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Kiitf red according to the Act of the Vnr- lliHiient 01 Canadn. in the year one th„u.saiid eiwlit hundred and seventv-ttve, by fH.vjti ks SXriture "'" ^""'" "^ ""^ Minister of IllNTBK, ROSK ANU CO., I'RINTKRS ANU I?IM)KI<8, TORONTO. .» Hetticatiott. TO pR. pHARLES PaMERON, f^f., THIS BOOK IS INSCKIBKU WITH FEELIN.OS OF SINCERE RESPECT FOR THE POLITICIAN AND THE FRIEND. COKTEISTTS, OUAP. |>AOB I. Blackberuieh 1 II. RoBKRT Marjoribankh .... 9 III. A Suspicious Chakaoter .... lo IV. An " Admirable Crichtok "... 22 V. Thinking about it 33 VI. Under the Willow 40 VII. Two Women 47 VIII. Whisperings ok War 55 IX. The Modern Genii Cl X. The Hermit's Cave 68 XI. Too Late 75 XII. In the Gloom 81 XIII. Aladdin's Lamp 87 XIV. Confession 94 XV. "Parting is such Sweet Sorrow" - - ]02 XVI. The Major's Tactics - - - - " . HO XVII. Bess Manosuvrbh 119 XVIII. Cockie-^^eerib 123 XIX. Coquetting 130 XX. "Judge Mb" 137 XXI. Marjoribanks Puzzlbd .... 145 XXII. "Stubborn Fools" 1,50 XXIII. BoMBO AND Juliet 169 XXIV, One Step Farther 164 XXV. Neck or Nothing 170 XXVL "WildGoosk" 177 XXVII. In thb Moonlight ]83 f !• vni ClIAl'. XXV I [I. XXIX. XXX. XXXI. XXX II. XXXIII. XXXIV. XXXV. XXXVI. XXXVII. XXXYIII. XXXIX. XL. XLI. XLII. XLIII. XLIV. XLV. XLM. XLVII. XLVIII. XLJX. L. LI. LII. LIII. LIV. LV. LVI. LVII. LVIII. LIX. LX. . » '' CONTENTS. TiiK Tkst TiiK Maior'm Lkvkk Kin, MIT NOT Kink "QlKRN TO MoVK " A Si'LKNIMh MATril Unhkh thk Sukkack AnoTJIKK ClIANCK 'JllOSS-FlKIN 300 M(i 322 32<) 33(> :J41 347 353 357 302 307 377 381 388 L'OH 217 L';t4 L'4o :j i -: 2G:i 208 274 280 287 WIIAT WILL THE WOULD SAY? riiAJTi-:ii 1. r.L.Vt'k \\\\\{ K IKS, ^IIK lilitlui laii^IiU'i- of tlii'oo iiu'iry ywn upon tlie heao.i of the merrymakers. Tliey, iinlieeding, gamhoUed tlirongli Lnsh and brake, now up to the knees in h)ng grass or liuge ferns, again scraml)ling up some l)are scarp towards a group of l»rambk'S ; now togetlua', again separate(l, and tlieir ck^ar voices rang througli the glen, hallooing to one another. They were gathering l)lackberries, and when(iver one came upon a particularly line cluster of the bright jet-like fruit, there was such a shout of triumph, and the three united to pluck the prize — eating quite us nuuiy of the berries as weie transferred to the tin cans which they carried in their hands. " Ijess, IJess — Austin, couKi here," called a happy voice ; "here's a bush just black with berries !" That was followed by a little scream, and then the explana- tion — " Oh, I've pricked my thumb." Austin sprang up a steep bank and was pres(3ntly beside the girl, holding her hand in his, seriously seeking the cause of lier pain. He pressed the thumb between his fingers till she winc- ed, then laughed at her rueful grimaces, and said — "There's nothing in it." She was olfended by his laugh, and briskly Avithdrew her hanerfect fearlessness, and perfect faith in the future. Those old days make u}) so much of the joy and sachiess of our lives ! The time always conies when we see how much of the delights of youth we /.J'"d to appreciate, because wi; were so eager for the serious business of the world to begin. She had no idea of what love was, but sh(; was curious on the subject. She thought Austin — the son of Doctor Murray, of Airbridge — a very nice fellow. She was pleaseil when he came to Kavelston — her uncle's place — and delighttnl to have a holiday with him such as the present. She was kind to him a little, and teased him a great deal, for which she was sorry after. But there were times when she felt shy, afraid that he would kiss her — and wished that he would do it, just to know the difference between the formal kiss of an uncle or cousin and a lover's. She had not at all, however, S(;ttled in her own mind that he was the hero (a lover must be a hero, she fancied) who would HLArKnEUllIES. oast' the ck sciiti- to make plimeiit ; tlie ])ol(; , girl of { of long u it, just incle or that he > would be worthy of tlu entire devotion of which love consisted — that idea of devotion was another of her fancies. Austin, on the other hand, was (piite decided. He was in love. There was never and never could be any living creature at all comparable to Coila (jrardyne. Hut he had fears ; she was the niece of Robert Marjoribanks, the wealthy owner of many coal and iron miners, and he might object. Then he had hopes ; she was an orphan, living with her uncle and dependent upon him. Sh(! had no mon«!y herself. Well, if she should ever learn to care for him enough to permit him to tell Marjoribanks that she was resolved to marry him at all hazards — the uncle would be in a towering passion, and would say : " Do as you please, but you shall not have a penny from me." Austin, at that, would Hing his cap into the air and clasp her in his arms, crying : " That's what I wished, my darling. I'll woik for you ; I'll make a home for you — not so grand as Kavelston, but a cosy wee place where we shall be happy because we love eacli (»ther!" Sweet dreams ! beautiful romances, in which the dcilicate lights and shades of the glen, thed behind her cousin, and suddenly pinioned her arms to her sides. " Now punish her." Coila struggle*!, but failed to release lierself tVoni the strong grasp which held her. Austin stood confused and hesitating. " Punish her," repeated Bess, resolutely. iVustin stepped forward, but (*oiIa regaitled him with such a look of helpless appeal that he stopped. " No, Bess, we'll let the culprit olf this time ; but "ihe next " He looked unutterable vengeance ; but just as at odd times you see a black bar crossing the clear face of the moon, there a})])eared to be a black bar across his face ; he felt that Coila did not care for him at all. Bess released her priscuier with the quiet comment — " What fools you are ! " And they felt that they were fools under the steady, almost scornful gaze of the brilliant black: eyes of Bess Marjoribanks. She had been born in the East, the daughter of an Indian woman, and her maternal parentage was evident in her dusky complexion, piercing black eyes, and jet black hair, but it was still more apparent in the occasional fits of passion, in which she seemed to be capable of any desperate deed — in which she would even set her father at defiance. Whether Eo1)ert Marjoribanks had been married to hermother or not was a question. There were (jueer stoiies in the district about Bess's mother ; some said that the poor woman finiling her husband about to sail for England, taking the child with him but leaving the mother behind, had stolen on board the vessel and only showed herself when they were far at sea. But she had died upon the passage to England, and there wijre not wanting people to suggest the wild idea that Marjoribanks, ashamed to acknowledge such a wife at home, had poisoned hei-. This was, of course, no more than ridiculous and spiteful sc-an- dal, Bobert Marjoribanks had been too successful in life — and was even too good uaturrd to spoil his ])eace of mind by a crime.' He brought his daughter home, and he presented her every- where as the legitimate heiress of his wealth, which was grow- ing vast r.nd more vast year by year, and day by day. WHAT WII.I, TIIK WORLD SAY ? :i! i When liis sister died, a year after her husband, he liad given her on lier deatli-bed a willing pledge that he would be a father to her child. He took Coila to his house, and in every respect she had been treated as a child of his own, equal to Bess in everything, and, indeed, Mrs. Forbes, the housekeeper, some- times fancied that he actually cared more for his niece than for his own daughter. Bess was about two years older than her cousin ; tall, dark, beautiful, her eyes fiaslied upon you with a magnetic power which was irresistible ; and yet whilst you yielded to it, there was a something which made the heart tremble with fear, like the seduction of sleep in the snow, which means death. She was full of mirth and brightness ; yet there were depths of pas- sion in her nature which, once aroused, would overwhelm all that opposed it, or she v.'juld «lie. At present these depths had not been sounded ; she was merry and kindly ; angry at times, and had once heaved a Lennie's grammar at tlie head of her governess because she had upbraided her for a task over which Bess had laboured hard. She had an unfortunate repute of being cunning — that was why Austin and Coila had at once concluded, upon her sudden appearance, that she had been listening to their conversation. But she was a warm friend, and faithful to the last degree to those who trusted her. Coila, clapping her hands with delight in being set free, turned to her cousin : "Now, we'll punish him, Bess. Come, seize him, and we'll paint his face with berries. What shall we paint ? " " A moustache and beard ! " answered Bess, without hesita- tion. Austin winced, he had so longed for such appendages that the jest about, the absence of them struck closer home than the lad}'^ imagined. However, he submitted with a good grace ; sat down on a green knoll, and the two girls, laughing immoder- ately all the time, painted, with the juice of the berries, a beau- tiful red moustache, beard, and whiskers on his boyish face. When they drew liack to enjoy tiie sight of their handiwork, he submitted to the gaze quite calmly. Then — " Are you done 1 " said he. " Quite done, and you do look so funny," answered Coila, gleefully. lU.ACKr.KUUrKS " Very wt'll," said ho, rising j^nivcily, " and now I shall walk arm in arm with you l>oth to Kavelston, justas you liavo painted me. The i^iils huighoil, not believing him ; (|uite Ijohlly each took one of Ids arms, anc^ chey desccnided the side of the glen, the Strang!! perfume of the woods rising arcjund them. Under the trees there './as only a ihirk red mould, but else- where there was the fox-glove rearing tall stalks, slender jind straight, with the pink bells drooping like bashful fairies blush- ing at the intrusion of man upon their sylvan retreat ; l^luebells struggling to lift tlieir heads above the dense long grass ; the rich gieen floor sparkling with the tiny stars, forget-me-nots, [)ink lobelias, Jind purple clover ; brown leaves floating about, or collected in hea[)S in odd corners, whither the wind had ilrifted them to decay in odorous moisture. Then they passed through the mysterious light und^r the trees, like the dim light in a catliedral cry[)t, emerging into an open space where the sunlight flashed upon the scene, making the shadows of the place darker and more felt. Opposite were dull gn^y r<'cks rearing bare fac»!S amidst the profuse and dank vegetation. For a short cut they wished to cross the wimjding stream, which, with a face bright as a mirror's, traversed the glen. The stepping stones were green and slimy, so Austin st(!pped into the water, ankle deep or a little more, gave his hand to Bess and she crossed fleetly. " But you'll never get out of that pool, and you'll have such a cold," said Coila, pausing in her passage ; as she paused her foot slippe«l, and she fell into his arms. " All right" shouts he, manfully, and unconciously hugging her more closely than was necessary; "you're safe; I've got you. Place your foot on tlu; stone and with one step, over you rs devoted a good deal of their leisure. There were also regular prize-fights, generally between a couple of men of the district, but sometimes between professional pugilists. ROHKKT MAH.IDHIHANKS. 11 tlKltioll. .strange; 'IlifS of Jl I i^oklen m ; and liding a jjcaft'old ! shaj)es > of tho d ])y it ; -ter tli(! ;ad was IS there i labour ^ But [y trav- >flicL' at he did ,"aslie after a it to he, vay lie 1 prac- s much knew |;re was es, but imat(;s in the ridge ; ablish- 1 cock- eisure. couple ssional 'I'JK'se niatclu's wensinangcd in profound sccreeiy ; but every- body knew about them, and took \y,irl in tliem, or discreetly held their tongues. It would have b(;en an unpleasent thing for any one who dared to explode these little entertainments. Even c(mstables, who had l)een despatched by over active provost or inspectors to stop such outrages u})on civilisation, had been known to return without having seen anything ! The neighbourhood of Airbridgif was of a decidedly sporting character, (^specially in th" way of horses. Almost ev(;ry thriv- ing tradesman owned a fast trotting pony which had won a match or two. l>ut he was a ranch rcjspected man who possessed a horse which had gained the Airbridge Cup at the annual races; ancl there were several men in the town who where able to dis- play that trophy on their sideboards. Mr. Marjoribanks (iutercid all classes of scjciety ; merchants welc) himself ami not to his wealth. He did not know that, and in the heiglit of his glory he would not have cared even if he had known it. When he was petted and flattered by some great ])olitician who wished to secure for his party the Marjoribank's interest at the next election, he would say with much satisfaction : " Yes, I know the Avorking classes — I was one of them. I worked in the pit myself : M'hen I was a laddie many a bright summer morning, and many a black wintermorning, I've trudged along the road to my work, pick on my shoulder, lamp stuck in my leather cap, a jioor half starved wretch with never a notion of being anything better. J>ut you see luck has been on my side, and now I'm pretty comfortable." And he gave a broad laugh at that mild way of stating his position. He had a peculiar way of clearing his throat witli a gruff, guttural cough at the beginning, middle, and end of a sentence which was at times very discordant to the ears of his listener. " How the deuce did such a man ever acquire such a fortune," enviously exclaimed Jack Morrison, who was a prominent sport- ing character, and an independent gentleman in private, but in public was Airbridge's chief grocer, distiller, miller, tobacco manufacturer, and ever so many things besides. " JJy having an eye to see op[)ortunity and the resolution to seize it promptly." answered Dr. Murray, a stout, quiet, grey- headed gentleman. '' But where did he find the opportunity — I've never found it." UoUKKT MAHJOIUHANKS. 13 v'orld to- / .settled •urs, but vvlijit he savour. had de- A' being ing and id many .rt'ord ti) ad f(5\v, •t to liis h gloiy diticiaii erest at lenri. I bright ludged tuck in notion on my mig Ills with a d of a of his tune," sport- 3ut in bacco ion to grey- found " lie didn't find it .so much as he worked toi it. \\ lim In- left ih(^ pib lie got some Unr)wledge of engineering ; then he went al>n)ad, made some money, (;ame home at the right moment, and invested in a mine. The investment tuined up a tnimi>, gave iiim iron as well as coal, and so he wt'iit on until \w l)ecain(; what you see him — owner of half the coal and iron in the district, and mast«u' of Uavelston." "Wish I hadn't been married," said Morrison, thoughtfully. He was a tall, good looking man of forty live or .so. "Why?" " Hecause I'd havi^ gone* in for old Marioribaidcs' daughter or niece." " Ila, ha, you would have no chance ; too many have already ' gom^ in' for them, as ycm say." I'he doctor added " (lood ilay," and i)roceeded on his rouiul of visits. Mr. Marjoribanks t^xaminiMl his privatt; letti^rs in tlu; library at Uavelston immediately after breakfast, at which time. th«i post arrived. " Look here. Hill," he said, a lett(>r in his hand, th«» sun glinting on his round wrinkled face and lai-ge head, " that ciia[) who helped the girls when they were crossing from St. Malo, accepts the invitation, and says he'll be hen^ for th(! Twc^lfth. Write and tell him I'm glad to hear it." George Hill was the secretary ; he was supposed to be re- ceived as a gentleman, took his meals with the family, occupied the front seat in the carriage occasionally, and he was treated by his master with a degree of discourtesy — not to say con- tempt — which no kitchen-maid would have endured more than once. Mr. Marjoribanks did not mean any harm by this brisk way of treating his servants ; but he caused a great deal of pain which no amount of ostentatious liberality soothed or atone»l for. It was one of his faults that he could not realize the idea that a man who received payment for his labour might be a gentleman. As a consequence, he often blundered uninten- tionally. Mr. Hill said " Yes," respectfully, laid the note on the writing-table and made a memorandum of the answer. Mr. Marjoribanks continued his examination of the letters, most of which he threw aside after reading tlie Hrst line, with r; 14 WHAT VVIUi TIIK VV<»|U,|) SAV ? an iin|>iillt'Mt "toots." lie dcii^iu'd to ;ms\v«'r. tliroiii^li his .^ocnitaiy, aljouL lialla do/cii. NVIkui Ik^ lia«l (iiiislicd " 'Vr\\ Forlu^s to give him tlir '^ivvn jooni ; hess to tho.se who were intimate. Third, his ni(!C(!, Coila. It is five years since that day of the expedition to the glen in search of hlackheiries ; Bess and (Joila are women ; Austin Murray is an army surgeon, and has been out in Ashantee with the niack Watch. Hess, in hvv flowing morning gown, is more beautiful than ever ; her dark eyes more bright, and her general expression more n^solute, but that does not in the least diminish tht; general attractiveness of her face and manner. She has a quiet, seductive smile for every one who approaches her ; a soft purring voice giving welcome ; and, although she is indif- ferent to most ])eople, she is really anxi(nis to give pleasure; to all, without any more sinister motive than that she should be thought well of by all. Coila was not so frank as in the old days ; there was a dreamy light in her eyes, and something like sadness in her ex- pression. The two girls had been to school togethei- finish- ing — in Germany and afterwards at a pensionnat near St. Malo. The experience had been a bitter one to Coila. From teachers and fellow-pupils she had learned the differ- ence between the daughter of a millionaire and a mere depen- dant upon his bounty No one had been consciously unkind to her ; no one had intended to show her that there was the least difference between her and Bess. But the difference existed ; UOIJKIIT MAIMOIUHANKS. 