She is full of goodness of heart and -common sense too,' added Annabelle. -</p> - -<p> -'I hope she will prove a girl of very -uncommon sense,' said Fotheringhame. -</p> - -<p> -'In what way?' asked Hew. -</p> - -<p> -'By preferring a Cameronian to any -other man,' replied Fotheringhame with -perfect coolness; and Annabelle laughed -to see the gleam that shot athwart the -eyes of Hew, as he swept away with her -into the dance, to begin a series of 'cannons' -again, and elicit remarks of wrath under -many a moustache. -</p> - -<p> -'I don't know what your plans are, old -fellow,' said Fotheringhame to Cecil, as -their eyes mutually followed Mary, -admiringly, through the maze of waltzers, -'but, if I were in your place, I would -write to Sir Piers, and give him fair -warning that I meant to use every means -to win his ward.' -</p> - -<p> -'Nay, Leslie; I have already won her,' -interrupted Falconer, a little triumphantly. -</p> - -<p> -'Well—all the better; and if the girl -loved me as she loves you, and as Annabelle -tells me, I would have her in spite of -all the guardians in Scotland!' -</p> - -<p> -But there was no answering smile in the -face of Cecil, who remembered how his -last visit to the house of Sir Piers ended, -and the summary manner in which the old -man rang the bell to have him shown out! -</p> - -<p> -And now for a time he remained among -the crowd of men—the inert or uninterested—who -hovered about the doorway, critically -watching the dancers, and he heard -Mary again and again praised, as she -swept past in a succession of waltzes. The -genuine praises of some delighted him; -but there were occasional off-hand remarks -that made him inclined to punch more than -one head. -</p> - -<p> -'Not a bad-looking girl at all,' lisped a -Lancer; 'wish she wouldn't lay on the -powder so freely, though.' -</p> - -<p> -'Powder!' said Bickerton of that Ilk, -a well-browned young fellow in the -blue-and-gold-laced uniform of the Ayrshire -Yeomanry, 'the devil a pinch of powder -is there!' -</p> - -<p> -'By Jove! to my mind, her dress is very -<i>chic</i>. Regent Street couldn't turn out a -better! Who the deuce is she?' asked -another lounger. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh! the daughter of Sir Piers Montgomerie,' -replied some one whose information -was vague; 'an old general officer—no -end of money, and has refused no end -of eligibles, and non-eligibles, alike.' -</p> - -<p> -'Get me an introduction, won't you?' -</p> - -<p> -'Well, perhaps—but her card has been -full no doubt an hour ago.' -</p> - -<p> -'Who is that swivel-eyed fellow that -hangs about her?' -</p> - -<p> -'Her intended, people say—don't like -the fellow; he once played me a fishy -trick about a horse.' -</p> - -<p> -'I have certainly seen a face like that -girl's before,' resumed the Lancer, eyeing -Mary through his glass. -</p> - -<p> -'Perhaps—but you haven't seen many -like it,' said Dick Freeport. 'I am lucky -enough to have booked her for two -waltzes.' -</p> - -<p> -'Great success, this regimental hop of -yours!' -</p> - -<p> -Amid the painful doubts of his own -position, his hopes and his fears, Cecil saw -with pleasure how radiantly happy his -friend Fotheringhame and Annabelle Erroll -were enjoying the ball and their own -society to the fullest extent; and sooth to -say, though Blanche Gordon, the girl who -had 'thrown him over,' was present, and -looking very queenly in her costume and -her loveliness, he seemed to have eyes -only for Annabelle; and as his arm -encircled her there was a depth of emotion -in her tender blue eyes when their gaze -met his, that called up many a loving -thought, and, though they were silent, led -both to remember the scenes of their past, -upon the shining river, when the boat -glided under the silver birches and the -water-lilies floated by her side—scenes to -be visited together, as they hoped, again. -</p> - -<p> -But, as, if there could be no perfect -brightness without a shadow, no perfect -happiness without some alloy, it chanced -that when seated together in the vestibule, -for coolness, there occurred an event -which—though Annabelle thought little, perhaps, -of it then—she had bitter cause to -remember afterwards. -</p> - -<p> -A lady, closely veiled, passed quickly -near them, after descending from the -gallery usually occupied by servants and -privileged spectators. -</p> - -<p> -She dropped a card-case or purse, and -Fotheringhame hastened to restore it to her, -on which with a low voice, she thanked him -by name, involuntarily as it would seem. -</p> - -<p> -'Why are you here to-night?' he asked -severely. -</p> - -<p> -'To see—you.' -</p> - -<p> -'How rash—how foolish—go home!' -</p> - -<p> -She hurried away, and on Fotheringhame -rejoining Annabelle, the latter could -see that he had suddenly become very pale. -</p> - -<p> -'Do you know that—person?' she asked -while slowly fanning herself, and fixing her -upturned eyes upon him. -</p> - -<p> -'Why do you ask, dearest Bella?' said -he, as if to gain time for thought. -</p> - -<p> -'Because she seemed to know you, and -called you Leslie.' -</p> - -<p> -'Surely not; but so many people know -me—the world is such a small place. I -know her to be very unhappy, and this gay -scene is the last place where I would expect -to see her, even as a spectator.' -</p> - -<p> -He spoke with perfect deliberation and -confidence now, but failed to inspire his -listener with the latter, as she read a -sudden and settled gloom in his eyes. -</p> - -<p> -The strange woman—a lady evidently—admitted -that she had come hither to see -him. Why? Then he had desired her to -'go home.' Where was her home? Who -was she? And why did this chance -meeting make him so <i>distrait</i>? -</p> - -<p> -'Our dance now, darling,' he whispered, -drawing her hand through his arm. 'One -of Schubert's waltzes; old Humstrumm -greatly affects Schubert,' he added with -rather a sickly smile. But this little -episode so startled Annabelle, that the -task of getting her fair face and soft -complexion into 'society trim' again cost her -an effort; and ere they could get among -the waltzers in the Music-hall, a strange -commotion there attracted the attention -of both, as it did that of everyone; so -the cause thereof deserves a chapter to -itself, for Fotheringhame was struck with -horror and dismay to see his friend Cecil -Falconer borne past him to a retiring-room, -reeling and almost senseless, in the arms of -three officers of different regiments! -</p> - -<p> -What had happened? -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap06"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER VI. -<br /><br /> -HEW'S TRIUMPH. -</h3> - -<p> -Prior to this startling event, the -reels, usually a great figure in -such balls at Edinburgh, had -been attracting the attention of Mary, -who did not join in them; and the long -line of more than a hundred dancers facing -each other, presented a gay spectacle, from -the number of uniforms, clan tartans, and -occasionally the green uniform and great -gold epaulettes of the Scottish body-guard, -worn by some of the male performers. -</p> - -<p> -The 'Cameronian Rant' was struck up -by the orchestra in the Assembly-room, and -old Mrs. Garth, who deemed herself quite -as much a part of the Cameronians as the -adjutant or the big-drum, and who had -been vibrating, bubbling, and brimming -over with pleasure all night, now felt her -satisfaction culminate when the aged Sir -Piers, with the courtly gallantry of the old -school, led her forth as his partner, and -looked round in vain for Hew and Mary, -as a <i>vis-à-vis</i>, whose place was speedily -supplied by Dick Freeport and a young -lady whose interest he was exciting on -the subject of his ring with the blue -stone. -</p> - -<p> -The reel over, the general had retreated -breathlessly to his place, where he proceeded -to button-hole the commander-in-chief—another -old fogie like himself; and -they were deep in reminiscences of the -land of palms and punkahs, tigers and -precious stones, when Cecil, discovering -Mary with Annabelle and Fotheringhame -in one of those flirtation nooks which are -to be found in the corners of the Music-hall -at such times, approached, and whispering -that Hew had disappeared, and -the general was busy, suggested that they -might have one waltz together, as the -double rooms always make a total -confusion in the mutual engagements. -</p> - -<p> -She murmured something, mechanically, -about the heat of the room, the crowd, and -so forth; his arm went round her; thrillingly -her little hand returned the pressure -of his own, having to the full as much -effect upon him as any words she might -have uttered; and in a moment they were -lost amid the whirling crowd of hundreds -of waltzers. Her great self-control nearly -gave way in the delight of dancing with -Cecil, 'under the temptation' which, as -Wilkie Collins has it, 'no woman can -resist—the temptation of touching the man she -loves.' -</p> - -<p> -Thus the soft pressure of the hand, which -silently said so much, was mutually returned -again and again, as Cecil guided her -unerringly amid the mazy circles, till she -paused, palpitating, blushing, and -half-reclining, breathlessly on his shoulder. -</p> - -<p> -'I have not had such a waltz to-night, -Cecil,' she whispered; 'so delightful, I -mean.' -</p> - -<p> -'Nor I, darling—one turn more!' And -away they went again, but at a slower -pace, which enabled them to converse at -intervals. -</p> - -<p> -They were not unseen, however, now, for -Hew, who had been fraternising with one -of the pretty waitresses who superintended -the luxurious supper-tables in the wings -of the hall, was watching them with a -heart full of growing hatred of Falconer; -he longed to do him a mischief of some -kind—vaguely, savagely, and Mary too, -for violating thus the express orders of her -guardian. And how radiantly (disgustingly, -he thought) happy they looked! -</p> - -<p> -'I'll mar his wooing, and more!' muttered -Hew, who possessed in an eminent -degree that quality which is to be largely -found in the least intellectual natures—low -cunning. -</p> - -<p> -As if she had some intuition of the <i>mal -occhio</i> under which they were, she whispered: -</p> - -<p> -'Hew has some deep scheme of mischief -<i>in petto</i> against us—I am assured by quiet -smiles I have read in his face to-night.' -</p> - -<p> -'He is gone, I think.' -</p> - -<p> -'I hope so; he is so cruel, coarse, and -unscrupulous—one, in short, to beware of.' -</p> - -<p> -'Don't bother about Hew, darling; I -fear more Sir Piers—and his never -consenting.' -</p> - -<p> -'I don't care for what Sir Piers says,' -whispered the dear voice; 'I can never, -never care for anyone but you, Cecil; I'll -wait for you till I'm a hundred.' -</p> - -<p> -At this cheerful prospect he pressed her -little gloved hand again. -</p> - -<p> -'I'm sure you'll wait as long as I—but -oh, Cecil, I'm so wretched at times!' -</p> - -<p> -But the bright <i>mignonne</i> face that smiled -back to his didn't look wretched a bit, and -in the glittering crowd at times, through -which they were sweeping to the intoxicating -crashes of the regimental band, while -with each other thus, they felt as much -alone as if the world contained no other -couple than themselves. -</p> - -<p> -'Is not love a thing worth living for, -Mary, even for its own sake?' -</p> - -<p> -'It is indeed, Cecil!' whispered Mary, -with her brightest smile. -</p> - -<p> -'A dream that comes, I am sure, truly -and purely, but once in a lifetime.' -</p> - -<p> -'And love, it is said, works miracles.' -</p> - -<p> -'I wish it would work one with that dear -old fogie, the general! When last he spoke -to me it was somewhat like the stern parent -in Allan-a-Dale, for he literally -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - '"Lifted the latch, and bade me begone."<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -His arm was still encircling her; his left -hand pressed her right; her cheek half -sunk on his shoulder, their breath mingling -as they swept on, intoxicated alike by the -measure of the dance and the music of -Strauss; in their souls unmindful of all -ways and means—of marriage and the -general; of houses; of equipages; of -society and the world—unmindful of all, -save that they loved each other, and were -together alone—alone even in that brilliant -throng, till Mary could spin no more; and -he led her well-nigh breathless to the most -sequestered seat he could find, between -two great vases of flowers near the -curtained gallery, under which some of the -supper-tables were, and his own servant, -Tommy Atkins, who was in attendance -there, promptly brought them some iced -champagne. -</p> - -<p> -On the third finger of her left hand, -Mary had a ring that Cecil had placed -there—a diamond cluster, and which she -was fond of drawing off her glove to -contemplate, with a self-conscious aspect and -tender smile—a ring unnoticed by all save -Annabelle, who now wore a nearly precisely -similar emblem. -</p> - -<p> -She had drawn off her glove now, and -as she sat fanning herself, while Cecil bent -over her chair whispering little nothings, -dear only to themselves, Hew Montgomerie, -unseen by both, came near. -</p> - -<p> -We have told in our first volume that -Hew was a 'good hater'—one precisely after -the heart of the great Lexicographer—and -how he had made a vow to revenge himself -on Falconer—a vow all the deeper for being -an unuttered one; and the time to redeem -that vow had now come! -</p> - -<p> -Hew's hand passed for a moment lingeringly -over Cecil's goblet of champagne. A -close observer might have remarked that -Hew's hand suddenly opened and shut, -and that as he did so the wine frothed up -anew and curiously; but no close observer -was there, and Hew withdrew some paces, -and laughed his noiseless, joyless laugh, as -he watched Cecil, while replying smilingly -and fondly to some laughing remark of -Mary, put his hand to the goblet, lift it -from the table, and finish its contents at -a draught, like a heated and thirsty young -dancer as he was. -</p> - -<p> -Hew then withdrew from their vicinity; -but all that followed, followed fast indeed! -</p> - -<p> -Cecil became deadly pale, and an -expression of agony came into his face. The -lights in the domed roof above, and the -figures of the whirling dancers below, -seemed to multiply <i>ad infinitum</i>; the music -sounded as if receding to a vast distance; -the four corners of the hall seemed to be -in swift pursuit of each other, as if it -revolved on an axis: he read a strange -expression of utter dismay in the face and -dilated eyes of Mary, who had started -from her seat; he made a wild, but futile -clutch at the table to support himself, -while a half-stifled cry escaped him, and -he fell with a crash on the waxed floor, -when a crowd instantly gathered round -him, and voices in alarm rose on every side. -</p> - -<p> -'Make way there—poor fellow taken -ill—the heat—the ventilation here is -horrible!' cried one. -</p> - -<p> -'Stand back—stand back, please—air!' -said an officer of Lancers, authoritatively. -</p> - -<p> -'Lift him up,' cried another; 'he has -fainted.' -</p> - -<p> -'Screwed as an owl, you mean,' said a -voice there was no mistaking. -</p> - -<p> -'Silence, sir!' exclaimed Captain Acharn, -sternly. -</p> - -<p> -But Hew, with his cruel cold smile, and -an ill-suppressed gleam in his parti-coloured -eyes, thought, -</p> - -<p> -'If there is any nonsense still in her -head about this fellow, surely it must end -for ever now!' -</p> - -<p> -So Cecil, in a state of utter insensibility, -was borne away by the hands of kind -comrades, placed in a carriage, and -conveyed home to his quarters by Acharn -and Dick Freeport, who were in an intense -state of concern and bewilderment; yet -'all went merry as a marriage bell' at the -regimental ball, and the dancing continued -till the morning sun began to redden the -castle towers and Arthur's rocky cone; for -hundreds in the rooms knew nothing of -the matter; a few red-coats were suddenly -missed—some engagements broken—and -that was all. -</p> - -<p> -Mary danced no more that night, of -course—or for the remainder of the morning, -rather—and all that passed seemed a -horrible dream, in which, however, Hew, -singular to say, bore no part as yet in her -mind, notwithstanding the significance of -her words of warning during the dance. -No suspicion so utterly monstrous as the -reality was likely to occur to a mind like hers. -</p> - -<p> -The general and his party retired. He -was horribly perplexed and shocked by an -event so utterly out of his ken and -experience, and he could recall no parallel -case in all the long course of his military -career—an officer taken <i>thus</i> in a ball-room; -for of course, such is human nature, that the -worst construction was instantly put upon it. -</p> - -<p> -'Hah!' muttered Hew, as the carriage -bowled through the empty but magnificent -streets to the westward; 'this comes of -taking too much cognac with his soda-water. -He'll be drummed out of society, -and the regiment too, I suppose, for this,' -he added with a grin to Mrs. Garth, who -sat back in a corner of the carriage and -sobbed sorrowfully. -</p> - -<p> -Finding that no answer was made to his -ill-natured remarks, Hew said again: -</p> - -<p> -'This Falconer, used to laugh at the -colonel's jokes and toady to his betters; -but, by Jove, he won't have a chance of -laughing at the colonel's jokes after this!' -</p> - -<p> -'Silence, Hew,' said the general, grimly; -'but I am thinking more of the honour of -the regiment than of him.' -</p> - -<p> -'She will either marry me now quietly, -or she will <i>not</i>,' thought Hew, triumphantly -and pitilessly; 'if she does not, I suppose -her tin will come to me anyhow, thanks to -her father's will and this old fool, Sir -Piers—shame to call the old fellow a fool, -though, for being so deuced friendly to -me!' he added mentally, with a hiccough. -</p> - -<p> -It has been said truly, that there are -times, which come into the lives of some -of us, in which the agonies of years are -compressed into a few minutes—yea, it -may be a second. -</p> - -<p> -And thus it was with Mary! -</p> - -<p> -Annabelle Erroll had her own cause for -secret unhappiness—the strange episode of -the closely-veiled woman in the vestibule—but -at present all her sympathies were -absorbed in the great catastrophe of the -ball, and the unavailing sorrow of her -friend Mary. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap07"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER VII. -<br /><br /> -'I HAVE COME FOR YOUR SWORD.' -</h3> - -<p> -The mind of Cecil, next forenoon, -when he partially awoke, and -seemed to grope his way back -to life and to the world, was a species -of chaos. He was ill, sick, abed in -the doctor's hands—too ill to think—too -weak to rise. He found himself in his -quarters in the castle, and the events of -the past night confused themselves -grotesquely and hideously with the prosaic -features of the apartment in which he lay: -the joy and rapture of his being with -Mary, mingled with the remembered horror -that seemed to envelop him, as darkness -descended on his eyes and the ball-room -whirled round him, and amid the circles of -the dancers, the crash of the music and -the murmur of many voices, he fell heavily -on the floor, as all sense passed away, and -he seemed to sink into a sea! -</p> - -<p> -When he did begin to come round and -rouse himself, he was sensible of a hum of -voices, and considerable odour of vinegar -and of cigars, in his huge room—for a -large one it was; and there were Acharn, -Leslie Fotheringhame, and Dick Freeport -and the doctor, refreshing themselves with -brandy-and-water, talking about the ball -and surmising about himself, sympathisingly, -and in low tones. -</p> - -<p> -'I cannot comprehend it,' he heard the -doctor say; 'a curious case, and not like -imbibing too much. He must have eaten -or drunk something poisonous at the -supper-table. There was no sudden transition -from heat to cold—he had undergone -no great fatigue or excessive weakness to -cause such a fit as overtook him; but I -have known strong and healthy persons, -abounding in blood, seized with sudden -faintings after violent exercise——' -</p> - -<p> -'But, man alive, doctor, Falconer is one -of the best round dancers in the regiment,' -said Freeport. -</p> - -<p> -'It must have been the closeness of the -room,' said Acharn. -</p> - -<p> -'It looks a deuced deal more like -half-poisoning,' exclaimed the doctor, with a -finger on Cecil's pulse. Then turning to -Falconer's servant, Tommy Atkins, and a -hospital orderly who were in attendance, -he ordered his hands to be rubbed, and -his head to be bathed with brandy, salts -to be held to his nostrils, and a little wine, -as soon as he could swallow it, to be given -him—for he was unwilling to accept the -idea that was forcing itself upon him, that -Cecil had, perhaps, taken too much -champagne over-night; and then he withdrew. -</p> - -<p> -In defiance of the doctor's injunction, -which was that he was to lie with a low -pillow, Cecil struggled up into a sitting -posture and looked rather wildly around -him as he greeted his friends. -</p> - -<p> -He felt that he was in a dreadful -emergency—a coil—yet in his pale face there -was that faint indication of a smile that is -sadder by far than none; for he felt that -however well-meaning and attached to -him his brother officers were, they were -certain to have but one fatal suspicion in -the matter. -</p> - -<p> -'What on earth has come to you, Falconer, -old fellow?' said Fotheringhame. 'I -never knew of your getting into a scrape -like this, even when a greenhorn, who was -fined a dozen of Moselle for first drawing -his sword, or a ditto for the sergeants' -mess on first carrying the colours!' -</p> - -<p> -'By Jove! it knocks me into a cocked -hat,' added Freeport; 'I can't reason over -it—the whole thing seems so unnatural—so -horribly unreal! This is a worse scrape -than mine with the three daughters of the -depôt commandant.' -</p> - -<p> -'There was safety in the trio,' said -Acharn. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—he couldn't marry them all, certainly,' -said Fotheringhame, 'though I am -not prepared to say that if the law of -Scotland permitted it he might have tried -to do so.' -</p> - -<p> -'How can you fellows jest thus?' said -Falconer, faintly. -</p> - -<p> -'True—I beg your pardon,' replied -Fotheringhame; 'but chaff and fun are -such habits with us.' -</p> - -<p> -'I fear that this affair will be no "fun" -for me. Have I talked much nonsense, -Dick?' -</p> - -<p> -'Well—being screwed—Cecil, you certainly -did talk a lot of stuff; but people -do that at all times, and even when quite -sober.' -</p> - -<p> -Falconer felt his heart sink at the view -his best friends were taking of this -catastrophe. He felt that he was the victim of -some hidden and mysterious circumstance -over which he had no control; but how -was that to be proved? and he knew that -in the chief city of Mrs. Grundy the -public always took the worst possible view -of everything. -</p> - -<p> -'You do not think—you dare not think,' -he exclaimed half-entreatingly and -half-defiantly, 'that I forgot my position and -the honour of the corps, and took too -much wine last night—in uniform and at -a public ball too, in presence of the general -commanding and all the staff?' -</p> - -<p> -'I fear, my dear Falconer,' said Fotheringhame, -'that it only looks too much like -that very mistake.' -</p> - -<p> -'By heavens! I was never near the -supper-tables but once—and had but one -glass of Moselle!' cried Falconer -impetuously. -</p> - -<p> -'But people will be sceptical in such -matters,' said Acharn, pulling his long -black moustache angrily; 'and from much -of what I heard on parade this morning -there is a devil of a row impending.' -</p> - -<p> -'Over me?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -At that moment there came a single -knock smartly on the door, and the -adjutant entered with an expression of grave -concern on his face. After a few words of -kind inquiry, and half apology, he said: -</p> - -<p> -'I am so sorry for you, my poor fellow, -but the chief is furious, and, by his order, -I have come—for <i>your sword</i>.' -</p> - -<p> -The words seemed to sink into Falconer's -soul. He knew all this implied, -and that, too probably, it was the beginning -of his destruction—the beginning of a -bitter end!' -</p> - -<p> -So his sword was taken away, and he -found himself under arrest—but arrest at -large, as the adjutant informed him that -he was at liberty to take exercise within -defined limits, within the barracks, but not -to go beyond the barrier-gates of the -fortress, and not to quit his room otherwise -than in uniform, minus a sword and -sash. -</p> - -<p> -All this was not new to him, of course, -yet he had listened to the adjutant as one -in a dream, and saw him take away the -sword. After the departure of this -important official—the grand vizier of the -colonel—the gravity of the situation -became painfully apparent to all, and it may -well be supposed there was no more jesting -then, and Falconer felt all the horror of -the new position. -</p> - -<p> -His mysterious illness seemed to grow -worse now; a dreadful ache racked his -head; his heart grew heavy as lead, and -his spirit seemed to die under this disgrace -and all it implied and all it imperilled, and -as yet he had not the most remote idea -that he was the victim of a wretch's -revenue: thus the well-meant efforts of -his friends to rouse him and inspire him -with the hope that he would yet get over -it—that all would be explained—that all -would be well in the end, and so forth, -were made in vain. -</p> - -<p> -Dick Freeport, Leslie Fotheringhame, -and the entire corps were bewildered by -the catastrophe, and poor Tommy Atkins, -who doted on his master, was in despair—got -very tipsy on the head of it, and had -given him, therefore, three days in the -black hole, to contemplate the unstability -of human—and more especially of military—affairs. -</p> - -<p> -Events followed each other fast now; -and when again the adjutant most reluctantly -visited him, it was to announce that -he was in orders for a general court-martial, -and to furnish him, by the colonel's -instructions, with a copy of the charge -preferred against him, 'for conduct -unbecoming an officer and a gentleman at the -ball,' together with a list of the witnesses -for the prosecution. -</p> - -<p> -All the bright, youthful, and enthusiastic -hopes—the hopes cherished for years; all -the visions of glory and honour conjured -up on the day he first donned his uniform, -were crushed and gone now, like the dear -love of yesterday, for the love of Mary -had—in one sense—come into his heart -but yesterday; and yet, how strong and -keen, how tender and true it was! -</p> - -<p> -So bewildered was poor Falconer by his -mysterious illness, the sudden giddiness -and unconsciousness in the ball-room, and -his symptoms since, that he actually began -to believe at last, or adopt the idea, based -perhaps on the remarks of his medical -attendant, that he had been guilty of what -was unwillingly imputed to him. -</p> - -<p> -And yet, how <i>could</i> it be? Utterly -unconscious as he was of Hew's vicinity to -him on that occasion, the idea that he had -been vulgarly, yea brutally, hocussed, never -occurred to his simple mind, though the -doctors hinted that he must have partaken -of something deleterious. -</p> - -<p> -Apart from his comrades of the mess, -there was an intense interest in the -regiment for Cecil; the soldiers, and even -their wives, paid him surreptitious visits -of condolence; and the children of his -company, who had been the recipients of -so many Christmas-boxes and bonbons, -lingered with hushed voices under the -windows of his room—the girls curtseying -and the small boys coming to 'attention' -and saluting him quite gravely as their -fathers would have done; and Cecil felt -all this keenly and gratefully. -</p> - -<p> -In the barracks and guard-house, his -affairs were under constant and serious -consideration, through the medium of much -birds'-eye, and among many stories of -kindness and generosity, connected with -Cecil's popularity among the Cameronians, -was one which they recalled prominently -now: how, on one occasion, after a long -day's march of heat and thirst, far up -country in India, when commanding an -advanced picket before the position of a -hill-tribe, he had found, on visiting his -sentinels, one of them, Tommy Atkins, -worn with toil, sound asleep—a crime -which was death by the Articles of War, -if reported. -</p> - -<p> -But instead of making poor Tommy a -prisoner with the quarter-guard, he had -shouldered his musket and kept the post -in person, watching over the sleeping -soldier on the one hand and the hill-camp -on the other, till the movement of armed -tribesmen in front compelled him to fire -and bring the picket under arms. -</p> - -<p> -He saw less of his chief friend Leslie -Fotheringhame than he might otherwise -have done, for the time of the latter—despite -anxiety for the affair of his friend—was -much occupied by Annabelle Erroll, -and in dangling after her. -</p> - -<p> -At last there came a day which Cecil -never forgot, from the emotions of mortification -and humiliation it occasioned him, -It was a Thursday—the usual 'march-out' -day for the regiment. From his window -he watched its departure, with bayonets -fixed and colours flying, in heavy marching -order, and in all the pride and bravery of -the service, while he remained behind a -prisoner, disgraced, deprived of his sword -and sash, with a terrible ordeal before him, -and too probably a doom—to him—worse -than death! -</p> - -<p> -And he heard the drums grow fainter -and fainter, till their last notes died away -in the distance, and he heard only the -beating of his heart, that followed them -with painful yearning it had never known -before. -</p> - -<p> -Anon, when the regiment returned, -Freeport told him that when passing the -house of Sir Piers Montgomerie, it had -been halted in column, when the fine old -soldier came out on the balcony and was -received with a general salute, which he -beheld with swelling heart and glistening -eyes, and then he attempted to make a -speech, but his voice failed him—yet he -made a short one—so short as only to be -equalled by that of the Duke of Wellington -to the Household Brigade, when, after -keeping silence for some time, he said, -'Guards! you know me, and I know you—stand -at ease!' -</p> - -<p> -'Was—was Miss Montgomerie on the -balcony?' asked Cecil, after a pause. -</p> - -<p> -'No; there was only old Mrs. Garth -waving her handkerchief vigorously, and -alternately mopping her eyes with it, poor -old soul, as she thought, I have no doubt, -of old John Garth of our Grenadiers. I -thought it strange that the belle of our -unlucky ball was not there.' -</p> - -<p> -But Mary had been watching the regiment, -sorrowfully, from her own room, -and missing an absent face sorely indeed. -</p> - -<p> -To her this was a time of great horror -and dismay; each night that she laid her -sweet face on the pillow, she thought: -</p> - -<p> -'If I could only waken in the morning -to find it all a dream—all a dream!' -</p> - -<p> -But alas! it was a dream from which -there was no awakening. Blended with -great pity and sorrow, she knew and felt -now, in all its intensity, the love she had -thought about, read about in romance, but -never knew till she had met Cecil Falconer; -the love, that is, whether found or not, ever -a young girl's day-dream. -</p> - -<p> -To all, save Annabelle Erroll, she had to -act the part of apparent unconsciousness -of, or indifference to, all that was in -progress. Abed, it seemed to her that she -heard every hour struck by the adjacent -clocks, and yet she must have slept a little, -as the memory of more than one torturing -or tantalising dream told her. -</p> - -<p> -People, however, do get through everything -somehow. -</p> - -<p> -In the petty circle of Edinburgh society, -the <i>malheur</i> of Falconer spread with many -exaggerations, and with much rancour; he -was a great bibber, a <i>vaurien</i>, and it was -not the first time, by many, that he had -been in such a scrape; and there was much -lifting up of hands and eyes among the -self-righteous who abound in the northern -city of the Seven Hills. -</p> - -<p> -Mary resolved to avoid hearing aught on -the subject of the nine days' wonder; she -paid no idle visits, and was at home but to -few; yet, as many of the few were connected -with the service, the whole affair, -the court-martial, and what was certain to -come of it, were freely discussed in spite of -her. -</p> - -<p> -And he had no one to console him 'up -there,' she would think, as she surveyed -resentfully the grand old fortress, with its -towers, turrets, and black portholes, which -seemed to her but as a great trap, or giant -lock, barring in Cecil from her and the -world. And all her good-natured friends -assured her, that the military trial could -only end in dismissal, ruin, and disgrace. -Would that she could go to him, and see -him once again, and assure him that -whatever came to pass, she was his own -still. -</p> - -<p> -She was tearless and very quiet. She -would not even retort upon Hew's bitter -exultation over the affair—an exultation -which his detestable nature rendered him -incapable of concealing. Her sweet face -looked blank and white, and nothing seemed -to rouse her. -</p> - -<p> -Kind old Mrs. Garth felt intense pity -for her. -</p> - -<p> -'Poor darling,' she would say, while -caressing her; 'no tears yet—would that I -could see you weep!' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'It would at least relieve your heart. -You have yet to learn, dearest Mary, that -with too many in this world the growth of -love is unlike every other growth: it often -expands and blooms strongest amid sorrow -and gloom and the chill blasts of adversity.' -</p> - -<p> -'I am afraid, Sir Piers,' said Mrs. Garth -on one occasion, 'the girl is simply -breaking her heart!' -</p> - -<p> -'Simply breaking her fiddlestick!' -growled the general, who was terribly -worried by the whole situation; 'yet I -should not be angry with poor little Mary,' -he added in a gentler tone; 'God is very -good! He took pity on me, a childless old -man, and, seeing an empty corner in my -heart, sent her to fill it.' -</p> - -<p> -Mary could hear, incidentally, from time -to time, the general in his pure dismay -that a Cameronian should cause such -<i>esclandre</i>, Mrs. Garth acting in his -interests, even Annabelle in her sorrow, -and not knowing very well what to think -(as she had her doubts of mankind in -general), all inferring by casual remarks -that Falconer was quite unworthy of her—that -she had made a lucky escape, and so -forth; but they 'forgot that' the woman -never yet lived who could cast a true love -out of her heart, because the object of it -was unworthy of her, and that all she can -do is to struggle against it in secret; and -poor Mary was no exception to the rest of -her sex generally. -</p> - -<p> -'Look a little beyond the present, dear -Mary,' said Sir Piers, as he caressed her -head, that nestled beside his knee, and -passed his old shrivelled hand through her -rich brown hair; 'I dare say you think -Providence very short-sighted in sweeping -out of our circle this interloper, who thought -to come between Hew and yourself, a -ne'er-do-well, an utter black sheep in birth and -bearing!' he added, angrily; for in his -rage at the probable slur cast on the -regiment—<i>his</i> regiment—he was pitiless with -regard to Cecil, who, for a time, had come -between the wind and his nobility; and -Mary knew not exactly how Hew, artfully, -insidiously, and openly, by turns, had -succeeded in influencing Sir Piers against the -victim of his own treachery, but she -replied simply and firmly, as Cecil's love -for her seemed something too sacred and -too precious to be referred to so bluntly as -it too often was: -</p> - -<p> -'Talk not to me of Hew; had Cecil -Falconer never been born, I never could -have loved Hew Montgomerie!' -</p> - -<p> -Hew was one of the many in this age of -refined civilisation, who, though they have -no fear of God, have a wholesome fear of -the police! Thus, with all his malevolent -hatred of Falconer, he shrank from using a -dagger or pistol, even secretly; but he had -resorted to a means of revenge more subtle -and cruel than either. -</p> - -<p> -The great military influence of Sir Piers -might have arrested the tide of ruin that -was setting in against Falconer, and -might ultimately have been brought to -bear upon the president and members of a -court so honourable and impartial as a -military one; but Sir Piers was enraged -by the whole affair, and his mind was so -full of it that for a time he ceased even to -prose about Central India. Thus, for -many reasons patent to the reader, his -influence, if used at all, was thrown into -the opposite scale; and so Falconer was -left to his destiny, an inexorable one, by -the <i>code militaire</i>. -</p> - -<p> -'Surely it is sharp work, Sir Piers, -resorting to a court-martial at once,' said -Fotheringhame on one occasion; 'could -not your influence with the general commanding——' -</p> - -<p> -'Don't speak of it, sir,' said Sir Piers, -testily, with a wave of his hand. -</p> - -<p> -'Is there no other resort?' -</p> - -<p> -'None,' replied the other, sternly. -</p> - -<p> -'Yet I have heard our lieutenant-colonel -tell that when you, Sir Piers, were in his -place at the head of the Cameronians, you -were less severe on a similar occasion, but -of more importance than a ball.' -</p> - -<p> -'What was it?' -</p> - -<p> -'When Lieutenant Piers Montgomerie -was placed under arrest.' -</p> - -<p> -The old general blushed scarlet and then -grew very pale. The occasion referred to -was when the regiment was leaving Edinburgh -for the East; he had urged the men -to behave soberly and with propriety -during their last days in the castle, that all -might parade and march forth in perfect -order; and nobly did they all respond to -the appeal, all save one, his son, who came -flushed from some late entertainment to -the parade in the early morning, to the -great dismay of Sir Piers. A court-martial -would have ruined his prospects for life; -yet he was put under arrest, and, some -example being necessary, it appeared in -orders thus: -</p> - -<p> -'Lieutenant Montgomerie, of the Grenadiers, -will in future do duty with one of -the battalion companies.' -</p> - -<p> -This was in the days before the Crimea, -when to be attached to a flank company -was equally advantageous and honourable. -</p> - -<p> -'True, Mr. Fotheringhame; the offender -was my own son Piers,' said the general -with much emotion, yet more irritation at -the reminiscence; 'but this affair of -Captain Falconer took place in the face of the -city, as one may say; so let the arrest and -charge take their course!' -</p> - -<p> -How the drum for mess jarred on Cecil's -ear when he heard it now! Instead of -dining at that jovial table, and sharing in -the happiness of its social circle, he had his -solitary repast brought to him in covered -dishes on a salver, the repast he had -neither the appetite nor zest to eat, and -which he would rather not have seen nor -faced, save for acting a part before his -servant, Tom Atkins, a sympathetic fellow, -however, who could not help thinking that -had <i>he</i> been seen groggy in public, how -much more easily he would have got over -it than his luckless captain. -</p> - -<p> -The sweetest and the saddest hours -must pass away inexorably, and so the sad -hours passed with Cecil Falconer. -</p> - -<p> -Day follows day and night follows night—is -not human life made up of these?—but -nothing lasts for ever, thank God, was -his thought, and the end, be it ever so -bitter, comes at last. But bitter as those -of Marah seemed now the waters of his -life! He felt that Mary and he were -parted for ever; that she could be his love -no more, and that the day-dream of her -could be dreamt over never again! -</p> - -<p> -About this time he received a kind and -earnest letter of condolence from old -Mr. John Balderstone, who had conceived a -great friendship for him at Eaglescraig; -but the terms of it served to irritate Cecil, -as they too plainly hinted, 'from what -Mr. Hew had reported, that on the night in -question he had been exhilarated a little -too much, perhaps.' -</p> - -<p> -He tore and tossed it away with a -malediction; yet old John Balderstone -meant well and kindly. -</p> - -<p> -Hew's satisfaction at the progress of -events was too great for concealment. -</p> - -<p> -'Screwed as Bacchus at the regimental -ball!' he thought to himself; 'and this is -the cad who tried to take Mary and her -money away from me. By-and-by we'll -kiss and be friends, as the children say, -now that he is scratched for the running. -He'll be doing the "blighted being" style -of thing now,' he added aloud to Sir -Piers. 'How interesting!—it is quite an -idyll, whatever the devil that may be. -Or perhaps he'll be going on the -boards—back to the old trade of his mother -before him! I have known more than one -broken-down army fellow who came out -quite strong in genteel comedy.' -</p> - -<p> -The general heard and eyed him sternly, -but with silence. What would his -emotions have been had he fully known <i>all</i>? -</p> - -<p> -Hew, however, thinking it would be as -well to be out of Edinburgh about this -time, took his departure to the country, -on pretence of a little fishing; and the -eventful day of Falconer's life was close -at hand. -</p> - -<p> -On the night before it, to his own -surprise, he slept the heavy, yet feverish -sleep that follows great tribulation of mind -and consequent exhaustion of power; yet -not without a dream in which he heard -the voice of the adjutant again saying -gravely, and with commiseration: -</p> - -<p> -'I have come for your sword.' -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap08"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER VIII. -<br /><br /> -THE COURT-MARTIAL. -</h3> - -<p> -St. Giles's clock, the castle -clock, and on the dials of every -other clock, the hands went -inexorably round, and the day and the -morning of the eventful crisis came -inevitably at last, and Cecil put on his -beloved full uniform, as his heart told him, -perhaps for the last time—but minus his -sword and sash! -</p> - -<p> -He looked round his humbly furnished -barrack-room, with the eye of one who -was taking a long farewell of something, -and a heavy sigh escaped his overcharged -breast. Leslie Fotheringhame, who was -to act as his legal friend in court, -pressed his hand, and said in his off-hand -way: -</p> - -<p> -'Take courage, my dear friend. Keep -up your pecker, old fellow; Marshal Ney's -scrape was a worse one than yours.' -</p> - -<p> -Through a crowd of idlers, witnesses -and others, who thronged the antechambers -and bare stone passages, they -proceeded towards the mess-room, in which -the court, composed of officers of the rank -of captain and above it, was being -constituted and sworn by the president, and -all fully dressed in review order, with their -swords and sashes, around a table littered -with writing materials and a few volumes -of military regulations. -</p> - -<p> -The first incident that jarred on Cecil's -nerves was the voice of the president, a -cranky old Colonel, whose whole life had -been passed in sinecure staff appointments, -saying: -</p> - -<p> -'Bring in the prisoner!' -</p> - -<p> -And he found himself, after being introduced -by Fotheringhame, with whom he sat -apart at a writing-table, duly charged with -'conduct unbecoming the character of an -officer, in having, on the —— day of ——, -18—,' etc., etc.; to all of which he listened -as one in a dream; and still more did it -all seem so as the day wore on. How -bright the sunshine seemed outside, and -how close and dark the ruin within that -ill-omened room, which had been so often -the scene of hospitality and convivial -jollity. -</p> - -<p> -Through the open windows came, as -from a distance, the jangle of St. Giles's -musical bells, with 'mingling din,' as Scott -has it; and their monotony and iteration -galled his spirit, and from mere -association of ideas he felt certain that he -must loath them for ever after. -</p> - -<p> -Of how much Hew Montgomerie was -his evil genius, Cecil Falconer knew not, -nor had the least suspicion. Yet he -looked around the many faces in court -more than once, expecting to see his -parti-coloured eyes regarding him with -exultation; but that worthy was miles away -from the spot. Among the spectators -he saw many legal men, in black with -white ties, who had come up from the -Parliament House—that provincial -'gossip shop'—to stare, whisper, and make -severe comments, which certainly were -sometimes called for; and to draw -somewhat invidious comparisons between the -modes of administering civil and military -law. -</p> - -<p> -When the minds of those who compose -any court are fully made up as to the -guilt of the prisoner, and know the -sentence that must be passed in conformity -to certain iron rules laid down by law and -custom, the proceedings are usually -summary enough, and so it was in the case of -Cecil Falconer. -</p> - -<p> -Doubt of his guilt or error there seemed -to be none; most of those composing the -court had been at the ball in question, and -were more or less cognisant of the -bewildering catastrophe; but all that Cecil -and Leslie Fotheringhame, as his friend -and adviser, desired to bring before the -listeners, were the simple facts that he -had just been dancing—that hence some -strange giddiness might have come upon -him in consequence; of the wine he had -taken but a single glass, as they could -easily prove; and they desired to argue -these simple points earnestly, in the hope -of modifying the opinion of the tribunal, -and Fotheringhame wished to put a question -to the lieutenant-colonel commanding, -as ex-officio prosecutor. -</p> - -<p> -'Stop, sir, please,' said a member of -the court—Brevet-Major Hammer of the -Royal Artillery, a fiery-eyed little man with -grey spectacles and red nose—a man who -had crammed at Woolwich, and was up to -the ears in military law, though ignorant -of all the principles thereof; 'this would -seem to be a leading question, and, according -to Hough on courts-martial, such questions -cannot be allowed.' -</p> - -<p> -On this subject there ensued much -difference of opinion, and Major Rammer -made some notes thereon with a dry -pen. -</p> - -<p> -'Clear the court!' cried the president -in consequence, and there was a general -exodus of the audience. -</p> - -<p> -'What utter stuff this is!' said -Falconer to the adjutant, as they smoked a -cigar outside, while the fourteen members -of the court, the president and the -deputy-judge advocate, seemed to be all -speaking and wrangling at once; and after -some twenty minutes' deliberation the court -was re-opened, and all the audience trooped -in again. -</p> - -<p> -The question was voted 'irregular,' -though neither Fotheringhame nor -Falconer had stated what it was to have -been; so, as the former was about to -propose another: -</p> - -<p> -'We are here, sir, to try Captain -Falconer, not you?' said Major Rammer, -snappishly; 'not you, sir, remember.' -</p> - -<p> -'Of that circumstance I do not require -to be reminded,' replied Fotheringhame, -haughtily; 'yet I do not see why the -prisoner, or I as his friend, may not -question the prosecutor as to——' -</p> - -<p> -'In Tylter, on court-martial and military -law, in Hough and in Simmonds,' began -Major Rammer, with emphatic solemnity, -and glaring through his goggles round -the table, 'it is distinctly laid down——' -</p> - -<p> -'Clear the court!' cried some one else. -</p> - -<p> -It was again cleared accordingly, and -all the orderlies, idlers, and wondering -advocates, had to make a stampede into -the dreary stone passages outside. -</p> - -<p> -The debate, whatever it was about, was -a stormy one, and above the voices of all -others was heard that of Major Rammer -citing Hough and Simmonds. The -president had never sat on a court-martial -before—and, perhaps, had always -hoped he might never do so, and never -be called upon to give a casting vote in -any question in this world; thus he was -induced to comply with the dictum of the -fiery-nosed and irritable Major Rammer, -in all matters in the present instance, -and the charge was eventually brought -clearly home. -</p> - -<p> -The two doctors, though both fast -friends of Cecil's, when examined as to -the after effects of his mysterious illness, -only served to make matters worse; and, -as doctors proverbially disagree, they did -so as to the symptoms on this. -</p> - -<p> -'Clear the court!' once more thundered -Major Rammer, and after it was cleared -again, the major returned to the attack, -flanked by Hough and Simmonds. -</p> - -<p> -In short, the personage who alone could -have thrown any clear light on the whole -catastrophe, was utterly unthought of by -all, and was enjoying himself in the country -while waiting impatiently the result of -his treachery as reported in the public -prints. -</p> - -<p> -When the defence came, the colonel, the -adjutant, and others, bore the highest -testimony to the goodness of Falconer's -character and disposition, his attention to -duty, the love borne him by his brother -officers and soldiers, and his gallantry on -more than one occasion in India. -</p> - -<p> -Hart's Army List was not at hand as to -the latter. -</p> - -<p> -'Clear the court!' suggested Major -Rammer, who required documentary -proofs of the said 'gallantry,' though his -own breast was bare of all decorations. -</p> - -<p> -'Well!' exclaimed Fotheringhame, as -they were again cooling their heels in the -passage; 'if the proceedings of this day -are published, they will read rather -queerly;' to which he added something -not meant for ears polite. -</p> - -<p> -Why prolong this account—a painful -legal farce, for such the ignorance of the -president, and the interference of 'the -well-read' Major Rammer made it? -</p> - -<p> -To those who knew Cecil well, his -handsome face seemed pale—a face always -grave and dignified; and his eyes seemed -to observe the proceedings with a strange -listlessness. -</p> - -<p> -As afternoon drew on Major Rammer -offered less opposition; Cecil was allowed -to ask a few questions, as the former -perhaps found himself in a minority, though -most industrious in distributing slips of -paper, with observations and quoted -'precedents' all round the table. The tedious -proceedings were at length closed—the -opinion and finding given—the punishment, -whatever it was, meted out, and -proceedings on which the existence—certainly -the future—of Cecil Falconer seemed -to depend, were despatched to the Horse -Guards by the swift night mail. -</p> - -<p> -The weary Falconer's room that night -was filled with sympathisers, and the -proceedings were discussed, and 'that old -pump jammer' duly stigmatised, amid -the consumption of much tobacco, champagne, -brandy and seltzer, long after tattoo, -the roll-calling, the last farewell sound -of 'lights and fires out' had pealed from -the citadel gate and in the Grand Parade, -and after silence and the silver moonlight -fell together on the vast fortress and its -rock. -</p> - -<p> -'I thank all much, very much,' said -Cecil with no small emotion; 'but it is no -use you fellows talking: there is nothing -for me now but to drift quietly away -into the dark sea of ruin—it may be -death!' -</p> - -<p> -His lips were working convulsively as -he spoke. -</p> - -<p> -'Let the worst come to the worst, I'll -bear it like a man, and drag out the -remnant of my life' (without <i>her</i>, he thought) -'an adventurer, a beggar, an emigrant—a -soldier in some foreign service, perhaps—what -matters it how or when the bitter -end may come? I'll not shoot myself -anyhow—that were the deed of a sinner and -coward!' -</p> - -<p> -'For God's sake, Cecil, don't run on -this way! It's enough to make a fellow's -heart bleed!' said Fotheringhame with -much anxiety of manner. -</p> - -<p> -'Who knows what becomes of those -fellows who go to the dogs, or are driven -there?' he asked bitterly. -</p> - -<p> -'Take heart, man—take heart,' urged -Dick Freeport, patting him on the -shoulder: 'you'll be, at worst, put at the -bottom of the list of captains; and you're -not very far above that now.' -</p> - -<p> -'No, no, Dick; I read dismissal in the -faces of the President and that artillery -fellow who was so infernally well up in -Hough and Simmonds.' -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap09"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER IX. -<br /><br /> -A PAGE OF LIFE TURNED OVER. -</h3> - -<p> -The Horse Guards did not seem -in haste regarding Cecil's affair; -some days passed on, and hope -began to flicker up in the hearts of all—even -the heart of Cecil—of all save Hew, -we should say, as that worthy scanned the -morning papers, for what he wished to see, -in vain. -</p> - -<p> -Evening was always an intolerable time -to Cecil at this period—debarred the mess, -and secluded in his room, where, left -totally to himself, he was wont to indulge -in those dreamy reveries that are -engendered by a good cigar. -</p> - -<p> -At six-and-twenty or so, it is indeed a -dreary thing, when, as a writer says, 'much -of life seems still before us, and a dark -unfathomable future lies between us and -the grave; when it is a bitter thing to sit -alone and ponder on the days to come, and -discover no bright spot in the darkness, -discern no kind hand to beckon us forward.' -</p> - -<p> -There was an evening which Cecil was -fated to remember long, when amid other -scenes, and when surrounded by much of -peril and suffering. -</p> - -<p> -It was the sunset of a lovely spring day. -Beyond the ramparts of that great fortress, -to look on which to every Scotsman must -seem 'the phantasy of a thousand years -comprised within a single moment,' the -distant glories of the departing sun threw -forward in dark and rugged outline the -wooded hills of Corstorphine, bathing in -ruddy light the waters of the Forth, with its -shores and isles seeming to substitute the -hues of heaven for those of earth. -</p> - -<p> -Lost in sad thoughts he sat by the -window of his lonely room, dreamily -watching the evening haze tinted with gold by -the sinking sun, that already involved in -obscurity the lower portions of the city, -the gardens where of old the North Loch -lay, and out of which the castle rock, the -spires and fantastic masses, the pillared -buildings on the Mound, rose as from a sea, -the gathering obscurity, lending a strange -witchery to that wonderful view. -</p> - -<p> -Cecil was then in one of his saddest -moments. In his hand was a tiny packet, -and gently and tenderly he fingered it, for -it contained the withered daisies culled -from his mother's grave; and his heart -grew very full as her image came vividly -to memory with all the idolatrous love she -had for him, her only son. -</p> - -<p> -'Thank God she knows nothing of all -this shame and misery! Yet, who can -say—perhaps?' he muttered, and cast his -eyes upward for a moment. -</p> - -<p> -An essayist tells us that 'memory is -the peculiar domain of the individual. In -going back in recollection to the scenes of -other years, he is drawing on the secret -storehouse of his own unconsciousness, with -which a stranger must not intermeddle.' So -Cecil felt himself a child again, and -into that storehouse he looked back to -much of love and sorrow, to many struggles, -anxieties, and triumphs, known to him -and his mother only—his dead mother, of -whom we may learn much more anon; and -now by the course of events believing that -Mary Montgomerie was utterly lost to -him, he clung more than ever to the -memory of his mother, for she had been -all the world to him, as he to her. -</p> - -<p> -'Could I expect that she would spend -all the best years of her life waiting for a -fellow who might never be able to marry -her?' he had said once to Fotheringhame. -</p> - -<p> -'But, man alive!' responded the other; -'she is able to marry you.' -</p> - -<p> -'Was, you may say; we are separated -now for ever.' -</p> - -<p> -Times there were when Cecil thought -he should go mad, as the whole situation -in all its details of too probable ruin and -disgrace, together with the certain loss of -Mary, swept through his brain with painful -and provoking iteration. -</p> - -<p> -Could it be that he was the victim of -some plot? Hew had been near him on -that night, he had heard; but that was all. -Had twenty nights or twenty years -elapsed since that fatal ball? he sometimes -thought, for most strange seemed -the confusion of time and inversion of -events. -</p> - -<p> -So full was he of much and heavy -thought, that he did not hear his door -open, or was conscious of any one approaching, -till a dog suddenly leaped upon him, -thrusting its cold nose into his hand, and -anon licked it with hot, flapping tongue—Snarley, -as if conscious that his friend was -in trouble, for Snarley it was, grovelling -and abasing himself at his feet. -</p> - -<p> -Tommy Atkins had ushered in three -ladies and Fotheringhame, their escort. -</p> - -<p> -'Mary!' -</p> - -<p> -'Cecil!' -</p> - -<p> -The two names on each tongue conveyed -a world of tenderness, and tender was the -light that shone in the eyes of each—tender -and yearning too, as they held each -other's hands, poor souls, and oblivious of -those who stood by and tried to look -unconscious, held their hands fast mutually, -as if each had recovered some dear treasure, -combined with heart and soul. -</p> - -<p> -'You here, Mary!' exclaimed Falconer. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, Cecil, with Mrs. Garth and Annabelle.' -</p> - -<p> -'If the general knew that I had -chaperoned Mary here,' said Mrs. Garth, -tremulously, as she pressed his hand, 'I -should certainly be discarded, and find -myself homeless in my old age.' -</p> - -<p> -'I thank you, from my soul, Mrs. Garth!' -exclaimed Cecil; 'after all the -evil that has befallen me, is he still -implacable as ever?' -</p> - -<p> -'As ever,' replied Mrs. Garth, while -Mary only answered with her tears, but -Snarley, in the exuberance of his joy, -gambolled about among her skirts, as if a -lively young rat was hidden there; and -Fotheringhame, thinking that the lovers -had better be left to themselves, took -Falconer's powerful field-glass, threw open -the window at the end of his long room, -and invited Mrs. Garth and Annabelle to -discover, if they could, the outlines of Ben -Lomond, and the lights of Stirling twinkling -out at thirty miles distance, thus -affording the two aching hearts a little -interchange of words and caresses. -</p> - -<p> -There are few women in this world who -do not resolve firmly and act vigorously -when the tender interests of their hearts are -affected; thus Mary had somewhat stepped -out of her path, at all hazards, to see and -console in his affliction the man who loved -her, and whom, she had begun to fear, she -might never meet again. -</p> - -<p> -What course events might take she -knew not, but she knew well that she had -been pitilessly told to expect the worst: -thus a great pity filled her soul, side by -side with her love for Cecil. -</p> - -<p> -Cecil's heart was too full for utterance; -he could only whisper to her brokenly, -and fold her closely to his breast, while in -a soft and cooing voice, yet brokenly too, -she assured him of her belief in his perfect -innocence, and of her love which would -never, never change or pass away but with -her life; and a great calm seemed to come -over the tortured heart of Cecil as he -heard her, and told her again and again -how kind, and sweet, and loving—and -how merciful too—it was of her to come -and tell him all this. -</p> - -<p> -Mary had now her own thoughts of -Hew as to the fatal event—suspicions, but -they were vague, intangible; and even to -Cecil she said nothing of them, nor meant -to do so, till the worst came, though she -knew not in what form to shape them. -</p> - -<p> -No one among us knows the depth or -intensity of the tenderness we have for -anyone we love or value, till on the eve of -losing them, perhaps for ever; and the -great solemn dread that falls on the -heart—even as the shadow of death. And Mary, -by a deep and solemn presentiment, seemed -to feel this, when, after a protracted -interview, during which the same broken-voiced -and loving assurances were reiterated again -and again, at Mrs. Garth's emphatic -request she rose to leave Cecil. -</p> - -<p> -Why should they be rent asunder? she -thought. She was rich and thus powerful, -on one hand; yet how helpless were both, -on the other! -</p> - -<p> -'I thank you, Mrs. Garth,' said Cecil; -'bear with us a little, for our burden is a -heavy one.' -</p> - -<p> -'It has been truly said, dear Captain -Falconer,' replied the old lady, sententiously, -yet softly, 'that we must bear the -burden of our lives, whatever it be, and -content us with whatever lot God is pleased -to accord us.' -</p> - -<p> -'True; yet mine may prove a very hard -one. But Mary's face, and voice, and tears, -I hope will give me strength in the days -to come, if they bring greater evil to me.' -</p> - -<p> -'All love you,' said Mrs. Garth, kissing -him on the cheek. -</p> - -<p> -And while pressing Mary's hand, Cecil -replied by the quotation: -</p> - -<p> -'"The love of all is but a small thing to -the love of <i>one</i>!" -</p> - -<p> -Mary had been possessed by a crave to -see and to comfort him, if possible; hence -the unexpected visit. Like balm poured -upon a wound, it had comforted him, and -assured him of her love unchanged whatever -happened; but save in that instance, -nothing had come of the visit, and the -future was as vague and uncertain as -ever. -</p> - -<p> -Cecil did not leave his room at the -request of Fotheringhame, who had a -wholesome or nervous dread of anything -approaching a scene or situation, and yet -he was soon to bear a part in one himself! -</p> - -<p> -Clinging to Mrs. Garth, how Mary got -out of the fortress she scarcely knew; -hurrying down the steep stone staircase, -past the gun-batteries, on which the -great-coated sentinels now trod to and fro, and -then through the deep archway (where -whilom the double portcullis hung), and -under the shadow of the stupendous Half -Moon Battery. -</p> - -<p> -Neither, perhaps, did Annabelle Erroll, -for she had painful thoughts of her -own—bitter, jealous and fiery thoughts—all -unlike those of Mary, in whose heart there -gushed up a passion of love, sorrow and -pity, that filled with hot and blinding tears -the gentle eyes her close-drawn veil concealed. -</p> - -<p> -They had not come in the carriage, but -by a common cab, and as Fotheringhame, -with great tenderness, was leading Annabelle -to it, she saw—beyond a doubt—the -veiled woman of the ball passing <i>in</i> by the -barrier gate. -</p> - -<p> -Beyond a little nervous start as she -passed them—a start felt probably by -Annabelle, whose hand rested on the arm of -Fotheringhame. He gave no other sign of -that person's vicinity; but the sign was -sufficient to make Annabelle withdraw her hand -instantly, and receive his farewell adieux -with a brevity and coldness that rather -bewildered him. -</p> - -<p> -But the voice of Leslie Fotheringhame -came indistinctly to her ears—he seemed -to be speaking a great way further off than -that barrier gate, where the Cameronian -sentinel stood, and she could see the great -battery with its cannon and port-holes -towering overhead, as through a dull and -misty haze. -</p> - -<p> -What did it all mean? -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap10"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER X. -<br /><br /> -GONE! -</h3> - -<p> -It is said that 'there is nothing so -difficult to believe as a certainty, -till we have lived long enough -to feel that it is a certainty, and not a -delusion;' but Cecil Falconer soon realised -the fact of his ruin. -</p> - -<p> -With much genuine commiseration of -manner and great kindness of tone, the -adjutant had acquainted him that he had -been dismissed generally—not specifically—and -that her Majesty had no further -occasion for his services, and that the -general order, thereanent, would be out in -a day or two! -</p> - -<p> -Cecil had boasted of the strength given -to him by Mary's visit; yet, when the -crash came, his strength and spirit alike -gave way. -</p> - -<p> -'My good name and my commission -were all I possessed in the world, and I -have lost both!' exclaimed Cecil to -Fotheringhame, who grasped his hand impetuously; -'what will life be, henceforth, for me? -</p> - -<p> -Fotheringhame felt for him deeply, -keenly, yet scarcely knew, from the depth -of his own emotion, and the desperation of -the crisis, what to say. -</p> - -<p> -'Think of Mary Montgomerie,' he urged, -after a pause. -</p> - -<p> -'I do think of her, but to what end or -purpose? She is further removed from -me than ever. To marry her would be to -deprive her of fortune and position—to -place her at the mercy of the general and of -Hew; and I—what have I to share with -her but disgrace?' -</p> - -<p> -His sun had set—his day of life was -over—over at its dawn and flush! His -heart failed at the hopeless and penniless -prospect before him; and the impossibility -of having to reconstruct a whole life for the -future on some new plan, and with other -appliances—or die! -</p> - -<p> -'My dear Fotheringhame, thanks for -your sympathy,' said he; 'but the sooner -I am out of this place, the better now.' -</p> - -<p> -'And whither do you mean to go?' -</p> - -<p> -'Heaven alone knows—I do not!' was -the half-despairing response. -</p> - -<p> -The news spread fast, and, apart from his -brother-officers, the men of his company -came by sections and scores to shake his -hand and bid him farewell. All felt for -him, loved him and sorrowed for him, and -the dark dream, seemed to be in progress -still. Could it all be real? -</p> - -<p> -The first preparation for departure was -to take from his desk the withered daisies -culled from his mother's grave, and place -them in his breast. An intense longing -was in his heart now to be gone—to go, -go, go—anywhere! -</p> - -<p> -'I am going away, Tom,' said he to -Atkins, who was hovering about him, and -mechanically polishing the sword he would -never draw again. -</p> - -<p> -'Where to, sir?' asked Tom. -</p> - -<p> -'I don't know where to—as yet—but -I'm out of the regiment now!' -</p> - -<p> -'Out of the regiment,' faltered Tom, as -if it was an impossible event, even after -all that had preceded it. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes; I am, God help me, a broken man!' -</p> - -<p> -There was a sob in Tom's throat, and he -ventured to wring his master's hand. -</p> - -<p> -'And you leave, sir——' -</p> - -<p> -'As soon as I can, Tom. Take this note -to the paymaster—I'll need all the money -I can get.' -</p> - -<p> -Tom saluted, took the note, but hurrying -into his kitchen, in tremulous haste took a -little packet from his knapsack and -returned to place it in Cecil's hand. -</p> - -<p> -'What is this?' asked the latter. -</p> - -<p> -'Not much, sir. You'll excuse me, sir. -I can't go away with you, but I may help -you, at least.' -</p> - -<p> -'But what is this—money?' -</p> - -<p> -'Only a matter of ten pounds sent me -by mother, to make me comfortable a bit. -I am sorry it isn't more, sir; but if you'll -take it to help you, for poor Tommy Atkins's -sake, he'll be a proud man to-night. You've -been a kind master to me, sir, and—and——' -</p> - -<p> -But here the private soldier fairly broke -down, and wept outright, 'bo-hooing' like -a whipped urchin. Falconer was greatly -affected. -</p> - -<p> -'Thank you, my dear fellow—thank you: -but this can't be,' said he: and he had no -small difficulty in getting Atkins to keep -the proffered money. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -'Look here,' said Acharn to a group -next morning in the mess-room, 'Falconer -had only his pay, and this sentence is ruin -and beggary to him; I have here a cheque -for eight hundred at his service, and I -know that you fellows, and ever so many -more of the mess, will stump up. We must -do something to start him, somehow or -somewhere; but how or where is beyond -me, for poor Cecil is a soldier, and nothing -but a soldier.' -</p> - -<p> -'But where the deuce is he?' asked -Fotheringhame, who with Freeport came -in with genuine anxiety expressed in their -faces, to state that his rooms were empty; -that he had left the fortress ere tattoo was -beaten last night, and Atkins knew not -where he was gone. -</p> - -<p> -'He has got from old Blunt, the paymaster, -the last money due to him,' Fotheringhame -said; 'and he has nothing with -him but a small portmanteau and a brace -of revolver pistols. Everything else—his -uniforms, and so forth—he has, by a note, -left with me.' -</p> - -<p> -'Where can he have gone?' said one. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, we'll trace him somehow,' said -another. -</p> - -<p> -But all attempts to trace him proved -utterly unavailing. -</p> - -<p> -So he had left the regiment, silently, -quietly and alone, and of course, under the -peculiar circumstances, without the -farewell dinner given to a departing comrade—left -it without shaking the hand of anyone -formally—quitting the castle in the night, -unseen and unrecognised, taking only a few -clothes and his pistols. -</p> - -<p> -'What does he mean to do with them?' -asked Freeport. -</p> - -<p> -'Where can he have gone—what done -with himself?' were the general surmises, -while his sorrowing friends looked blankly -in each other's faces, and Fotheringhame -had a great yearning to see and talk with -Mary Montgomerie on the subject, and -was not without a lingering hope that she -might be able to throw some light on the -mystery that enveloped the disappearance -of Falconer; but in this matter he was -mistaken, for the days passed on and he -was heard of no more. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Evil tidings fly fast: thus on the very -night of Cecil's departure, through the -general, his household became aware of the -fate that had befallen the unfortunate. -</p> - -<p> -Looking like a saint in her pure white -nightdress, Mary sat on the edge of her bed, -weeping bitterly after Mrs. Garth had left -her, and refusing all the earnest yet -commonplace comfort that Annabelle Erroll -strove to give her. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, what shall we do!' she exclaimed, -wringing her slender hands, for in the word -'we' there was an affectionate sense of -identifying <i>his</i> existence with her own; -and in this action, as in every other, -Annabelle could not help admiring a good -deal of that elegance and grace which -marked every movement, posture and -gesture of Mary Montgomerie. 'What shall -we do! Crushed, poor and ruined as he -is, he is dearer to me than ever. -Cecil—Cecil—come to me, Cecil!' she added -hysterically, and hid her face in the bosom of -Annabelle, who was weeping freely too, -and no doubt thinking of the woman with -the veil, as she said: -</p> - -<p> -'How unfortunate we are, dearest Mary, -to have both become involved with men -whose lives are enveloped in some cruel or -degrading mystery.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, do not say so—so far as poor Cecil -is concerned,' replied Mary, with something -of indignation in her tone. -</p> - -<p> -Next morning found her face to face -at the breakfast-table with Hew, whose -features wore their brightest expression, -and who was rubbing his cold fishy hands -with unconcealed exultation; but Mary had -got over her weeping now. She was very -pale, and to all appearance heard unmoved -the general reading in the morning papers -the final details of Falconer's catastrophe—<i>fiasco</i>, -as he called it—to Mrs. Garth, -who was officiating at the urn. But Sir -Piers laid aside the paper as soon as he -perceived her. All could see her pallor, -and an expression of irrepressible anguish -about her delicate lips—the result of mental -rather than physical suffering; and in truth -Mary had not slept all night. -</p> - -<p> -A letter lay beside her cup—a letter -brought by morning post. It was addressed -in Cecil's handwriting. Sir Piers -was eyeing her firmly and inquiringly as she -took it up hastily and placed it unopened -in the bosom of her dress; but the moment -breakfast was over, she hurried away to her -own room to peruse it, with tears that -blurred the lines, and hands that shook -tremulously. -</p> - -<p> -It told her briefly that he was about to -leave his native land for ever, but for where -he knew not yet, and cared not; and the -concluding words went straight to her -affectionate heart: -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -'Farewell, Mary—farewell, my darling—mine -no more! farewell for ever, now. -All is over with me. We have both been -rash in loving each other so tenderly, without -the consent of Sir Piers, your guardian; -but our rashness has ended roughly, cruelly, -and sorrowfully, especially for me. I have -dreamed a happy dream in loving and being -beloved by you—a dream the recollection -of which will brighten all that remains to -me of life, in the desolate path that lies -before me.' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -And so he was gone, without trace, as -Fotheringhame eventually told her. -</p> - -<p> -Again and again she pressed that tremulously -written letter to her lips, and -murmured, -</p> - -<p> -'My darling—my poor lost darling!—surely -he will write to me, or his friend, -again!' -</p> - -<p> -But days passed on, and became weeks -and months, and no letter or sign came. -</p> - -<p> -The worst had now come to pass; her -vague suspicions of Hew's complicity -in the affair were useless now, and Cecil -seemed lost to her for ever. -</p> - -<p> -'Now,' thought Sir Piers, with grim -satisfaction, 'now that this unfortunate -fellow Falconer is gone, he will forget -Mary, and she will forget him, and, as a -matter of course, Mary will return to her -senses, and Hew's time will come.' -</p> - -<p> -Perhaps Hew thought so too. -</p> - -<p> -'When she sees him no more she will -cease to grieve for him,' said Mrs. Garth, -'and this sore trouble will be lifted off our -darling's heart in time—please God, in -time.' -</p> - -<p> -But the very mystery that involved -Cecil's departure added to the trouble and -thought of the girl he left behind him. -</p> - -<p> -A nervous agony of mind and a great -terror fell upon Mary—a terror that with -Cecil's hopeless and aimless departure, none -knew for where, a long and dull life lay -before her, without the society of him -for whom she seemed only now to have -begun to exist—he so winsome, manly, -chivalrous, and all her own. -</p> - -<p> -Through the long weary hours of the -night she often lay dry-eyed and feverish, -without a tear coming to relieve her -overcharged heart, for she and Cecil seemed -parted now and for ever, as surely as if -death had done so. Wild, at times, was -the longing to follow him—but <i>where</i>? -</p> - -<p> -Would she ever throw her soft arms -round him again, and feel his lip meet -hers! -</p> - -<p> -Then the warm bright morning of the -early summer would come mockingly in, -and the routine of life had to be dreamily -gone through. -</p> - -<p> -So these two were parted thus, without -having knowledge of each other, in -sickness or health; and without the hopeful -joy of a happy meeting, or reunion at any -time, to look forward to. -</p> - -<p> -It is 'when we are left alone with the -reality of an anguish that has hitherto -been but a dread, there comes the -darkness which, like that of Egypt, may be -<i>felt</i>.' And such was the dark anguish that -fell upon the heart of Mary now. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap11"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XI. -<br /><br /> -'THE INITIALS.' -</h3> - -<p> -In the last chapter we have -somewhat anticipated the progress -of time, for in the first few -weeks after the disappearance of Cecil -Falconer, certain disagreeables in the love -of Fotheringhame and Annabelle Erroll, -fortunately for Mary, served to attract her -attention and draw her from her own great -sorrow. -</p> - -<p> -Fotheringhame was always a welcome -guest at the house of the general. To -Mary he seemed a link with the lost one, -and through him alone could she hope to -hear tidings that might come to any -member of the mess. To the general, whom -he viewed, so far as his friend Cecil -Falconer was concerned, as a stupid, obstinate, -proud, and avaricious old man, he was -specially welcome, as the patient listener -to his prosy reminiscences of India, of -battles and marches, of pig-sticking, -shooting expeditions, and potting man-eaters, -all of which Fotheringhame heard -with respect and feigned interest, that he -might the more freely enjoy the society of -Annabelle, and of Mary, whom he really -loved for the affection she bore his lost -friend. -</p> - -<p> -His engagement with Annabelle was no -secret now; but if it was a source of joy -to him, to her it was not without painful -doubts and fears, for he seemed to have -some secret which she, as yet, failed to -probe. -</p> - -<p> -That he and the lady she had twice -seen, had some hidden and intimate knowledge -of each other, the words overheard -by Annabelle on the night of the ball -seemed fully to prove. Then there was -his undisguised emotion on seeing her pass -into the fortress on the night of the visit -to Falconer, an emotion that inflamed -anew the suspicion, jealousy, and natural -indignation of a proud and sensitive girl -like Annabelle. -</p> - -<p> -What was this stranger doing there, she -thought, passing the sentinels unchallenged, -as if it was her use and wont? whither -was she going, if not to visit -Fotheringhame in his quarters? Who, -and what was she, and in what manner -related to him? Whence this vulgar -mystery which had suddenly come into the -lives of her and her intended, after their -reconciliation and complete reunion had -given her so much of the purest joy? -</p> - -<p> -It filled her with a nameless dread, and -as women, in joy as in sorrow, generally -seek the sympathy of each other, now in -her jealousy, pain, and mortification, it was -natural of Annabelle Erroll to confide in -her friend and gossip Mary, while, in gusts -of pride and anger, she sometimes failed to -appear when Fotheringhame came to visit -her, or received him with a coldness that -certainly seemed to excite in him pain, -surprise, and pique. -</p> - -<p> -Hew, who had some intuitive perception -of all this, and who dearly loved mischief -for its own sake, brought home exaggerated, -and even false, statements of how -and where he had met Fotheringhame with -ladies generally, and especially with one -lady in particular. -</p> - -<p> -'Who she is no one knows, but she is -always attired in the richest and most -becoming of outdoor costumes. -</p> - -<p> -'And seems a lady?' -</p> - -<p> -'Undoubtedly, so far as air and bearing go.' -</p> - -<p> -'Most strange, Hew!' -</p> - -<p> -'Not strange at all, Mary, as the world -goes,' said he, with a laugh. -</p> - -<p> -'If you are sure of all this, Hew,' said -Mary, 'it is a wrong, a great wrong, to -Annabelle.' -</p> - -<p> -'Stuff!' said he. 'Why, Ulysses loved -Penelope very well, but that did not -prevent him from being very jolly with -Calypso. But people are generally known -by the company they frequent, and we all -know who was his particular friend. What -the devil can that fellow have done with -himself? He is too poor for the wine -trade, and must have turned digger at -Ballarat, or a donkey-merchant in Texas.' -</p> - -<p> -Mary gave him a glance of ineffable -disdain, and turned away. She felt keenly -for the anguish and wounded self-esteem -of her friend! and she felt deeply mortified -that the chosen friend of Cecil should be -playing the present double part of -Fotheringhame, for the general had seen him -with this lady, and he could not be mistaken. -</p> - -<p> -'And Cecil, where was he?' she would -whisper to herself for the thousandth -time, as she drew forth a locket with some -of his hair. -</p> - -<p> -'It is so little to have of him, and yet -so much that it reminds me of him all!' -she would say, kissing it tenderly, and -retying the tiny ribbon that bound it; 'my -darling Cecil—my own darling!' -</p> - -<p> -Anon she would drop it softly into her -bosom, and let it nestle there. -</p> - -<p> -But soon some brief and important -events brought about a kind of crisis in -the affair of Annabelle and Fotheringhame. -</p> - -<p> -After leaving the general's house one -afternoon, it was found that he had -dropped a note on the carpet, a note -which he had apparently drawn forth with -his handkerchief, and Annabelle picked it -up. The envelope was addressed to him in -a pretty and free feminine hand, and the -top of the page began, 'My dear -Leslie.' Neither of the girls read more, but -instantly replaced it in the cover. -Annabelle, as she grew ghastly pale, gazed with -sparkling yet doubting eyes upon the note. -</p> - -<p> -What did it all mean? What was to -be done? -</p> - -<p> -It bore a monogram in blue and gold, -'F.F.,' and there was a sweet yet subtle -perfume about the note that, like the -florid monogram, spoke surely of a female -in the matter, and of a feminine taste too. -</p> - -<p> -'What <i>shall</i> we do?' asked Mary, in -great perplexity. -</p> - -<p> -'Enclose it, dear, in an envelope of -yours, and post it to him,' said Annabelle. -'I do not wish to seem as if I knew aught -of it.' -</p> - -<p> -Bursting with natural curiosity, poor -Annabelle no doubt was; yet she was too -honourable and ladylike to pry into the -matter, though, sooth to say, it so very -nearly concerned herself. -</p> - -<p> -'Perhaps it is only a note of invitation,' -suggested Mary. -</p> - -<p> -'Scarcely,' replied Annabelle, with -difficulty restraining her tears; 'but I shall -end this, Mary, by bringing my most -protracted visit to a close, and go home to -mamma, who has been urging me to -do so.' -</p> - -<p> -So the note was enclosed and despatched, -and another came from Leslie -Fotheringhame, thanking Mary for -returning the former, adding that 'it was -scarcely worth while doing so;' and when -next they all met, the subject was ignored; -but there was a cloud over Annabelle's -face, for the memory of the note, in -connection with other matters, haunted and -tormented her. But he, in manner, was -calm, affectionate, and unchanged—the -same as usual. -</p> - -<p> -'It cannot be from Blanche Gordon,' she -thought, though she certainly was at the -ball. This woman—F.F.—can it be possible -that she is some former flame of Leslie's, -with whom he has renewed his intimacy?' -</p> - -<p> -Her jealous fancies ran riot, and not -unnaturally. -</p> - -<p> -Next day, Mary, when attended by a -groom, riding in a sequestered lane, -between trees and hedgerows, came suddenly -upon Fotheringhame and the unknown, -walking slowly together hand in hand, in -a calm, apparently accustomed, and -affectionate manner, that filled her with so -much grief and astonishment, that, wheeling -her horse in another direction, and -escaping them, as she hoped, unseen, she -dashed home at a gallop, and at once -sought her friend. -</p> - -<p> -Without removing her habit or hat, -she threw her arms round the neck of -Annabelle, who, though used to her -impulsiveness, was certainly startled. -</p> - -<p> -'Dearie—my dearie,' she exclaimed, -'can you bear evil tidings?' -</p> - -<p> -'That may depend upon what they are,' -replied Annabelle, growing very pale in -anticipation. -</p> - -<p> -'Well,' said Mary, in a broken voice, -while drawing her friend close in an -embrace, 'you must teach yourself to—to -forget Leslie Fotheringhame.' -</p> - -<p> -'Not a difficult task, perhaps, as matters -have been going,' was the bitter response; -'but why?' -</p> - -<p> -'I have had ocular proof that he is -trifling with you and your love, and that -he has, I fear, a wife already—this "F.F." -no doubt.' -</p> - -<p> -'Married!' said Annabelle, in a breathless -whisper, while the four walls of the -room seemed to fly round her and the eyes -of Mary, who was impetuously grasping -at a conclusion, wore a strange expression -in which high indignation was blended -with the tenderest pity as she related -what she had just seen, and added: -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, my darling, be calm! I am so -sorry to tell you this—but, but—what can -we think?' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah! why does he deceive me so -cruelly—why labour thus to break the -heart of one who loves him as I do?' -</p> - -<p> -'You must learn to think and speak in -the past tense now,' continued Mary, -whose tears fell fast, and she clasped her -friend to her own bosom caressingly. -</p> - -<p> -'Married,' thought Annabelle, 'that -cannot be; but he is perhaps about to -cast me off—play me false for another -again!' -</p> - -<p> -Anger and scorn struggled with love -and sorrow in her heart; but her blue eyes -were dry and tearless. -</p> - -<p> -'Had papa been alive, Leslie dared not -have treated me thus!' she exclaimed; -'but he knows I have no protector now, -save a widowed mother. I wish that I -had not met him again, Mary, or that I -were dead—dead!' she exclaimed through -her clenched teeth. -</p> - -<p> -Mary, alarmed to see the storm she had -raised, now attempted to soothe Annabelle. -</p> - -<p> -'We may judge too rashly, after all, -dearie,' she urged; 'it may be only one of -those meaningless flirtations to which most -young men—officers especially—are, it -seems, addicted.' -</p> - -<p> -'What right has he to engage in such, -even if it be so?' -</p> - -<p> -'Cecil's friend could never be so base!' -urged Mary again. 'Oh, let us cling to -the hope that it is something that may -yet be explained away.' -</p> - -<p> -'It—what?' asked Annabelle impetuously. -</p> - -<p> -'This apparent mystery.' -</p> - -<p> -But less gentle than Mary, who was apt -to take refuge in tears, Annabelle said -with outward calmness, though she felt -only despair and exasperation: -</p> - -<p> -'I fear that he is totally without -principle—false as the fell serpent that -beguiled Eve!' -</p> - -<p> -And when night came she was thankful -to lay her weary head on the pillow, -though she did so, not to sleep, but to -long that she was again at home beside -her mother, and to agonise herself with -doubts and fears as to the issue of this -affair, to which she was resolved there -should be a climax, either verbally or by -letter, on the morrow, when Fotheringhame -was expected to luncheon. -</p> - -<p> -But on the morrow matters took a new -and more startling turn, ere time for -luncheon came. -</p> - -<p> -Mary, who had been idling over the -morning papers, suddenly drew Annabelle -aside, and said: -</p> - -<p> -'Look at this advertisement. Can it -be that the creature takes the initial of his -second name—if not his name altogether?' -</p> - -<p> -Annabelle read what the speaker's -slender fingers indicated, and it ran thus: -</p> - -<p> -'Will L.F. meet F.F. to-day in the -N.G. at twelve o'clock?' -</p> - -<p> -'This is evidently an appointment -between these two—and in the National -Gallery!' said Annabelle. 'Oh, it is -intolerable!' -</p> - -<p> -'I must confess that so far as the -initials go, it looks as if such an event was -on the <i>tapis</i>,' said Mary. -</p> - -<p> -'But this mode of correspondence is -surely beneath Fotheringhame?' -</p> - -<p> -'Though not beneath her—it is her -request.' -</p> - -<p> -'If married, she would not resort to -this. I shall go to the Gallery, humiliating -though the act may be.' -</p> - -<p> -'And I too,' exclaimed Mary; 'let the -carriage be countermanded—we were to -have driven this morning, but we shall set -out quietly on foot.' -</p> - -<p> -Attired in dresses and hats of different -style and colour from those they usually -wore, and Shetland veils tied over their -faces—than which there can be no more -perfect masque—they set forth on this -expedition, which was one of great pain to -both, but more particularly to Annabelle. -</p> - -<p> -It was a bright April forenoon, raindrops -still rested on the fresh green leaves, -and sparkled in the sunshine, early flowers -bloomed abundantly in the gardens, -perfuming the air, and the young birds were -twittering in the trees. Pure and bright, -it was a morning calculated to make anyone -feel happy without knowing why; but -the hearts of both girls were sad, and -Mary sighed as she looked at the great -masses of the fortress, steeped in the -radiant sunshine, and thought of him who -was away, she knew not where. -</p> - -<p> -The National Gallery, with its Ionic -porticoes, was soon reached by the way of -Princes Street, and they entered the -western range of saloons, which contain a -very valuable collection of paintings by -old masters and modern artists. At that -early hour they were nearly empty. -</p> - -<p> -Dreamily Annabelle looked at the -various objects of art around her—the -gigantic Ettys, the sweet proud bride of -the victor of Barrosa—the long-hidden -Gainsborough—the girl-wife of Grahame -of Lynedoch; and then her eye saw the -figure of one she recognised again—the -woman who had so evidently come between -her and Fotheringhame—seated in a -corner, apart from all, with her veil -half-down, and her eyes fixed eagerly and -expectantly on the entrance-door. -</p> - -<p> -The two friends could see that she was -perfectly ladylike in style and bearing, in -pose and action, and that her costume, -though plain and quiet in colour, was rich -in material. Wrath and pride flamed up -together in the heart of Annabelle, and -while shrinking behind a group of sculpture, -that she might observe without being -seen, she said: -</p> - -<p> -'It seems to me most unladylike, this -mode of espionage, and truth to tell it is -humiliating in the extreme; but I have -neither father nor brother to protect me, -Mary, and so I must protect myself.' -</p> - -<p> -'Take courage, Annabelle—perhaps we -may deceive ourselves, and—and—oh, -good heavens! here he comes!' said Mary, -with a kind of gasp in her voice, as -Fotheringhame, in 'mufti'—a very -accurate morning costume—came with his -swinging military step through the long -gallery, and raised his hat with a somewhat -sad and certainly fond smile on his -face, as the unknown threw up her veil -and advanced to meet him. But leading -her back to her seat, he bent over her, and -a low and earnest conversation ensued -between them, yet not so low but that some -of it reached the overstrained ears of -Annabelle. -</p> - -<p> -'It was rash of you to put in that -advertisement,' said he; 'and I saw it by -the merest chance, as I never examine the -business columns of any paper.' -</p> - -<p> -'Rash? but, dearest Leslie, it is rasher -still, circumstanced as I am, to visit the -castle,' she replied in a sweetly modulated -voice. -</p> - -<p> -Her face was a very fine one; her eyes -were golden hazel—a perilous kind of -eye—'light hazel, the fickle colour,' says a -writer, 'the most fickle eye that shines—the -eye ever changing, ever seeking something -new, ever wearying of what it hath, -ever greedy of enjoyment in the present, -ever ungrateful for the past and unmindful -of the future.' -</p> - -<p> -Such were the eyes of the handsome -woman on whom the face of Fotheringhame -was bent with tenderness, and what -a beautifully moulded face his was, with -its heavy, dark moustache, straight nose -and well-defined eyebrows. -</p> - -<p> -'If my husband,' she began. -</p> - -<p> -'Don't talk of him, Fanny!' he -interrupted, angrily. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, the wretch is married!' whispered -Annabelle. -</p> - -<p> -'And her name is Fanny,' added Mary. -</p> - -<p> -'And so the lawyers have got your case -in their hands, my poor Fanny?' said he. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—and when may I get it out of -them again?' -</p> - -<p> -'The devil alone knows—he is the great -master in all matters legal.' -</p> - -<p> -(Now what could this case be, thought -the listeners; here was a fresh -mystery—perhaps degradation.) -</p> - -<p> -'To serve you, I sold my troop in the -Lancers, and with the money——' -</p> - -<p> -'I know, Leslie—I know all, dearest. -I have suffered much since then.' -</p> - -<p> -'Despite all that, how handsome you -are still!' said he, tenderly and admiringly. -</p> - -<p> -'I was handsome a few years ago, as -you know well,' she replied with a sad, -but coquettish smile; 'but why seek to -flatter me now, dearest Leslie, you of all -men?' -</p> - -<p> -'There is a flatterer beyond us all, -Fanny—your own mirror.' -</p> - -<p> -She laughed at this, but there was -undoubted sadness in her laugh. -</p> - -<p> -'Intolerable!' muttered Annabelle, and -unwilling to hear more of this mysterious -conversation she withdrew in grief and -dismay, followed by Mary, who knew not -what to make or to think of the whole situation. -</p> - -<p> -They had barely reached home when -Fotheringhame came punctually to -luncheon, wearing the same dress he had -worn at the peculiar assignation, easy and -frank in manner, with his usual smile of -tenderness for Annabelle, who strove to -hide the coldness of her manner and the -ire of her spirit, but utterly failed to -check the nervous quiver of her sensitive lip. -</p> - -<p> -Mary, who had to act as hostess, and -who had no personal interest in this -matter, scarcely knew what to do, or how -to comport herself, full as she was of -disappointment and just indignation. The -abstraction of her manner was apparent to -Leslie Fotheringhame, who scored it down -to Falconer's affair; and as Sir Piers, -Mrs. Garth, and Hew were all absent, she was -thankful for the attendance of Tunley on -the trio; but the luncheon proceeded with -indescribable slowness and oppressive -silence—a silence broken only by strained -and disjointed remarks. -</p> - -<p> -At last the cold fowl, patés, etc., were -discussed, and a move was made to the -drawing-room, where Mary did not follow -the pair of lovers, over whom she saw a -stormy cloud was impending, and thought -the sooner it burst the better for them -both—for Annabelle most certainly—and -Mary's tender heart seemed to bleed for -the proud girl's humiliation. -</p> - -<p> -'My dearest Belle,' said Fotheringhame, -attempting to take her hands caressingly -in his the moment they were alone, 'what -is the matter to-day—why this gloom and -coldness of manner to me? In what have -I erred or offended you?' -</p> - -<p> -He gazed at her appealingly and passionately; -but she snatched her hands away, -and drew herself haughtily up to her full -height, while her proud white face only -expressed much scorn and much grief -too. -</p> - -<p> -'You treated me once shamefully, Leslie,' -she began. -</p> - -<p> -'Let the dead past bury its dead,' said -he, beseechingly; 'and now, dearest -Annabelle——' -</p> - -<p> -'How dare you speak to me thus again?' -she asked, with half-averted face, and her -blue eyes flashing with a kind of steel-like -glitter. -</p> - -<p> -'Thus—how?' he asked, in a bewildered -and rather indignant tone, as it seemed to -her. -</p> - -<p> -'In terms of love or regard!' -</p> - -<p> -'What <i>do</i> you mean, Annabelle?' he -asked, after a pause. 'Surely you have -not permitted me to speak of love to you -again—since that happy day in yonder -gardens—or rather lured me into it, but to -repel and cast me off, in revenge, for our -quarrel in the foolish past time; beguiling -me by your sweetness, but to fool me in -the end?' -</p> - -<p> -'I do not care what you think.' -</p> - -<p> -'Good heaven! can it be that you do -not love me, Annabelle—do not love me -after all?' -</p> - -<p> -'After all—all what, sir?' -</p> - -<p> -'I hope, Annabelle,' said he, in the first -faint tone of irritation she had ever heard -from him, 'that after all this smoke, you -have some fire to follow?' -</p> - -<p> -'I do not understand you, Fotheringhame,' -she replied, restraining her tears by -a strong effort; 'but I fear that you are -involved in something very dark and very -dreadful. Who is Fanny—Fanny with the -hazel eyes?' she demanded, passionately; -'Fanny, who is in the hands of the lawyers—who -is so afraid of her husband, and for -whom you sold your troop?' -</p> - -<p> -Bewilderment first, and then anger, -appeared in the proud face of Fotheringhame, -who certainly seemed not to know -what to think, and grew very pale. Then -he smiled, sadly and bitterly, with -something of anger making his lip quiver. -</p> - -<p> -'Surely, Annabelle,' said he, slowly, as -if to gain time to think, 'you, with your -superior grace and beauty, assured position, -and the indefinable charm you possess for -all, and more than all for me, need fear no -woman?' -</p> - -<p> -'Jealousy is stronger than fear, and I -am humiliated enough to be jealous. You -have secret meetings with a woman to me -unknown!' she exclaimed in a low, bitter -and concentrated voice. -</p> - -<p> -He grew still paler. -</p> - -<p> -'You cannot deny it?' she added, imperiously. -</p> - -<p> -'I do not—deny it,' he replied, sadly. -</p> - -<p> -'On your honour, and ere all is over -between us for ever, tell me who she is, -though certainly it should matter little to -me now.' -</p> - -<p> -He paused, and, with a deep frown, -began: -</p> - -<p> -'If you are acting on information given -by Mr. Hew Montgomerie——' -</p> - -<p> -'I am not—I act on information gained -by myself, and even thrust upon me; and -here ends all between us,' she added, -tearing off her engagement-ring, and -thrusting it into his hand. -</p> - -<p> -'Annabelle, I implore you to be patient, -and reconsider this.' -</p> - -<p> -'How dare you ask me to be patient, -under such insult and wrong? Go, sir—I -hate you—I never loved you—I leave you -to this Fanny, whom we saw in her fitting -place, among the domestics, on the night -of the assembly—this matron of the period, -whom I saw entering the castle, doubtless, -to visit you—the Fanny with whom you -have secret meetings and a secret -correspondence—begone to her, and cross my -path no more!' -</p> - -<p> -And sweeping from the room like a -tragedy queen, she left him. -</p> - -<p> -'Did she but know who that woman is, -would she speak of her thus?' said Leslie -Fotheringhame, almost aloud, as he quitted -the house with an emotion of deep distress, -not unmixed with shame and anger. -</p> - -<p> -He made two or three attempts to alter -the decision that Annabelle Erroll had -come to, of casting him off for ever. He -called twice at the house of Sir Piers, but -on both occasions was told that she was -from home, and Mr. Tunley added, was -preparing to leave town. He wrote her a -tender and most passionate letter which -might—nay, surely would—have explained -all; but it was returned to him unopened; -and heaven only knew the bitter ache it -cost the heart of Annabelle to act thus -firmly and decidedly, for, sooth to say, the -love of Leslie Fotheringhame had become, -as it were, a part of her own existence, -interwoven with her daily life. -</p> - -<p> -She knew that their engagement had -become known to many, and the inevitable -<i>exposé</i> and gossip that must follow its -sudden ending, exasperated her justly; and -thus pride struggled with grief for mastery -in her heart, as she brought her visit to -the Montgomeries to a close, and departed -for her own home. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -From casual remarks, Mary could learn -that none among the Cameronians had -ever heard aught of Cecil since the night -of his disappearance. The poor fellow had -passed out of their ken completely. Mary's -grief was all the deeper because it was -secret, and as time passed, the grass seemed -to be growing over the grave of all her -hopes. -</p> - -<p> -When Fotheringhame left the regiment -on leave, she ceased to have expectation -of ever hearing of Cecil in any way, even -through Freeport or others; and it gave -her much of a shock to learn that the -mysterious lady—she of the golden hazel -eyes—had left Edinburgh too—at least, so -Hew gleefully informed her. -</p> - -<p> -And now Mary—though she omitted all -mention of this circumstance in her many -letters to Annabelle—knew not what to -think of Leslie Fotheringhame, save, -perhaps, the worst! -</p> - -<p> -She was sick of Edinburgh and its new -associations—the ruin of Falconer and the -too apparent perfidy of his friend; but she -regarded with equal dread and disgust a -return to the general seclusion of Eaglescraig, -and the persecution of Sir Piers and -of Hew Montgomerie, and bitterly in her -heart did she inveigh against the absurdity -of her father's will. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap12"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XII. -<br /><br /> -TURNING THE TABLES. -</h3> - -<p> -Eaglescraig—wood and -wold, field, garden and lawn—was -in all the glory of summer -now, when June brought with it, as usual, -the fragrance of the red and white -hawthorn blossoms, the song of the nightingale -and the coo of the cushat-dove; May that -gave fresh greenness to the young corn on -the upland slopes, and studded the grass -on the dairy farms of Cunninghame with -white daisies and golden buttercups; June -that saw the old general clad in grey, -whipping the cool dark pools of the -Garnock or the Irvine with rod and line, -and the skylark soaring high amid the -silver clouds—the full-uddered cows -standing knee-deep in the heavy pastures, and -the bees warring among the velvet buds; -but where was he with whom Mary would -fain have looked upon Nature and her -native scenery in their glory! -</p> - -<p> -Eaglescraig in summer was rather unlike -the Eaglescraig to which Cecil Falconer -had come in stern winter to shoot over the -covers; but Mary's heart could gather no -brightness from the locality, which, though -changed and more beautiful than in those -days, was so full of his presence and -associated with him: the lanes through -which he had driven her pony-carriage -when visiting the poor on missions of -charity; the roads by which they had -ridden to Kilwinning and elsewhere; the -garden wherein they had so often lingered; -the ancient dovecot on the lawn, and the -grotto where—but why did she torture -herself, in the superstition of the heart, by -recalling all that was, but never could be -again? -</p> - -<p> -As that heart foreboded, she was not very -long at Eaglescraig before the old subject -of her marriage with Hew Montgomerie -was resumed by Sir Piers, who nearly -found an ally in Mrs. Garth, who came to -the conclusion that everyone loved their -first love, as a general rule, and married -their second or third; though she was -not without her fears that such a marriage -would not be conducive to Mary's welfare, -and knew well that too generally, in the -end, 'as the husband is, the wife is.' -</p> - -<p> -With all the regard that Hew affected -to profess for Mary, it did not prevent him -from growling heavily over exchanging -Eaglescraig for Edinburgh, where yet, so -far as its gaieties were concerned, -everything was yet, as the Americans say, 'in -full blast.' -</p> - -<p> -'Here, in the quiet of the country,' -said Sir Piers, 'she will have time -to think over the escape she made -from that fellow Falconer; and time to -think over what she ought to do, Mrs. Garth.' -</p> - -<p> -Time to think! Poor Mary had plenty -of that: time to ponder in long and -oppressive hours, as she lingered by the -dovecot with the pigeons fluttering round her; -by the burn that flowed at the garden-foot, -with Mudie's last new novel half-cut -and wholly unread in her lap; and, lost in -a day-dream, saw the bees seek the flowers -and the butterflies darting to and fro, -while wondering with all the intensity of -love and pity where <i>he</i> was, and what -doing, now! -</p> - -<p> -Sir Piers did not precisely see his way -to acting like the stern parent or fiery -guardian of the melodrama; but he thought -that the time was approaching when he -<i>must</i> do something to bend Mary to his -purpose, and compel or cajole her into the -acceptance of Hew, his heir of entail and -successor. -</p> - -<p> -'You knew that—that young man but a -very short time, Mary,' said he one day in -reference to Falconer, and playfully -pinching her chin. -</p> - -<p> -'True,' she replied, with a sweet sad -smile; 'but it does not take years to learn -to—love. Was it so with you, grand-uncle?' -</p> - -<p> -'No, by Jove! we were in cantonments -at Simmerabad, and expecting the route -every day, the route for Jubbulpore, when -Lady Montgomerie and I were married, -egad! at the drum-head, I may say.' -</p> - -<p> -But as far as Hew's interests were -concerned, a visit from Mr. John Balderstone -one day gave Sir Piers much occasion to -think over them—and pause. -</p> - -<p> -A close correspondence with Annabelle -Erroll was Mary's chief solace and support -about this time; they had so much in -common to commune about. Yet the -name of Fotheringhame never once escaped -the former, though he was mourning that -a girl with such an amount of strength of -character and so much loveliness had gone -out of his life—for Annabelle was a -wonderfully beautiful girl—beautiful with -the charms of glittering golden hair, of -slightness of form and white purity; tall, -slender and full of grace; and though her -heart was wrung by the memory of all she -had passed through since the night of the -Cameronian ball—that night on which she -had been so happy—she thanked Heaven -for the strength it gave her to cut the -Gordian knot and quit the atmosphere of -doubt, perplexity, degrading deception, and -chaos in which she had latterly found -herself in Edinburgh. 'No girl could be -expected to undergo that sort of thing over -and over again,' as she once wrote to -Mary; so well it was, she added, that she -had with decision laid the future lines of -her life and that of Fotheringhame, so far -apart from each other. -</p> - -<p> -Hew was smoking on the terrace one -forenoon, deep in the study of his betting-book—a -study that did seem a very pleasant -one, if one might judge from the expression -of his face—when he saw Mr. John Balderstone, -the faithful and jolly old factor and -friend of the family, coming ambling up -the long avenue, top-booted, on his -favourite old roadster, an easy-going bay, -high in the forehead, round in the barrel, -and deep in the chest, as John averred, -'all that a roadster should be;' and he -dismounted at the entrance door with the air -of a man who felt himself at home and -sure of a welcome. -</p> - -<p> -'Now, what can this old buffer want?' -thought Hew, sulkily, as the rider threw -his reins to Pate Pastern, who took the -bay round to the stables; 'but he is always -coming here, whether wanted or not.' -</p> - -<p> -'Good-morning, Mr. Balderstone,' he -added, but without offering his cold, damp -hand, which the visitor had never taken -since the insulting trick had been played -him with the pair of jack-spurs. -</p> - -<p> -Between these two there was no open -war, but a species of armed truce: a veiled -dislike or species of civil suspicion. -Mr. Balderstone knew pretty well the secret -character of Hew, and cordially detested -him. Hew knew the great influence the -old factor possessed with Sir Piers, and -had mentally resolved that when he 'came -to his kingdom,' <i>i.e.</i> succeeded to the title -and estate of Eaglescraig, Mr. John -Balderstone should receive his <i>congé</i>, and pretty -quickly, too; and that old Tunley, and -even Sandy Swanshott, the aged game-keeper, -together with Mrs. Garth, would -have marching-orders, also. But the -general 'was so confoundedly hale—seemed -as if he would never die!' -</p> - -<p> -'Did I not see Miss Montgomerie on the -terrace?' said Mr. Balderstone, with a -twinkle in his bright yet dark-grey eyes; -'she need not avoid me—bless her!—eh, -billing and cooing as usual, I suppose, Mr. Hew?' -</p> - -<p> -Hew muttered an ugly word under his -red moustache, and said, coarsely: -</p> - -<p> -'I'll make my innings now, I suppose, -as I have the field to myself.' -</p> - -<p> -'And no red-coated rivals—eh?' -</p> - -<p> -'Look here, Balderstone, I don't like -chaff; but I can tell you that Sir Piers -did me a deuced lot of mischief by bringing -that fellow here from Dumbarton, and -petting him, egad! as if he had been his -own son. He is a regular old fool, Sir -Piers!' -</p> - -<p> -'I can hear nothing said against him, Mr. Hew.' -</p> - -<p> -'At all events, I may indulge in a -few bitter thoughts of this base-born -interloper, who has caused so much turmoil.' -</p> - -<p> -'Base-born—how know you that he is so?' -</p> - -<p> -'Bah! I heard all about him in Edinburgh.' -</p> - -<p> -'Not all, surely?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, as sure as I am the heir to -Eaglescraig! What are you laughing at?' -demanded Hew, who had been in Tunley's -pantry, sharply. -</p> - -<p> -'I do laugh, and heartily too; but -pardon me,' said old John Balderstone, -whose paunch, enfolded in a deep corduroy -waistcoat, was actually shaking, while -Hew, by some intuition of coming mischief, -he knew not why, eyed him dubiously, -even savagely. -</p> - -<p> -'By the way, have you ever heard -aught of that unfortunate young -gentleman?' asked the factor. -</p> - -<p> -'What young gentleman?' said Hew, sulkily. -</p> - -<p> -'Captain Falconer.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh! the singing woman's son—dancer, -or whatever she was—no; how should I -hear of him?' -</p> - -<p> -'A pity—he must be found.' -</p> - -<p> -'Found—for what?' asked Hew, growing -pale, as he recalled the event of the -ball. 'You'll have to seek him where he -has gone.' -</p> - -<p> -'And where is that?' -</p> - -<p> -'The husks and the swine-trough—or -the devil.' -</p> - -<p> -'How can you speak so pitilessly?' -</p> - -<p> -'I don't owe him much, I think,' -muttered Hew; with an imprecation. -</p> - -<p> -'God knows all you owe him.' -</p> - -<p> -'How—why—in what way?' thundered Hew. -</p> - -<p> -'As reparation.' -</p> - -<p> -'D—n the fellow, I never wronged -him!' exclaimed Hew, growing paler than -ever, while his shifty eyes wandered -restlessly about, and fear seized him that -John Balderstone had discovered, he knew -not what. -</p> - -<p> -But on this day the latter took all -Hew's insolence of manner with wonderful -equanimity, while his rubicund face seemed -to beam and ripple all over with good-nature, -and his eyes were twinkling as if -he had something <i>in petto</i> that greatly -delighted him. -</p> - -<p> -'Reparation,' growled Hew, scornfully; -'reparation for what?' -</p> - -<p> -'Here comes the general; he will tell -you all about it,' said the factor, as Sir -Piers, in an old tweed suit, arrived from a -morning's fishing, with rod in hand, a full -basket, and a venerable wideawake hat, -garnished all round with flies and catgut. -</p> - -<p> -'Welcome, John; welcome, Balderstone! you -have business with me? Step indoors. -A glass of sherry and a biscuit -before luncheon—tiffin, as we say in -India—and then we'll hear all about it.' -</p> - -<p> -'Business to which Mr. Hew may as -well listen, as it interests him very nearly,' -said Mr. Balderstone, with a sudden -gravity of demeanour that impressed the -former unpleasantly, and filled his heart -with the alarm of the guilty, and he was -the first to assist himself to a glass of the -sherry which Tunley placed on the dining-room -table; 'and as what I have to relate -is not without interest to our dear Miss -Mary,' added Mr. Balderstone, 'I would -wish her to be present too.' -</p> - -<p> -'Now what the devil can all this be -about?' thought Hew, in a cold perspiration, -as he took another glass of sherry, -and thought of the ball and the court-martial -that came of it, while Mary seated -herself near Sir Piers, with her heart -beating quickly and unequally, and her white -hands trembling at her Berlin-wool work. -</p> - -<p> -'In this matter I must begin at the -beginning, as we used to read in the old -story-books,' said Mr. Balderstone, polishing -his bald head with his handkerchief, -and looking up at the ceiling as if he -would draw inspiration therefrom. -</p> - -<p> -'Begin at the beginning!—don't say -that,' said Sir Piers. -</p> - -<p> -'Why, general?' -</p> - -<p> -'Because it reminds me how a poor -fellow of Ours used those very words when -about to relate some secret to me, as he -lay dying by the roadside, on the march to -Malwah, and though he began at the -beginning I never heard the end of his story; -so we buried him beneath a palm-tree, in -his cotton quilt, the only coffin we could -afford him—poor old Sandy Freeport—the -father of Dick who is in the Cameronians -now; and I remember that John Garth -read the funeral service over him by -torch-light. Now fire away, Balderstone.' -</p> - -<p> -The latter gazed fondly and admiringly -on Mary in all her delicate beauty, clad in -a loosely made brown holland morning-dress, -relieved only by the spotless white -cuffs at the snowy wrists, and a simple -collar of the same at her slender throat, -and said: -</p> - -<p> -'I have some strange tidings for you, -Sir Piers—tidings which may seriously -shock your nerves.' -</p> - -<p> -'Never! d—n it, John Balderstone, -speak out, sir!' said the baronet with -irritation. 'Who the devil ever heard of an -old Cameronian with nerves! And these -tidings——' -</p> - -<p> -'Concern your son—your only son Piers.' -</p> - -<p> -'What of him—now?' asked the other -in a changed and rather broken voice. -</p> - -<p> -'His fate—his story.' -</p> - -<p> -'Piers is dead,' said the baronet hoarsely, -as he recalled the shadowy form—the dim, -yet distinct outline—he had seen on the -night of terror, so long ago. -</p> - -<p> -'I know it,' said Mr. Balderstone, sadly; -'poor Piers—poor boy! for he was but a -boy when compared with your years and -mine now.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well.' -</p> - -<p> -'How Piers married the penniless -daughter of a struggling artist, and -was therefore expelled from this house—yea, -from this very room, you know,' -said John Balderstone, speaking very -slowly and deliberately, while the general's -wrinkled hands grasped the knobs of his -armchair, and he fixed his hollow yet -bright eyes firmly on the speaker's face; -'how his commission was sold, and the -money went, you know too; but there was -much more that you and I never knew, -and never shall know, till the long, long -day when all things will be known. Piers -became an artist, and died in sore penury -some years after quitting his father's -house.' -</p> - -<p> -'Where?' -</p> - -<p> -'In an obscure street of Rome; but he -left behind him a son—the son of the girl -he had married.' -</p> - -<p> -'My grandson!' -</p> - -<p> -'And heir.' -</p> - -<p> -Hew fastened his glass in his eye—the -green one—and glared at John Balderstone, -who said: -</p> - -<p> -'I know nothing precisely, though I can -guess of months of penury and struggling -to keep the wolf from the door, Sir Piers; -but that such was the case I have little -doubt from what I have gleaned: of -wanderings from town to town—the husband -trying to sell his pictures, and the wife to -get engagements as a concert-singer—for -she was highly accomplished—to support -her husband in his last illness, and -maintain her little boy. Piers was found dead -one night at his easel. Pride prevented -the widow from applying to you; and -though she felt how sweet and dear it -was to have her child as a precious link -between her and Piers, she bestowed upon -it her own name, which was Cecilia -Falconer, and as Falconer the boy grew to -manhood. Now you know who I mean!' -</p> - -<p> -Sir Piers was struck dumb, and -continued to grasp the arms of his chair -with nervous energy, while Hew felt -himself grow pale, and hot, and cold; and to -the memory of the startled Mary came -back the episode of Annabelle's 'Birthday -Book,' and the curious admission of -Falconer that he had been named Cecil after -his mother. -</p> - -<p> -In fact they were all paralysed and -absorbed by the strangeness of this revelation. -</p> - -<p> -'The proofs of what I say were sent to -me, and thereby hangs another curious -story,' continued John Balderstone. 'A -woman of indomitable spirit and pride, this -Cecilia Falconer (or Montgomerie) resolved -that never in your lifetime, Sir Piers, would -she seek your friendship or alliance, nor -until your death make known the rank -and claims of her son; but she died -suddenly and unexpectedly, and the secret of -who her husband was died with her, so far -as Cecil was concerned, for indeed he -knows it not even unto this hour.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then how the devil do you——' began -Hew, impetuously; but Balderstone silenced -him by a wave of his hand. -</p> - -<p> -'Her great musical talents won her -powerful and titled patrons, and through -one of them she got her son a cadetship, -and by a singular chance he was gazetted -to the Cameronians, the regiment of his -father and grandfather.' -</p> - -<p> -'I believe the whole affair a d——d -tarra-diddle, from beginning to end!' exclaimed -Hew, while a kind of gasp escaped the -general. -</p> - -<p> -'You have not yet heard the end,' said -John Balderstone with a quiet laugh, as -he drew from his breast-pocket a large -envelope or packet, soiled by the dust of -many years, and covered with old and -foreign postal marks and stamps. 'In -this envelope, addressed to me, as her -husband's friend, the widow, when her last -fatal illness came upon her, sent for safety -three papers: the marriage certificate of -herself and Piers, performed at Rome; -the certified register of the child's birth, -endorsed by herself and Piers, and the -register of the latter's death at Rome. But -the packet on which such interests depended -had fallen behind a bookcase in my office; -there it has lain for fifteen years, and I never -knew of its existence till yesterday. And -here is your son's writing, Sir Piers, which -I never expected to see again in this world, -and it comes to me like a message from the -dead,' added Balderstone, with a tremulous voice. -</p> - -<p> -'From the dead, indeed!' added the -general, more tremulously still, as he took -the documents and strove to read them -through glasses that became moist and -dim. -</p> - -<p> -On the back of the marriage-register -was written in a feminine hand: -</p> - -<p> -'<i>Nov.</i> 5.—He died to-night, speaking of -his stern father and not of me who loved -him so! Oh Piers! my husband, my -husband! how shall I live without you—live -on alone in the long years to come, unless -it is for our boy! In losing you I lose my -all. For me you gave up home, friends, -fortune, rank and position—all the world -for me—yet, oh my husband, all the wealth -of my love was yours!' -</p> - -<p> -The <i>date</i> corresponded with the general's -dream or vision! Could Piers' spirit have -flashed home at the instant of his -departure? Can such things be, and may men -see them and live! thought he. -</p> - -<p> -'My poor Piers! my poor Piers!' he -groaned. 