15 'iii^li his lU't look lie room well uc loticc of Fiist, t under nliiiary Tliini, lj(! <^I('fl Austin 50 with il thau ression sh tht! has a ici' ; a 1 indif- mv. to uM 1)0 was a er ex- inish- Malo. liffer- epen- nd to least sted : tlu'V t'lt, itt and in s|»it<' (d'thernsrlvi's tlicy could not iudp show uv^ it in tlu' countlt'ss little trirks oi' manner which pass uni>l»- seived hy all «'X<'ept the unfortunate on»' who is in the position of a «iependant. Coila was ]>eculiarly sensitive to every shade of word and look. So she eaini! hoin»s insteaut, s(»n.v'how, sh«^ (•(»uld not accept the position fraid !nuch afraid of him to remonstrate. Sh(^ took her aUowan.ce with tremhling hands, and expended a s'nall i)ortion of it with timid- ity and regr((t that she shoidd ho obliged to break upon it at all : for she luul a sort of nightmare feeling that somc^ day it would be a relief to her to hand back to him all that he had given. These tlioughts, oi- fancies, wvav all the more; painful because tluire was no om? to whom she dared express t\umi ; they seemed to stiHe her sometimes ; and they gave her always that sad ex- pression of one in a dream. But there was one who saw and understood her — Miss Janet. '* I thought you lasses would be glad to know," said Mjirjori- banks, entering the parlour in his usual al)rupt way, " and so 1 came to tell you that your friend, Major Kilgour, is to be hero for the; Twelfth." " Oh, thank you, papa," exclaimed l>ess, arranging some tlowers in a vase; ; " he will bo (piite an acipiisition to your l)arty." Coila looked in amazeniont at Miss Janet. I 16 WHAT WILL THE WOULD SAY? CllALTER III. A SUSPICIOUS CIIAMACTEIl JANET was tho opposite to her brother in every Unmeth(jtlical to an exasperating degree, she always droppin ere hief. aTK I somethi 1)11 rse coul( nu or losiiiif ^th I never l)e f some 'onnd w uu he n wanted. Her Berliii wool and knitting necMlles, which occnpied most of her tim(\ were continnally disappearing, and hall'a-dozen tinn^s in an honr tiuu'e were commotion and Inistle hnnting for them. Her brother nsed to say that she would lost? her head, if it were not nailed on her shonlders. Then she was timid ; she never looked any one straight in the face ami seemed to Ik; always searching for invisible pins on the carpet ; Ijut all the time slie would be furtively watching and noting everything and everybody. She moved in a quick gliding way ; and entca-ing a room to meet any one, her eyes seemed to be glancing under the chairs nnd tables as if she ex- pected to see her friend there. She gave a great deal of trou- ble whilst she was always most anxious not to do so. In person she was little and stout, and in consequence, her mincing ways became the more remarkable. She had a mild, kindly face, and a kind heart, although its best impulses were frequently cliecked l)y her timidity. Her eyes — when visible — appe.ired to be of a dark grey colour, but indefinite almost as lier character. She wore a wig, l)ecause an illness some years ago had left her bald ; and the wig was perpetually getting out of place, making her look ridiculous, and causing much fussy distress to herself and nieces, until they set it right again. " E.xcuse me, Robert^ but who is Major Kilgoiir]" inquired Miss Janet, searching for the invisible pins, dropping her ball of wool, and, as she stooped to pick it up, dropping her hand- kerchief. " Ooila or Bess can tell you about him — -uh — hum " —(clear- ing his throat). " He helped th(!m when they were crossing A SUS!*iClOUS CllAUACTEH. 17 in every igroe, she inetliing ; 11(1 wlien occupied I ;i-ad most of his time ; starved witii the Federals in tlu; American war, and umst have served well or they wouldn't iiave made him major. They're clever folk, the Yankees, and can determine the stutf a man is made of almost as surely as a Manchester man can tell the quality of a web of cloth." " But what is he now ? " — searching for one of the knitting needles. " Don't know. I fancy from one or two hints he gave me that he has something to do with the Carlists ; but that's no business of ours." " No, no, of course not — but is he respectable 1 " Tliat was Miss Janet's crowniug (question to every inquiry she made about new aciiuaintances. MarjoriljaidvS laughetl, and crossed the room, his arms swing- iriLi' like sledae hammers. " Well, I don't know ; if he wanted to do business with me 1 would ask for a reference to his banker. As he is not iroinir to do business with me, I must take him for what he ap})ears to be. I'll know how to deal with him if he tries any tricks with me ; but there's no fear of that, and you needn't count the s[)oons. Is that all right T' " Yes, de:-i', and very satisfactory." It was another peculiarity of Miss J anet that she always said things were very satisfactory when she thought them most doubtful. But it did not matter nuicli, for she remembered very little that she was told, and that little, long after the pro- per moment. Often she made ludicrous — sometimes sad — jumbles of persons and incidents. " Will you drive with me this morning, Coila ? " he said, halt- ing with his hand on the door. B I ! I W' i 18 WHAT WILL TJIE WORLD SAY ? "Thank you, iiiiclc, 1 tliiiik not. Aunt Janet w.-mt arraniic; lier work-tal)lo for lici." s nic to Arrange lier work-table I—uh-liuni- not niucli use in tliat. But do as you lil \(' ' No, clear, no, don't stay on my account- -please don't. 1 can do it myself, and it will l)e a nice little distraction for me w liilst yon are away, " I would rather stay." " You might ask me, papa," said Bess, turning from her tlowei vase D o you want to go ?- -come." " Oh, that's anotlier way of putting it— you ad Coila, hut you command me." " Toots, you shall have the; carringe to youiself and some sweeties at Airbridge.'^ ** What, all that at once 1 Then I must tjo. Ta, ta. irood folk." "^ ' ' ^ " Don't be an hour g(!tting ready. The carjiage will be at the door at ten, and I won't wait," " There will be no occasion, ))apa." And she disapi)eared. It was a little hard upon Bess that she should fall into tlu; second place, ai)parently, in everyone's considcjration, and (]oila, who was so quiet and retiring, should occupy the first. From her father down to the scullery -maid all seemed involuntarily to think of Coila first. When the door had closed upon father and daughter. Miss Janet said quite impressively : ''■ You ought to have gone, dear; Kob(!i't does not like i-efusjds, and the air would have dont; you good— where it; my handker- chief 1 Now, doJi't move, dear ; I shall be so vexed if you disturb yourself in the least on my account." But slu^. was making such wild etlbrts to discover the missing handkerchief that Coila of course got up to assist in the search, and at length it was found under Miss Janet's ample skirts. A few minutes were required to restore her to her composure, and by that time the wheels of the carriage were heard rolliu"- away from the door. Coila had gone to the window and was nodding and smiling farewell to her uncle and cousin. Then she turned back to begin her daily task of arranging Miss Janet's A SUSPICIOUS CHARACTER. 19 wants in<' t(> woik-taltle. She toiind it difficult to repii^sF-, an exclamation of liori'or. " Oh, dear ! aunt, do let me arrange your hair." The wig was sitting in the most rakisli fasliion on one side of the lady's head, giving lier the ai)pearance of a most reckless IJacchanal. " Is it wrong again, dear / " exclaimed Miss Janet, in nu^ek distress. " I hope it wasn't sd when Uobeit was here — it always annoys him so much." '* No, it was quite right when he was here." " Thank you ; now we can have a (piiet gossip. Did you see the needles and wool, dearl" iVnother hunt, and ultimately it was discovered that Miss Janet was sitting upon the missing articles. " Thank you, dear ; so sorry to trouble you — you are so good." She proceeded with her knitting ; Coila began to arrange the table by emptying everything out on the floor, and then (juietly replacing them one by one after neatly folding and tying up various little packets. Miss Janet was busy, and yet was observing \wv fuitively. Su, and wo •niing ov(3r gentleman iy stuff, it ■ us in the e got into if you had etted with him, and 31' a little iidgment utleman. that he made up lim." eck. lisagree- " Then I'll do my best to be kinder to her ; but she some- times ([uite frightens me with those eyes of hers. Now, let us talk of something else, dear, llavc^ you heard auytliing about young Austin Murray 1 " " Nothing, except that he distinguished himself by his ser- vices to the troops during the campaign in Ashantee." " Ah, I can tell you more than that. Dr. Murray, when lie was with me yesterday, said that Austin had taken King Coffee — but that cmi't be right, dear ; I've muddled it some- how. Ah, yes, this is it ; Austin had taken the fever and was away on sick leave, and was travelling through Spain and France, and was coming home." " It will be so nice to see him ; he was alwavs so bravt^ and generous. '' Better than that, Dr. iNInrray said he intended to keep liini at Imme, as his own health is so frail, he rerjuin^d an assistant ; and, of course, he would prefer Austin who is by and by to have the practice. Are you not glad ?" "Yes," she answered dreamily, and her tiioughts travelled back to that day in the glen, to the wounded thumb, to the crossing of the stream, and the words he had w!iis[>ered in her ear when she slipped and fell into his arms. Yes, she would be very glad to see him again ; and she won- dered if he remembered those old incidents as she did. But he had been busy in the affairs of the worhl and hi^ would not remember such trivial things — he had forgottini tlunn long ago, no doubt. All the same, she would lu^ very glad to rtMU'w the old friendshi]). e teases tul I am ore con- I ; I ' I I /,; 1 1 \V i i ^ 22 WHAT WILL THK WORLD SAY? CHAITEU IV AN "ADMrifAHLK CUICHTON. i A A.JOK ITE(TOR KILCIOUR ariivca on the (^lovcntli in time toi- dinner. The cMri'i;ig(! was waitinjL^ for him at Cragit^onp, a small station on the main line about two miles from Kavelston. As only two }>assengers ali^nhted from the train, Millar, the footman, had no difficulty in iden- tifying the gentleman he had been sent for. A tall gentleman, with l)road shoulders, erect form, litlu! limbs and springy step. Age, between thirty-Hve and forty, but he would have passed for not more than thirty, until his face was closely examined, and the faint shadows of coming wrinkles became visible. Dress, dark brown tweed, and hat of pale brown f(!lt, helnn^t-shape. Hair, black, cut sliort in mili tary fashion ; l)ushy short beard and long moustache ; no whis k(U's. Features, long, cleanly cut, and decidedly hands(mie. l*^xj)ression, frank, and somewhat self-satisfied, l)ut quite trust- ful ; there was not a line of suspicion on his face. The general air was undonbt(!dly "distinguished;" once, at an hotel, he had been mistaken for the Duke of Somewhere by a valet who, like most servants, could form a pretty correct judgment from the manner of a man what position he occu- pied ; the poor valet was ready to shoot himself when he discov- ered that the major was a [)lebeian — which lie knew must Ix^ the case when he saw him helped a second time to soup ! The Major was smoking a cigar, leaning carelessly on a thick Malacca cane, and calmly looking \\\) and down the platform, when Millar advanced and touched his hat. " Major Kilgour 1" " Yes. You an; from Kavelston, 1 suppose^ 1 " " Yes, Sir. What luggage 1 " The Major ])ointed to a large ])ortma>it(Mn, a ikmv (il.idstone bag, a gun-(!ase, and a hat-box. '< That's all." J \S 'ADMIUABLK CUICMTON. 23 10 (ilf'vonth iii.i( for him I line about rs aligliU'd Ity ill idon- f'orm, lithc! and forty, y, until hi8 of coming and liat of )rt in mili ; no wliis landsonic. nite trust- once, at 'Where by 'Y correct he occu- 10 discov- ' must ])(! n a thick platform, fl.idstone The luf^gage was conveyed to the carriage, and the INIajor took his seat (juietly, as one accustonuid t<> luxury, and indifferent to it. It was an open carriage, so he lounged back on the seat, and, instead of regarding the landscape, he occupied himself in tiieditativelv studying the backs ol" ttoss, the coachman, and Miliar. Not an exalting study, l)ut it amused liim to imagine the characters of the men from this back point of view, lioss was grim anil laithfui ; Millar was thoughtless and merry of heart as light of head. The .scjuare set shouMers of the first, tlu' rigid firmness of his head, never wavering to right or to left, l)ut fixed uj)on the reins, the horses, and the road befon; him, were the indications of the solidity of his nature ; the quick jerky move- ments of the second, as if he sat on springs, the head lying a little Lo one side, and the occasional ({uiver of the shoulders as if he: were suppressing a chuckle at some unseen joke, were the signs which the ob.server summed up in his coiiclusion about him. lie remembered, too, the good-natured though unmeaning grin witii which Millar had saluted him, and that fornu'd an element ii: his estimate of the man, " I wonder what they'll turn out to be ^ " reflected Kilg«)ur; "and I wonder what notion they have formed about me. Poor devils we must often look in the eyes of servants. . , The liveries are not bad — grey faced with grey velvet is comfortable looking and respectable, if it is a little common. I wonder where Marjoribanks got the idea — he never hitu[)on it himself, clever as he is. The daughter, I sujypose — or, more likely, the niece." Th(^ massive iron gates which gave entrance to Kavelston swung open ; the Mnjor observed that they were hung in a high, grey stout; arch, which was surmounted by a big eagle with wings spread, and Hanked on eitlusr side by a lion rampant. The carriage drove in so swiftly that he had scarcely time to notice the tall, curly white-headed old man who had opened tlu; gales on hearing the carriage wheels ; by some instinct he re- cognised tht^ step of the horses wheti they were a (quarter of a mile distant. The man stood at his post erect and grim as a stMitinel charged with some treasun; which an enemy was (!X[Ku;t- ed eveiy moment to a.ttack. lie neitlnsr smiled to the sti-anger nor saluteil him. "m H li 24 WTTAT WTLT, THE WORLD SAV '^ The Major bent ovrr [he side of the rarriaii;*' to look l)ack, and caii^lil a ju'liinpsc^ of a man, six feet h'\'j}\, of siiicwv riaiiic, loiijj; fresh face, inarl<('ss, Ins niagnili<'ent whiti^ cni'ly hair danced in the wind. A liale old man, sixty at least, but Avith s])lendid muscles. As he closed the gates, it was a])par(M)t that he walked with a limp, and had a wooden h'g. " That old fellow must have been a capital soldier," was the Major's reflection ; "but he gave no salute, so lie cannot have served." The Major now took an interest in the road. Me was much pleased by the fine avenue, lined with beeches and chestnuts ; then there was a little lake with a miniature island in the cei\tre, and a boat lurking under a willow, the branches of M-hicli touched th(! water, and the whole was inverted in its mirror. Sweeping round the lake he came suddenly into full view* of the house, A square building, set in two projecting wings — each large enouuh to be a comfortable residence for a mod(^rate family — and a sliort square tower rising in the centre, just above the main entrances On the southern side were two broad green terraces, then laAvn and croquet ground, or bowling green, surrounded by beds of brilliant geraniums and other flowers ; trees, shrubbery, and tlower-bordered walks, leading to the park where cattle, horses, and sheep were leisurely grazing, as if conscious that they were aristocrats, far removed above their fellows, safe from salesmen and butchers — an idea which must have been comforting to them at the time, but which was de- stroyed just as the requirements of the house demanded. " By Jove," mentally exclaimed the new guest as all this flashed upon him, " here are pleasant quarters — and prospects. There's no possibility of looking at that place and doubting that the owner is a millionaire. Lucky fellows who are his friends." He was met at the door by Baxter the butler, a short, round man with a white fat fac<3, a shining bald head, horns of hair on his temples and brushes on his cheeks — the face suggesting that of a bald poodle. " Is that all 1 " said Baxter, when the luggage was placefl in the hall, and the emphasis on the sec(md word s<'emed to indicate that he had some difficulty in making up his ni,, 1 whetlu'i- the AN " AnMTT?Al?I,K CRICHTOX." 2r> look back, '\vv fV.uiic, ito sliil»l)|<> ingniliccut ill, sixty at itcs, it was fleii ](>ir. ," was tlu! nnot liavt! was miicli :ll»'Stlluts ; •u^ centre, of M'hicli ts mirror. !1 view of winijs — niod(!rato 1st above •ad green i^ green, owers ; le park as if ve their h must was (le- all this >spects. ng that iends." round if liair ^estinir ced in dicate '1- tJie I 1 >>^J.- •^'Ui'st were carefnl or poor. W liatcvcr liis rell(M-tions might l>e, he was hotli civil and attentive. The guest was conducted to th(( green-room and infoiined that the dinner hour was liair-))ast six, and tliat h(^ would iind Mr. i\rarj«»ri1tanks in the drawing-i-oom ; then he was left to tlie attention of a smart youth who was busy unstrapping the poitmantcau and bag. This attendant ;vsked for his keys, whicii the Major at once surrendered, and the contents of his bags were deftly transferred to the wardrolie ; his evening dress laid out for him ; hot water placed ready on the stand in the dressing-room, and he was left to himself. The Major surveyed his jvpartment : it was charming, fur- nished in irreen, with everv convenience and comfort of these degen<'rately luxurious days. Plenty of space, a large Hutfy- looking bed. easy chairs, lounge, writing-table, with all necess- ary materials placed in one of tlu^ two windows ; a small dress- ing-room attached, with hot, cold, and shower-bath at his command. After he had taken in all the details of his situation, and surveyed the prosp(M)t from each of th(> windows. " Clover," he muttered, and ({uietly proceeded to dress. He was careful ; he wislied tr) make an impression ; therefor he was particular about his sliirt front and his tie. Tie was a man of decision, yet he liesitated twenty seconds as to wliicb of five sets of studs he should wear. He ultimately decided upon a plain set of Florentine mosaics, very quiet in appearance, but very beautiful in design. With that quiet self-possession which is one of tht? fruits of good-breeding, he entered the drawing-room, and immediately the ntmosphere became fussy ; the other guests examined him curiously ; Miss Janet, sitting in a shady corn«n' with her hair all right — thanks to Coila — eyed him critically ; the young ladies rose, and Marjori banks looking Hushed and hot, as if his broad white neckerchief were suffocating him, shook hands with the Major warmly. "Glad to see you at Ravelston, Sir; hope you find your quarters agreeable." " Perfection, thank you." Then as he touched Bess's hand, he said in a voices that was low enough to be almost an undertone, only it was the ordinary pitch of his voice in a drawing-room — 5J6 WHAT vvii.r. TrrK would sav ? " It is worth triiv«'lliii^f IVom the other side of tlic world to S(!