'John Balderstone, none but -God and myself can tell how I have -suffered in my soul for my severity to him in -the past time.' -</p> - -<p> -And so the long years had gone, and -others had come; and behold this was all -that had resulted from the old man's pride, -petulance, and injustice. His only son had -died in penury and obscurity; that son's wife -had despised even his vaunted name and -had taken her own; and now, their only -son, the legal and lawful heir of Eaglescraig, -a crushed and ruined creature like -his father before him, had been driven forth -into the world, in darkness and despair, -too surely also to ruin and death! -</p> - -<p> -Sir Piers sighed bitterly, and seemed -utterly to forget the existence of Hew, to -whom this new state of things came like a -prolonged roll of thunder. To the former -it seemed as if the irrevocable past was -throwing its shadow over his present and -his future—a shadow deep as the grave; -nay, that past made the future, and its -shadow was over him still! -</p> - -<p> -This accounted for the expression of eye -that Mrs. Garth had traced in Cecil; and -Sir Piers had now a perfect key to that -which had so often perplexed him—a -something that the voice, face, and manner of -Cecil brought to memory out of the mists -of the past, causing him much vague and -mental exercise—the resemblance to his -dead son; clearly accounted for now, when -too late—all too late, perhaps. -</p> - -<p> -'Scratched—out of the race!' muttered -Hew with an oath, as he slunk away, and -betook him to brandy and seltzer in Tunley's -pantry, while Mary, her lithe and slender -form full of energy, her dark and eloquent -eyes filled with joyous light, seemed all unlike -the languid Mary of the past month or so, -as Balderstone's narrative came to an end. -</p> - -<p> -Could it all really be in earnest, and no -dream? Cecil was her cousin—her own -cousin, and that lawful heir of Eaglescraig -whom Sir Piers, by the powers of his -father's will, desired she should marry, -while Hew was scarcely even a cousin by -Scottish reckoning—little more than a -namesake to her; but Cecil—Cecil, where -was he? -</p> - -<p> -Here was an astounding discovery; an -absorbing topic from the discussion of -which, although their minds were full of -it, and overpowered by it, they were -compelled to cease during dinner and other -meals, in that jerky, half-and-half way in -which people are wont to adopt when -servants are present, though the interest -of their whole souls may be concentrated -in it for the time. -</p> - -<p> -But menials are close and watchful -observers, and it was soon pretty well -known to Mr. Tunley and all in the -servants' hall, the topic which engrossed -those in the dining-room—that Mr. Hew -was not heir to the general's title and -estate; but some one else was—<i>who</i> they -scarcely could define. So the matter was -speculated upon, twisted and turned over, -eliciting a score of different opinions; but -to all it was apparent that Sir Piers was -perplexed, was daily conferring with John -Balderstone; that Miss Mary—'bless her,' -said they all—was radiant with joy; and -Mr. Hew, with whom none sympathised—as -might be expected—wore a sullen, -baffled, and exasperated look. -</p> - -<p> -The tables had been turned with a -vengeance; but Hew had one crumb of -comfort: Cecil was gone, no one knew -where, and might never be heard of again, -in which case he—Hew—would resume -his old place as heir of entail! -</p> - -<p> -In his anxiety to discover the lost, and -make some reparation to the dead, Sir -Piers forgot all the dark colours in which -Hew had painted Cecil, and felt with -regard to his son that, as Dickens says, -'there is no remorse which is so deep as -that which is unavailing; and if we would -be spared its tortures, let us remember this -in time!' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Mr. Balderstone suggested that they -should advertise for the lost one; but poor -Cecil was now where no advertisements -would ever reach him. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap13"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XIII. -<br /><br /> -BY THE MORAVA. -</h3> - -<p> -Sunset, red and glowing, in a -lovely land where a long spur -of the Balkan mountains overlooks -the current of the Morava, and where -fair fields of rice and maize, hemp and -tobacco, cover the upland slopes, for it is -early in September, and the days are of -great heat still. The golden shafts or rays -of the setting sun shot upward from the -flank of the mountain range, and shed their -ruddy gleam upon the shining river. Slowly -sank the glorious sun, as if reluctant to -quit the strange and terrible scenes it -was leaving: on one side the camp and -bivouac of an army, with its fires for -cooking and scaring wild animals, its piles -of baggage and arms, groups of soldiers in -thousands; on the other, the awful <i>débris</i> -of a newly-fought field, covered with killed -and wounded men and horses, broken -caissons and gun-carriages, drums and -standards, pools of blood in which the flies -were battening; and paler then grew the -upturned faces of the dead, as the last -segment of the sun disappeared, and the -brightness it left behind began to deepen -from gold and red to sombre violet in the -plain, though light yet lingered on the -mountain summits. -</p> - -<p> -In the tents and around the fires, men -spoke little of the artillery duel that had -preluded the conflict, of whether the -Servians had broken the armistice, or the -Turks had done so by opening with their -guns, and little even of the victory; for the -soldiers fresh from it and flushed with -triumph and carnage, Servians and Russians -alike, spoke only of the gallant but -nameless British volunteer who had saved the -life of the general, the terrible old -Tchernaieff, and that of his chief aide-de-camp, -the gallant Count Michail Palenka, -and who had been made a sub-lieutenant -on the field, and decorated after it with -the gold cross of the order called the -Takovo of Servia, and welcomed back with shouts of, -</p> - -<p> -'Dobro—dobro! Ghivo—ghivo! (Well -done—long life); hourah!' -</p> - -<p> -In one of the terrible charges of cavalry, -led by himself, Tchernaieff had his horse -killed under him by a cannon shot, but -this volunteer had remounted him on his -own, and also dragged Count Palenka out -of the terrible <i>mêlée</i>. -</p> - -<p> -The Turkish horse were led, not by a -Pasha or other officer, but by a frantic -dervish, wielding on high a long staff, -furnished at the end with a shining brass -knob, and shouting: -</p> - -<p> -'Allah is here! Allah and the angels -who fought at Bedr!' -</p> - -<p> -The Servian Hussars and Lancers, with -the Russian Dragoons, advanced to join -issue in the charge for a third time, not -sorry to exchange close quarters for a -desultory carbine-fire. Both sides came -thundering on, the Lancers with their -spears in the rest, the Dragoons with -swords pointed to the front, and all with -their horses well in hand, till within a few -yards, when they let them go at racing -speed, and dashed with terrible force and -fury among the Turkish squadron. -</p> - -<p> -Anon the Lancers, finding their weapons -useless at such close quarters, slung them, -and smote heavily on every side with their -keen bright swords. Long and hard was -the fight, and for a time the mingling -masses were too closely wedged in some -places to use even their swords, and -grappled with each other, while the -entangled chargers, enraged and frightened, -reared, plunged, struck out and brained or -trampled into gore the dead and wounded. -</p> - -<p> -Here it was the volunteer saved the -general and his faithful aide-de-camp, -covering them as they struggled back, -faint and breathless, out of the <i>débris</i>; -thrusting with his lance till it snapped in -two, and then hacking his way out with -the sword; and it was only after it was all -over, and he came afoot out of the field, -dazed in aspect, with teeth set, eyes dilated -and glaring with the fierce fever of battle, -and clutching a sword, the blade and hilt -of which were literally covered with blood, -that he fairly knew what he had done, and -the burst seams of his uniform showed all -how well he had plied his weapon that day. -</p> - -<p> -Thirstily and gratefully he took a draught -from a tin canteen of Negotin wine, which -a passing sutler gave him. -</p> - -<p> -Cecil Falconer, for the volunteer was he, -though in that blood-stained foreign -uniform few would have recognised the once -fashionable Cameronian officer, was sorely -changed in aspect. He was browner -visaged, bearded to the eyes, yet his face -was worn and lined, and his eyes seemed -sunk and keen, with the wolfish expression -worn by those of men who are daily facing -peril and death. -</p> - -<p> -As a volunteer, he wore the uniform of -a private—a brown tunic faced with scarlet, -crimson pantaloons, now covered with blood -and mud, and a grey cloth cap, not unlike -the Scottish glengarry. Fighting in a -cause for which—and in that of a prince -for whom—he cared nothing; fighting in -battle as a weaker spirit might have betaken -itself to alcohol to drown the past and give -oblivion to the present, poor Cecil had -found his way to Servia, and had that day -done wonders, setting little store on the -lives of those he fought against—the -barbarous and brutal Turks—and certainly -none whatever on his own life. -</p> - -<p> -Refused a commission in the service by -the Servian minister of war—for, by the -influence of long conquest, there is much -of the Ottoman in the character of the -Servian people, who are fatalists, and as -distrustful of all strangers as a John Bull -of the last century—he had joined -'Tchernaieff's Own' as a volunteer trooper, and -on that day by the Morava had won his -commission, and the cross of the Takovo; -but what a mockery they were to him, and -how little he cared about them! -</p> - -<p> -Since joining in the humble and apparently -hopeless capacity he had taken, -he had undergone all the perils and miseries -of the Servian campaign; had been -compelled to consort, at times, with fierce and -lawless comrades, who were most repugnant -to his refined nature; he had been generous -to all with his money, when he had any, -which was not often now; he had nursed -the wounded, buried the dead, and won -golden opinions from all; he had groomed -his own horse and the horses of others; -had to hew wood, to cook coarse rations, -when there were any to cook; slept on the -bare earth in the rain and the storm, or -sharing a <i>tente-d'abri</i> when one could be -got, and sharing it with a comrade—some -unsavoury and unwashed Servian trooper, -whose vicinity was, in itself, a horror. -</p> - -<p> -As most people know, but a very short -time ago the Christians in Bosnia and -elsewhere took arms against their oppressors, -the Turks, who were unable to suppress -the insurrection, and soon after the -disturbance was intensified by a declaration -of war against the Porte by Prince Milano -Obrenovitch of Servia, who, by his army, -was proclaimed King of Bosnia, and whose -father, the alleged slayer of the famous -Cerni Georges, began life as a cattle-driver, -and first distinguished himself in battle so -far back as 1807. Born in 1854, Prince -Milano succeeded Michail III. (who was -assassinated); and as the new war spread -into Bulgaria, as we all know, it took the -form of atrocities unparalleled in modern -Europe, unless we except the Cromwellians -at Wexford and the Williamites at Glencoe. -The villages of the Christians were -plundered and given to the flames; their -male inhabitants slain without mercy, -under nameless tortures; women and girls -carried off to slavery. The dead lay heaped -in the churches to which they had fled for -shelter, and dogs and hungry kites tore -their flesh as they lay unburied by the -wayside. -</p> - -<p> -And now it was within forty British -miles of that Bulgaria, where so much -wild work was being done, that on the -evening of the 28th of September, after -Tchernaieff had crossed to the left bank of -the Morava below Boboviste, and fought -one of the greatest battles in the Servian -war—a battle in which Prince Milan lost -3000 men, killed and wounded, while the -Russians lost in proportion, and had sixty -dead officers on the field—a battle in -which the explosion of seven Turkish -powder-caissons added to the horror and -slaughter—that Cecil Falconer found -himself warmly complimented, and again and -again shaken by the hand, by old Tchernaieff, -as the saviour of himself and his -favourite aide-de-camp, Palenka. -</p> - -<p> -'We shall never forget your services -and your bravery this day!' said the -latter—a pleasing and handsome man—in -French. -</p> - -<p> -'And your promotion, monsieur,' added -the general, in the same language, 'will -be my future care, either with the young -King of Servia, or with our Father the -Emperor, if you choose to take service in -Russia, as so many, of your countrymen, -like Bruce, Wilson, Greig, and Ochterlony, -have done, attaining fame and fortune.' -</p> - -<p> -The offer was not an inviting one, but -Cecil thanked the general for his gracious -notice of his service, and for the rank and -cross conferred upon him; and the former -then rode off to his head-quarters, -accompanied by Count Palenka. -</p> - -<p> -He was a short, thick-set man, reserved -and haughty in manner and bearing, and -covered with Russian orders and medals, -won in no petty wars. His eyes were -small, the lids heavy; his nose was large; -his complexion a ruddy bistre colour, and -his hair and thick moustache were -somewhat of a mouse-skin hue. Whether it -was the occasion or not, we cannot say, -but his face, figure, and voice dwelt long -in Cecil's memory. And now, to obtain -some of that food and other refreshment -of which he stood so much in need after a -day of such terrible work, he joined a -group of officers of his own corps, who -were lounging on the grass near a fire, at -which their servants were preparing a -meal for them, and all made Cecil—the -hero of the hour—most welcome, proffering -him their flasks and cigar-cases. -</p> - -<p> -Singular indeed was the group, and -striking too, on which fell the fitful flashes -of the adjacent watch-fire, for night had -fallen, and the firmament overhead was full -of brilliant stars. -</p> - -<p> -German, French, Italian, Serb, and -English could be heard, amid the group, -chattered in turn, and sometimes all at -once. Rich and picturesque in contour -and colour were some of the uniforms, and -they were worn by men of several nations -who had come to serve the newly-proclaimed -King of Servia and Bosnia. In -the uniform of his infantry there was a -Nassauer, who had won his laurels and his -iron cross at the gates of Paris, in the war -of 1871; Guebhard, a captain of Lancers, -a man closely shaven save his moustache, -with a silent manner, and most unpleasant -expression of face; a dark and handsome -Bohemian baron, armed with a quaint -family sword of fabulous antiquity, now -captain of a Bulgarian band, wearing a -sheepskin cap, a richly broidered blue -jacket, and loose trousers that had once -been white, with pistols and yataghan in -his girdle. There were a couple of Russian -Lancers in red, and a Hussar in a sky-blue -jacket, laced with yellow, who wore -Crimean medals and had been lads, no -doubt, when our troops went up the heights -of the Alma, and were too politic, or too -well-bred, to show the real hatred they -secretly bore to all Britons; and in the -Servian uniform, as captains, with three -silver stars on their scarlet-faced brown -tunics, were two ex-officers of our own -Foot Guards, whom we shall call Stanley -and Pelham, who—in search of a new -sensation—had come out to see life (and -death too) in Servia; there was an English -ambulance doctor in the truly awful -chimney-pot hat of civilisation; and though -last, not least, the ubiquitous correspondent -of a London paper, in a kind of -uniform—a frogged coat and forage-cap—with a -revolver at his belt, and a case of writing -materials slung over his shoulder, as jolly -and as much at home with everyone as if -he had first seen the world and been -weaned in a Servian bivouac, and ready to -join with hearty goodwill a few who -struck up 'La Belle Serbe,' the national -chant of the country, to an air of great antiquity. -</p> - -<p> -A light or two in the distance indicated -the locality of the rather meanly-built -village of Boboviste; and ever and anon -cries and shrieks on the night-wind -indicated that of the battle-field, where the -ambulance-parties, doctors and nurses, -were at work among the wounded and -dying—Christians and Moslems alike. -</p> - -<p> -The ex-guardsmen were chatting gaily -together, and it seemed like a leaf out of -the book of his old life to Cecil as he -listened to them. -</p> - -<p> -'A regular wanderer's club this, by Jove!' -said one, laughing; 'made up of all sorts. -I little thought to find you here, Stanley.' -</p> - -<p> -'As little did I expect to find you.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well, I suppose, with us both, it has -come of backing the wrong horse too -often—the little villa and brougham at -St. John's Wood—the brougham with its -three-hundred-guinea horses, and all the rest of it.' -</p> - -<p> -'Not with me,' said Stanley; 'I found -myself riding sixteen stone, and wished to -bring down the flesh somehow. Besides, -I was never much of a home-bird.' -</p> - -<p> -'No,' assented the other, expelling his -cigar-smoke in long concentric circles; -'but there is a novelty in all this new work -here, with a vengeance. Only think, -Stanley, in London, a few hours hence, -would find us at the opera, at a crush in -Belgravia, or consecrating the time to -billiards, to the joys of Bacchus, and the -chaste salutes of Venus, by Jove!' -</p> - -<p> -'A devil of a business that last Turkish -charge was,' said Pelham; adding, in a -low voice, 'I shouldn't have cared if that -fellow Guebhard had been knocked on -the head—well, unhorsed at least, to-day; -he is a cantankerous brute—bad form, very.' -</p> - -<p> -Cecil looked at the officer of Lancers -indicated, but knew not then that a time -was coming when he would heartily share -Pelham's wish. -</p> - -<p> -'This is not your <i>baptême de feu</i>, I -believe, even in Servia?' said the latter to -him, suddenly. -</p> - -<p> -'No—I have received that baptism -before,' replied Cecil. -</p> - -<p> -'Where?' -</p> - -<p> -'In India.' -</p> - -<p> -'Indeed! What regiment?' -</p> - -<p> -Cecil remembered the mode of his -leaving the beloved corps; he felt his -cheek flush hotly, and, affecting not to -hear the question, turned to the -war-correspondent of the London daily, who -was making notes for ulterior press -purposes, and took from Cecil's own lips his -modest detail of the charge in which he -saved the lives of General Tchernaieff and -Count Palenka:—all of which episode -would doubtless appear in the illustrated -papers from sketches 'made on the spot, -by our own artist,' whose immediate -whereabouts was Fleet Street. -</p> - -<p> -'How those Montenegrins fought to-day!' -exclaimed Pelham, after a pause; 'armed -with their sharp yataghans they came on -like a living flood, after delivering their -musketry-fire, and then flinging away their -firearms, fell on with their blades in the -smoke, precisely as the Scottish Highlanders -used to do of old.' -</p> - -<p> -'We'll have to write home about all -these things.' -</p> - -<p> -Cecil smoked in silence, and thought -what home had he, or to whom could he -write save to one who dared not receive -his letter! -</p> - -<p> -Amid this easy kind of talk, ever and -anon the cries of pain—long-drawn moans, -ending in a half-scream—came on the -breeze from the adjacent battle-field. -</p> - -<p> -'We shall hear the howling of the evil -<i>vilas</i> to-night,' said Guebhard, with a grim -smile, as he took the meerschaum from his -moustached mouth. -</p> - -<p> -'Who are they?' asked Cecil, whose -knowledge of Italian and German stood -him in good stead amid the polyglot kind -of conversation that went on around him. -</p> - -<p> -'Don't you know?' said Guebhard, a -little superciliously; 'but it is a Servian -idea—superstition if you will—that spirits -so named come at midnight to exult over -the slain; these are the hideous and fiendish -<i>vilas</i>, for there are others that are handsome -and good.' -</p> - -<p> -Coffee and cigarettes discussed, and a -bottle or two of vina drunk to wash down -mutton-chops fried in a flat earthen pot -with a wooden handle, stuck into the -hottest part of the bivouac fire, Cecil -repaired to the place where his troop had -picketed their horses, and looked after his -own, which Tchernaieff had sent back to -the bivouac. It was unbitted and munching -some chopped forage; he relaxed the -girths, and, rolled in his great coarse -trooper's cloak, lay down on the bare earth -beside it, though rain was beginning to -fall. He was sore in every limb, and -weary with the events of the day. He was -without a wound, but many a buffet, blow, -and strain, got he knew not how, began to -make his bones ache now, as he thought -over the stirring events of the day, and -gave himself up—as he too often did—to -sad and harrowing reflections. -</p> - -<p> -Mary and the Cameronians—the regiment -and Mary! was it the past life or -the present one that was a dream? So -far away did the old life seem now, that -though some of the events we have related -happened but a few months since, years -seemed to have elapsed since Mary's last -love-kiss lingered on his lips on that -twilight evening in Edinburgh, and when -he listened for the last time to the sound -of her voice—the voice that had been for -a time, and was still, the music of his life. -</p> - -<p> -Oblivious of the pouring rain and sodden -bivouac, he lay there thinking not of the -past battle, or the present glory now; he -was remembering the regimental ball—the -lights, the music, the swift tender -expression of Mary's eyes as she swept through -the dance with him—their first and last -dance, the returned pressure of her soft -hand, the touch of her hair on his cheek; -all the exultation of the time, and more -than all, her secret visit to him in the old -grey fortress of the city! -</p> - -<p> -Could she but see him now! -</p> - -<p> -His hopes—if he had any—his plans and -desires, the scenes around him, his -companions and his circumstances, were all -changed now, as thoroughly as if he had -been born in a new, or other age. The -world rushes past so fast now (for steam -destroys time and distance), that his troubles -were beginning to seem old; or as if the -whole of his former life had passed away, -and that if he was to cut out fortune, fame, -and at least food, in the new one, the old -life could not be forgotten too soon. -</p> - -<p> -But Mary Montgomerie was the central -figure in that former world still. -</p> - -<p> -'How completely the romance has died -out of my life!' he thought; 'and our love, -it seems so like a dream to me now—but a -sweet and beautiful one; a dream that can -come no more, yet I am glad that I have -had it. I would that I had a flower her -hand has touched—a glove or a ribbon she -has worn! Could I but know, that on my -dead face such tears as hers might fall!' -he added as he gave way to his dismal -thoughts, and sooth to say his other -circumstances were dreary enough. -</p> - -<p> -The pouring rain had long since extinguished -all the camp and bivouac fires, and -was adding to the miseries of the wounded -and the dying. He had covered his horse -with a blanket, and made a pillow of his -holsters, and, with the flaps of his Servian -forage cap tied over his ears, lay there -sleepless and heedless of whether he was kicked, -or trampled upon, by his charger's hoofs, or -the hoofs of others, while ever and anon -the deep thunder grumbled over the spur -of the Balkans, and the red lightning flashes -lit up vividly, for a moment, the waters of -the fast-flowing Morava, and a strange tower -close by—a tower of human skulls, erected -to commemorate a victory over the Servians -by the Turks under Comourgi. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap14"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XIV. -<br /><br /> -A MYSTERY. -</h3> - -<p> -It was six in the morning of the -following day. From the -eastward came a blaze of glorious -sunshine; the rain had ceased about -midnight; the blue sky overhead was cloudless; -shadows strange and darkly defined fell -to the westward from rock and tree; the -Morava was glowing in golden light; but -by its margin lay the battle-field with all -its horrors—a place that no sunshine could -brighten. -</p> - -<p> -Cecil was roused from sleep by Captain -Mattei Guebhard, who announced that -General Tchernaieff required his presence -at head-quarters forthwith. -</p> - -<p> -'For what purpose?' asked Cecil. -</p> - -<p> -'How can I tell!' was the sulky rejoinder; -'you will learn when you get there.' -</p> - -<p> -The truth is, that this Mattei Guebhard, -who was—justly, as events proved—cold -in the king's service, had been unhorsed in -one of the charges on the previous day, -and had come a little scurvily out of the -action, having failed to rally or reform his -troop; thus, though he dared not to sneer -at Cecil, he was jealous of the honours he -had won, but never could have conceived -how little the ex-Cameronian valued them. -</p> - -<p> -There is perhaps more hate at first sight -in this world than there is love at first -sight; and somehow Mattei Guebhard felt -a curious hatred of Cecil, who was aware at -the same time of having a most decided -repugnance of him. Yet they exchanged -cigars, and picked their way across the -battle-field, where the dead were being -buried in trenches; the peasantry were -stealing arms and whatever they could lay hands -on; where the scared vultures were hovering, -angry and expectant, overhead; and where -all the hedgerows, hollows, and ditches -were, as usual in every battle-field, strewed -with those mysterious scraps of papers, that -are the sport of the passing breeze. -</p> - -<p> -What they are, no one cares to inquire, -not even plunderers and burial parties, who -fling them contemptuously aside, after -searching the pockets and other repositories -of the slain. They may be only Orderly -Room reports, and parade returns; but too -frequently they are the last letters from -mothers and sweethearts, or wives—letters -full of love and prayerful tenderness, to -those who can peruse them no more. -</p> - -<p> -It was the first general action that Cecil -had ever been in, and the field to him looked -awful, in the sweet bright morning sunshine; -and the idea occurred to him, that if it be -true—and we cannot doubt it—that to the -Creator the fall of a sparrow is not a matter -of indifference, what must that of a human -being be? Yet, there they lay in thousands, -butchered, hacked, and in some instances -torn out of the semblance of humanity, by -cannon shot and shell.' -</p> - -<p> -'Here we are!' said Guebhard, gruffly, -cutting short his reflections. -</p> - -<p> -In a tent, round which a lancer guard -was posted, dismounted, and leaning on -their horses, with some staff-officers about -him, Tchernaieff was seated at a table, and -was in the act of sealing a long and -official-looking blue envelope. Close by lay the -body of a favourite staff-officer, for separate -interment. A sheet covered it, and the dull -outline of the profile, and the up-turned -feet, showed plainly and ghastly to the eye. -A veteran soldier, of great experience, and -much stateliness of manner, he received -Cecil politely and cordially, shook his -hand, proffered his handsome silver case of -cigarettes, and then said, -</p> - -<p> -'To business.' -</p> - -<p> -A portion of the letter was to the effect, -that he had appointed Cecil to serve on his -staff, as an extra aide-de-camp, <i>vice</i> Colonel -MacIver, popularly known as 'Tchernaieff's -Scotchman,' who had joined the -Russian army at Kischineff; and his first -duty in his new capacity was to be the -bearer of despatches to Belgrade; and Cecil -bowed, and muttered his thanks and gratitude. -</p> - -<p> -'This packet contains my report of the -battle,' said Tchernaieff, with military -brevity, rising to end the interview ere it -was well begun; 'the casualty lists, and, -more than all, my <i>plan</i> for our further -operations, if approved of, by his Majesty -the King.' -</p> - -<p> -Guebhard's face was a study for a painter -as he heard all this, in the background, with -hawk-like eyes, and ears that quivered, so -intently did he listen. -</p> - -<p> -'You will take the road by Resna and -Paragatin,' said the General, speaking -pointedly and emphatically; 'speak to none -on the way; save for what you want—food -and fresh horses; let no one join you on -any pretence, or attempt to turn you from -your path. Here is the route chalked out -for you, the seven towns through which you -have to pass, ere you reach Belgrade. -Remember and be wary, as I have found you -brave and trustful.' -</p> - -<p> -'Take this ring,' said Count Palenka, -coming forward, and drawing a valuable -Russian diamond from his finger: 'I cannot -give you gold medals or crosses like the -King or his excellency the General; but I -may insist upon your wearing this, as a -personal gift from myself—the gift of -gratitude for a life gallantly saved at great -peril.' -</p> - -<p> -Flattered by the high trust so suddenly -reposed in him by Tchernaieff, Cecil, for -the first time since he had set foot on -Servian soil, felt his heart fill with -something of the fire of his wonted ambition; -but he knew not that he was selected, as a -stranger, for this perilous and important -duty; and still less, perhaps, did he know -that there was a rival and pretender to the -throne of Servia, in the person of Prince -Georgeovitch, who had scouts, adherents, -and secret supporters everywhere. -</p> - -<p> -He looked at the war-map, with which -every staff-officer was furnished, and saw -that the distance between Belgrade and -the temporary head-quarters of Tchernaieff -(who next day was to begin his march to -Alexinatz) was, in all, about a hundred -miles, as the crow flies, through a wild, -disturbed, and rather lawless country, -by steep, rough, and heavy roads; yet, if -tolerably well mounted, he hoped to -perform the duty, and overtake the army, in -four days at the latest, and this he said -laughingly to Pelham and Stanley as he -bade them adieu, and, quitting the camp, -disappeared on the road to Resna. -</p> - -<p> -The army advanced ten miles to Alexinatz, -where a daring <i>alerte</i>, culminating in -a regular foray, was given to the Turks -within their own lines; but several days -passed on, and became weeks, without Cecil -re-appearing at head-quarters. He left few -behind him to surmise as to the cause of -this—still fewer to regret him, though all -believed that he must have been cut off on -the way—but how? -</p> - -<p> -'I shall be deuced sorry, if that poor -fellow comes to grief,' said Pelham; 'he -seemed a gallant soldier, and every inch a -gentleman. Curiously reticent about his -antecedents, though; he laughed seldom, -and when he smiled, did so as if smiles -belonged to his past rather than his present -life; but that he was an army man was -evident—he had all the cut of it.' -</p> - -<p> -'Had—don't talk in the past tense yet,' -replied Stanley; 'he told us he had been -under fire in India.' -</p> - -<p> -'Has left the service under a cloud, -perhaps—was the scapegrace of the -family, probably. My family has one: I -was that evil spirit in mine.' -</p> - -<p> -'Any way, I do wish we had him back.' -</p> - -<p> -The two Englishmen eventually offered -a handsome reward in