(! you ji,i;iiiii, Miss iM;irjoril);iiiks." " 'riuink you," saul llcs.s, in her tViUik way — sonu! folk ciilhfil it hold—'' Hop(; you will tiot havtsoccasicHi to chaMi^eyoui' niiml oil that scoi'c. Do you oftt'ii change your mind T' (Smiling.) '' 1 am mortal, and therefore change ; l)ut it is not possihhi to do so in tliis instance." Thank you," again said I>ess, inclining her head slightly u and somew hat mocKiii'dv lie did not, a[)})arently, observe the shades of her niauner, and he turiie*! to (Joila, saying simply — " I am glad to see you, Miss Oardyne." But he looked at her with a smile which showed that his words conveyed his tiiought. Marjorihanks presented him to the guests —Mr. Morrison. Mr. Strongitharm, and Ian M'Killo|), Laird of Killievar, a small Highland estate, hy the name of which he was generally (h'sign- at(id. Then, as if suddenly nn'ollecting himself, the host said in his brisk way : "Oh, and my sister, Miss danet. We're a small party to- night, so '-e may as well all l)e friends." Miss Janet bowed stitHy ; the Major advanced to her with a smiling ex[)ression of his ])loasure in making \wv acfpiaintance. " It's v{;ry warm," was Miss Jaiust's re[)ly, looking undtM- the chairs, the couch, and everywhere for luii- fan, which she ulti- mately found hanging l)y a silken loop on her arm. She did not like the Major, but he certainly was a handsome man, and remarkably civil, llc^ remained l)eside her, instead of hurrying off to the young ladies, as ev«3ry body did except the doctor and tlui minister. She felt no difficulty in talking to him, as she usually did with strangers. He s})oke al)out the avenue, the lake ; made iiupiiries about the surrounding country and people, displaying real intercsst in his questions, so that she had plenty to say to him, and felt rather pleased with herself in consequence. The young man had been evidently impressed by hei" conversation, and that was a comfort to a woman who had not for many years exj)erience(l the thrill of satisfaction pro- duced by tlu! senses of making a scMisation. Slu^ saw that iiess and Coila were amazeil (they w(;re amused), and that was an additional element of satisfaction. When dinn"r wasannounc(!ut as you are last come you shall be first seived, s(» you can take my daughter ; Killievar, you can have my inecc ; and Moi-rison and Stronghitharm can take each other. Come along, .lanet -yon would lather go with me." He meant that the others would rather go by themselves than have to attend to Miss .bmet. " Y^es, dear, but whiu'e is my handk(Mchief ?'" " Hoots, never mind it -I've got a su[)ply for you in tiie din iiiir-roimi." i)Ut the Major had (juietly stepped over to the lady and [)re- sented the handkerchief, which he had seen lying on the cou«'h besi(h3 her. '• Oh, thank you," she exclaimed ; "so sorry to trouble you !" Killievar was not pleased with the arrangenuuit. Marjoi'i- baidy this mark of popularity ; the medals, however, were of a simple origin : one was for a famous Idack hull, another for the best flock of sheep at the Highland Society's show ; two for l)est groon crop, and others for various agricultural succes.ses. Ho was as proud of these trophies as ho could have been if he had Avon them hy destroying a whole po}»ulution of human beings. Killievar was determined to extinguish the .Major, and at dinner he talked loudly of landed property, and of laiul [)ro- priotois, theii- rights, wrongs, and benevolt .,^0. At onc^ jioint, referring to what ho had said on some important occasion in regard to the law of hypothec, ho sought the corroboration of Miss Janet, as she had been present. " Yes, T renu'mber," she answered, " for I saw you that day drive into the village with your peacock behind you." This was an unkind — although utiinteutionally so — allusion to the livery of Killievar's man. But the laird was not to b(» suppressed. " That was just it, Miss Janet ; and it was a time too when you would have been, yourself, very proud to have called that peacock livery your own." There was an inclination to laugh at this retort, which was very severe upon Miss Janet ; but the Major came to the rescue. "I have no doubt, Mr. M'Killop "' "Killievar, Sir." AX " ADMIUAIJM, ( KK'HToN.'* •2\) '• I liiU'o no (loulit, sir, tliiit it was tMitircly tluf t»» l\\v Luly's had ta.str that slic did not claim the peacock Uvt'iy as Imt own." Tlu' halt-.sup|nv.ss('d hiu^,'h tuuiid vt'iit at this sally, and Kill'o- var felt that he could not n-toit without lu'insi still nior»' rudo to the lady, lit; contented hiinself with a scowl ot contempt .it the jNIajor, who looked (|uite innocent of any intention to pro- voke either lauuh or scowl. At lirst the iNIajor had heen (juiet and observant, evidently desirous to gain > )ine knowledge of tho peculiarities of each lueniher of the company befoi'e he ventured Tto show himself. (Iradually he slijiped into tlu; conversation, talked about foreign railways to his host: about horses to Morrison and Strongitli- arni : about the battles and privations he had passed through, to the ladies ; and so lie earned the verdict from them all that he was a remarkable man. Even Killievar, despite the faint crossing of swords (»n the peacock (piestion, succumbed at last when he found the Major thoroughly agreed with him in all his theories about hypothec and the laiul laws. "The fellow knows what he is talking about," thought Killie- var. and he had not the least idea that all the talking had been done by himself ; but he felt happy in the idea that he had worsted an opponent in argument, and converted an unbeliever to his way of thinking. The gentlemen remained a long time at their wine after the ladies departed. The INIajor told some capital stories, and })roved himself an excellent companion. The stories excited much laughter, and the teller was accepted as a first rate fellow — no (me observed that as he passed the bottles he helped himself very sparingly. An hour in the drawing-room, during which the Major paid nuich attention to Miss Janet, so that when she was retiring for the night she admitted to Coila that he was " a very superior person, dear — very remarkable." When the ladies had said good night, Jack Morrison, the gay sporting gentleman, who felt that he had been ur.done to- night in the matter of horses and stories, proposed a smoke j and they proceeded to the billiard-room. " Have a cigar," said the Majoi-, presenting a case of large Partagas to Killievui'. u ■ i: : no VVirAT VVIM. TUK WOULD SAY ? " No, Sir, 1 do not smoke;," ansvvorod the lligliliuid Cliici', (Irawii.g liimsclf up stitHy ; "but I can ondurc Ihc smell." Th(! Major produced a silver snuiF-box. "Tiiis was given to me by General Grant — have a [)inch 1 " " No, Sir, I do not snuff." " Have some toddy 1 " suggested Marjoribaidvs, who luul been listening. " Yes, Sir, 1 will take; some toddy." Whilst Marjori))anks and his guests were engaged with their toddy or oigars, or both, the Major (piietly hitt the room. But his departure was observed, and Strongitharm coolly pre- sented the problem : " Is he a gentleman or a snob 1 " Killievar, with his wits illumined by the toddy, t( ok it upon himself to answer. *' Sir," he said, " a gentleman is a man of no pretension ; a snob is a man who is all pretension." " That doesn't answer my (piestion. I think he is a snob." Killievar was busy with his second tumbler of toddy, and he was ready to contradict anybody for the mtsre sake of co!i- tradiction , so, he said — " Sir, whenever you hear a man calling another a siu>b. taki; that as a sign ho is himself a snob of the most pronounced kind." ' ^ This produced some indignation and a good deal of explan- ation. Meanwhile the Major was quietly smoking his cigar on the terrace outside, enjoying the moonlight, and summing up the gains and losses of the evening. As lu; reached the end of the terrace at the corner of the house, he saw a huly ste[) out from one of the windows which opened to the ground, and advance towards him. Presently he found himself face to face with Miss Marjori- banks. She laughed upon seeing him. " Oh, 1 tliought you were l)usy with your friends in the billiard-room ; I see you like moonlight, as I do, and you have come out to enjoy yourself — pray do not put out your cigar ;. I shall leave you if you do." He bowed and continued U) smoke. AN "ADMIHAP.LK (HKIITON. 31 smell." a', u pinch ? " s, who liad »g;ige(l with ift the loom. ii ciMjlly pi(;- t( ok it upon retension ; a e is a snob." toddy, and sake of co!i- snob. take jrononncec] of explan- i3igai' on the iiing up the end of the (i\) out frojii nd advance iss Marjori- nds in the (1 you have your cigar ; " it was a lucky chance which led me here, siiice it has pro- ' cured me th(^ pleasure of seeing you again." " Glad you're pleased. I'll be ])ound you would have; felt otlu;rwise if I had been one of those squeamish creatun^s who pretend not to be al)le to stand smoke." "Under any circumstances I should be glad of the oi)[!ortunity to see you." " Uubbisli — and, if you please, give me credit for being able to understantl what is rubbish and what is not. I'll be all the ^ ])etter satisfied with you." The Major laughed in a clear, hearty tone, which would have been infectious to anyone but Bess. " What is the joke 1 " she demanded, as al)ruptly as her father would have done. " Pardon me," he said ; " but you are so droll." '< Why droll 1 " " IJecause you speak your mind. I admire that spirit ; 1 admire it all the more because 1 have so seldom met with it in man or woman — least of all, in women.'' " You'll find it in me, I hope. I'm glad I've met you to- night ; because I wish to speak to you." " You honour me," " Perhaps," she sa^d, drily. They walked to the other end of the terrace wheie a statue of Flora rose in beautiful outline in the moonlight, amidst clind)- ing plants and flowers. They halted ; the Major leaned his back against tiKj statue and surveyed the beautiful face befoie him — all the mon; beuiti- ful in the moonlight with its flush of excitenu^nt. •' You said that you wished to speak to me T' A pause ; then, as if forcing herself to speak out, " Y^es ; what motive prompted you to come here 1 " " I don't' think there was any special motive---! am speaking as frankly to you as if talking to myself. Your father invited me ; he is rich ; I am i)oor. 1 lik(^ rich people because they can afford me many comforts which T cannot obtain for myself. \U' asked me to come, and here 1 am." " r>ut you knew he had a daughter," and she made a signifi- cant [)ause. " 1 am in the confessional : 1 confess — quite true ; vagutdy, ^. i.' i i' 1 > , \* I . 32 WHAT WILI- rilK WoliLl) SAV ( the idea did enter into my calculations that the lady was to be won by some lucky fellow, and that 1 vvould like to be him." " I knew it. Well, then, I want U) tell you to l>ani.sh the thought from your mind, for it can never be. 1 am not for you. But there is my cousin, and, if you are sensiidc, perhaps I'll help you to win her; and she'll have as much money as me. Is it a bargain 1 " The Major smoked in silence ; she waiti'cl impatiently. At lengtli, coolly knocking the ash from his cigar, he said — "I'll think about it." I ; I TlilNKIN(i AI'.Mirr fT. :i3 iy was to be J be him." () biuiish tlie I am not tor ible, perhaps ch money as tieiitly. said — • At CHAPTF.Ii V. TIIINKFNCt AIJOUT IT. ^^ A'lOlt KlLGOL'li was as much amused as surprised by N^J^, tlu^ singuhir interview which accident had brought ^^^*' about with Miss Marjoribanks. He smiled often as lie remembered her brisk, lesolute manner, and the bold frankness of her words ; and lit' lilt much admiration of the bright, dark face, with its flashing eyes, which he had seen in the moon- light under the statue of Flora. It was altogether a curious incident, and the lady was de cidedly beautiful ; but what could she mean by her strange [)roposal to marry him to her cousin. He was puzzled. "It would be good sport," he thought, "to carry off herself in spite of herself. She is very droll ; but she had some rea- son for speaking to me as she did — what was it i ^' He could not solve the problem, and he put it aside, although he did not give it up. He possessed the happy knack of laying ilown any idea which disturbed him, and which he could not explain ; but without any conscious effort on his own part, the idea was ready to spring up whenever there appeared anything which was likely to associate with it and make it clear. He liked his ease and to enjoy himself. He had spoken (piite honestly to Bess. He had come there because her father was rich, and because he thought he would be comforta))le. The possibility of a wealthy marriage had occurred to him as it oftcjii had done before ; but that was only an element in the induce- ments which had drawn him to Uavelston. He was a soldier of fortune ; he had distinguished himself in battle, and he found that there were halfa-dozen unsettled governraents under which he could always obtain employment ot more or less importance, with the chance of some day " mak- ing a hit," which would give him wealth as well as position. He was not too particular as to the nature of his employment ; therefore, he was a useful man. He found his life very pleasant, c >■ ■ 'I! 34 WHAT wrrx rnK would say? I ! '1 • ' 1)1 I but he was never at'iai TITK WofU-l) kSAY ? ■! II- ! iTieiit c»f" tlio tirsli pots of Kl'V])! ])lrico(1 ]»oforo liim. and with the moors. The spoitsmuii looks with « aiicr cyo to the si^ns of tlio wea- ther on tlio mornini; of tlie Twt^lfth. On this occasion there were repeated showers of rain ; and heavy ch)uds in the v est tlireatt^ning more rain. Tiie liavelston guests w(!nt out, how- ever, (U^teimined to bravi^ th(! elements; and they trudged manfully over miles of moorland with very little success. Patcrson, tlie gamekeeper, declaj-ed at starting that there Avas not much to be got, even if th(^ weather had been auspicious ; nevertheless, the giiutlemen marched on and on, hoping to find sport somewhere, and enduring, as best they could, the fre- quent heavy showers which fell an*! dn iiched them. Through the drizzling mist crack went the guns, a wreath of smoke circled tilowly away from the muzzle, dogs yelped and bounded forward to seize the prey. There were jok^\s and laughter, whatever was the upshot, and congratulations whenever success rewarded the sportsman. There wer«i few coveys, but the birds were large, strong, and swift of wing. Killievai- obtained the greatest success of the day, iind ))agged twelve and a half brace, whicii put him in impertur1)able good humour the whole of that evening. " It is very poor s[)ort, Sir," he said, meekly, as Kilgour con- gratulateeared doubtful, he was indifierent, and loft the work to others. On the following day the rain poured down in torrents ; the mist was so thick that there was no chance of sport until it clearod away. The Mjijor had an extensive correspondence to attend to, and so hedocidetl to remain in the liouse. The chief, however, went out iw u«"..ii, and felt himsolf to be all the more superior to tlu; Major, since \m could go out in spite of the elements, wliilst the stranger coddled himself indoors. Kilgour was not coddling; himself. He wrote half-a-dozen lottei's, throo of thvia lengthy and important. Then, as the rain had ceased, he went out on the terrace ; found Hess and ( 'oiia there ; the latter busy trying to faston to the wall of the house a long rose branch, which had been blown down. »She looked vc^ry charming in her garden hat, underneath which her fair hair was tossed by the wind, and there was the flush of excitemont on her cheek, which, touched by the keen wind, h'.ul the ap])oarance of a ripe peach. He advanced and saluted tho ladies ; and whilst he was doing so, a maii, who had boon marching uj) the avenue, and who luul l»oun evidently walking in the rain, approached the party. At a few paces' distance, this man. rested (jii his heavy stall, and with a hopeful smile surveyed' the ladies. He seemoil neither to heed nor to observe the Major. Boss and Coila had been laughing at their com[)anion for his unmanly desertion of the moors. "But don't you think I gained by it," said the Major, join- ing in the laugh against hims(df. " How so ? " cried Bess. "In being privileged to share th(^ foriuioon with you." " What do you say to that i)ioce of sentiment, (Joila ? " ex- claimed Bo.ss, with a cpiick look passing from the g<'ntlonuin • '» her cousin. " It's clever," said Coila, laugi)ing, " and would bo Hat Coring, if I did not know that the aj( i^y rybody Hi. i i' I I 11 § 38 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY? thos(? tilings which will i)lea8e them most — and I must say he lias a gift that way. He has said more protty things to me in ail hour than 1 have ever heard in my whole life." " I wonder if you know how much you are flattering me," ciw'd Kilgour, with a really hearty laugh. " Coila never flatters," .said Bess, severely. *' I Jim so much the more honoured," rejoined the iMajor, quietly. *' But Avhat a curious name that is, Coila, and how jnc^tty. Where did you get it 1" *' .My father belonged to Ayrshire, and was devoted to Burns. I suppose; that is how 1 came by the name." " It is an excellent nime, and suggests that your father had .souKithing of poetry in his nature." FTere the \w\v arrival advanced, and, bowing low, with hat in hand, he .said — *' I am glad to see you again. Miss Marjoribanks ; I trust you are well, Miss (lardyne ? " The Major stood aside, respectful and curious as usual. The ladies stared at the speaker for a moment, and then uttereu.s as usual, it, and tlien " Why, how seemed as if tlie amused inct and im- Id enough to •eiiod of life. ice their old lite heartily, The Major s ; a resolute le under lip, ind to com- curious to know who this Austin Murray was, and what were his special claims to the attention of the ladies. From Baxter he obtained all the information he required. Bess took one arm and Coila the other of their old friend, and they walked down towards the park ; he, full of joy in being so warmly welcomed by those whom he loved most ; they, full of pleasure in meeting their old playmate, and full of excited curiosity to know all about the adventures through which he had passed. He was a real hero to them ; they had read in the newspapers about his devotion and bravery, and they were anxious to learn from his own lips the details of his career in the jungles of Ashantee. He told them little of his own doings, although they were considerable, but much of the exploits of others. They listened to him with bated breath, and full of earnest admiration. All that he told them about others they associated with himself, so that, (piite without intention on his part, he gained in the hearts of these girls a reputation which a hero of romance might have envied. " And you are glad to see me home, both of you 1 " Coila was silent, but Bess exclaimed, clasping his arm warmly — " Yes, I am glad ! I think of the old times, our wanderings in the glen, our Hallowe'ens, when we burned nuts together — and I am so happy, T don't know what to say, but I would like to greet. Very ridicuh)us that, isn't it I " " Bonnie Bess ! " murmured Austiji, warmly pressing her arm under his ; then he looked at Coila, and felt sonn^thing like chagrin at seeing her face turned away from him, while she spoke no word of comfort oi' cou'jiatulatiou. ed to be full I foe 1 " this geutle- e to any one, tim«! lie was I 1 'I Ul' 40 WHAT WILL THE WOULD SAY ? ClIAPTKK VI. UN DIM? '11 IK Wll,F,()W. 7 MKliK was soufctliinur almost too ciilliiisiiistic in tlxi ex- •'. clumatioji of IJcss, and slic hiumiumI to b(^ niado awai-o of it by tlu^ ro.s(!iV(! in (Joila's nianiicr. She sniaittMl, and was tor ail in.stant niolmcd to bo aii^ry with her cousin. But slie vented the irritation ujioii liertself. That was <|nite in keepinj^ with liev nature — passionate! and vindictive »'ven, yet generous and anxious to do right ; sensitive to a innriii*! degree to the opinions of others. As a chihl she wouhl run away and hidc^ hersidf when anything vexed her ; lock lieiself up in some out-of-tlie-way room, and never apjjear until slie had recovered lier temper aule of; the })oy Austin was nuule wel- come to the house as often us he choscs to apjjcar, aiid the girls, being mere children, he was allowed to associate with them in all their anuisenHints an re:;ting on his arm and saying little ; he too happy to feel the silence ; but when the wind shook the branches above; them, an I lieavy drops of rain fell, he ^ ied to protect h(!r by drawing her close to him, and moving 'juickly to some open si»ace. ■' There's the boat, Coihi ; let us go down and paddh; rouhd I I 42 WHAT WILL THK WOULD SAY ? tlie isliiiul. What ^loriou.s days we have had tliero, when the hike was a sea to us ; the ishiiid a distant country full of strange sights and sounds. Then 1 wanted so much to be a man, and now I wouM he V(^ry glad to have my l)oyh()od again. I was so enthusiastic, and so sure of victory in my coming fight with the world." " And are you not so sure now ? " IF'! shook his head as he stooi)ed to unfasten the l)oat. " No, I am not at all sure now ; I sometimes even despair, and it is a most uncomfortable sensation. In boyhood tlie world was just a big giant to me, and I was Jack the Kill(T, ready to outwit and conipier him. Hut having come to close ([luiiters with the giant, I find that he has his wits and eyes I'emarkably aleit. and that opposed to him I am a very poor crejiture." " Ihit you ti'ill conquer the giant." she said, with (iuit(i an anxious smile; and her soft eyes were full of meaning too — full of sympathy and hope for him, suggesting her confidence in him and her readiness to help him. " I'll try," he answered, stepping into the boat, steadying himself by grasping one of the overhanging branches of the willow whilst he held out the other hand to assist Coila. She was standing on the bank, one pretty foot advanced, wliilst h(!r hand clasped his. There flashed upon him a curious fancy ; the tiny lake was tlu; sea of life ; the little boat was the vessel in which he was to sail over it, and he was taking her as his companion on that voyage which is always so full of mystery, and of sweet and bitter experiences. She ste})i)ed into tlu; boat and he puslied otf, but he did not go out into the middle of the lake. There was not space to row in the proper sense ol' the word ; so he only paddled and «lisi)layed a curious attiaction for the side of the lake which was overhung by trees. Dark blue clouds were floating overhead and flllitig the water with moving shadows. The wind swept through the trees with a melancholy whistle, which was at times like the cry of one in pain ; then there were brief pauses, an absolute silence, as if the sullering one had given up hope and become resigned to fate. Austin, leaning over the side, saw his own and Coila's AVv UNDKK THK WILLOW. 