Austrian ducats for -some intelligence regarding their missing -comrade; and it came, vaguely, to the -effect that two wood-cutters, three weeks -back, had seen a mounted officer, answering -to the description of Cecil, attempting -to ford the Morava near Palenka, about -forty miles off, and struggling with its -current just as the sun went down, an -event in these lands followed by instant darkness. -</p> - -<p> -'Near Palenka?' said Captain Guebhard, -with a frown, and then a cunning smile, as -if questioning himself. -</p> - -<p> -'Did he fairly cross?' asked Pelham. -</p> - -<p> -'Who can say?' replied Guebhard; -'and if so, why has he not returned?' -</p> - -<p> -'Were the bodies of a man and horse -found in the river?' -</p> - -<p> -'The wood-cutters said no; but I'll ride -to Palenka and make inquiries, if Tchernaeiff -accords me leave,' he replied, turning -away. -</p> - -<p> -'Why is <i>he</i> so solicitous in the matter?' -observed Pelham; 'his dislike of our -absent friend has been pretty apparent to me.' -</p> - -<p> -'The devil only knows his object; but -I don't like his smile.' -</p> - -<p> -'With his cunning black-beady eyes and -bistre-hued visage, this Guebhard reminds -me of a half-nigger fellow who was gazetted -to the Dragoon Guards, when I was in -them before joining the Coldstreams. We -were anxious to get rid of him; but he -was sly as old Nick, slippery as an eel, and -cautious as a lawyer. At last one -evening we all came to mess with our faces -painted copper-colour or black, and with -huge stick-up collars, to the astonishment -of the waiters and of him too; but he took -the hint, and sent his papers in to the -Horse Guards next day.' -</p> - -<p> -So Cecil's fate remained as yet involved -in mystery. -</p> - -<p> -But that Guebhard did get leave 'to -search' was evident, as the two Englishmen -saw him quitting the camp soon after, -attended by two or three mounted Montenegrins, -melo-dramatic looking cut-throats, -armed with rifles, pistols, and yataghans, -clad in tattered garments with sandals of -cow-hide, unkemped, unwashed, black-bearded, -and ferocious in aspect. -</p> - -<p> -'By George!' said Pelham, 'I should -not like my <i>safety</i> to be looked after by -such fellows as these!' -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap15"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XV. -<br /><br /> -ON DUTY. -</h3> - -<p> -After carefully loading his pistols, -and scrutinising closely the -trappings of his horse, a fine, -fleet and active animal, Cecil bade adieu -to the army of Tchernaeiff, and took his -way westward on his lonely mission. -</p> - -<p> -But for his forfeited position (forfeited, -as he had always felt, by no fault of his -own) and lost love—the lost life as it -seemed—how exciting and joyous, to a -young and ardent spirit, such a task as -that he had in hand, with such adventures -as it promised in wild Servia, would have -been; for Servia, though nearly half the -size of Scotland, is yet a kind of <i>terra -incognita</i> to the world of Europe generally. -</p> - -<p> -'What will be the end of it all for me?' -he thought, as he looked around him on -the strange land to which he had come to -begin life anew—the world again. -</p> - -<p> -Yet his spirit began to rise in spite of -himself, as he proceeded at a hand gallop -in the pure morning breeze, and he felt -that life was not without some zest after all. -</p> - -<p> -Here and there great forests bordered -the way, with little valleys opening -between, wherein, as being warm and -sheltered, the tobacco-plant is cultivated. -The country seemed lonely generally; -more than once, however, groups of -wild-looking and well-armed peasantry and -workers from the salt and copper-mines, -passed him; but during this part of his -journey he met with nothing exciting, save -at the little town of Tjuprga, for so it -figured on his map, though he utterly failed -to pronounce it, and into which he rode -just as the sun, a great round globe of fire, -was sinking behind the hills. -</p> - -<p> -On repairing to the only <i>cafane</i> or hotel -in the place, he found a Russian dragoon -officer taking his departure therefrom, and -prior to doing so, about to lash with his -heavy whip a pretty little waitress, whom -he accused of cheating him out of two -copper piastres. -</p> - -<p> -This was more than Cecil could endure; -he drew a pistol from his holsters and -called to the Russian to face him; but, -muttering something about 'an island cur,' -the gallant Ruski spat at his feet in token -of detestation, and galloped away. -</p> - -<p> -'And I am the comrade of wretches such -as this!' thought Cecil, as he dismounted -and found that he had accomplished thirty-five -miles of his journey. -</p> - -<p> -After a repast of hashed duck and -caviare (having, as usual there, to use his -own clasp-knife and pocket-fork), and after -a bumper or two of strong red wine with -the natural soda-water, which comes from -many springs in Servia, Cecil lit a cigar, -and, divested of his arms and tunic, gave -himself up to reflection—and, sooth to say, -he had as usual plenty to ponder over—while -watching the sunlight fading out in -the little street of one-storeyed houses, -mere huts built of white-washed clay, and -which he knew were too probably without -beds, tables, or chairs, and furnished with -little more than an iron pot, in which the -inhabitants cooked, and out of which they -ate everything. -</p> - -<p> -Carefully securing his door against -intrusion when night fell, he slept on a divan -with his rug and cloak over him and his -sword and pistols under his head for a -pillow; and next morning, after settling -his bill for a few copper piastres (one -hundred and twenty-eight of which go to -one British sovereign), he was again in the -saddle and pursuing the road to Bratisna. -</p> - -<p> -The next day saw him without any -incident—somewhat to his disappointment, -certainly to his surprise, at least. After passing -through Kolar, and then Semendria, as his -horse was breaking down, he was compelled -to halt there for the night, within -twenty-four miles of his destination. But the -halt was not without interest, as there for -the first time he saw that river so famed in -history, the magnificent and dark-blue -Danube, the waves of which 'have -witnessed the march of Attila, of -Charlemagne, of the Lion of the North, and the -armies of imperial France; and whose -shores have echoed to the blast of the -Roman trumpet, the hymn of the pilgrims -of the Cross, the wild halloo of the sons of -Islam, and whose name is equally dear to -history and to fable.' -</p> - -<p> -Reining up his horse upon a slope, he -watched the river for a time, flowing there -between mountains clothed with forest -trees, its blue waters in the vista washing -in some places beaches of yellow sand, -with pretty, toy-like hamlets sleeping in -the sunshine, and then rode in to Semendria, -which occupies a low peninsula in the -river and is overlooked by a quaint old -castle, in remote ages the abode of the -kings of Servia, and which has since been -taken and retaken, battered and bombarded -by Turks and Hungarians in turn. -</p> - -<p> -Next morning saw him approaching his -destination, the stately city of Belgrade. -Towering over its picturesque masses, over -the spires and domes of more than a -hundred Greek churches and Moslem mosques, -steeped in the blaze of the morning sun on -one side, and with deep shadows on the -other, rose its citadel on the summit of a -precipitous rock, surrounded by a lofty -wall with flanking towers, a triple fosse, -and a magnificent esplanade, four hundred -yards in breadth. -</p> - -<p> -On the summit waved the Servian -tricolour, pale-blue and red together, with -the white outside. -</p> - -<p> -Around on every side spread lovely -gardens. As he approached this famous -frontier city, the scene of so many bloody -sieges, Cecil could not but smile, in these -our days of vast projectiles, at remembering -how great a feat it was thought of the -Scoto-Austrian Marshal Loudon, when in -1789 he opened his first parallel there, at -one hundred yards from the glacis. That -stately citadel was the scene of many -awful atrocities perpetrated upon Christians, -and Cecil ere he left it was shown -the place where Rhigos the Greek was -sawn asunder limb by limb; and so lately -as 1815, thirty-six unhappy Servians, -among them the grandfather of Count -Palenka, were impaled alive, in violation -of a pledge given for their safety. -</p> - -<p> -Anxious to return and to be rid of his -despatches, Cecil certainly did not loiter, -and in a few minutes he found himself -traversing the streets of timber-built -houses, and those lines of open wooden -stalls which compose the shops, the barber -and coffee vendor alone having glazed -fronts, and where the nationalities are so -distinctly marked in the motley population, -the laughing shopkeeper in his tiny -Servian bonnet, the suave insinuating -Greek banker or merchant in his red skullcap, -and the haughty, sallow and bearded -armourer, blacksmith, or baker, always -Turks, as their white turbans show. -</p> - -<p> -His national uniform, the time and the -cause—news of battle—a great victory -over the 'Turkish dogs' by the Morava, -spread like wildfire, and Cecil had no -difficulty in finding his way to the palace of -the prince, or, as he was then universally -named, King Milano, which is simply a -handsome house with back and front -gardens, near the War Office, on the -boulevard leading to the Semendria road, which -is bordered by double rows of trees. -</p> - -<p> -As Cecil approached this edifice, -important though his mission, some delay -occurred in his presentation, as a Circassian -Prince with six hundred horsemen—all -wild-looking and picturesque Tcherkesses, -had just come in to join the standard of King -Milano. He was a very handsome young -fellow, wearing a busby of black Astracan -fur, with a coat of the same material (worn -over a shirt of the finest linked mail), with -a row of cartridge tubes across the breast -of it; his sabre blazed with precious stones, -and he wore a pair of white kid gloves that -would have done credit to Regent Street. -</p> - -<p> -Then came Cecil's turn, and by officers -of the staff, wearing blue coats and red -trousers, and French kepis with waving -plumes, he was ushered into a stately -apartment, and was graciously received by -Milano, who gave him his hand to kiss, -and read the despatches aloud to the group -around him, with considerable emphasis -and the most intense satisfaction. -</p> - -<p> -Photographs have made all so familiar -with pictures of the Servian King, that no -description of him is necessary. Suffice it, -that he was all the more warm in his -reception of Cecil on discovering that he was -a Briton, and learning the services he had -performed in the recent battle. Milano -was then in his twenty-second year, having -been born at Jassy in 1854. He spoke -French with fluency, having been educated -at Paris, where his studies were interrupted -by the assassination of Michail Obrenovitch -in 1868, after which he was proclaimed -Prince of Servia by the Council of Regency. -</p> - -<p> -Replies to the despatches would be given -Cecil forthwith, and meantime an aide-de-camp -was desired to conduct him to the -Krone Hotel. There, weak and weary with -his long and rapid journey, Cecil gladly -flung himself upon a divan, and after a -repast, made terrible by the inordinate -seasoning of red pepper and red capsicums, -or <i>paprikas</i>, with a bottle of Negotin claret, -made from grapes that always grow on -stony soil, he began to enjoy himself at an -open window which faced the Gardens of -Belgrade, which are certainly very beautiful. -</p> - -<p> -Servian officers and Servian ladies were -promenading there, or eating sweetmeats -at marble tables, and reading the Servian -<i>Istok</i>, while the band of the Royal Guard -played in the gardens, and now and then -the national air of 'La Belle Serbe' was -called for and greeted with applause. -</p> - -<p> -To Cecil, the people seemed pleasing in -aspect; their eyes were blue or hazel, with -chestnut hair and oval faces that were -generally smiling. The men, tall, robust, -and handsome; the women, slender, -delicate, and all wearing graceful head-dresses. -</p> - -<p> -Lovers were loitering there, and flirtations -were in progress, as they are everywhere -all over the world, and many were -there who seemed happy as the yellow-throated -bird that sung in a mulberry tree -close by where Cecil lingered over a cup -of coffee and a cigarette, and thought of -the newness of his surroundings, and the -strangeness of his fate, and his purpose in -being there—if he had a purpose at all! -</p> - -<p> -It was strange—passing strange! In -that field by the Morava he set no store -upon his life—not even for Mary's sake, as -she was lost to him as completely as if she -were dead—yet how many who had circles -of relations and friends to deplore them, -and who doubtless set all necessary store -upon their own lives, had perished there, -falling 'as the leaves fall when forests are -rended.' -</p> - -<p> -Was he the same Cecil Falconer, who, -but four months before, had been marching -to the drums of the Cameronians? -</p> - -<p> -An end was put to his reverie by the -appearance of the aide-de-camp, who brought -him the king's despatches, and that evening -he quitted Belgrade. As he gave a last -glance at the wayfarers who loitered about -the streets and at the doors of the cafes, -cigarette in mouth, with their richly inlaid -swords and long pistols stuck in their -showy scarves, and with muskets slung -behind them, looking very picturesque—he -thought they would, at the same time, be -unpleasant fellows to meet in some lonely -place in a land where police are scarcely -known. -</p> - -<p> -He took a farewell glance of the Danube, -studded with tiny villages, their churches -and minarets, with Servians on one side -fishing in curious little boats, Hungarians -on the other tending their flocks, with vast -mountains towering in the distance, and -then rode quickly on what was now his -homeward way. -</p> - -<p> -Continuing his journey along the left -bank of the Morava, the close of the -second day found him, as he supposed, -within thirty miles of Deligrad (from which -General Tchernaieff had moved to fight -his victorious battle), when it became -painfully certain to Cecil that he had too -evidently taken a wrong path and lost his -way, in a very lonely district, where few -persons were to be seen, and where neither -his German nor Italian availed in making -inquiries. -</p> - -<p> -Of the Roman road he had been pursuing—a -road old as the days of Trajan—all -traces had disappeared, and he found -himself in a narrow forest path, -overshadowed by huge pines, where he would -be certain of not finding a guide, as such -places are avoided at night, as being the -haunt or abode of the <i>vilas</i>, evil spirits -who can assume all shapes, but especially -that of the cuckoo, according to Servian -superstition. -</p> - -<p> -Hence it was, perhaps, that two wood-cutters -whom he saw, fled at the approach -of a mounted figure, looming tall in the -forest—and these were the men who -pocketed the Austrian ducats of Pelham -and Stanley. -</p> - -<p> -Fires glowed redly here and there upon -the distant hills—doubtless from copper -and iron mines; but twice, isolated rockets -described their fiery arcs athwart the -darkening sky; what this might indicate, he -knew not; but urged his horse onward by -the narrow path, which descended abruptly now. -</p> - -<p> -He thought he could hear the murmur -of a great current—the flow of a river; -but could discern nothing then, between -the stems of the trees, or in the starless -sky overhead—for in Servia the twilight—the -gloaming, as the Scots call it—is -very brief, and when the sun goes down, -utter darkness, with amazing rapidity, -envelops all the scenery. -</p> - -<p> -Now an involuntary cry escaped him, as -his horse, though at a walk, toppled heavily -forward, and before he could respire a -second time, he and it were both immersed -in the current of a dark and rapid stream, -too evidently the Morava. -</p> - -<p> -The bank over which they had fallen -was too steep to make the least attempt to -return that way possible. He took his -feet from his stirrups, held up his horse's -head, and guiding it gently with the stream -and towards the other side, uttered an -exclamation of joy, as he felt its feet -touching the ground. But ere he left the -stream, the trunk of a tree that came -surging past, struck him from the saddle; -yet he clutched his reins, and stumbled -ashore, bringing the horse with him. -</p> - -<p> -He was safe, but, after a brave man's -natural emotion of gratitude to God for -that safety, a cry of dismay escaped him, -on finding that his sword-arm hung -powerless by his side. -</p> - -<p> -It had been dislocated by the force with -which the tree had struck him. In a wild -and unknown place, he was now helpless -as a child, and something very much akin -to consternation fell upon him. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap16"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XVI. -<br /><br /> -THE CASTLE OF PALENKA. -</h3> - -<p> -While his heart sank within him, -at the idea of being so suddenly -rendered helpless and unfit for -active exertion, in such a place and at such -a time, his first thought was to ascertain -that Milano's despatches were safe and dry. -With difficulty he found that they were so, -in his sabretache, and after putting fresh -cartridges in his pistols, to be ready (though -one handed now) for any emergency, he -took his horse by the bridle, and somewhat -disconsolately led it up a slope, towards -where some lights were twinkling, high in -the air above him, to all appearance, and -about a mile distant. -</p> - -<p> -Up, up the steep slope he struggled, by -a path that led through an open gateway, -and pursued a winding direction, till he -reached a terrace or plateau, before a -castellated edifice of striking outline and -considerable dimensions, to all appearance -the abode of some Servian magnate or -landholder; but he was so faint with pain -and exertion, that all he looked on seemed -to be whirling around him. -</p> - -<p> -An appeal to the knocker, a huge ring -in the mouth of a grotesque face, brought -a servant, a tall and robust fellow, in a -species of livery, to the door, and by the -lights in the vestibule that opened beyond, -he stared with equal surprise and alarm -upon the dripping visitor, who in a somewhat -polyglot language, stated the predicament -he was in. Another and another -came, and ere long they made out that Cecil -was an officer of the Servian cavalry—a -messenger from the king, who had met -with an accident; and as such he found -himself rather abruptly ushered into an -apartment of palatial aspect, where two -ladies, an elder and a younger, were intent -upon a game of chess, by the light of a -large shaded lamp, the globe of which was -supported on the shoulders of a silver -statuette of Atlas; but both now arose with -astonishment expressed in their faces. -</p> - -<p> -Cecil at that time felt himself as if in a -dream, or only half conscious of what was -passing around him; he remembered -afterwards his words of explanation, the -commiseration of their replies in the most -softly modulated Servian (a soft language -at all times) and he found himself -committed to the care of 'Theodore,' the man -whom he had first seen, and who proved -to have been an old soldier, who had seen -many broken bones in his time. -</p> - -<p> -Cecil's sodden uniform was removed, and -his hurt at once seen to, by the valet and -an attendant of the lady of the house, who -had been for a time one of the good sisters -of the <i>Santas Kreuz Militar</i>, and knew -precisely what to do, so fortunately for -Cecil he was in good hands. -</p> - -<p> -By them, gently, but firmly, the partial -dislocation of the arm at the shoulder—fortunately -it was only a partial one—was -speedily reduced, a process during which -Cecil nearly fainted. Cloths dipped in -vinegar were then applied; some wine was -given him, and soon after he was left to -repose; but he, who had slept on the bare -ground for months past—though now in a -charming room and luxurious bed, with a -coverlet of rich silk lace, lined with pale -blue silk, surrounded by luxuries to him -unknown since he quitted Britain—felt -sleepless, and as the hours passed by they -were hours of pain and anxiety—pain to -endure, and anxiety to be gone on his duty. -</p> - -<p> -Great weariness weighed down his eyelids, -and pain would be exchanged for what -he thought at times was a dream, or -sound sleep; and as parts of the dream, -he saw the walls of a handsome room, a -little Greek oratory with a <i>prie dieu</i> before -it; and therein the figure of some saint, -with a gilt halo of horseshoe-shape around -the head, and a tiny pink lamp burning -before it, and the girl, Ottilie, for such was -her name, watching and flitting about it -noiselessly. -</p> - -<p> -She was more than pretty, with a violet-coloured -velvet jacket, embroidered with -gold, under which she wore a habit-shirt -of the softest white cambric; and her dark -sheeny hair was braided close round her -small head, not under, but over a -skull-cap of crimson cloth. -</p> - -<p> -These, and other details, Cecil took note -of next day, rather than on the night in -question; and closing his eyes, he strove -to collect his thoughts and think—think of -what, or of whom, but Mary Montgomerie? -</p> - -<p> -He was now to deem as past and gone -for ever the love that made his veins to -tingle and his heart to thrill in his bosom; -yet he could not but remember with intense -tenderness the last kiss she had given -him, and the time—one of those, so some -one says, that are given us by God to help -us by the sweetness of their memory, in -weary days to come. -</p> - -<p> -She was so far away—so far away! It -seemed he could but think of her as the -living do of the dead—perhaps as the dead -may do of the living. -</p> - -<p> -To him the slow hours were passed -restlessly—almost without repose. 'There is,' -says a writer, 'a strong contrast between a -sleepless night and the first hours that -follow it. Everything appears from so -different a point of view! The phantoms -of night become again familiar objects, in the -same way as in the region of ideas things -gigantic reassume ordinary proportions. -We fancy we are contending with the -impossible, and find ourselves in presence of -paltry difficulties. We believed that -heroism was demanded of us, and find that -it is simple duty we have to accomplish.' -</p> - -<p> -So it was with Cecil when day dawned, -and brought with it ideas that were practical. -</p> - -<p> -Betimes came Theodore with hot coffee -on a silver salver, which he proffered with -a military salute, and the information that -'his excellency's' horse had been attended -to at the stables, and there was his uniform, -dry and brushed to perfection, with his -pistols and sword, burnished as only an old -soldier could burnish them, for Theodore -had served with the Austrian army in -Bohemia, and been twice wounded at -Sadowa, where his regiment was that -remarkable one which perished nearly to a -man under the new and terrible fire of the -Prussian needle-gun; with all of which -facts he informed Cecil, while re-dressing -his hurt and assisting him to attire. -</p> - -<p> -He also informed him of something else—that -he was in the family residence of -Michail, Count Palenka; and so, by mid-day, -with his arm in a sling, Cecil expressed -his anxiety to thank his hostess, the -widowed mother of the count, for her -kindness to him. -</p> - -<p> -He announced himself as 'Sub-Lieutenant -Cecil Falconer, of "Tchernaieff's -Own," aide-de-camp on the staff,' and was -ushered into the presence of the ladies -whom he had seen on the preceding -night. -</p> - -<p> -'The preserver of my son's life in the -battle by the Morava!' exclaimed the -countess, coming forward and taking his -left hand between both of hers, and gazing -upon his face with humid yet beaming eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'I only did my duty, madam, though the -count was pleased to think I did more,' -replied Cecil, 'and bestowed this ring upon me.' -</p> - -<p> -'My birthday gift to my dear brother!' -said the younger lady, laughingly. -</p> - -<p> -'Your hand has worn it, then?' asked Cecil. -</p> - -<p> -'Since I was a little girl in Vienna.' -</p> - -<p> -'That enhances the value of it to me,' -said Cecil gallantly, with a bow; 'but -surely it must have been a world too wide -for one of your fingers.' -</p> - -<p> -'True; but I had it enlarged for Michail.' -</p> - -<p> -Now, during the natural well-bred inquiries -concerning his injury, and so forth, -Cecil had opportunity for observing his -hostess and her daughter Margarita. -</p> - -<p> -The countess, though verging on fifty, -was still very handsome, for the Servian -women, by their mode of life, can prolong -their beauty beyond the average climacteric. -She wore a long flowing dress of black -cashmere, with a train behind, and confined -at the waist by a silver girdle; a frill of -softest muslin was round her throat, and -a square of fine white lace arranged like a -widow's cap was pinned over her head, -with the ends falling on her shoulders. -She had clearly cut features, soft dark hair -lined with silver, fine eyes, and a shapely -figure still. -</p> - -<p> -Margarita was a womanly-looking girl of -more than middle height, having a full and -rounded figure of remarkable grace and -elegance of bearing, set off by quantities -of delicate lace and flowing drapery. -Stately in walk and in every movement, -she was a brilliant, flashing, and imperial-like -beauty, with large and liquid eyes, a -clear-cut aquiline profile, masses of rich, -dark hair, and a small mobile mouth, with -pouting, red and rather sensuous lips; and -she was self-possessed, refined, and highly-bred. -</p> - -<p> -Educated at Vienna—for Servia was -long a province of Austria (after being -shuffled backward and forward between -the Emperor and the Porte)—she was -highly accomplished, according to the -European standard, and it was but too evident -that she welcomed the advent of Cecil's -visit—especially as a young Briton—for -the women in Servia are reckoned as being -quite inferior to the men, fit only to be the -plaything of youth and the nurse of old -age; a peculiarity of manners that has not -arisen from four centuries of tyrant Turkish -rule, but seems to be inherent in old -Slavic custom, such as still appertains in -Russia. But European ideas and fashions -are now the rule at Belgrade, thus the -country must change fast; and Margarita -had been the reigning beauty when there -as a maid of honour to the Princess Natalie, -the wife of Milano, and daughter of a -wealthy banker in Odessa. -</p> - -<p> -The conversation soon drifted back to -the great Servian victory, and the narrow -escape of Count Palenka and the general. -</p> - -<p> -'How courageous it was of you to risk -your life to save theirs; how self-devoted -to give Tchernaieff your horse!' said the -countess. -</p> - -<p> -'It is not often a soldier has two such -strokes of good luck at once,' replied Cecil. -</p> - -<p> -'Had you no fear for your own life—no -dread of dying?' asked the countess. -</p> - -<p> -'No, madam.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' asked Margarita, who had -scarcely spoken yet. -</p> - -<p> -'Because it is as natural to die as to live—to -die as to be born; and life has now not -many charms for me,' he added, with -involuntary sadness or bitterness. -</p> - -<p> -'Now—had it more once?' asked Margarita. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—many—nearly all that I could -desire, contrasted with it now.' -</p> - -<p> -'I grieve to hear you say so—you, with -life before you still,' said she, eyeing -him with growing interest, while slowly -fanning herself with a great round feather -fan, though the atmosphere was cool -enough. -</p> - -<p> -'You cannot leave this place for days -yet,' said the countess, after a pause. -'Margarita shall write to the count and request -him to tell General Tchernaieff of your -accident. Meantime she and I will nurse -you,' she added, with a kind motherly -smile, 'and make you well and strong.' -</p> - -<p> -Cecil sighed as he thanked her, and -feared that his sword-arm would be -useless for many a day; and indeed he was -incapable of mounting a horse as yet. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap17"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XVII. -<br /><br /> -MARGARITA. -</h3> - -<p> -Though named the castle of -Palenka, the abode of the count -of that name partook more of -the character of a fortified house, as it had -been built by his grandfather, an old heyduc, -on the basement of a Roman or other ancient -fortress, and had a legend connected -with it, similar to that told of the castle of -Skadra, that to propitiate the <i>vilas</i>, a -beautiful young girl had been built up alive -in the foundation of one of the towers; -and Margarita, one day, showed Cecil the -identical place in question. -</p> - -<p> -All the rooms had parqueted floors, -polished like a coach-panel. In the -dining-room, or hall, was a large round -table of massive form and baronial aspect, -and a lofty oak buffet, full of shining plate, -quaint crystal goblets, and quainter china. -</p> - -<p> -The drawing-room was fitted up somewhat -in the Turkish style or taste, for though -it had a grand piano and orthodox European -chairs, a low divan of yellow satin ran all -round it, and many of the most beautiful -objects of art that Vienna could produce -adorned it. Trophies of arms hung -everywhere, many of them very old, many of -them collected perhaps by the veteran -heyduc, who fought often in battle under Kara -George, and who was impaled at Belgrade; -for here we may mention that these -heyducs were outlawed and deemed robbers by -the Turks, and like the Scottish caterans, -imagined that in setting law at defiance -they were only combating for a principle -of independence, and not acting dishonourably; -and most of them, like old Michail, -the Heyduc of Palenka, made it their boast -that they robbed only the rich Moslem -invaders, but were generous to the Servian -poor; and for military services to the House -of Austria, his son was created a count by -Francis I., the ally of Britain against -Napoleon. -</p> - -<p> -Cecil's mind was made comparatively -easy by the fact that Margarita had -written to her brother the count, detailing -the mishap which detained him at Palenka; -but the letter was never received, so -he knew nothing of the mystery that -enveloped his disappearance at headquarters: -and day followed day very quietly -in that sequestered abode among the forests, -and so far from any town. -</p> - -<p> -The old countess, who had a truly Servian -and holy horror of all strangers, thawed -speedily to Cecil, and declared him one of -the most delightful companions she had -ever met, even in Vienna. -</p> - -<p> -A thorough Servian of the old school, -she was full alike of religion and superstition, -and observed most scrupulously the -numerous fasts of the Greek Church—the -four annual terms of abstinence, and every -Wednesday and Friday, and never uttered -a holy name without crossing herself. -</p> - -<p> -She was never tired of telling her beads, -and if she awoke in the night when the -wind was high, she trembled as she -thought of the traditional vampire—a body -which the Serbs supposed to be possessed -by an evil spirit, which comes forth from -the tomb of death to suck the blood of the -living, till traced, taken, and burned to -ashes. She believed in the existence of -old Servian witches, who could steal away -men's hearts, and close the wounds through -which they had drawn them. -</p> - -<p> -'I fear there are young witches in Servia -who steal away men's hearts and leave the -wound an open one,' said Cecil, who, but -for the presence of Margarita, would soon -have become intensely bored at Palenka, -as the chief, if not only, visitor there was -the pope or priest of the nearest village, -a blue-eyed and long-bearded old man, who -could only speak Serb, and whose demigod -was the Archbishop of Belgrade. -</p> - -<p> -Accustomed for months past to the -misery and wretchedness of the Servian -camp, to Cecil, the dinner-table with shining -white cloth, plate, crystal and ivory knives, -under a flood of light from a rose-coloured -chandelier, seemed the luxury of Sybaris; -and for several days he had his food cut -for him by old Theodore, or by the pretty -hands of the girl Ottilie. -</p> - -<p> -Both mother and daughter were intensely -loyal in the cause of Milano and Servia, -and hated the Turks as bitterly as ever -the old heyduc himself could have done. -</p> - -<p> -'It was my brother Michail who recaptured -the cross at Belina last year, as no -doubt you know?' said Margarita. -</p> - -<p> -'I was not in Servia then—what was the -episode?' asked Cecil. -</p> - -<p> -'It was in the famous battle of July. -When the Turks ravaged Belina in Servia, -they carried off a great cross from the -altar of the church, and came on to the -assault of our Servian troops, bearing it in -front, and shouting, "You cannot fire on -your God—you dare not fire upon your -Prophet!"' -</p> - -<p> -'And our poor Servians, rather than -commit sacrilege, dared not fire, and stood -perishing in their ranks!' said the countess. -</p> - -<p> -'Till our Michail, at the head of a -chosen band, burst, sword in hand, among -the dense mass of red fezzes, recaptured -the cross, and brought it into the lines of -Milano, over heaps of dead and dying; and -then—but not till then—did the Servians -pour in a dreadful fire of shot, shell and -rockets, beneath which the columns of the -infidels melted away.' -</p> - -<p> -When Margarita spoke, even with energy, -as she often did, there was always something -sweet and innocent about her, with -a certain quiet dignity, and a touch of -softness in her expression, which, when taken -with the bright and lofty character of her -beauty, rendered her wonderfully attractive. -</p> - -<p> -She soon discovered that he was musical, -and they sang frequently together, while -she played the accompaniment; and when -he gave forth the notes of the Master of -Ravenswood's farewell to his lost love, and -gave it with a power and pathos that, -though she had heard many of the best -tenors at Vienna sing the same air, yet -none had seemed to do so with such tenderness -and heart-broken despair—and when -their eyes met, her heart began to thrill -beneath the ardour of his gaze, for Cecil, -when he sung thus, gave his whole soul to -it, and thought of Mary—Mary Montgomerie -only, or it might be the memory -of the mother that taught him; but -to the ear of Margarita every note seemed, -as she once said, 'to be a lover's wail over -a lost love.' -</p> - -<p> -On one of these occasions, Cecil saw -some pieces of dance music lying about, -inscribed with the name of Captain Mattei -Guebhard. -</p> - -<p> -'The captain—he is a friend of yours?' he remarked. -</p> - -<p> -'He was here on a visit to Michail once—yes,' -she replied, with a shrug of her -shoulders, and dismissed the subject. 'I -grew weary of him; he was jealous as Jelitza!' -</p> - -<p> -But Cecil observed next day, that all -those particular pieces of music had -disappeared. -</p> - -<p> -Always fond of female society, Cecil -found the daily association with this -accomplished girl a source of the purest pleasure, -and he strove, but in vain, to find traces -and resemblances in her to Mary Montgomerie; -for Margarita was larger, darker, -more brilliant and colossal in her beauty, if -we may use such a term. -</p> - -<p> -She had quite a repertory of Servian -legends, to which she recurred from time -to time, and told with a piquancy which -her foreign accent and foreign graces of -manner enhanced; and one day she took -him to a little lake—a dark and stagnant -tarn, overshadowed by great trees, and -near the Morava, which she affirmed to -mark the grave of the jealous Jelitza, so -famed in Servian song. -</p> - -<p> -Remembering her reference to this -personage when she spoke of Guebhard, he -asked who she was. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, the very incarnation of jealousy!' -said Margarita; 'she could not bear even -the brotherly tenderness of her husband -Paul for his young sister, and in order to -alienate him, slew his favourite courser, -and charged her with the act. But Paul -gave credit to his sister's denial. Then -she slew his falcon, and blamed his sister -therefor; but Paul would not believe her. -And at last she killed her little baby, and -left in its tender body a knife which Paul -had given his sister, whom he now slew in -the wildness of his fury, by having her -torn asunder by wild horses. But in the -end, the jealous Jelitza perished by the -same fate; and then we are told, "that -wheresoever a drop of blood fell from her, -there sprang up the rankest thorns and -nettles. Where her body fell, when dead, -the waters rushed and formed this lake so -still and stagnant. O'er the lake there -swam a small black courser; by his side a -golden cradle floated; on the cradle sat a -grey young falcon. In the cradle, slumbering, -lay an infant: on its throat the white -hand of its mother; and that hand a golden -knife was holding." All these apparitions -were visible here, once yearly, on this -stagnant lake, till the days of my father, -who had it blessed by the Archbishop of -Belgrade, since when they have been seen -no more.' -</p> - -<p> -All the legends Margarita told him -were wild and gloomy; yet the Servians -seemed to Cecil a lively people, and together -they often watched the reapers singing -merrily in the fields, and dancing, to the -fiddle and native bagpipe, when work was -over, the <i>kolo</i>, the national dance of the -people. -</p> - -<p> -Both were young and both were handsome; -the acquaintance so suddenly begun -ripened rapidly: but Cecil, unmoved by the -brilliant attractions of Margarita, and by -the perilous influences of propinquity, never -for a moment felt his heart waver in its -loyalty to Mary, though he deemed her lost -to him, and all other human love was dead -in him now. -</p> - -<p> -When the September evenings closed -in, and the old lady, clad in costly velvet -trimmed with beautiful fur from the Balkans, -was reading her missal in a corner, Cecil and -Margarita, if not at the piano, were generally -seated close together—very close, an -observer might have thought—at a tripod -table of green marble, playing chess, he -with his left hand, for the right was yet in -a sling; and watching, which he could not -fail to do, her lovely little hand, so white -and delicate, a very model for a sculptor, -pushing the pawns and knights about, -while all was still without, save the flow of -the Morava on its way to join the Danube. -</p> - -<p> -Between these two, when the countess -was not present, we are compelled to -admit that the conversation sometimes -waxed perilous, notwithstanding Cecil's -resolute platonism, when the large liquid -eyes of Margarita, under their thick dark -fringes, met his, and her scarlet lips, which -we have said were rather sensuous, quivered -and smiled, with an expression all their -own; and one of those perilous times was -when, somehow, they fell on the subject of -love—a natural one enough between a handsome -young fellow and a beautiful woman. -</p> - -<p> -'There are times,' said Cecil, after a -pause, in reply to something Margarita had -said, 'when men dare not love.' -</p> - -<p> -'Dare not—when?' asked Margarita, as she -made a false move, and had to play her king. -</p> - -<p> -'I mean when to love is rashness, or -would be presumption,' said he, thinking, as -no doubt he was, of Mary and her vain old -guardian. -</p> - -<p> -'There may be rashness, but there is no -presumption in any man offering his true -and honest love to any woman—even a princess.' -</p> - -<p> -'But would the princess accept it?' said Cecil. -</p> - -<p> -'Perhaps,' replied Margarita, looking at -him with one of her smiles, and then -drooping her lashes; 'love is romance,' she added. -</p> - -<p> -'Then I have lived the romance of my -life,' said Cecil, a little bitterly, and -perhaps unwisely, 'and have only its grim -realities before me now.' -</p> - -<p> -'Already—and you so young?' she asked, -with dilated eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'Already!' -</p> - -<p> -'I trust you mistake, and that romance -may come again,' said she, softly. -</p> - -<p> -'It is utterly past, so far as hope goes now.' -</p> - -<p> -'Does the grass of the grave grow above -it?' she asked after a pause. -</p> - -<p> -'In one sense—for my hope is buried.' -</p> - -<p> -'I do not think any grave is so deep that -we can bury in it all hope of another love -and other happiness,' said Margarita, -perhaps misunderstanding him, and making a -rather leading remark, which Cecil—though -not obtuse on such matters—failed, in his -utter preoccupation, to perceive. Margarita -bit her lip, and shoved her pawns about. -She, accustomed to adulation and much -admiration, was rather piqued by Cecil's -coldness. -</p> - -<p> -'All the world is alike to me now,' said -he, rather absently; but she gathered the -conviction that he was neither married nor -engaged. -</p> - -<p> -'Are you so much of a misogynist that -you cannot even be the friend of a woman?' -she asked. -</p> - -<p> -'I have not said so,' said he; 'nor am I -in any degree a misogynist,' he added, with -animation. -</p> - -<p> -'Then you can conceive a friendship?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, and a most tender one—and go -where I may,' he added, coming rather to -the point, as Margarita thought, 'I shall -never forget the friendship I have conceived -for you.' -</p> - -<p> -'That emotion is not always a lasting one.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why—how?' he asked. -</p> - -<p> -'Because it often ends where—love -begins,' she replied, with a laugh and a -downcast smile. -</p> - -<p> -Cecil felt his heart beat quicker. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, by Jove!' thought he, 'this sort of -thing won't do—what must I say next? -This is making awful running, and I have -only been a fortnight here!' -</p> - -<p> -But at that moment the countess, who -had dropped asleep over her missal, awoke, -and the conversation changed. -</p> - -<p> -Truth to tell, Cecil was beginning to be -somewhat scared, rather than flattered, by -the brilliant œillades and rash speeches of -Margarita. He did not quite understand -the romantic impulses that came of her -half-wild Servian blood, though partly tamed -and tempered by a fashionable European -education. She was totally unlike any -other woman he had met before, and he -could not determine to his own satisfaction -whether she had conceived a secret fancy -for him, or was only seeking to entangle -him in a flirtation, for her own amusement, -as she had perhaps entangled Mattei -Guebhard and others before him. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap18"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XVIII. -<br /><br /> -CAPTAIN GUEBHARD. -</h3> - -<p> -When Cecil thought of the -despatches with which he had -been entrusted by Royal hands, -of the approved plans of the campaign -which Tchernaieff anxiously and eagerly -awaited; when he reflected, too, how he, -a foreigner, a stranger, a humble and -nameless volunteer, had been promoted, -decorated, and honoured with high trust; and -when he thought of the ready suspicion, -jealousy, and mistrust of the Russians and -half-oriental Servians of whom he was now -the comrade, he groaned in agony of spirit -over the helplessness which caused his -detention at Palenka, and neither the -society, the rare beauty, nor the blandishments, -for it was fast amounting to blandishment—of -the dazzling Margarita could -console or wean him from the path of duty, -or drown the sense of peril, perhaps, -involved. -</p> - -<p> -All the young men of Belgrade, and all -the 'eligibles' of elsewhere, were with the -army of Milano as officers or volunteers, all -fighting the infidel Turks 'for freedom and -Servia;' consequently, save the old pope, -Palenka was without male visitors just -now; and in the adjacent village, a place -with a name not easily pronounced, it was -'noised abroad' that the strange officer who -had so suddenly appeared at Palenka had -succeeded in winning the heart of the -beautiful Margarita, who had been hitherto -deemed so unimpressionable by all, and it -was thought not to redound much to the -credit of the old countess, or to that of the -youth of <i>La Belle Serbe</i>, that such a prize -should be carried off without a struggle. -</p> - -<p> -'The young Herr Lieutenant is playing -with fire here!' said the grey-moustached -Theodore to Ottilie, gloomily. -</p> - -<p> -'How so?' responded the girl, gaily; -'is not youth the season for love? and our -mistress is beautiful.' -</p> - -<p> -'And manhood is the season for -marriage, girl; but he dare not marry her, -and she dare not marry him,' he added -grimly, twitching his beard; 'and I wish -him well away from Palenka!' -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'Because he is a fine fellow—every inch -a soldier—and I would not see evil come -to him.' -</p> - -<p> -'Evil?' -</p> - -<p> -'I said evil, and I know—well, what I know.' -</p> - -<p> -The curiosity of Ottilie was piqued, but -Theodore was in no mood to gratify it. -</p> - -<p> -To Margarita, Cecil was a species of -interesting enigma. He had some sorrowful -past, which he carefully kept from her; -she felt that instinctively, and she was -never weary of hearing him tell of the -places he had been in—India, Scotland, -England, and Italy—and smiled sweetly -and softly at his descriptions of distant -lands, that she had only heard of at school. -She knew that he was accomplished, and -the superior in education and ideas of any -man she had yet met; thus, she admired -and evidently liked him very much: but -the villagers and the household were -adopting conclusions too abruptly. -</p> - -<p> -She had a perfect consciousness of her -own beauty—a beauty of that remarkable -type and quality which seems to belong to -no country, so rare and striking was -it—and, to enhance it, she had already -decided that a few of her most becoming -toilettes might be necessary for her purpose, -which was no doubt to attract and dazzle, -as she felt that his presence at Palenka -would greatly brighten the hours she -deemed lost, by a temporary exile from -Vienna, in consequence of her brother's -presence with the army. -</p> - -<p> -Preoccupied though he was by thoughts -of another, and only anxious to take his -departure, as he now hoped to do in a day -or so, her coquetry became one day very -apparent to Cecil, and it amused while it -flattered him, as she invited his attendance -on her at the piano. -</p> - -<p> -On this day she had arrayed herself for -conquest; and whether it was the -well-assorted costume she wore and the subtle -perfume of some fragrant flowers she held -in a white and ungloved hand, or the soft -light in her dark and liquid eyes, but Cecil -thought certainly that he had never seen -her look so piquante, brilliant, and lovely, -with a loveliness picturesque and all her own. -</p> - -<p> -She began to run her fingers over the -keys, and then suddenly exclaimed, with a -little laugh: -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, this will never do!' -</p> - -<p> -'What?' asked Cecil, as he hung over her. -</p> - -<p> -'I have been playing with one glove on—how -absurd! Please to help me off with -it,' she added coquettishly, holding out her -hand to him in a pretty, helpless way. -</p> - -<p> -Such a tiny, lavender-tinted glove she -held forth to him to unbutton. Faultlessly -it fitted the white dimpled hand, and -reached far up the arm, with many little -white buttons, the undoing of which was -now the task assigned to him; and as he -felt in his hand the firm, white, tapered -arm, he saw a little mocking smile about -her beautiful mouth; and, as their eyes -met, something he read in hers made Cecil -feel inexpressibly foolish. He must, he -thought, say something tender—but why? -</p> - -<p> -He was just undoing the last button, -when Theodore came in with a card on a -silver salver, announcing 'der Herr Capitan -Guebhard;' and the figure of the latter -was now seen looming darkly in the doorway, -as he took in the whole situation and -advanced slowly, with his spurs and sabre clanking. -</p> - -<p> -'Playing with hearts, as usual,' said he, -with a laugh that had no sound in it, as he -took her hand and bowed curtly to Cecil. -</p> - -<p> -'How dare you say so!' she replied, -while a flush crossed her face, and an -expression of irritation came into it for a -moment. -</p> - -<p> -After a little pause, the visitor said, -after she requested him to be seated: -</p> - -<p> -'I have just heard from old Theodore of -what had befallen the Herr Lieutenant. I -have also heard, but at head-quarters, that -he has important despatches from the King -to General Tchernaieff. There was a fear -that you had lost your way, or fallen into -the enemy's hands, and I volunteered to -come in search of you.' -</p> - -<p> -'For that I thank you, Captain Guebhard; -and as for the despatches—— -</p> - -<p> -'You will please to hand them over to me.' -</p> - -<p> -'Pardon me,' said Cecil, and paused, -while a dark gleam crossed the eyes of -Guebhard. -</p> - -<p> -'How is your arm—well, I suppose?' -he asked, with the slightest approach to a -sneer. -</p> - -<p> -'If well, I should not be loitering at -Palenka.' -</p> - -<p> -'You are nearly able to handle your -sword, I presume?' he continued, in a -more marked tone, while playing alternately -with the tassel of his sabre and his -long black moustache. -</p> - -<p> -'Very nearly, Captain Guebhard; but it -is not the habit with British officers to -bring their swords into a drawing-room -among ladies.' -</p> - -<p> -'Very likely; but I am a Servian officer, -and I hope you consider yourself one -now.' -</p> - -<p> -There was something quietly offensive -in the tone and bearing of Guebhard that -irritated Cecil. The latter remembered -the pieces of music inscribed with the -monogram of the captain, and their -disappearance too. He also remembered -that Margarita had spoken of Guebhard's -jealousy—that he was jealous as Jelitza, -of the Servian legend and proverb; and -Cecil thought there could be no jealousy -without some love, or what passed as such. -</p> - -<p> -What were, or had been, the relations -between Margarita and Guebhard in past -time—and how were they situated now? -That he came freely and installed himself -as a privileged <i>ami du maison</i> was evident, -and as such he was warmly welcomed by -the countess. But on what footing—as a -friend of the absent count, as the <i>fiancé</i> of -Margarita, or as a relation of the family? -</p> - -<p> -So Cecil felt puzzled as well as irritated, -and when again asked for his despatches, -he plainly and firmly declined to give them -up to Guebhard, though a superior officer. -</p> - -<p> -'I fear I have interrupted your performance,' -said the latter, abruptly changing -the subject; 'does the Herr Lieutenant -sing?' he asked of Margarita. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—with power and skill,' she replied -promptly; 'but when you entered I was -just about to sing to him.' -</p> - -<p> -'What?' -</p> - -<p> -'"The Wishes."' -</p> - -<p> -Cecil urged her to begin, and placed the -music before her, on which she sang both -sweetly and effectively the little Servian -song so-called, and of which the first verse -runs thus, and is peculiar in its idea: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - '"Oh that I were a little stream,<br /> - That I might flow—my love—to him!<br /> - How should I dance with joy when knowing<br /> - To whom my sparkling wave was flowing!<br /> - Beneath his window would I glide,<br /> - And linger there till morning-tide;<br /> - When first he rouses him to dress,<br /> - In graceful garb, his manliness—<br /> - Then should he weak or thirsty be,<br /> - Oh, might he stoop to drink of me!<br /> - Or baring then his bosom, lave<br /> - That bosom in my rippling wave!<br /> - Oh, what a bliss if I could bear<br /> - The cooling power of quiet there!"'<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -And as she sang, Guebhard, who doubted -whether these six wishes referred to -himself, listened and looked on with a visage, -the lowering expression of which reminded -Cecil of Hew Montgomerie under -somewhat similar circumstances. -</p> - -<p> -The captain of Servian Lancers had, -as elsewhere stated, a silent manner and -an unpleasant expression on his usually -pale face, and analysis—not necessarily a -very keen one—detected several defects in -it. Among these, apart from his cunning -black beady eyes, were thin cruel lips, and -a general aspect of the face being -perpetually a mask. He was not appearing quite -to advantage just then, for if his manners -were quiet, and generally polished, he had -the stealthy gentleness and grace of a cat, -and his bearing was suggestive of the -adage that 'still waters run deep.' -</p> - -<p> -He was a man of mixed race, and not a -pleasant one to have, as Cecil felt him to -be, a secret enemy; for he was half Italian -and half Bulgarian, with a considerable -dash of the Ruski. Cecil could little -conceive how far his secret enmity was yet to -carry him; but he did not relish being -reminded of his duty by Captain Guebhard, -and still less to have hints given that he -should soon leave Palenka behind him. -</p> - -<p> -To allow the unexpected visitor to -approach Margarita, and freely converse with -her if he wished to do so, Cecil drew near -to the countess and joined her in watching -the reapers in a field, but he could not -help overhearing, though said <i>sotto voce</i>, -something that had reference to himself. -</p> - -<p> -'Playing with hearts again, as I said -before?' whispered the captain. -</p> - -<p> -'Don't be absurd!' -</p> - -<p> -'I remember what mademoiselle was at Vienna.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then your memory, like your sex, is—is——' -</p> - -<p> -'What?' asked the captain, softly. -</p> - -<p> -'Treacherous.' -</p> - -<p> -'And so the Herr Lieutenant has been -idling here,' said Guebhard, 'while we -were enjoying ourselves by the Morava?' -</p> - -<p> -'Enjoying yourselves?' asked Margarita. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes—cutting up the Turkish dogs. -Life is too short to let slip any opportunity -nowadays.' -</p> - -<p> -'Especially life in Servia—it is full of -perils; and so you were solicitous for his -safety? How kind!' -</p> - -<p> -'I was solicitous to see you. I heard -that he had been seen in the vicinity of -Palenka.' -</p> - -<p> -'By whom.' -</p> - -<p> -'Some wood-cutters—so I made the excuse -and came here.' -</p> - -<p> -'Thus shunning your duties in the field?' -</p> - -<p> -'Not more than he does.' -</p> - -<p> -'With a disabled arm?' -</p> - -<p> -'For you to nurse,' replied Guebhard, -with a smile on his lips and a glitter in his -eye, that, had Cecil seen it, might have -warned him of mischief to come; and low -though they spoke, he heard his despatches -referred to more than once: thus he was -scarcely surprised when he changed places -with Guebhard and rejoined Margarita at -the piano, that, under cover of a very -brilliant sonata, she questioned him about -them. -</p> - -<p> -'Where are those despatches about which -Mattei Guebhard seems so anxious?' she -asked. -</p> - -<p> -'In my sabretache.' -</p> - -<p> -'And it?' -</p> - -<p> -'Is in my apartment,' he replied, with -surprise. -</p> - -<p> -'As you cannot wear it constantly, take -them therefrom,' she said, in an emphatic -whisper. -</p> - -<p> -'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'They may be abstracted.' -</p> - -<p> -'By whom?' -</p> - -<p> -'I do not—cannot say by whom,' she -replied, with half-averted face. -</p> - -<p> -'Do you suspect?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -And a crash on the instrument closed a -conversation, on which Cecil resolved not -to lose a moment in acting, and repairing -to his own room, transferred the packet -from the sabretache attached to his -sword-belt to the breast-pocket of his uniform -tunic. -</p> - -<p> -He felt grateful to her for the interest -Margarita had thus evinced in him, but he -was sorely puzzled to know why Guebhard -was so anxious to obtain the documents -committed to his care; and he was soon -convinced that her suggestion had not -come too soon, when about two hours after -he discovered the Servian captain in the -act of quitting his—Cecil's—apartment. -</p> - -<p> -'You here, Captain Guebhard?' he -exclaimed, with surprise and indignation in -his tone, all the more so that he read a -baffled and confused expression in the face -of the other. -</p> - -<p> -'Pardon me,' said he, bowing and passing -on, 'but the dressing-bell has rung for -dinner—I was in haste, and mistook your -apartment for mine.' -</p> - -<p> -It might be so; but Cecil thought it a -curious circumstance that his belt and -sabretache, which he had left hanging on -the wall, were now lying on a sofa, and he -smiled as he felt the packet safe in his -breast, and resolved to secure his door for -that night, the last he meant to spend in -Palenka. -</p> - -<p> -Cecil resolved to be in every way on his -guard against this man Guebhard, and yet -ere the night passed he was very nearly -having a quarrel with him—a quarrel -which, but for some forbearance on the -part of the former, might have ended in a -resort to pistols between them, after the -ladies had retired and he and the captain -were left to their cigars and wine; but the -latter preferred raki, and under its -influence he lost much of his subtle suavity -and oily politeness, and the real Bulgar in -his blood came out. -</p> - -<p> -And, sooth to say, Cecil was not sorry -when the ladies did retire, for Margarita, -either to please and amuse herself, or to -tease and anger Guebhard, had addressed -the whole, or nearly the whole, of her -conversation to him, though it ran chiefly -on the progress of the war. -</p> - -<p> -Lying or half-reclining on a divan, with -a rummer of raki and water at hand, a -cigar between his lips, and his cunning -almond-shaped eyes half-closed, though -they glittered brightly, Guebhard, after -some remarks about Margarita and her -singing, to all of which Cecil listened -silently, said: -</p> - -<p> -'She is a dazzling girl—don't you think so?' -</p> - -<p> -Cordially, Cecil admitted she was so. -</p> - -<p> -'I wonder blood has not been shed -about her long ere this!' he exclaimed, in -a curiously suave yet vicious tone. -</p> - -<p> -'Bah!' said Cecil, 'people don't fight -duels nowadays.' -</p> - -<p> -'In your cold-blooded country, perhaps,' -was the quietly scornful interruption. -</p> - -<p> -'And we shall have daily blood enough -spilt in other ways,' continued Cecil, -without heeding him. -</p> - -<p> -Guebhard drained his rummer, refilled -it, and was not long in thinking of something -else offensive to say, and gave each -long, black, lanky moustache a vigorous -twist, as if he gathered courage from the -performance. -</p> - -<p> -'You have not been idle while here, -apparently, Herr Lieutenant,' said he, with -one of his curious smiles, while carefully -selecting a cigar from his case and proffering -Cecil one. -</p> - -<p> -'I do not understand you, Captain -Guebhard,' replied the latter. -</p> - -<p> -'You will understand this, that I heard -your names—yours and Margarita's—bandied -about in the common <i>cafane</i> of -the next village.' -</p> - -<p> -Cecil coloured with anger, but said -quietly: 'We are not accountable for the -gossip of the vulgar or the ignorant.' -</p> - -<p> -'It is a pity, however, to compromise a -young lady by your attentions, Herr -Lieutenant.' -</p> - -<p> -'Who <i>do</i> you mean?' asked Cecil, angrily. -</p> - -<p> -'Who but Margarita Palenka?' replied -Guebhard, suavely, but decidedly, emitting -great circles of smoke from his lips. -</p> - -<p> -'Compromise her?' -</p> - -<p> -'I have said so, Herr.' -</p> - -<p> -'With whom?' asked Cecil, endeavouring -to suppress his annoyance; 'her mother -or—you? I am here, like yourself, as a -guest, and I do not recognise your right, -Captain Guebhard, either to advise me, or -suggest to me any line of conduct.' -</p> - -<p> -'If I attempted to do so, it would be -as your friend, and still more as the friend -of Count Palenka's sister.' -</p> - -<p> -Guebhard's voice was becoming thick -under the influence of the fiery raki, and -he sat for half-a-minute glaring at Cecil in -a curious half-defiant and half-stolid -manner, especially when the latter was -not looking at him. -</p> - -<p> -'At all events,' he said bluntly, 'General -Tchernaieff expects you to report yourself -in due course at Alexinatz.' -</p> - -<p> -'Did he send you to me with this message?' -</p> - -<p> -'No.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then I require no advice from you, -sir, as to any course I may choose to -adopt.' -</p> - -<p> -Guebhard's eyes glittered like those of -a rattlesnake beneath their half-closed lids, -and Cecil began to eye him back steadily -and sternly. -</p> - -<p> -'Captain Guebhard,' said he, 'to recur -to the first matter in hand, the rumours at -the <i>cafane</i>, what is your peculiar interest -in the matter?' -</p> - -<p> -'What matter?' stammered Guebhard. -</p> - -<p> -'My intimacy—friendship—what you -will, with the sister of Count Palenka?' -</p> - -<p> -'Simply that I love her!' exclaimed -Guebhard abruptly, with all the impulse -of his really passionate nature; 'that I -love her, and will brook no rival!' -</p> - -<p> -'Then you need not fear me as one,' -said Cecil, laughing aloud; 'and if it will -ease your mind, be assured that I had -already arranged to leave this place -to-morrow; my arm is so nearly well now, -that I shall be able to reach my saddle -with ease. And to end this rather absurd -conversation,' he added, as he rose to retire -for the night, 'be assured, I repeat, that -on my honour you need fear no rival in me!' -</p> - -<p> -'He lies, in his heart—the English -dog!' thought Guebhard, as he silently -gave Cecil his hand; 'and there are no -lunatics like women, when an interesting -foreigner comes their way. But I'll mar -his wooing, between this and headquarters—by -all the devils I will!' -</p> - -<p> -'And you leave this to-morrow for the -front?' said he. -</p> - -<p> -'To-morrow, by noon, at latest; and -you, Herr Captain?' -</p> - -<p> -'I—I go on to Belgrade; but you ride by Resna?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -The captain, whose voice and steps were -alike unsteady, withdrew, and Cecil was -not ill-pleased that they had parted -without the quarrel which the other seemed -anxious to provoke. -</p> - -<p> -Next morning he found that the captain -had quitted Palenka at an early hour, and -soon after he was further to learn that -Guebhard had not taken the road to -Belgrade. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Ere noon next day, old Theodore was -leading Cecil's horse, accoutred, to and fro -before the door. -</p> - -<p> -'We are so sorry that Palenka is about -to lose you,' said Margarita, in her softest -tone to Cecil, who had been saying some -well-bred things, but in the genuine fulness -of his heart, for the hospitality he had -received. -</p> - -<p> -'It is most kind of you to say so,' he -replied, doubtful of how she might lead -him on, for her eyes and manner were full -of coquetry at the time. -</p> - -<p> -'Don't you regret it?' she asked, with a -would-be shy, upward glance. -</p> - -<p> -'After all your kindness to me, a -stranger, I should be most ungrateful not -to do so!' -</p> - -<p> -'But we may meet again,' said the -countess, joining in the conversation. -</p> - -<p> -'Perhaps,' said Cecil, with one of his -sad smiles; 'but considering the chances -of war, of life and events here, too -probably never.' -</p> - -<p> -Margarita stood by fanning herself, as -she usually did. She knew that a fan -suited well the style of her beauty, and -she seldom neglected to display her skill in -the use of one, and she had fans of all -colours to suit her dresses. -</p> - -<p> -So his sojourn at Palenka was ended now. -</p> - -<p> -Intelligent and well read, Cecil was also -master of that kind of small talk which -marks a man of the world; and he had -pleasantly wiled away many an hour with -Margarita, the memory of which would -haunt her in the time to come. It was a -companionship, brief but pleasant, which -she would be sure to miss, and to recall -with genuine regret. -</p> - -<p> -'She has been trying to lure me into a -flirtation <i>pour passer le temps</i>,' thought -Cecil, as he rode down the slope on the -summit of which Palenka stood; 'and I -am well rid—well clear of her alluring -meshes.' -</p> - -<p> -At a turn of the path he waved his cap -in farewell, as he knew that her soft -bright eyes were watching him from a -window; but he knew not that from -another point eyes were watching his -departure in which a less pleasant -expression might have been read. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap19"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XIX. -<br /><br /> -THE BLACK MOUNTAINEERS. -</h3> - -<p> -The path by which he proceeded -was narrow, rugged, often -ascending rocky steeps and -descending into rapid water-courses; thus his -progress was slow and devious. It was -often bordered by forests of oak, ash and -yew—the latter imparting a great gloom -to the scenery; it was overshadowed by -hills, particularly those of Mount Mezlanie, -with alpine peaks that were covered with -thyme, rosemary, and other aromatic plants. -Here and there he saw goats perched upon -fragments of rock, their long beards waving -in the wind; and occasionally when the -country became open, he passed bare fields -whereon the oats and millet had been -reaped. -</p> - -<p> -So he was once again in his saddle, with -his sword by his side, his pistols in his -holsters, and the world of wild life before -him! His pistols? He thought it as well -to look to them, and on doing so, found that -the cartridges had been withdrawn from -the chambers of both! -</p> - -<p> -By whom had this been done, and why? -He could not suspect the old soldier -Theodore; but he did suspect -Guebhard of tampering with some of the -grooms. Forewarned thus, he at once -proceeded to examine and reload them -carefully. -</p> - -<p> -As he rode on, he thought with more -amazement than irritation of his conversation -with the captain over-night, and of that -personage's declaration of his regard for -Margarita—his open jealousy, and threat -of brooking no rivalry. Whether she had -loved Guebhard in the past time, or whether -she loved him still, was a matter of such -little consequence to Cecil, that he scarcely -thought about it at all. -</p> - -<p> -'Could I,' he reflected—'could I but -forget my own past, with its brightness -and gloom—though the brightness was -Mary, the gloom my mysterious disgrace—I -might yet have some hope in the future -here—even here! My foot is already on -the first step of the ladder, and military rank, -perhaps glory itself, may yet be mine. I -may yet gather one leaf of laurel, and who -can say but that a corner in the Temple of -Fame may await me too!' -</p> - -<p> -He laughed at the thought. He was, -in fact, too young to feel quite despairing -yet. His spirit rose with the exhilaration -induced by a rapid ride; and he at last -began to think with ardour of the mess of -the old corps, seeing his name in the public -prints—the exultation and commendation -of his pluck and bravery by Leslie -Fotheringhame, Dick Freeport, and others—even -his story going the round of the men's -barrack; and more than all, of what would -be the emotions of Mary Montgomerie! -</p> - -<p> -Then, at the thought of her, he let his -reins drop on the mane of his horse, and -sinking into reverie—a reverie induced by -the stillness around him—left the animal -to proceed at its own pace, and even to -pause, and crop the herbage by the wayside. -</p> - -<p> -Never again, too probably, would the -threads of their life cross, even for a -moment, for Mary seemed as far removed -from him now as heaven from earth. -Then it would seem difficult to realise the -idea that his life could pass on, unto the -end, without Mary in it; and vaguely -there would spring up in his heart the -wild tumultuous hope that if he strove, -even in this new and barbarous land, she -might yet be his. -</p> - -<p> -How often in the wretched Servian -bivouac, through the long hours of weary -night, had he lain under the stars -communing in bitterness with his own soul, if -we may say so; and out of the starlight -Mary seemed to come to him vividly in -fancy—Mary in her sweetness and loveliness, -with all her gentle, soft, and winning -little ways—her grace of movement, her -tenderness of tone—the Mary that, too -probably, he should never meet more. -</p> - -<p> -Yet they had been so happy in their -secret love of each other—the love that in -its flush needs nothing more than to be -mutual, 'though marriage seemed distant -as death;' and as distant as that the former -seemed now, though the risk of death was -nearer than he thought. -</p> - -<p> -Lost in reverie, he had proceeded thus -a few miles, ere he became aware of the -unpleasant fact that he had too probably -lost his way, for the road tracks diverged -and crossed each other so frequently, and -he met no one of whom he could make -inquiries, till at a turn of the path he came -suddenly upon two Montenegrins, who -were on foot, under a tree, against which -their muskets rested, and who were in the -act of taking some food, each with the -bridle of his horse over one arm. -</p> - -<p> -Both were as repulsive-like men as one -could meet, especially in a place so lonely, -and the sudden appearance of Cecil seemed -to afford them considerable interest. They -were evidently two of the 'Black -Mountaineers,' belonging to the body which -served in the army of Servia, and they -bore those arms which their race are never -without, even in their most peaceful -occupation: a musket, pistols, and yataghan—a -short and sharply-curved flat sword, -without a guard. They wore old and -tattered garments of no particular colour, -sandals of raw hide, were black-bearded, -cunning, and forbidding in aspect—looking -every inch like what the Montenegrins -are in reality, savage barbarians, who in -battle mutilate the fallen, and who never -crave mercy, nor yield it, for when one is -severely wounded, to save him from the -enemy, his own comrades cut off his head. -</p> - -<p> -As the language of these pleasant people -is a dialect of the Servian, Cecil had not -very much difficulty in making them -comprehend the dilemma in which he found -himself. They exchanged curious smiles, -and then pointed out the way which led, -they averred, to Resna. -</p> - -<p> -Cecil gave them a few piastres; but, as -he rode off, he saw them snatch up their -muskets from the trunk of the tree, and in -hot haste proceed to charge them, which -they did somewhat slowly, as the weapons -were old-fashioned muzzle-loaders. When -again he looked back, both were taking -deliberate aim at him over the saddles of -their horses! -</p> - -<p> -A double flash and double reports -followed, and two bullets whistled past: one -was flattened out against a rock, like a -silver star; the other ripped some bark -from a tree. And now, deeming discretion -the better part of valour, while his heart -swelled painfully with anger and indignation, -he put spurs to his horse and drove -it along at full speed. -</p> - -<p> -Ere he could well reflect upon the course -to pursue, two more muskets flashed out -of the coppice ahead of him: 'ping! ping!' -the bullets whistled past; they came from -rifled barrels, and he could see two more -mounted Montenegrins. -</p> - -<p> -Cecil's heart began to beat wildly now; -he had no coward's fear of death, though -a great horror of being butchered thus, -helplessly and without defence. Yet he -was not without hope of escape; he -remembered how many he had seen miss the -running deer at Wimbledon, and resolved -to trust to the heels of his horse: but soon -it cast a shoe, and the other began to -clatter, for evidently the nails had been -loosened! -</p> - -<p> -The abstraction of the cartridges from -his holster-pistols, and this tampering with -his horse's shoes, he could account for now, -when remembering that the villain Guebhard -had been in the stables betimes that -morning; and it was but too evident that -he had thus beset his returning path, and -these precautions showed that, notwithstanding -the number of his followers, he -had a wholesome appreciation of Cecil's -pluck, skill and bravery. -</p> - -<p> -Another shoe was shed; his horse began -to flounder now, and he heard the -pursuing hoofs coming fast upon his rear. -Cecil knew from experience the cruelty of -which the Montenegrin nature is capable. -He had heard, and seen, how Turkish -wounded and prisoners had been shorn of -their lips, noses, and ears, by the sharp -yataghans of those so-called Christians, -the Black Mountaineers, whose favourite -household ornament is a Turkish head, -dried in smoke; and who often bury their -prisoners up to the breast and make -targets of them at a hundred yards; and -such a fate might now be his if he fell -into their horrible hands; and he knew -not how many were in pursuit of him. -</p> - -<p> -It was not impossible that Mattei -Guebhard had thus beset the road to cut him -off, in a spirit of jealousy, rivalry, and -revenge; but it seemed more probable -that his present desperate and lawless -proceedings had some mysterious reference to -the interception of the despatches. This -fact proved an alarming puzzle to Cecil, who -longed, sternly, eagerly, breathlessly, to -have the captain alone with him, face to -face, and within range of his pistols. -</p> - -<p> -In hopes to baffle pursuit, he had quitted -the direct road, or that which he supposed -to be such, and wheeled off by a path to -the left, but did so in vain, for they were -following him fast, and his horse, shoeless -now, failed to grip the loose soil of the way -with its hoofs alone. -</p> - -<p> -Outriding the rest, two were now getting -unpleasantly close to him, as the path, -a very narrow and winding one, began to -ascend a steep spur of Mount Mezlanie. He -rid himself of one of these by his pistol, but -as he wheeled round in his saddle to deliver -the Parthian shot by which he did so, he -felt in his right arm a maddening pang of -pain, and a cold perspiration burst over him. -</p> - -<p> -'God!' he exclaimed, 'if it is thus with -me now, how will it be if I come to use -my sword!' -</p> - -<p> -The second Montenegrin, fast and far -outrode the rest, and without wasting time -in using rifle or pistol, he came thundering -full upon the rear of Cecil, whose horse, -though fresh from the stable, after days of -enforced idleness, and liable to resent the -use of bit, curb and spur, was toiling up -the steep and rugged path there was no -quitting or avoiding. Cecil could see that -it came close to the very verge of a -precipice and then turned acutely to the left. -</p> - -<p> -This he perceived just in time to save -himself from a sudden and horrible -catastrophe, by slackening speed, and guiding his -horse, by bridle and knee, carefully round -the perilous corner; while his pursuer, -intent blindly on bloodshed and slaughter, -came furiously up to the spot, and failing -to turn the angle, being ignorant of it, or -unable to check his speed, went over the -precipice—headlong, horse and man—through -the air, to find mutilation and death, where -soon the vultures would be gathering, at -its base, some hundred feet below. -</p> - -<p> -His fate evidently made the rest more -wary and caused some delay in the pursuit, -which enabled Cecil to distance them -considerably, as he pursued the pathway -through a solitary glen; but he could see -that they were still keeping him in sight, -at a time when the afternoon was far -advanced, and the darkness of a sudden -thunderstorm began to obscure both sky -and scenery. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap20"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XX. -<br /><br /> -CECIL COMES TO GRIEF. -</h3> - -<p> -At this very time yesterday he had -been hanging over Margarita -at the piano, and busy with the -numerous buttons of her long kid-gloves; -and then listening to her coquettish song -of 'The Wishes.' -</p> - -<p> -Now what a change had come! He -was a fugitive, pursued by men who were -veritable human bloodhounds! -</p> - -<p> -'No doubt about Guebhard now!' -thought Cecil. 'Fool that I was not to -quarrel with him at Palenka as he wished; -and shoot him on the terrace, or anywhere -else. But a time may come; nay, must -come—if I escape—if I escape!' -</p> - -<p> -And a time <i>did</i> come, when they were -to meet face to face, though Cecil could -little foresee, then, when and where it was -to be. -</p> - -<p> -It was plain enough that this subtle and -ferocious fellow, half an Oriental, in the -first moments of supposing himself -supplanted by Cecil—already so successful in -the field and camp—had resorted to the -deep scheme of cutting him off and -obtaining his despatches; spurred on by the -intensity of the twin passions, love and -hate—love for Margarita, and hate for a -supposed rival, in more ways than one; -and if successful, there was no knowing -what foul stories he might circulate to -blacken the honour of the dead, with -Tchernaieff—stories that might ultimately -find their way into every print in Britain! -</p> - -<p> -To Cecil there was a bitterness worse -than death in the thought of this; but he -could little conceive that it was not for -Tchernaieff, or any other officer in Servia, -the fatal despatches and plan of the future -campaign were wanted! -</p> - -<p> -Cecil looked from an eminence; his -pursuers were still in sight, but looking -faint and distant, amid the gathering -gloom. -</p> - -<p> -'If it comes to the worst, I would rather -be shot down than captured—could I be -assured of being shot dead,' thought Cecil, -as he rode steadily on, he knew not in -what direction; he could make out that -his pursuers were five in number, and one -was evidently Guebhard. 'Had I a good -Enfield rifle, I could pick every man of -them off at leisure from this, and then -there would be a few less Montenegrins to -trouble the world.' -</p> - -<p> -These fellows had belonged, of course, -to that Montenegrin contingent, five hundred -strong, which had come into the camp of -General Tchernaieff; but he being an -officer as humane as he was brave, had -been compelled to expel the whole force -for their barbarous mutilation of the Turkish -wounded, and many of them were now -prowling about as idle freebooters. -</p> - -<p> -These Montenegrins—men of the race -which make such a stir in European -politics at present—were literally savages -of the <i>Zerna-gora</i>, as it is named, from the -mountains clothed with darkest pine, which -cover the greatest part of its surface—men -inured to arms, hardship and cruelty from -their boyhood—without religion or scruple, -save in implicit obedience to their chiefs -or leaders; and in camp and out of it they -committed many an awful outrage, the -report of which never found its way into -the columns of the <i>Glas Czentagora</i> or -official journal of Montenegro. -</p> - -<p> -Cecil knew that when leaving Palenka, -he had, at the utmost, only some forty -miles to travel, with a horse that was fresh -and active; but its shoes had been -tampered with, he had been driven from -his proper path, and the difficulties of that -he traversed were now enhanced, as a -storm came on. -</p> - -<p> -Black and heavy clouds overhung the -savage landscape—for savage it seemed, in -its utter solitude. For the hour, the sky -became preternaturally dark, and remained -so till night deepened; and far in the hazy -distance the ghastly green forked lightning -flashed with weird splendour about the -peaks of Mount Mezlanie, and the thunder -boomed sullenly in the valleys below; and -once or twice, when he obtained glimpses -of the winding Morava, its current seemed -increasing, as if in haste to leave the storm -behind it. -</p> - -<p> -Then the heavy smoke-like rain came -down with a species of roar on the earth, -crashing through the foliage of the trees, -for hours after the time that should have -seen our wanderer safe within the outposts -of Tchernaieff; but wild though the storm, -he welcomed it as a means of concealing -him from his pursuers, for he felt that if -overtaken, his arm was yet so feeble as to -make him rather helpless. He was -compelled to ride slowly now, and with a firm -hand on a shortened rein. -</p> - -<p> -The enormous pine trees towered skyward -like giants, and seemed to assume -something menacing in their aspect amid -the gloom. Knotted and gnarled stems -and roots also seemed to take the form of -those grotesque monsters that figure in the -forest through which Undine went; and in -imagination perils mysterious and impalpable -seemed to gather in the lonely path -of Cecil, who was not without an active -and fervid imagination. -</p> - -<p> -At last he reached what appeared to be -the border of the woodlands he had been -traversing; the pathway grew broader; -lights glittered out of the obscurity, and -he could make out the form of a two-storied -house, which he at once approached. -</p> - -<p> -From the highway, as he supposed it to -be, a modern gate gave access to a path -through an orchard, as he eventually found, -and in the centre thereof stood the house—the -inmates of which, a Servian farmer and -his family, received him with politeness -rather than cordiality, and under the -influence of the native distrust of all -strangers, though he wore the brown -Servian tunic of the patriotic army; but -his pleasant and genial manner, and the -fairness of his complexion won him favour, -and while his horse was being stabled, he -soon found himself installed before a wood -fire, drying his sodden uniform, while the -farmer's wife prepared some food, and her -spouse endeavoured to describe the way he -must pursue to reach the outposts of -Tchernaieff, near Deligrad. -</p> - -<p> -The house was a snug one. A tile-paved -entrance-hall gave access to a room -off it with four shuttered windows; it was -floored with red tiles; an iron stove stood -in a corner, and all round was a divan -covered with rugs and cushions. -</p> - -<p> -'Well,' thought Cecil, as some food was -set before him, 'there are worse things in -this world than taking pot-luck with a -Servian farmer!' -</p> - -<p> -Youth and hunger alone made him relish -the plate of hot <i>paprakash</i>, or chicken soup -with tomatoes dressed with hot pepper, -bread, cheese, and black coffee <i>à la Turque</i>, -served up in pottery, the form of which -indicated a vast antiquity in its design—for -the jars, vases, and plates, glazed white -and green, were all Roman in style, and -might have been used by the Emperor Trajan. -</p> - -<p> -But little archæology was in Cecil's -mind then; he was thankful to his hostess -for the meal she gave him, and was intent -on the host's description of the route he -must pursue on the morrow, and was in -the act of accepting from the hands of the -former a tiny dish of the famous sweetmeat -of Kirk-kelisie (near the Balkans), -boiled grapes formed in a roll with -walnut-kernels, when a strange sound like -a distant 'whoop' caught his ear, together -with the tramp of horses' hoofs. Then he -felt his heart leap and his colour change, or fade. -</p> - -<p> -'Horsemen are coming up the hollow -way,' said a peasant, entering in haste. -</p> - -<p> -'Horsemen!' exclaimed Cecil, starting -up and looking at once to his pistols. -</p> - -<p> -'Armed, too—Montenegrins—I saw -them by a glimpse of the moon.' -</p> - -<p> -'Guebhard and his gang—my pursuers. -I am lost!' cried Cecil, leaping from the -table and buckling on his sword, as he -looked hurriedly around him for concealment, -defence, or escape. -</p> - -<p> -His evident emotion and admission that -he had pursuers renewed at once the inborn -mistrust of the Servian household, who all -shrank from him. Despite his uniform and -the gold cross of Takovo, they imagined -he must be a culprit, and felt neither -disposed to conceal nor defend him. Even the -gentle hostess eyed him now with horror, -mistrust and affright. -</p> - -<p> -Cecil saw in a moment that he had -nothing to hope for from his host, or the -servants, among whom were four stalwart -Servians; and just as he heard the noise -of horsemen dismounting at the door, and -the unmistakable voice of Guebhard -summoning the house, he hurried away to the -upper story, and locking two doors behind -him, resolved with his sword and his pistols -to sell his life as dearly as possible. -</p> - -<p> -By the noise and din below he became -aware that his pursuers had greatly -increased in number, and now indeed a violent -death seemed close to him—terribly so, and -his heart beat wildly. -</p> - -<p> -'One can die but once,' thought he; -'and why should we shrink from what we -cannot shun?' he added, involuntarily -quoting Byron. If he perished in that -obscure and secluded place, who would -there be to regret him, save Mary? And -then he thought of his comrades of the -old Cameronians; but none would ever -know his fate. There was something very -bitter in that reflection, yet the memory of -the regiment, and of his comrades, seemed -to nerve him anew at this terrible crisis. -</p> - -<p> -In the dark he sought about for furniture -to barricade the room-door, if it was -forced, and to form a barricade to fire over. -A chest or two, a table and chairs, he piled -against it, and then examined the window—it -was small, narrow, far from the ground, -apparently; but all was obscurity and -darkness without, and unknown to him, there -was immediately beneath it a deep hole, -formed by the farmer when digging for -copper ore. But now two minutes had -barely elapsed, when shouts and execrations -fell upon his ears, together with the din of -blows upon the first door he had closed. -</p> - -<p> -It was speedily beaten in, and then the -door of the room was assailed. It seemed -stronger, and for a time resisted the blows -that were rained upon it. -</p> - -<p> -'He wears a diamond ring, the gift of -Palenka, which will prove a fortune to -whoever gets it,' he heard Guebhard say -in a loud voice; 'and he has a plan of the -campaign, well worth a thousand ducats to -me, and more to Kara Georgevitch!' -</p> - -<p> -But his Montenegrins scarcely needed -these incentives to outrage and bloodshed. -</p> - -<p> -Through a hole in the door Cecil, for a -moment, saw them crowding and jostling -in the narrow passage, by the light of a -torch held by one of their number. -Ferocious-looking they were, yet men of -magnificent physique, in long white camises, -open in front, with gaudy waistcoats below; -their sashes filled with knives, yataghans -sharp as needles, and brass-butted pistols; -their faces inflamed by raki, their dark eyes -gleaming like those of devils; their white -teeth glistening; their wide blue -petticoat-trousers reaching to the knee, and their -feet encased in thongs and sandals of hide. -</p> - -<p> -A gleam of light flashed inward, as an -axe clove a rent in the door, and thereat, -for a moment, he saw the gleaming eyes -and pallid face of Guebhard, and he fired -full at it; but with what effect he never knew. -</p> - -<p> -He fired again and again, at a venture, -through the door, and so did his assailants; -but their chance bullets went wide of the -intended mark; while more than one -shriek and hoarse malediction announced -that his fire had told on the group wedged -in the narrow space without; but now the -door was yielding fast, and Cecil, aware -that when once it was broken down he -would inevitably perish by a death too -probably of protracted mutilation and -torture, threw open the window and -resolved to drop therefrom. -</p> - -<p> -Firing all the chambers of his revolver -at the door, through the splintered gaps in -which a red light was streaming now, he -lowered himself down, just as two of his -assailants came rushing round a corner of -the house, intending, no doubt, to cut off -his retreat; and quitting his hold on the -window-sill, he fell down—down—he knew -not whither; but it was into the excavation -already mentioned, and there he lay -for some moments, stunned, confused, and -well-nigh senseless, and incapable of further -thought or action. -</p> - -<p> -Round the hole, wherein he lay, his -pursuers gathered. -</p> - -<p> -'Here he lies!' exclaimed Guebhard, -'stunned or dead!' -</p> - -<p> -'A single shot to make sure!' said one, -cocking his long brass pistol. -</p> - -<p> -'Not one!' cried Guebhard, imperatively; -'I hear cavalry moving through the -wood—perhaps those we might be sorry to -meet. He lies still enough—some of our -balls must have hit him—I saw blood in -the room.' -</p> - -<p> -That was the case certainly; but it was -blood from the wounds of some of his own -followers. -</p> - -<p> -'Hark!' he added, as the sound of a -cavalry trumpet was heard close by; 'here -are shovels—cover him up—and when the -horse are past, we can return and get what -we want, at leisure.' -</p> - -<p> -Cecil heard all this; he never stirred—scarcely -breathed; and now he felt shovelful -after shovelful of earth thrown upon -him, cold, damp, and moist, as they -proceeded, not to bury, but merely to cover -him up, with the intention of concealing, as -they thought, the dead body for a brief -space. -</p> - -<p> -No groan, no sigh, no sound, escaped -him, while this horrible process went on; -yet he felt a horror and dismay no -language can depict, as he knew not how -much soil they might heap upon him. -</p> - -<p> -Unseen, or unnoticed by them, he -eventually felt himself compelled to move -his head, lest his face should be covered as -completely as his body was; and then -suffocation would ensue. -</p> - -<p> -At last a great mass was shovelled in; -his head was entirely concealed, and then -Guebhard and his Montenegrins withdrew -from the spot. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -END OF VOL. 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