43 slimlows in tho water, tremblin*^, appansntly, in tlio ripplos raadt^ by tlio wind. Ho reacluMl out liis liaiul as if to toncl) luT ; in tlu' reflection the han«l seemed to rest on her shoulder, l)nt in regality it was not toucliin^ lier. " Wliat are you doinncealed by keeping her head bowed as if she were }>rofoundly interested in the water trickling throuirh her finders. "If I know her, she will be all the dearer to me since she lias done you such good service." He smiled, and bent his head very close to her ear. '' The name was a curious one, about which there was no chance of making a mistake, and tlujy tell me it was — Coila !" She turned quickly upon him with a blush and a brighten- ing of the eyes as if she h.alf suspected that he was making t'un of her ; l»ut she met a frank, honest, loving look, and sue could not doubt. He clasped her hand so tenderly that she did not try to withdraw it, for she knew he was in earnest, and she trembled. ITNDKR THE WFLLOW tically ; " and 1 but it must be I am in love fever jungle of like a charm to ingei- — it Ii('1|)(m1 zed nie, it gave w that, l^ecausc Jpt on rei)eating e me." that." )pl)ed Mito the lowed to trickle a[)py ? " as such a bless- kvhat s} itefully lady." e her. Shall I he ni'jant ; and if it had been o give it relief ler head bowed kvater trickling o me since she r ear. there was no was— Coil a !" id a bj'ighten- le was raakinii' loess had been in all things kind to herdur- iuL*" their absence from home. Bess had been faithful, too, and wherever she saw the least inclination to give her precedence she at once withdrew, refusing to do anything or to be anything in which Coila was not made equal with her- self. She did not care how many others might be above them, })ut they must stand side by side in class and out of clas3. Madame lienaud, the projirietor of the pensionnat, near St Malo, had spoken to her about this absurd fancy ; it was very chivalrous, no doubt, but she pointed out that it would be really hurtful to Miss Coila — would prove to be an injury rather than a kindness ; for, of course, Coila would come in time to believe he/self entitled to the privileges which were at present granted to her through the alfection of her cousin. Bess in her passionate way asked Madame if she received more money on her account than on Coila's. No: very well then, Bess thought it was unkind as well as invidious of Madame to make a y and liy, she spoke with a whisp of hair in her mouth. " Do you know, Ooila, I think you are very sly as well as unkind." Coila started at this terrible accusation, opened her eyes wiile, and f(dt as if the floor were heaving uiuler lier — just the motion of the boat, and that made her conscious of guilt in the remembrance of the conversation which had taken plice in it, and of her silence about it. " Why so, Bess 1 " slie gasped. " Becaiise you never told me a word of what Austin said to yun. lie must have told you all about his travels, and about Ashantee. I don't care for Ashantee, but I would like to know what he has been doing." " I wished to tell you, but you have been so irritable ever .siu(3e he ca»ue, that I have been afraid to speak to you, ahaost." " Fiddlesticks — what was he talking about 'i Did he tell you auvthing iibout King Coffee's palace, and his umbrella, and all tliat 1 " " No, he spoke very little about Ashantee." "Oh, then, you must have had something still more interest- ing to keep you so long." "Yes," answered Coila, rpiietly, and she looked dreamily at her hands lying, listless, on her lap. The memory of his earnest words, of the bright loviiig looks, was very sweet to her. She could scarcely realize it all ; it was like a pleasant dream from which she would waken presently, and be sorry. " Well i " said Bess, impatiently. Coila wished to tell her, but she had to overcome an institu,*- Live feeling that her confession would obtain littlti sympathy. She did overcome it, and then : " He asked me to marry him." There was silence. Bess was looking over her shoulders, surveying herself in a cheval glass, aiul in that position she remanied motionless for a few secoiuls. At length, without looking around : " And you ? " she said in a low tone. " i answered. ' Yes.' " " And when is he to speak to papa 1 " D m 50 WHAT WILL THE WOUI.I) SAY ? :i '* I don't know, luu'haps not for a long time ; he has not yet got a home for nie, he says." " Then yon are engaged ? " " I snppose so," and Coihi langhed, as if the.re were some- thing fnnny in her new position ; " but Austin would not call it a!i engagement ; he wouhl not hind me in any way, he said, but only asked me to bid him hope. Wasn't tliat droll 1 — but he is so generous." " Then you are not engaged 1 " *'• 1Tess cared for him until she was told by her own lips that it u'as so. She was not encouraged in the lielief tiiat she had misunder- stood her cousin by the coi'duct of IJess during the evening. jMaijoribanks had received Austin Murray with that rough and ready hospitality with which he welcomed all comeis — he was rather proud of his reputation for ready welcome to every- one who appn)ached him, whether rich or poor, noble or simple. Although it ke[)t some people away from him, he knew I hat it attracted many more, and he was content. He knew that Austin was as poor as a church mouse, but he gave him a hearty welcome all the same, only his first ques- tion, whispered in his ear, was ; " Have you made any siller 1 " Austin shook his head, smiling. " Then you might as well have stayeil at home, man. What was the use of going out there without finding something on the right side of the ledger at the end of your voyage ? disk- ing your life, and getting a fever for nothing — man, I would have seen Government far enough before I'd have done that. What's the use of serving Goveremeiit if you cannot make some- tiiing out of it ? " He said this with a jovial laugh which concealed much of the selfish sincerity underlying it. Austin remained to dinner. Throughout tin; evening Bess was remarkably brilliant, and Coila was r natur«' was the nol)lest he had ever known. When he became conscious of this absurdity he laughed loudly, felt his pulse, and lit another cigar. " No, my boy," he said, talking to hiins(df. '' You have passed through too many fires to get scorclnnl by a ))retty face. She is lieautiful, and she is a s{)l('ndid girl ; if I had Ium-u a rich man now, nothing would have l)i'en more delightful than to have won her from that booby who is caught by the most open and bold coquetry of Miss Marjoribanks. But I can't afford it." Bess went to her room that night with her teniph's throb- bing, and her heart beating wildly. What had she been doing ? — exerting every gift of fascination that she possessed to win Austin from Coila ! And she had succeeded — even the most modest could not doubt that. And what was to be the end of this mad Hirtation 1 — Coila in tears and despair ; and she the triiim[)hant Init miserable victor ! No, no, that must not be. The feeling of mad jealousy, of envy and s[)ite, tempted her to take the first steps towards revenge for lier own disappointment and chagrin ; but the good heart which controlled and often overcame the evil spirit of her nature rose up and opposed all further progress. She had loved Austin from childhood ; and the ))lind fool had turncul from her, the daughter and heiress of Marjoribanks, the million- aire, to Coila, the beggar and dependent. She was almost ready to hate him- -he was so blind, so stupid. The lu^xt minute she was ready to cry with vexation and pain for she did love him in spite of herself. Oh, she would punish iiim — if she could only spare Coila, who was a greater fool than him. But why should she not punisli her also *? It was her timid dove-like ways which had won him from the strong heart which was devoted to him, and wliich would have helped liim to fame and fortune ] Why should she [)ity her i i ! ;^ li • V I 54 WfI\T WIIJ. TFTE Woia-l) SAV ? Pride wliispcrcd in her car, ami Iwr wliolc form scciiumI to ^low and t.icinldc iiniler its Incatli ; and tliis waw what jiride said : " You arc Hess Marjoiihaiiks, tlic licircss of a iiiilh**!! ; vvliy slioidd you tronidc your head al)out a man wlio lias neither wealrli nor i^vnius ! Let this ^irl have him ; he will make :i dec(^nt sort of hushand for her. For you, theie are the nohlest, bravest, liii^hest in the land." Hut the answer was a very simple one — she love >VIIISl'l-;l5IN<;s OF WA1{. 65 CHAlTEli VI 1 1. \VniSI>KHINr it was a princii)le she daily acted upon. She had unlimited faith in the capacity of human nature — especially the male nature — to absorb any amount of flattery, provided it was ad- ministered judiciously. " But what would you have had me do 1 " Bess snapped the stems of her flowers viciously. " It is easy to give good advice ; it is not easy to follow it. I don't believe that 1 would have been able to act with the propriety I am counselling. You ought to have compelled him to si)eak to papa at once, or you ought to have refus d to hear him, or you ought to have made him understand that you held yourself as free to change your mind as he is." " But I cannot change my mind, and he will not." •' Stuff — wo are talking sense, not sentiment. You think you cannot change, and that he will not. I like Austin ; I WIIIS1'F,R(N(5S OF WAR. 57 sjiid Coila. (1 j^liincin^ lIoIIC SOllU'- cs ins]>inMl owcrs, ami i steps, la — I don't ilk out. I ul yourself I would e he meets r id e nee. Bess, and when you smcerely ; unlimited the male t was ad- t'ollow it. / with the celled him 1 to hear you held ou think Austin ; I ;■ liciieve in him — as mucli as V()U «lo," -ihcic was just tlic least (juiver of her lips at that '• hut jteoph- do chani;** their minds ; now if you ha(' insisted iipDii telling l»;»|';i, eitlier lie would have put a stop to the affair at uuee, or the eiijia^enieiit would lave oeciu o j.enly re(M>^nised, and you would have heeii s* nuuli the safer. A\'hat you-inay-call-hini can (piote Scripture on occasion, and you see 1 can «;ive you good advice — which it is not yet too late to adopt." ('oila iii silei'.ce deftly tied the sttMU of her l)ou(|Uet, and held it at arm's length to examine it. Then : " Thank you, l>ess ; it was kind and good of you to speak to ine of this matter. Jhit 1 would feel myself guilty of dimhting Austin, if 1 insisted upon a regular engagement ; and if — if 'er should ch le ever snouKi cnange his mind, I would hate myself and him if he kept his word to me only hecause he was oldiged to do so." "All right — do as you like! I've warned you, and you'll lose him." " If he is happy, I shall be content." "Oh," cried Hess, passionately, for she had been rejdly try- ing to raise up a barrier against herself ; " you make me feel ready to fling a flowerpot or something at you whe!i you talk such rubbish. You know that you would not be liappy — that you would be miserable, and go off into liysterics, and all that. What would you say if he should take me instead of you ?" Coila looked at her steadily, as if wojidering how much of jest and how much of earnest there might be in the words. She answered softly — " I would try to say — * God bless you both.' " Bess jumped up as if she had been stung ; her face was flushed, and her eyes were glistening as with tears, suppressed by passion. " You're too good, Coila, for this world," she cried ; and it would have been difficult to tell whether she was more mock- ing than sincere ; " you're too good ; you'll die soon if you g«» on in this v.'av, and serve you right. If you set up for a saint, you must accept a saint's reward — glory in the next world ; I want my glory in this. Suppose the positions reversed, and you took him from me, I would hate you, and I would tell you that I would never forgive you." " Bess ! — what is the matter % " .')S VV' 1 1 A I' VV I IJ. TH 10 WOl^ \A) S A 'S' ? I ,'ini t.'ll niU' yo,; w liat I won 1.1 (] (). would not iro siiivo I- i i liiij^ to myself and pivttnidini; to forgive yon, all tlio time tiiat then* w(!re dafigc's in my thouulits ; I would use tlu; dagg 'ivs lik(; a man and defeat you if I could." Her vehemence took CJoila's Nreatli away, filled her wit'i a confusion of fear.s and sn,s)>icions, and she almost trembled hefon^ the ))assion of her C(»m})anion. IJut she s))oke calndy enougli- " l?rovid(Ml you o8sible. I ask your j)ard()n, Sir, but T had a son, Hector Macbeth, that was as like you as twa peas. He gaed awn' wi' the sogers years syne, and I v(; never heard a word aboui him. He's dead, like enough, or he would have sent some word to his father. It was mv. thatgied him the name Hectoi-. and it was me that put warlike notio'.s intil his head — and now lie's dead." 60 WHAT WILT. TrrR WORLD SAY ? ! I " Why,'' exclaimed the Major, " my name is Hector ; that is ciirioas. We must have a cliat about yoiii' son, and perI;;Tps T may be able to hclj) you to disco\'er wliat lias become^ of him." " Thank you, Sir, thank you," said Macbeth retiring with a dazinl look. "I believe he thinks you are his lost son," said Bess, smiling. The Major laughed with an air of amusee a decent ol«l fellow. I would'nt at all object to him for a parent. (Jood morning, ladies." And the Major i<'lir»'(l. THE MODERN OKNII. 61 ector ; that is nd per!;;ips 1 nnv of him." ^tirino; with a Bess, smiling, ference. uld'nt at all CHArn^ll IX. THK :\[OI)KHN GKMI. , HE larlit's took tlio flowers into the drawing-room and placed them in the vases. Wliilst thus enga,<4ertance." " He seems to be in a hurry, though," said Coila, looking over her cousin's snoulder. " Then we'll stop him," was the mischievous comment. r>ess tapped on the glass, Austin looked up, then cpiickly advanced to the window. Hess threw open the casement and hsaned out ; Cfdla stood in the background ; but he saw her briglit, kindly smile, and answered it with a blithe look of recognition and thanks. "Where have you btHMi all the morning, Sir," observ(^d lless, with mock sternness; "and what have you been doing that everybody should be seeking you in vain 1 " Austin laughed more at her droll manner than at her words, and responded with assunied humility. " IJiave l»een trying to get a gun ; but Baxter finds that your guests, Moi-rison and Strongitharm, have taken the only two ^lantons in the house ; there were two others, but they are at the gunsmith's ; and so 1 am going over to the gamekeeptn-'s lodge to see if I can get one there. l>ut who has been asking- tor me ? " "Why, Major Kilgour and his lainlship of Killievar, wno has all his Highland pride in arms against you for keeping a descendant of the C'eltic Kings of Ossian in waiting, whilst the grouse are waiting for him to go and shoot them. He is in a fine rage, I'll warrant, and ready to dirk you — is that the way to put it? or should I sny is ready !o stick his skene dhu into youl" ()-2 WflAT WILL THE WORLD SAY ? isJ.! i 4 ii'J- Austin was amused, and Coila laughed merrily at the melo- dramatic absurdity of Bess's manner. " You ought to have been an actress, Miss Marjoribauks," he said in admiration ; "you have a decided dramatic gift." " Have I 1 — il/ks Marjoril;anks ? " (with sucli pretty pouting li[)S tliat Austin longed to kiss them • and with such brightly arcj^ed eycljrows as would have made a fortune on the stage — the whole expression conveyed so much of mirthful bant(n' aiul half-pretended, half-serious indignation) "and, if you please, when did you discover that 1 was Miss Marjoribauks ? " " Upon my word, when you look down upon me witli that bonnie face, like the sun peephig through a cloud, I can find no title grand enough for you ; and it becomes quite impossible for me to call you Bess, as I used to do when we were chiUlren." He spoke frankly, with just a tinge of regret in his tone that the hajjpy days had passed away. But Bess only turned to her cousin with another look of amazement, saying : " You See, even he knows the value of butter." " Pardon me, Bess, since I may use that dear name which is associated with my happiest days — let me say that 1 l/ad no thought of flattering you just now. I only meant to say wliat I felt— and you do look bonnie, outshining the Howers beneath you and around you." " What, more butter ! — I say, Austin, what a lot of cream you must have looted in Ashantee. Have they many cows— or is it goats or .isses they use 1 " ••Oh, Bess!" exclaimed Coila, pained and shocked, all th(> more so btx^ause she saw Austin was confustd and speechless. He had not the Major's knack of giving good-naturc^d replies to the rudest attacks. " Well, then, we won't be too hard on you, poor dear, since it vexes Coila," said l>ess, a little sorry that slie had gone so far. Then she added gaily, " but I have not mentioned all the people who have been inquiring for you." " Indeed, who else," " Macbeth came up with a message that Dr. Murray wished to see you." " My father ! — I'll go to him at once." " An*l give up your day's sport on the moor J " Certainly." I .■\i|! THK, MODKUN (iKNII. ()3 fit the melo- irjoribauks," Ltic gift." etty pouting Lich brightly the stage — ] hanUiV iim\ you pleiise, ilisl" nt; with that I can Hiul no be impossible m we were his tone that turned to her aine which is hat 1 liad no , to sav what ivers beneath llot of cream my cows — or Icked, all the il speechless. |i(3d replies to |r dear, since had gone so ioned all the rray wisiied A prt'tty shrng of ht;r shoulders rather cluicked his dutiful impulse ; but he had half turned from the window as if to depart, when she arrested Jiini with the words : " Your father dot'sn't want }'ou until the afternoon, and as you are not very anxious aliout the grouse, suppose you give the morning to us — Coila and me ? " "I would like to do so ; but if my fat!u;r ha^- sent for me it is on account of important business, and " " Ii>ut he said the afternoon, and 1 would like so nuich that we three should revisit some of our old iiaunts —the glen for instance — that you might stay a few uours to pUiase us ! " He felt awkward. The glen was associated with so many tender memories that no more tempting proposal could have been made to him than that tht^y should revisit it togetliei', and in fancy revive for a little while the merry days of childhood. He looked at Coila, and she said, shyly — " If Austin believes that he should go at once to Dr. Murray, you ought not to dissuade him, Bess." That was a little chilling ; it (Extinguished the im[)ulse of duty and roused the spirit of contiariness. He thought Coila ought to have been the most anxious for him to stay, and, instead, she was the tirst to say " go." He stood between two genii, similar and yet distinct ; the one faithful to the call of pleasure ; the other faithful to ihe call of duty. The first was by far the most attractive of the the two, ancL naturall3% he inclined to it. But he was noti blind to the fact that the second tlirected him into the nobler path. Besides, he remembered that his father had told him theri^ would be, in a few days, very important matters to discuss Ix'tween them. " In a few days," the doctor hud sai"), " 1 shall know whetlu.'r I am a bankrupt and a disgraced man, or the possesst.>r of a fortune. I shall expect you to come when I send for you ; but I won't trouble your first days at home if 1 can help it. So we'll say nothing more at present." lie recollected x-hat he had promised to obey the call when- ever it came. But the dark eyes of Bess were upon him ; he rertected that it only made a difference of a few hours — what a dillerence a few minutes may make I — and, furthei', his father's message referred to the afternoon. G4 WHAT WILL TUK WORLD SAY? m ' The temptation of St. Antliony was not more severe than tliat of an ordinary man i)hiee(l under the battery of a beautiful woman's eyes, inviting him to give his thoughts to pleasure, and to postpone, or neglect, a disagreeable bit of business. Tlid Saint knewtliat lu^ liad everything to gain by resisting the tiMuptation ; had a certain character to maintain ; and was assured of his reward : the man doubts if he has not evei'V thing to lose by hi.s self-denial, and, at best, does not feel coii- Hdent of any special x^ward for a stubborn fidelity to a com- mon-place duty. *' 1 yield," said Austin, at length, " the forenoon is yours." Bt vs clapped licr hands and laughed gleefully ; Coila smiled, l)ut dis[)layed no entliusiasm, and, in the eyes of the lover, her maimer contrasted most unfavourably with that of her cousin. ' Then, for th»; next three — say four — hours you are under my command. So, attention ! Itcmain there till we join ,,She [)ranced away, dragging Coila with her, and refusing to permit a word of remonstrance. Austin was left to his own meditations, and tlR^y were not so agreeable as he thought tliey ought to have been. The silence of (Joila suggested tliat he had not acted wisely in yielding to Bess ; at the same time he could not see any harm in what he had done ; and was deci- dedly disappointed that Coila should display so little anxiety to detain him. Mem who can act promptly and vigorously in serious emer- gencies, are often weak and stupid in dealing with matters which appear to be trifles. In the latter case they hesitate, wishful to see both sides of the case, and to realize the future as well as the present results ; but in important aflairs, the necessity for immediate action limits the view, compels them to think only of what is best for the moment, and to do that. Necessity has made heroes of many apparently weak men. In the trilling incidents of daily life, Austin Murray was continually making little sacrifices of his own will to the plea- sures or interests of others ; and he was continually discovering that the sacrifice was not appreciated — was often even misun- derstood — and that it was only in a small degree useful or agreeable to the per.son for whom it was made, although it sometimes involved himself in difficnitv. r i/' i ^W THE MOI/KRN (IKNII. 65 ere than beautiful pleasure, business, sting the and was lot every feel con- :() a coin- yours." ia smiled, lover, her er cousin, ire under we join efusing to ) his own f ugh t they 1 tliat lu; e time he was deci- \i anxiety lough it '' I'll take care next lime," iu; often declared " to do wluit is most convenient to myself, as tluit in tlie end seems to be ])est for everybody." But " next time" he was just as easily as before induced by his kindly impulses to do what he did not want to do. At present he was not comfortable. The ladies appeared, and every disquieting thought was banished. Bess looked bewitching in her smart walking dress — hat with pheasant feathers, jacket with bright buttons and a blue skirt, coquettishly short, and displaying a pretty foot. Coila was similarly attired, but the colours were quieter, skirt a silver grey and not quite so short as her cousin's ; jacket and hat black, the latter adorned with a white feather, which drooped gracefully over the left ear. They made straight for the glen, intent upon visiting the hermit's cave, and the heights on which they had gathered blackberries. There was no lack of conversation wherever Bess happened to be. She never thought of what she was going to say, and so, bantering or in earnest, she was capable of sustaining a conversation with the cleverest or dullest of mortals. Everything her eyes lighted upon suggested material for talk ; trees, shrubs, flowers, roads, dress, and even personal peculiarities. Utterly indifferent as to whom she might offend, and gifted with a rare talent for turning to the utmost account the least scrap of knowledge she had acquired, in discourse, or from book, newspaper, or magazine, she earned the reputa- tion of being a brilliant conversationalist. No man who was privileged to take Miss Marjoribanks in to dinner, ever thought his entertainment dull. On the way, Coila was reserved, almost silent, Austin seemed to address everything to Bess. She did not heed the fact that Bess was the leader in every subject started, and, therefore, he had "o option but to give her his replies. It was the faint beginning of doubt on both sides ; so faint that like the first feeble flash of dawn the observer is for i\ brief space uncertain whether it is thy herald of daylight or only due to the clearness of the sky. Crossing the road near the toll bar, they saw a big cart, tilled with ruddy faced men and wom(!n, halt at the toll liuuse door, the keeper being licensed to retail beer, spirits, and E ()(J WHAT WILL THE VVOllLl) SAY ? I i tobiicco. The moll had their coiits off, and some of these gar- ments were draggling over the sides of the cart, others were shiiig carelessly over the shoulders of their owners. The women wore white or yellow sun-bonnets of stiff calico, the fronts of which protruded over their brows ; short gowns, striped or checked ; and rou'di linsy petticoats. Their blith*^ Srown faces and sti ']y ^' • is showed that tl^ey were accus- tomed to hard '*'^ork auii ;.it)le to <.lo it. They were harve^'ers * h.-h.ring from one field of labour to another, and making nieri y by t, ;; way. They were singing, shouting and exchanging jokes — c.^me of which were coarse enough, and not always harmless, although they were much relished by the company, as was evident by the laughter with which they were greeted. Beside the cart, siuited in a gig, was a broad kindly-faced man, who handled his whip scientifically, flipping the files ofi' the ears and fianks of his horse. At the same time, with the utmost good-humour and some smartness, he returned the banter which the liarvesteis indulged in at his expense. He was the farmer, and those in the cart were his workers. He was giving them a treat of small beer and a dram on their way to the field wheie they were to work, and in honour of the excellent crop they had already gathered for him. As soon as the refreshment was finished, and the score paid, the farmer started forward in his gig and the cart followed, the people giving lusty cheers to their master as he trotted on before them. Then the driver of tlie cart, in his enthusiasm, whipped the horse into a gallop, and there was a loud rumbling and jolting of wheels, and a tremenduous clatter of heavy harness. " What a glorious life these folks have ? " exclaimed Austin ; '' fine healthy work, and perfect happiness found in a mug of beer and a ilram '] " "dust so, and they would envy your life as much as you admire theirs. You see we all want to be not," was the observation of Bess. " 1 do not care to be anything but what 1 am at this moment — your escort," was Austin's gallant reply. " Thank you, I am content alscj, for 1 have got my woman's rights." - How so 'i " omething we are ^ : i THK MODKHN CENlI. 67 hesu gar- eis were s. Tho alico, the : gowns, ir blitho re aocus- aboiir to 1 singing, [•e coarse sre much iter with dly-faccd D riies otl' with th{; lie banter ) was the as giving the field lent crop ore paid, ■oliowed, otted on husiasm. :umbling )i heavy Austin ; , mug of 1 as you ^ we are moment woman s i f ** You have yitkh'd lo me, and you are h^-re instead of Wing lost in the smo'ie of Airbridge." " Oh .'—then you are an adv< ate of woman's rights ? " " '^f coursi . for every woman of spirit wants to liavr her own way, and ought to have it I " '' What do ^ ou say to that, Coihi 1 — do you want your riglits, too ! " '' 1 don't know," answered Coihi, laughing ; " if we get our rights — the nature of which is somewhat vague, to my mind— we sliould have to forego our privileges, and I liave an idea tliat wc get along best with the j)riviK'gt's. If I wr to get my riglits, I would feel very mucli like a person wh. h:. got her 'deserts,' which would not agree with me ar all, r 1 would be in momentary expectation of a whippin/ ' " Ridiculous ! you have no spirit, Coila," ejacul; ^ il B«'ss contemptuously ; " the worhl was made for woiii n — and men were made to be their slaves." "If all women were like you, I>ess, the men might be con- tent — for you can do anything ; but there art; so many women who can do nothing ; and 1 am one of them," was Coila's (piiet response — but Bess and Austin were not quiU' sure that there was not a touch of sarcasm in it. " You might carry out your theories of doing good to every- body, by becoming a doctor," sugt'ested Bess ; " several ladies have adopted the profession and seem to thrive, for they immediately find husbands ! " " The responsibilities would be too much for me. I have a great respect for your profession, Austin. The physician is the true moral teacher ; for he can command obedience where the mere preacher can only implore it." Bess made a pretence of yawning desperately. " Are you to go on much longer in this vein, Coila 1 Because, if so, I shall sit down and have a nap. Why, you are as good a sleeping dose as old Dr. Kay is himself when he gives us one of what he calls his most interesting sermons, which is always his longest, and, therefore, the (lulh\st." They all laugheil at this sally, and enjoyed it none the less because they had a sly notion that it was a little wicked. f' ! I i! - ,> I *'» 08 WHAT WILL THK WORLD SAY ? CIlArTKU X. TiiK nr.i;.Mii's tavi:. HEY had hvvu tasccndiiig the liill and approaching tlio j wood which overhung tlie glen whilst they chatted. Looking westward there were rolling plains, with a )»ackground of blue mountains touching the sky. A little to the east, the view was intercepted by tlie smoke ot* the town and of the tall chimney stalks of various works. The smoke rolled lazily up in the atmosphere, forming a local mist through which appeared steeples, chimney tops, and the sipiare tower of the townhouse and prison, with its big white-faced clock. The busy, smoky life which they recognised in the distance added much, by contrast, to the enjoyment of Austin and his companions in the delightful sylvan quietude in which they found themselves. They came upon an old, disused quarry in the wood, one side of which rose precipitously to the height on which they stood ; sharp boulders jutting out here and there with jagged edges, and, towards the summit, clothed with moss, and fringed with ferns, gorse, firs, and long grass, indicating that the place had been neglected for many years. The perilous character of the precipice was completely hidden from the adventurers until they were on the verge of it. Then they •"«'l to cling to the branches of the trees which completely overshadowed it whilst they peered down into the abyss. " What fearless vagabonds we must ha\ e been to come gathering nuts here," said Austin, casting a stone into the depth, and wondering how it was that fear should be the fruit of knowledge and experience. " Do you remember clinging out upon that tree which hangs straight over the edge, just to get a chir^ter of half-a-dozen nuts which Coiln liappcned to fancy V inquired Bess. Coila sluuldered. I* thf: hkfmtts ( ave. r>9 ling the bted. witli a little to lie town a smoke al mist 3 scjuare te-fuceil listance xnd his ;h they 3(1, one h they fringed e place hidden Then pletely > come to the le fruit hangs Ml nuts 1 "The nnts were not swert, ' she said, sniiliiig ; " at any ratr, I could not eat them, and 1 have got four of th«'iM in u\\ (wsk still." " Have you ?" exclaimed Austin ; " well T felt no fear, and it was worth the risk to give you such a nice simple keepsake, P)Ut it is an ugly place, I douht if I would have courage to repeat that adventure." *' I would have courage to restrain yon, I hope." Th(^ lovers exchanged a hright glance of devotion. I'ess suddenly ])ointed to a ga)) in the fir trees which fringeil the brow of the clitt". *' That's the place where the collier threw his sweetheart into the quarry ; the lass was killed ; hut he declared it was an acci- dent, and the verdict was ' not ])roven.' Kverylxxly believes that he was guilty, all the same, and he was obliged to leave the country/' •' What a pleasant subject for meditation,'' said ( 'oila, shrink- ing away from the plact^. " Nobody will throw you over, Coila, so yor. need not be alarmed," observed Bess. " I am not afraid of that ; but 1 was thinking " She paused, blushing, and then growing pale. " Thinking what 1 " Austiii asked. " That there are some things in lif«' more painful than l>eing heaved over a precipice." Bess regarded her with a quick look of curiosity ; and then laughed at her sentimental'sm, as she called it. " Come along, and let Austin see th(^ ' look-out ' which papa has erected on the top of the hill." The *' look-out" was constructed of four stout fir trees firmly fixed in the ground at e(iual distances from each other, forming a square. The platform on the top was made of thick deal boards, and was guarded on each side by a pretty railing of wattles. The height of the platform was about fourteen feet, and it was reached by means of a rough looking but strong ladder. Two iron chairs had been placed on the toj) foi- the convenience of visitors Ther<» was much fun in the ascent. Austin went fiist, and assiste(l the ladies to land when they attainetaiii»Ml was more than a siillicicrU rcwanl for all tlioir troiihlo, Tlu' country tor miles round lay beforo them, like a ^raml pictur«% or sj'ries of pictures, tf)uche(l with divine lights which no painter lias ever yet jn-rfectly expressed. Ihoad fields varying delicately from deep gn'cn to a pah* shade that was in the distance almost yellow ; ripe wheat glowini; into a <;olden Inu^ under the ra?s and Coila ; and farther on, beside the l»urn, was liie stone which marked the s]tot where Austin had fallen into the water. V-t- TIIK, mini ITS rAVK. 71 re ward )' lu'foro 0(1 witli pressed. le shade jjjlowinj; [)t' slieej) ! ; white i'r dripping constantly and monotonously down the sides. The h'jigth was about six feet, the brea«lth, about four in the centre, but much narrower towards the »'xtremities. *' Suppose we go in," said Bess ; " the old man who used to live here won't liarm ns ; indeed according to tradition he was a decent old fellow, and cured th(^ villagers of every disease that Hesh is heir to." Coila declined. Dess declared that her cousin was afraid of spoiling her gown, or else had a childish dread of bogles. SJie was resolved to enter although she might have to abandon hoi)e in doing so. She crouched down and made her way through the aperture, with no more damage than a slight rufHing of her ])heasant's feather. Austin followed gallantly, and the two stood in a sort of di*n twilight. " Ho\v' could the poor beggar live here 1 " ejaculated Austin ; ■ ' why, with these damp walls, one night would be enough to give me my death of cold." " And look at the snails ! " cried Bess, creeping close to him ; ■ 'they are nasty things and always make me shudder." She drew till closer to him, her hand pressing his arm as if to make sure of his protecting presence. "Perhaps thr Hermit made soup of therr,and they have got into the habit of coming here. You know that story of the «'>M woman who lived and grew fat on snails in the time; of a famine, and in Britanny they are regarded by the peafaiitry as a delicacy." " I don't care — T don't like them, and there is such .' siuraber luiv." i'J. WHAT WTI,T. THF V:OPTJ) SAY '* Wo had b(>ttor trft out. then, sinro tbo plno' is so distaste fill to you."' " Yes ; bnt it is much casior ujottini; in than out. Don't take youi- aim away — thoiv, T frol moro comfoitaltlc. Now, let us exaniino tlie ])lac('." They niove(l slowly round the small space, and were vastly amused by the initials of tourists and dates of their visits, which had been industriouslv carved on the rocks. " What a dreadful life the ])oor man must have had here," she exclaimed, " without the least comfort of any kind." Austin felt that he was bound to be gallant. " I could live here and be hapny," he said laughing. *' Yes ! " " Yes ; if r>nly you happened to be mv comrade." " Me ! " ■ ^ She lifted her face w'th such pretty sur])rise. that in the twilight of the caie, it was endowed with irresistible charms. Pie was still laughing, much entertained by her eccentric con- duct, and his head was bent towards her. Then the lips of the bonnie face came so near his that, without the slightest preme- ditation, his head bent a little further and — he kissed her ! There was a curious pause, as if their breath had been taken away by some utterly incomprehensible and alarming event. Then with a sharp cry of pain, as if she had been struck, she sprang a'.vay from him, covering her face with her hands. *' Forgive me, Bess," he cried, conscience stricken, and thinking of Coila waiting outside. " You bewilder — you bewitch me, and you make me do things of which I am ashamed. Try, Bess, try to forgive me." "You'll never do it again?" she said, glancing at him through her open fingers. '* Never again." " You're a fool," she said, dropping her hands and looking at him almost fiercely. She had half expected and yet feared a different ai;swer. " What on earth do vou mean ? " He w^as utterlj'^ puzzled, being (piite innocent of the vanity which WM)uld have enlightened him instantly. " T mean what I say. Oh, have you no eyes, no sense of feeling that you cannot understand how cruel you are ro ine^'' " Cruel to you, Hess ! " 1 THK HE KM ITS CAVE. ^S vastly visits. He caught her hands, .iiiil looked straiglit into her face, and, in the dim light, saw tlie dark eyes glistening with tears of vexation. He l)egan to iatch a glimmer of the truth ; hut the glimmer was vague ami far away, like the candle in a cottage window seen through a mist. Her j)assionate natuic had got the hetter of her. Sli«* was innocent of any design on entering the hermit's cave ; hut the touch of his lips maddened her, and rendere(l lu'r good im- pulse's powei'less to counteract the inHueiice of lier love. She was hitterly cojiscious of doing wrong. She shrank under the sense of guilt, and vet she was unahle to lestrain herself. They were there, alone in the cave ; he had, inathcrtently enough, applied a torch to a pile of gunpowder, and the ex- plosion followed. She could not hide her love. Was it love, or the mere vanity of women which seeks to conquer slaves 1 " Yes, cruel to me, for you will not see how much " Coila called to them and interrupted the confession which was on her lips. " A7c you not tired of the cave yet ? " The voice had the effect of electricity upon Bess ; it pulle(l her senses toirether, and she saw with horror the ah\ss on the brink of which she had been standing, ready to precipitate herself into the unknown depths. " Very tired," slie answered harriedly, in a curious tone, which was halt sad, half spiteful. She observed the tone her- self and was vexed ; but she could do nothing save hastily stoop down and make her way out to the fresh jiii ;nid Coihi. Austin, in his perplexity, stood for a few seconds gazing blankly at the drops of water which sparkled on th(» rocks. He could give only one interpretation to her words and manner ; and that interpretation made his blood tingle with a sensation that was equally composed of terror and amazement. He d.ued scarcely acknowledge to himself that the great heiress of Kavelston had suggested that she loved him and was ready to become his wife. Could that be possible ? He was an honest fellow ; he Avould have desjiiscd himself had he been conscious of any thought of marrvinic a woman for money. Nevertheless, he could not avoid the speculation that he would have b«>en a decently fair husb;ind to Hess, and i'iil 4 WHy\T \Vn>L THK VV(^Hl.I) SAY? tliiit lu'i* waltli would h;iv(! lu'l[)ed lihn to ii [>osition wliicli ho coul<] never hope to attain by his own (efforts. If it could have b(;en ! But that was ridiculous. '* Are you ji;oin,ii; to stay there all day ? " said T-Jess, and the voice recalled hiui from dream-land, it was so ♦ill of her usual banter and indifference. He could not un.es and hedges assume*! forms of deep gloom ; the tops of two trees shot up clear against the sky and seemed to his dazed eyes like funereal plumes. There was a grey light on the road, making it cle.ar ; and ther(» was a warmth in the atmosphere which in his present mood seemed to stifle him. Shadows, intensely black, crossed his course; at frequent intervals, and assumed mocking shapes, taunting him for his weakness in yielding to pleasure when .' sure to go to him myself when liis ltd' r.iu- Sli'i^'v ."ftei si'c o'clock tlu» bell rang. I went to hiuj iiiid f-Hind hiiii l>ing <>u the floor. Tom got Dr. Spence . . i TOO LATE. 77 •s flittf'fl lows ]"n- was ji ling else ise. lie Ills step m, M'it}> ort'ectiy noie at- [ voice ; to see >rother, on the be bed. hands at you vas no to his niness -ning, eived them He ined d do not hen v^ent 'nee ' , A to come and see wli.it was the matter; lie told me it v/na apoplexy, and I sent for you." She had spoken in a (piiet, even tone, but the suppressevl anguish which was evident in it was more painful to tht; son than the wildest outburst of grief could have been. Conscience prick 1 him the more shar^dy. He turned again to his father, uttered his name affectionately, and repeated his appeal to him to speak. Dr. Murray seemed to hear the voice this time, and to com- prehend something of the meaning of the words. He turned his face— the veins were swcdlen and the complexion Horid — and the glassy eyes rested for an instant on his >cu, then wandered to his wife and to the younger children. He ap- peared to be making a painful effort to speak but no sound issued from his parched li])s. Austin understood the dumb appeal, however, and answered it earnestly. " I will take care of tliem ; everything that you would wish me to do shall be done. I give up my life to the faitliful per- formance of the work you have left me to do." In this excited state no responsibility would hav appeared too great for him to undertake, if by doing so he c aid iii any way atone for the negligence of which he had been ;ilty that day. He was much relieved to see that his father ui there was a painful movement of the muscles of th- ey elids were slightly hftJ'd, and the J>*>ctor , mourned the loss of a genial friend and a conscientious medical adviser. They discovered qualities of greatness in him to which they .erstood ; ace ; the .g breath rh<*n his wseechiiig just given. tiid hour (A ighont th<' if the sud- Many t<;ok 78 WHAT WILL TIIK WOULD SAY ? had b'jeii singularly blind durin;^ hi.s stay amongst them, 'llien they went on with tlieir own ailairs, and only occasionally re- membered the Doctor. " Aye, poor old Dr. Murray's dead," was the general excla- mation ; " he was an excellent man ; but the son seems to bo clever and he'll carry on the practice, no doubt." It was among the [)oorer folk that the Doctor was most missed. He had given to them a large portion of his time ; they did not always pay him ; he never pressec' them, and never refused to attend them whenever his aid was required. Medical men in such districts as Airbridge too often find a large class of patitnits who, as soon is they recover, regard the doctor in much the same light as the tax-gatherer, and have no compunction of conscience i»i iihirking payment of his fees. Dr. Mufiay had had large ' xperience of this characteristic, but it never made him -iiigry. He would only mutter with his quiet smile : " When the devil was sick, the devil a saint would be," et cetera. " But perb^i^^ the poor wretch really could not pay." And so it came about that he was even more loved for his personal kindness than esteeme»l for his professional skill, al- though in the latter respect he had long held undisputed sway as the leading practitioner of Airbridge. Austin, very pale, and with lips often quivering, gave direc- tions for all the necessary arrangements ; and in this he was bravely assisted by his mother. She remained calm until all was done ; but she broke down at last, and he had to take her to a bedroom and insist upon her lying down to rest. For himself he could not rest. He sat beside his mother un- til he thought she had gone to sleep ; then he went down to the parlour to speak to Tom and Amelia. The latter had been crying for hours and was now hysterical — -sIk vvas only fourteeii. Her brother Tom, who was the senior only by two years, had been trying to console her, although hot tears were ou his own cheeks, and his voice was husky. Austin succeeded in soothing Amelia, and aftt^r sh< hail gone to bed, he took Tom into the consulting room — which was aUo tht? library — an iiio.st time ; », and ♦•(]. tind ii I tlw have tV'O.S. ^, but li his atteiuleJ to in the luoiniiig. He wa.s ([iiite calm, although he had a haggard, exhausted look on his face. Resolved to shirk nothing, he entered upon the work at once, as he knew his father would have wished him to do. It was not until the day after the funeral tiiat he was able to examine his father's [)apers and to obtain a clear view of the state of his affairs. He found the state to be very bad inrieed, and ditticult to understand. Dr. Murray had been much too lenient about the debts dui^ tt) him, and those which he had scored off as ii-recoverable formed a very large item. His own debts, chietly to friends who had at various times advanced him money to meet his ex- penses, amounted to a consideral)le sum — a startling sum in the eyes of Austin. The secret of it all was tiiat, acting apparently on the sug- gestions of Strongitharm, he had been speculating in mines. He had taken a large number ot shares in the Jenny Mine, Mexico. The attack of apoplexy, which reoUi'*3d in his »leath, was evidently caused by the intimation he had j'dved that these shares were worthless, and that there was little likelihood of ever recovering a penny of the money sunk in the Jenny Mine Company. That was the letter he had received on tlu^ day he had been stricken ; and it was to this speculation Ik; had refernul in the conversation with Austin when he said that in a few days he would know whether he would be a bankrupt and a disgraced man or the possessor of a fortune. The worst of all Austin's discoveries was connected with this speculation ; to meet pres- sing calls his father had borrowed three thousand pounds from Robert Marjoribanks I Austin groaned ; and then in a dazed, mechanical way l)egan to calculate how many years it would take to repay this money ; but what he was really thinking about was that he must repay every farthing. It would take years — rive, ten years, perhaps ; and, meanwhile, he must give up all thought of Coila becoming his wife. Distant as the prospect of being able to offer her a suitable home had appeared to him that day on which he had si)oken to her under the willow, it had seemed near in comparison with the remote future to wliich the date was removed now. \\ itli hi ' 80 WHAT WILL THK Would say ^ his niothor, his sister, and broLli.-r to pruvidt- fur, aiid those debts to pay, it would ht. cruelty to Coda and madness in ninisclt even to hojke for their marriage All the same he did hope for it "and he di.l cmtinue to tl ink about her. ahhou-h he knew that she could never be his llH- future, n, wlud, she did not appear as his companion, and* the sourer ot mspnation of his ambitiaint," So he was very mnch concerned abont the snm he bad ad- vanced to Dr. Alnrrav ; and was more concerned abont tliat than about the loss to the district of a man who had dom; it mnch tjood service. To Coila the news bron«;ht dismay and sorrow, thinking of what Austin mnst be snfiering. She tlid not guess yet liow entirely the course of bis lif(^ was to be altered by this event. She only understood that he had lost bis father, and that he would be grieveiu' it iiii^ of ?t how evont. ^hat hv. to offtT try in ear his nd tell ffcrinrj le had lollullt when I look fancy ous of et his 1 this rand that. 2h he :i her 1 M. with such an cx(|iiisitc ,s«'nse of triinnph and dcliuht, lutw scrnicuring the next few days she was ])eautifully submissive to everyhody. Mi.ss Janet thought that Hess was ill : even Mar- jorihanks observed the change in his daughter, and teartMl that she was about to have a fever or something «'(|ually liothei-some — he did tiot like bother in his house, and l;ad a hoiror of all infectious maladies. Hut it was to C'oila that >>he was most humble ; at the least hint of a want on (*oila's part, Be.ss would spring up intent upon satisfying it. There seemed to be no service too menial for her to render to her cousin. Coila was at Hrst amazed, and then vaguely suspicious. " What can be the matter with you, Bess ?" she exclaime ^\^ ^ >. "^ 6^ 23 WIST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. MS80 (716) 872-4503 '^ '*>V <^ Lrf> ?^- <^ V^o ;\ II I I I ; I ' :•!( 84 WHAT WILL THF WORI,I) SAY ? On the niorninuj of the day appointrd for the; funeral, Hess fidgetted about the house vvitli a restless desire, which she at length expressed to her father. ** I wish you would take me with you. I would like so mucli to see — poor Mrs. Murray ! " He consented, and she put on the darkest clothes she pos- sessed. She borrowed a black bonnet from Coila, and took out the flowers with which it was trimmed, in order to make it look the more like mourning. It had a very shabby appearance when the flowers were laid aside ; but Bess did not mind that, so long as it was black. She suggested, m a timid way, as if half-afraid that the sug- gestion would be adopted, that Coila should accompany them. But Coila said no ; and thoui^htthatit would be more consider- ate to the Murrays, not to disturb them by unexpected visits on this sad day. If Austin had only hinted that he would like to see her, how willingly she would have gone, even if she had been obliged to walk all the way. But he made no sign, and she felt that his was a grief which should not be intruded upon without his sanction. So she remained at home sadly arranging Miss Janet's work- table, and Bess went to Airbridge in the carriage. Austin received them at the gate. When Bess and Marjoribanks had alighted, he looked into the carriage as if expecting some one else ; and was disaj)- pointed. " It does me gooa to see you," he said, pressing the hand of Bess, and looking gratefully into her eyes. "I am glad of that," — and then she became conscious of a guilty joy, and added, hastily — " Coila would have liked to come with us, but she was afraid that we would disturb you." ** 1 am sorry -^he did not come," he said, quietly. He gave his arm to Bess and conducted her into the house. He was very pale, and his manner grave. He seemed to have grown twenty years older, in the few days which had elapsed since their last meeting. Whether it was due to this remark- able change, or to the deep sorrow of grief which lay upon the house, Bess did not know, but she regarded Austin with a feel- ing akin to timid respect. She could no more have made a joke IN THK OLOOM. 85 at tljf expfiisr of this serious person tlian slie coiiM have Hown in the air. He was transformed, mysteriously, but completely, and she was amazed at the sensation of awe with which he in- spired her. She was almost afraid of him, and she loved him all the more ! In the parlour she found Mrs. Murray, Amelia, and several gentlemen who had been invited to attend the funeral. Here Bess recovered her tongue at once — and oh ! how she wished that she could have spoken to Austin when they were crossing the little patch of garden in front — to have expressed her sym- pathy and remorse ; to have obtained from his own lips pardon for having tempted him to remain at Ravels km when his father had sent for him. But she haess was pleased, too ; Mrs. Murray took her so completely into lier favour and confidence ; and by tellin*^ her what she knew of tlu^ enil)arrassed state of her husband's affairs ex- plained the strange gravity of Austin's demeanour. .lust as they were leaving, liess overheard Austin at the gate, saying to Marjoribanks, " Have no fear, Sir, every |»enny shall be paid to you." ♦So, then, Austin was in debt, anil to her father ! ! i i Aladdin's lamp. 87 ernes for the 1 B m the ceme- 1 ■ ) completely ] X lier what 's affairs ex- 1 'istjji at the 1 you." 1 1 i CHAPTKU XIII. ALAnniN s lamp MOW kii.d 1 til ere was haect for the memory of his father ami for his own honour. He would not try to blink at difficulties ; he was resolved to look them straight in the face, and, havinj.5 seen them distinctly, to work with all his mij^ht to remove them. >Ie found that it was not easy to .see clearly when his eyes were dimmed by emotions which the thought of Coila inspired. The duty imposed upon him did seem hard ; for he must try to think of her only as a dear friend and a lost love, whatever might be the cost in suffering to himself. But what might it be to her ? That question startled him ; then; is always this difficulty in life — duty is never (juite clear because of the varieties of claims upon it. Then one's own longings assert them.selves, niaking the vision more indistinct, so tliat the b(ist path to follow is often hidden under such an undervn sjispicions of himself ; and thereupon he came to jwiother resolution — that he would tell Coila's uncle of his proposal to her, and let him decide what was best to he dime for her «ake. There was weakness in this ; hut it was i/..<^ weakness result- iiiL' from an earnest desire to do rij^ht, and a little perhaps from pride. He was ushered into a parlour and informed that Mr. Mar- jorihanks was engaged, but would see him presently. He fretted at that, for in his present mood he was disposed to regard every petty inconvenience as a slight. Me could not sit ; he walkef':S — chinking coppers on one side and silver on the other - -and felt that he was pla}'ing the magnanimous patron to ad- vantage!. A few thousands more or less were of no account to him, and he was content to let theni stand out at interest, if at the same time they brought him reputation as a benefactor. " I like to hear you speak that way," he said approvingly ; " it's honest and right ; and if you need a hundred or two to v.. CONFESSION. 97 keep you going, I have no objection to add that to the rest of the debt." " I can only say thank you, but I hope we shall manage to get along without increasing our debts," said Austin, over- whelmed with gratitude, and now painfully convinced that he had done wrong in speaking to Coila without the sanction of this generous-hearted man. Marjoribanks was glowing with self-satisfaction. Although lie pretended indifference to all expressions of gratitude, he eagerly coveted them, and Austin's words and manner conveyed to him the sweetest homage. Still, he had some really good impulses which even this inordinate craving for approbation could not altogether spoil. He rose ; Austin took the hint and prepared to go, but he did not go yet. He wished to speak about Coila, but hesi- tated. " I suppose it is too soon after the funeral to ask yoii to dine with us 1 " said Marjoribanks, holding out his hand to say good-bye. That decided him ; he must either come to the house as her accepted lover, or he must stay away. Gratitude to her uncle, the change in his position, respect as well as love for her, all urged him to speak. " Yes, it is too soon, thank you ; and I must tell you something, Mr. Marjoribanks, which may cause you to think my visits here objectionable." " Eh ! — what's wrong ] You have not been — uh-hum — do- ing anything irregular 1 " The blood rushed to Austin's face, but he encountered the quick suspicious gaze of Marjoribanks fearlessly. " You shall judge. Sir. I wish to marry your niece, and have told her so. That is my confession, and I feel that it is due to you, who have shown so much consideration for my family and myself." Austin expected to see him frowning and indignant. He was mistaken ; the master of Ravelston again thrust his hands deep into his pockets, this time as if seeking for something, and stared hard at his visitor. The expression on his face was that of one whose mind is concentrated upon the summing up of a row of figures in a ledger. He was privately wondering G i \\ 98 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY ? why the youth did not fix his fancy on Bess herself when he was about it. " That's unlucky — for you, and perhaps for her ; " he said, at length, in his usual brusque manner, and with the usual guttural sound in clearing his throat ; but without the least sign of irritation. " When did you tell her I " " Before I had the least suspicion of the present state of my affairs — when I thought there would be only her to work for, and I was full of hope." " How long ago was it ? " " On my first visit to Ravelston after my return home." " And, of course, she was agreeable or you would not have spoken about it 1 " " Yes." " She might — uh-hum — have done better," was the frank, but unpleasant comment. will attach all the blame to me. I did " I hope, not think — If, you " Just so ; it is always the same in these love attacks, you don't think." " I intended to say that poor as my position was when I spoke, I did not think it was to be so very bad as it is now. Therefore, I leave you to decide whether or not I may come to your house." Marjoribanks ran up another sum on the page of the ledger which Austin's face represented. Then. " Look here, Murray, I began life without a penny, as you know, and I have worked my way up to what I am now. You might do the same ; but you began with education ; I began with work — work of the hands as well as the brains, and wasn't afraid to turn to anything that served the moment best. I am afraid you could not do that." " There are possibilities of a decent income in my profession, and there are some things in the world more valuable than money." " Don't talk that humbug, or I shall think — well, I shall think less of you than I am inclined to do at present. There is nothing in the world to equal money for the power of good or evil. I tell you this that you may understand what I am going to say. I have no fault to find with you, I like you, .X -a 4' ;f CONFESSION. 99 jrself when lie \er ; " he said, ith the usual hout the least esent state of / her to work r\ home." 5uld not have IS the frank, me. I (lid ■ attacks, you was when I as it is now. may come to >f the ledger 3nny, as you n now. You 311 ; I began i, and wasn't best. I am ' profession, luable than ell, I shall t present. power of ind what I 1 like you, and like you all the more because you have cou.o t'oiward like a man and told me about this affjiir with Coila. She is a first- rate girl, and would make a capital wife to any man, poor or rich. But I don't want her to be the wife of a poor man ; I want her to be as comfortable when she leaves Kavelston as she has been in it. And so, for her sake, I think it will Ix; wise for you to keep away from the place until she lias got over her romance, or until you have made a fortune. Now, what do you say yourself? — isn't that common sense 1 " "It might be common sense," Austin thought, l»ut it was none the less torture to him. However, he bowed his head in submission. " I shall do whatever may be best for her hapi)iness," he an swered, with quivering lips ; " but I shall still ho[>e, aiul work with the vigour which the hope will inspire that I may some day be able to ask you for her." " All right, hope as much as you like and do as much as you can, provided you don't tie her down by any foolish prom- ise ? Come now, 1 think you are honest, and I'll prove my faith in you — I leave the whole matter in your own hands. I trust to you to do what is best for her." That was a cunning stroke of policy. He felt sure that Austin would act more strictly under these conditions than under any commands he could impose. He was always ready to show faith when nothing else could serve him better. " 1 shall endeavour to prove myself worthy of your confidence. Meanwhile, I ask your leave to see her once more in private." " Very good ; you shall see her, and you can tell her evt-ry- thing I have said." He rang the bell, and Baxter answered the sermons. " Tell Miss Gardyne that Dr. Murray wishes to see her in the boudoir," said Marjoribanks ; and when Baxter had letired, he turned to Austin — " Yovi see I am arranging everything for you. I shall see you in a day or two, and then you can tell me how your meeting went off. Now good-bye. You know your way to the room. I trust you to do what is right under the circumstances." He shook hands quite warmly ; and Austin (quitted the library in a very confused state oi mind as to what might be right and what might be wrong " under the circumstances." ' t 100 i 'I WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY? He was puzzled by the way in which Marjoribanks treated the question. There had been no indignation, no attempt at coercion ; and yet he had been as distinctly forbidden the house and forbidden to speak to her as a lover as if he had been thrust out at the door by the servants. Marjoribanks had simply used the talent which had won success for him in business — keen perception of the weakness of others, and of the right way and time to strike an effective blow. By showing confidence in him when he was expected to :ulen(id into darkness, but before them was a soft light which revealed the green lawn, and tlie outlines of shrubs and trees with singular distinctness. It was the dim sweet light of lu)j)e sinning upon them — made all the more precious by the sha and trn«f tliat you would enalde oim to l)ear the woi-Ht tliat faio nii^^ht have in store. Hut r nuiHt not bo Hollisli and (h'tain you longer, (food-hye." ** Good-bye, and, Au.stin, think of this — for you there are other ways to fortune than by a weary .service; to hard work and time." , She galloped away, aiul he stood striving to solve the pro- blem she had propounded. 110 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY? CHAPTER XVI. THE major's tactics. Jt^VJ P the avonuo at full gallop rodo Bess. Had she said too much ] Slie wished him to under- stand her feelings, certainly : but she also wished him to desire to understand them. He was free now ; as she com-, prehended the arrangement between Coila and him, each had agreed to allow the other io marry any one else if so disposed. No blame, no shjane would be or could be attached to either if new ties were formed and the old bonds cast aside. Bess was glad of that, and the swift motion of the horse did not at all keep pace with her pulses, quickened by hope. Nothing less than wings could have afforded her content in that moment of exultation ; and even wings might have failed to satisfy her, for the oasis in the sky she wanted to reach was still far away. He had often talked about the affections inspired by old as- sociations, by the sweet memories of childhood, and so on. She wanted something more — much more than that. Would she ever be satisfied with anything less than the entire love for which she craved 'i She was like a child whose nursery is full of toys, and who yet hungers for one toy belonging to a playmate, as more precious than all the rest. The question perplexed her, and was a bitter drop in the cup of pleasure which she drank on learning that Coila's en- gagement had been broken off. The Major was waiting at the door, and assisted her to the ground. He was looking at her with much curiosity. She stared him straight in the face, and there was an attempt to display the usual expressions of pretty sauciness ; but there was behind her eyes something of shyness or timidity — quite unusual with her. So with a hasty " thank you," she tripped into the house — the skirt of her robe caught up in neat folds bj'^one hand, the other grasping her dainty gold-headed riding I ! THE major's tactics. Ill whip tightly, as if she would like to thrash something or some- body. The firefiash had been caused by the Major's evident com- prehension of the motives which had caused her to linger with Austin Murray in the avenue. Why could he not leave her alone ? Why should he stand there to note the period of her absence, and to show her that his eyes were wide open, how- ever close or mystified Austin might be. She felt that she hated the man. Kilgour watched her till she turned up the broad staircase, and disappeared. He looked at his watch. " Over half-an-hour," he said with a smile. " You need not keep the door open, Baxter, thank you, I have ten minutes or so before dressing, so I shall take a smoke." Baxter bowed, the Major lit a cigarette, and took a stroll along the darkest paths of the shrubbery. The croo of the wood pigeon settling down for the night, the waking yawn of an owl ; the twitter of birds trying to arrange about their nests ; and an occasional lowing of cattle were the chief sounds which reached his ears in the mellow light of the evening. He was indift'erent alike to sights and sounds. He was rarely subject to impressions of surrounding nature, and less so at present than usual. " By Jove ! she is fond of him," v/as his mental exclamation as he drew a long whiff of his cigarette, and its point shone like a glow-worm before him. * And what a duffer he is not to take advantage of such a golden opportunity ! " lie would not have failed to take advantage of it ! He walked and smoked, meditating. " My time here is nearly out. Shall I give it up 1 I have made no impression. Coila is too weak or too soft to stand against the will of Bess — but Marjoribanks can, and that is my chance. . . . My chance, lo be tied to a tiger ! " A few paces forward, the glow-worm at his mouth shining brilliantly, and indicating the vigour of his whiffs ; his feet touching the ground sharp and quick. " The game is not worth the candle — yet she is a stunning ^\v\ ) capable of anything and with money enough to enable a fel- low to do anything. But she is as stubborn as old Harry himself. . . . 1 wonder what Murray is made of — will he be true ni HfT"- ■1 112 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY? to Coila or yield to Boss? Ill find out. On my soul the witch seems to be getting the upper hand of me in spite of her sauciness and chaff. Poor Coila — tush, Bess is the heiress." He had entered into tlie game in pure sport, being a man ready for any fun, and ready for any adventure wliicli might yield to him the settled position of a steady income for which he had boen so long on the look-out ; but he began to find the game becoming serious ; and the chances against him wert so many that he became the more anxious to win. He had often entered similar lists, and failed ; but he had never entered the lists so much in earnest as now. " I won't give it up yet," he said, throwing away the end of his cigarette ; " it is wonderful what results may be obtained by sheer persistence, even under the most unlikely conditions. We shall see what trumps the hidden cards turn up." He sauntered back to the house ; dressed, and at the door of the drawing-room he encountered Bess. He bowed low : she answered with a graceful inclination (in which there was still that singular shadow of timidity), and passed into the room, the door of which he held open for her. The Major looked decidedly handsome in evening dress ; the cut of his coat was perfect, and the broad shoulders, erect, martial bearing and cool manner set it off to the best advan- tage. As Bess glanced at him from under her long dark lashes she admitted that he was really a presentable person. As he looked at her, he felt more satisfied than ever that with a wife of such sparkling beauty and dashing character, supplemented by a million of money, a man might do or be anything, and he coveted his host's daughter accordingly. It was his privilege to take her down to dinner, and Bess took his arm at once, with that sort of desperate boldness which often tempted her to do the very things she most desired to avoid. Any one looking at her would have fancied that she was even too well pleased to be under Kilgour's escort ; but she was mentally scoring ever so many black marks against him for the accident which had thrown them together. He was complacent and devoted. " It is such happiness to me to be beside you," he said, in thpe same tone in which he might have remarked that two and two make four, but with a serious twinkle in his eyes which she understood. THK MAJORS TACTICS. 113 Sho was angry with him, and felt spiteful ; but she answered in lier sweetest tones — " I am so ghid, thank you." Her thought was : ** He is making fun of me ; but I'll pun- ish him somehow." He was so quiet, and spoke in such a simple matter of-fact way tliat she could not catch him up, altliougli in her present irritable mood his whole manner was extremely impertinent to her. Slie felt as if he were gaining power over her in some mysterious way ; and she resented the idea with violent indig- nation. They (i.itered the dining-room ; there was warmth, the glitter of crystal, silver and lights. (Comfort and elegance were united, and it was impossible not to feel in some measure impressed by these pleasant surroundings. Bess was not impressed ; she was too much excited by her own feelings, and too mucli an- noyed with the Major to enjoy anything, although he, poor man, was guiltless of any disagreeable action. He; understood her feelings, however, and was careful. He mad ! earnest endeavours to maiutain a conversation durinsi din- ner, but found it ditlicult. " May I tell you what I am thinking. Miss Marjoribanks '?" \w said, leaning over his soup. "Of course. '~^' " Y^ou are looking more beautiful than ever this evening. That red rose in your hair and th(^ white eamelia in your breast are pi'rfect coutrasfcs of colour, and are most becoming. Noth- ing eouhl be better than — " "Fish, sir?" and the attendant whipped away the sou[) and replaced it with fish. Kilgour proceeded — '* I have been often, and from the first, profoundly affected i)y your beauty — [)ardon me, Miss Marjoiibanks, if I speak too phiinly — but never have you api)eared so brilliant as this even- " Do you want anything, M:ijor?" sho said, sarcastically. "Yes," he replied, quite gravely; "but what I want can never be granted." "Ah, I thought you wanted something." "How so]" H -f 114 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY ? .1 ♦* Because ])eople never speak so prettily as you do except when they have an object to gain. It is very nice to be told that one is beautiful and all that ; and it is natural that in a lit. tie while one should become so eager to maintain the reputation for beauty and goodness that flattery has given, that the flattered person should be afraid to deny a request." " You are severe, Miss Marjoribanks. When I am im- pressed pleasantly by anything, whether by beauty or courtesy, I feel that it is right and honest for me to express my gratitiule for the pleasure which has been afforded me, even uninteDtion- ally — and I have so much pleasure to thank you for." " Champagne, sir." The Major's devotion was not affected by this int(?rruption. He would not have observed it, had not Bess, with the camelia which she had taken from her breaat, touched the side of her glass as if wickedly suggesting some association between her companion's words and the froth of the champagne. Killievar had been loudly reporting his exploits of the day on the moors, and complaining about the poor sport, wldch led to an animated disscussion, as to the source and probable conse- quence of the disease amongst the grouse. The subject was an important one ; the gentlemen were interested ; Coila and Miss Janet listened as if they were interested too, and so Bess and the Major were left pretty much to themselves. The movement, warmth, and sound of voices imparted n pleasant excitement to the atmosphere of the room ; and although love and dinner do not sound well together in sentimental ears, Kilgour never in his life before felt so much inclined to make; love. He was amused and provoked by Bess ; the strength of a fortress and the length of its resistance, renders the capture of it the more glorious. He knew that she was utterly opposed to him, and he was — foolishly, he thought sometimes — the more anxious to win her. " Do you really mean all that you say, Major ?" she observed, continuing the interrupted conversation. " Certainly — why, do you doubt it '?" Her bright eyes shone full upon him, and he felt a thrill somewhere in his breast as he owned to himself that she was at times startlingly l^eautiful. '* Frankly then," she replied, " you give such profuse thanks TllK MAJORS TACTICS. 115 i you do except nice to be told iral that in a lit- n the reputation khat the tiatteied Vhen I am im- luty or courtesy, ■OSS my gratitude ven uninteution- u for." liis interruption. with the camelia d the side of her ion between lier gne. ploits of the day sport, wliich led d probable conso- le subject was an jsted; Coila and too, and so Bess elves. oices imparted a om ; and although sentimental ears, inclined to make i ; the strength of lers the capture of utterly opposed to !tinies — the more •r V she observed, id he felt a thrill If that she was at h profuse thanks foi" the merest courtesies that I wonder how you would be able to acknowledge a real kindness." '* You mean by a real kindness, I presume, a service ren- eiered in an emergency of great dilliculty or sorrow." " Yes." " I would acknowledge that with tln^ gratitude of my whole lif(;. However unkind or wicked my benefactor might appear to others, I would always believe in his goodness and serve liini faithfully." '• That is a soldier's idea of fidelity, I suppose ; and you woidelongs to you." " But that is wortiiless." " I shall regard it as more precious than rubies if you will permit me to keep it." " Kidiculous." " Not at all, to me." " Well, if I thought you sincere I would say no, you are rM)t to keep it ; but knowing you speak oidy in fun 1 say, do what you like with it.'* " Thank you ; then I shall retain it as one of my most pre- cious keepsakes." " You must take it as treasure trove, then, for it is not a gift." " That robs the flower of half its value. Still I shall keep it, as you have worn it, and it will always be precious to me." At that moment Bess thought proper to give the signal f<>r the ladies to retire. Killievar, with the alertness of youth, sprang to the door and made a pretty speech to each lady as she passed. The door closed and instantly there was a clatter of voices as if the valve of an engine had Ixicn moved and the steam was permitted to fly out unchecked. The one topic of conversation was the approaching Airbridge races. Mr. Marjoribanks despised races and cards, but as a bit il •I 118 WHAT WILL TITE WORLD SAY ? of amusement, and especially where he was likely to be talked about, he had no objection to risk a hundred or two. Morrison had a horse entered for the handicap race, and was very anxious about it ; Strongitharm had two horses entered, the one under the name of his foreman, the other under that of his stableman. He pretended to be very impartial, but he was in truth playing a double game, and ready to bet for or against his own horses according to th(^ prospect of making anything out of it. " Are you making a book, Mnjor 1 " he asked, as he passed the claret. " Unfortunately, I shall not be here for the races." "What do you mean — you are not to run away from us be- fore the races con^e ofi'V cried Marjoribanks. " I would like to stay, but my time is up in tljree days." " Nonsense, man, you must stay with us for another month at any rate." " You are very kind. Will you give me till the day after to- morrow to decide 1 " " To be sure ; but you must decide to stay." The Major had already more than half decided to stay. "You'll find the races worth your while," Majoribanks con- tinued, " although they are not so grand maybe as the French races. I suppose you have been at them ? I was there when the Empei'or was in his glory, ?.nd the fine madams were flaunt- ing in their gay fallals ; but there's more fun at our races, and you can understand everything that is said and done." " That's more than the lassie did in the hotel we were at in Paris when you spoke to her," observed Morrison. " Yes, but that was not my fault. You see, Major, we went to an English hotel in Paris, and in the morning I could not get any soap. I looked out at the door and tl ere was a smart quean passing, so I just cried in a homely way — ' Hey, lassie, fetch a bit of sape.' She glowered at me for a minute, and then she says, civil enough, ' We don't speak French here, Sir;' and I have never yet made out what she meant ; but I suppose she was fresh from some Cockney boarding-house." He enjoyed the laugh at himself as much as any one ? BESS MANCEUVRES. 119 ely to be talked >r two. ap race, and was ) horses entered, her under that of irtial, but lie was )ot for or against ifiaking anything <('d, as he passed races." iway from us bc- i tliree days." )r another month 1 the day after to- ided to stay. Majoribanks con- be as the French was there when dams were flaunt- at our races, and id done." bel we were at in ison. ', Major, we went L'ning I could not 1 ere was a smart ly — * Hey, lassie, minute, and then h here, Sir;' and but I suppose siie }) s any one CHAPTER XVII. BESS MANCEUVRES. (( (( <( ILL there be room in the carriage for me this morning, papa ? " said Bess, during breakfast, as she carelessly chopped oflf the top of an egg. Room enough for you ; where do you want to go to 1 " Nowhere particular. I just thought I would like to go out as it is such a fine morning." " I generally find that folk mean somewhere very particular when they say nowhere, and that is often- an inconvenience to me. Where do you want to go 1 " " Well, I thought about calling upon Mrs. Murray." " Anything new in the paper this morning 1 " he said, turn- ing abruptly to Killievar. "There was a gale down at Greenock, and about twenty lives lost. That's all." Marjoribanks took Bess with him into the library after break- fiist. She was a little irritated by his inattention to her re- quest, and much puzzled by his manner. When he had shut the door, he took her by the arm and led her over to the window. " What is the meaning of your sudden interest in Mrs. Murray 1 " he said, scrutinising her, as if he would search out the most hidden secret of her thoughts. " I like her and I like Austin," was the bold answer of the daughter ; " and just now when they are in trouble I want to show them that they may count upon us as real friends." " That is very sensible of you, and kind, I suppose ; but I don't want you to go there any more." " Whvnotr' V '* Because I say so, and I say it because young Justin has taken a fancy to Coila. That is bad for both of them, and so I want the acquaintanceship to drop as quietly and speedily as possible. You are not to go there." u If 120 WHAT WrU. THE WORLD SAY? Bess was inclined to exclaim against this command ; but she knew that opposition only rendered her father more determined. So she bit her lip and repressed the words which she most de- sired to utter. " Very well, papa, if you think it best that I should keep away from Mrs. Murray, I shall do so. But I am a little afraid that people M'ill talk about our unkindness in deserting them in their distress, wlion everyV)ody knows that nothing but the devotion of Austin's father saved your life." That was very cleverly put, without absolutely realizing th.it her father was a man who was keenly sensitive to the itpinioiis of others, she had used the argument which was most likely to influence him. He was put out for a minute ; cleared his throat with mucli vigour several times ; and she looked dutifully submissive. " Ah — well, he did do his work like a man ; but did I not pay him, and lend him over three thousand besides ?" " Quite true, papa ; but people forget these things, and I am sure there would be some very unpleasant talk about us if it became known that we turned our backs upon the Murrays as soon as the doctor dieH " This was a kind of selfish common sense which Marjoribanks appreciated. The whole joy of his life was found in listening to the loud expressions of admiration which his free handed bounty elicited. " What a generous man ! " " How good ! " *' He is kind to everybody ! " " He deserves his fortune — nobody ever did so much for those who were in need as he ! " The vision of the possibility of all this being changed to cries of indignation and scorn was extremely disagreeable. After picking up half-a-dozen letters and impatiently pitching them aside, he answered her. " I never intended that we should turn our backs upon them. I told Austin that whenever he wanted help he might count upon me. What more would you have 1 " " That's very good of you, papa, and I am very glad. But why may not I see Mrs. Murray since you mean to be friends with them still 1 " "I hav^ told you, because of this foolish affair with Coila." "But T am not Ooila." " There, there, l have no time to argue with you, we'll see RKSS MAN(EUVRES. n\ 3inmand ; but slit? | more determined, k'hich she most tle- ftt I .should keej) am a little afraid 1 in deserting them t nothing hut the tely realizing th.it '^e to the opinions ras most likely to throat with much ly submissive, m ; but did I not esides ?" things, and I am alk about us if it n the Murrays as ich Marjoribanks bund in listening his free handed " How good ! " fortune — nobody is he ! " eing changed to ily disagreeable. atiently pitching )acks upon them, he might count very glad. But an to be friends lir with Coila." h you, we'll see about it another day : but at present you are to do what I Kiy. "Very well, papa ; gootl morning." She kissed him and (piitteroud to see vou looking so fresh," he readied, standing up erect as a poplar and saluting hor resjieetfully. " Thank you for the comjdiment. What a pity you did not go into the army, Macbeth ; you would have been a famous general bv this time." " I canna say for that. Miss, but I dai-esay the enemy woiddna have thought me tlie least forward of our sodgers." He spoke with modest self-doubt, but the gratified smirk on his face showed that she had offered the flattery which was most pleasant to hei; heai-er. " 1 am sure of it ; for I have heard scjmetliingof the countless victories you have won at home." " 'Deed and they were not a few, Miss, f was aye ready to stand up to any man for a, l)ad l>awbee, and I was hot ofti^n second best. I kept my ground for seven rounds with Jock (lowdie himsel', and lie was one of th(^ cli'verest hands in the ring at the time. I'll tfdl you about it if you sit down." " Not just uow, thank you. But w^hen I want a deftaider I will come to yvou." " And I'll be the proud man to do my endeavoui', Miss — I) M 124 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY ? but it's owie late," he added, glancing down at liis wooden leg ; " though may be folk v )idleasure you, Miss, I would see the deevil himsel', begging your pardon." " Very well, I'll send for him this afternojm, iiiid I will come down again to make sure that you attend to his instructions." So, with a blithe nod she went away, entirely contented with the result of her mi.ssion. She entered the library where Mr. Hill was busy with his correspondence. " I beg your ])anlon for interrupting you, Mr. Hill ; but would you kindly send a note to Dr. Murray to call this after- noon, if possible about three o'clock, at the lodge, and see what he can do for poor Macbeth ? I am afraid he is very ill, althoulan without arousing suspicions. Macbeth put his hand up through his bush}'^ white bail', and scratched vigorously for a minute as he watched the lady tri])ping along the path towards the house. Then he niuttered : " I wonder what jdisky she's gaun to play now ] Mischief in the bairn means deevilment in the woman, and she was just about as big a wee mischief as ever I kent. Onv wav, it's no me she's after." That rellection afforderl him .some satisfaction, so he went in- doors again. With much deliberation he opcMied the bottle of whisky and tried its contents. The smacking of his li|»s sutli- ciently indicated his approval, even without the additional sign of a second and third application to the bottle. " That's rah^ ^"id, and I'n; thankful to her ; twa glass of that, and I'd Ix^ ready for Mendoza himself, stump h^g and a'." Macbeth had been a cooper in Aii bridge, and at one time had a fair chance of making a good business. But he had two manias — whisky and fighting ; and it would be impossible to say which was the strongest, for ue indulged in both equally, r ,11 120 WHAT WILL THE WOJILD SAY ? He was ready at any time for a match at fisticuffs, and lie never yielded until he had licked his man. The miners of the dis trict were ready enough to meet his views until it became clear that ho was really the master of the noble art of self-def« nee. On this account he called himself and was called by others the " Cock-of-the-Walk." Th(? boys of Airbridge transferred the cognomen into " Cockie-leerie ;" by that name they hailed him whenever he was seen in the strefjts, and by that name he became known for miles round the town. He was told that there was a soutar (shoemaker) in a village twelve miles off who would prove his match. Cockie-leerie at once marched to the village, challenged the soutar and beat him. But the soutar's comrades very unfairly united to revenge the defeat of their champion, and in a body set upon the victor. The cooper was nothing daunted ; he shouted his usual battle cry, " Mendoza by ," rushed into the midst of his assail- ants and speedily scattered them right and left, so that he marched off the field triumphant, with another tall feather in his cap. Mendoza was understood to be the name of a famous pugilist, so that Cockie-leerie's shout, given with each decisive blow straight from the shoulder merely indicated his belief that it was such a blow as his master might have given. This combat with the soutar settled his position so deci- sively, that for some time the Cock-of-the-Walk was rather out of practice, except for an occasional round in the boxing tents at fairs or at the races. He employed his spare time, however, in teaching his sons the skill which he had acquired by prac- tice ; not only during the day, but at night he would lie in bed with one of the little fellows straddle-legs across his chest dili- gently boxing with him. He allowed the boy to hammer away at him with all his might, and would halloo with joy whenever a sharp blow was delivered ; would pat the locn and promise him a penny— which he often forgot to pay. Some- times he would give himself a severe blow in order to illustrate the manner in which his pupil should strike. He had an intensie admiiation of martial heroes ; and his devotion was pretty equally divided between Wellington and Napoleon. He counted the battles and gave his award to the COCKIE-L EERIE. 127 ffs, and he novcr iners of tlie dis 1 it becjiine clear t of self-def' rice, ed by others th(.' transferrt'd the they hailed him y that name he ker) in a viUage Cockie-leerie at outar and br;at Tairly united to a body set upon his usual battle 1st of his assail- left, so that he r tall feather in famous pugilist, h decisive blow lis belief that it II. osition so deci- : was rather out he boxing tents > time, how^ever, quired by prac- vould lie in bed 5S his chest dili- loy to hammer lalloo with joy at the locn and 'O pay. Some- ler to illustrate tiroes ; and his Wellington and s award to the one who liad won the greatest number. The army was his vocation, he felt, and he also felt that if he had entered it he would have become a great general ; but as he frequently lamented with great bitterness : " I have just thrown myself awa by marrjiiu' that plaiden merchant's dochter, and I can do naething wi' a wife and weans." It was the wife, however, who managed the whole business, saw that orders were executed, and kept things going when Cockie-leerie was incapacitated by whisky or some pending sport from attending to work. He never was in the least con- scious of this important service which she rendered him. Kesponsibilities weighed lightly upon his shoulders, and when- over he got a "peeser" (a glass of whisky) he was ready for anything in the way of fighting, jumping, or dancing ; he had become famous in each of these exercises. lie was an inventor, too, and his chief invention was a flying machine. It had been suggested probably by his leap- ing proclivities. At the alum works he had frequently, for a wager, leaped across a vat of boiling liquid, about nine feet in diameter, with only about half a foot of groun«l for a landing stage on tlie other side. But when he had completed his flying machine — which was composed of leather stretched across sundry hoops and staves constructed to form wings — he took a wager with some of his cronies that he would descend from the top to the bottom of a considerable hill in two bounds. He performed the descent with one bound ; the leathern wings failed him, he fell, and hopelessly fractured his right leg. The leg was amputated above the knee, and Cockie-leerie was condemned to the use of a wooden stump for the rest of his days; but even then he would boast of his dancing abilities, and, leaning on the back of a chair, balancing himself on his " pin," he would display his skill in " high cutting," as the step was called, with the sound limb, whilst he assured his audience that the absent member had been- equally expert in its day. *' Ay, billies, you should hae seen me when it was whole ; then you would hae ken'd what dancing was ; never a chap in the country could beat me at high cutting or the back stap. Let's hae another dram." ' N f£| i; 128 WHAT WILT- THE WORLD SAY ? He swaggered about wagering and swearing, and was as seldom as possible sober ; but on the Sunday iiorniiig as regu- lar as the day came, he was up and dressed in Ids blue coat with brass buttons, and always with a yellow lily in his button- hole, ready to ttttend the kirk. For forty years he had never once failed to be in his seat in the loft of the church, except during tiie time that he was confined to ))e(l on account of the accident to his leg. Hard times came. He had two sons ; one when quite a boy had run away to sea ; the last that was heard of him was that he had enlisted ; but he never came home ; the other somehow scrambled through the classes at the Glasgow University and becauK^ a " doctor " But he had contracted a large share of his father's worst habits without having the constitution or the exercise which rendered tlieir indulgence possible ; he died shortly after obtaining his degree. The mother, bitterly disappointed and des])ondent, soon followed him, and Cockie-Leerie wns left alone. He was incon- solable for a week and drunk for a fortnight. Then his buoyant spirit reasserted itself, and he married again. But the second wife had neither the skill nor the patience to manage the cooper- age business, which in consequence sjjecdily failed and Cockie- leerie found himself at last a cri})ple and a beggar. Despite his frailties— or perhaps on account of them — he was generally liked ; and his misfortune was widely commiser- ated. Marjorihanks heard of him, and he was installed as gate- keeper at Ravelston, where he had a comfortaV)le house to livt; in, and could occasionally indulge his wild humours by a visit to the little inn at Craigieloup. He was, however, very much tamed now ; he was still a tall handsome-looking old man ; but the fire of youth had been quenched and he performed the duties required of him with surjn*ising punctuality. He read everything he could find in nevspapeis or books about war and warriors, always imagining himself to be the heroic leader of any successful battle. He had lived in a state of painful ex- citement throughout the whole course of the A shantee war, and had often trami)ed to Airbriilge of a night just to leain the very latest news. He felt a personal interest in every soldier of the Black Watch ; it was his pet regiment and he had traced its history with affectionate eagerness over a hundred glorious fields. COCKIE-LEKUIE. 129 oil account of He hud one remarkable i>eculiarity ; notwithstanding his couiiige, his readiness for a fight, and his admiration of war, lie had an intense d' ead of small animals, and especially of mice. He would lie awake for a whole night quivering with fear at the scratching of a mouse. His wife had only to imi- tate that sound, or cry " mouse, mouse," in his ear, and she woidd rouse him from the profoundest slumber when all other means liad failed. Austin Murray had been surgeon to the Black Watch in Ashantee ; and therefore Macbeth admired hini and believed in liiin. iible : he died \'-i ' \ i 130 WHAT WILL THE VVOllLJ> SAY ? CHAPTER XIX. COQUETTING. 0, Macbeth, I am sorry to find that you are to become a patient of mine," said Austin, entering the lodge about half-past three o'clock ; he had been detained by his mother, who was, as he thought, far too much elated by this summons to the lodge. " Your father often said that once a doctor gets his foot into the kitchen, he has only to l)e sufficiently attentive and he will soon enter the drawing-room. Be carefid how you act ; you do not know how much may depend upon this visit." " It is pleasant that you are so sanguine, mother ; but," and her« he spoke gravely — " the dream you cherish can never be realized." She thought he spoke a little regretfully, and that was a gratification to her — a proof that he was coming slowly round to the position in which he would grasj) the Aladdin's lamp which hung within his reach. But the real source of his re- gret was that his mother should still hope he might wed Miss Marjoribanks (he even thought of the lady in that formal way now, as Miss Marjoribanks). The mother was satisfied with her own view of the future. She never pressed him on the subject ; rarely put her thought in plain words before him ; but she suggested much — the diffi- culties into which they had sunk on the one side, the beautiful wife and the brilliant fortune on the other. " I can sympathize with your romance, Austin," she would say, with a sigh ; " but you will understand my prose when you are as old as me." He left her, sprang into the gig, paid several promised visits, and then procr ded to the Ravelston lodge. " You're sorry, are you f exclaimed Cockie-leerie in reply to Austin's salute ; " then on my saul, you are the first doctor that ever was sorry to find work." COQUETTING. 131 that formal way promised visits, " I (lou't believe that, Macbeth, nor would you if you knew us better," replied Austin, laughing. He knew the old man's way, and never took offence at anything he said. Macbeth presented his wooden stump as if it were a gun and he was taking aim at the visitor. " Do you mean to tell me a man who has ihat, doesna ken what doctors are ? You're young, you're young. I mind you wlien you was in long claithes ; but I understand your craft, and there's my diplomy for all the world to see." '* Well, I'll admit your knowledge ; but you are looking hale enough. What is the matter with you ]" " I thought you was to tell me that, and I wouldna like to take the job out of your hands." **Why, I was afraid there wa£' sjcrnething seriously wrong with you when I received the note to-day." " Oh, you got a note, did you ? And wha might the note be frae?" " From Mr. Maijoribanks' secretary — Mr. Hill." " Oh, ay — Mr. Hill," and Cockie-leerie eyed his wooden limb inquisitively as he drew the straps tighter in order to as- sist his meditations. " Od, man, I was thinking that it was a sort of hoast I had, and whiles there was a prickling at the j)oint of the pin as though somebody was making a pin-cushion of the taes that are awa* ; but ^ow I begin to jalouse that it's something the matter wi' the heart," " The heart ! I hope not, for that is always a serious business to a man of your yeai's." " Or your's either — true enough, doctor ; but I'm doubting that's the fact." Cockie-leerie's eyes twinkled with fun as he watched the young doctor instantly take a stethoscope from the inside of his hat and proceed to sound him. Austin used the instrument with all his skill, and thoroughly sounded the patient wherever danger might lurk ; tapped the chest with his fingers, and used every available method to dis- cover the disease. But every time he moved the instrument the patient observed with the utmost composure — "It's no there^ — it's no there." When he had completed the examination, Austin replaced the stethoscope in his hat. il l^. •; 132 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY ? " There is nothing seriously the matter with you — a slight cold, which, if you will be careful, you may get rid of in a few days. Put your feet in hot water and take a stiff tumbler of toddy when you are going to bed, and you will be all right in the morning." " That's fine medicine, I'll take it. But, man, you're young, you're young ; the trouble is far deeper nor that." *' Not at all ; I assure you, there is nothing to fear." *' I wouldna say ; but here's somebody that can tell you about it a hantle better nor me." Cockie-leerie made one of his grandest dancing-room bows — such as he had been accustomed to make when he stood up at a harvest home before a partner who was worthy of his best " high-cutting " step. Austin wheeled round and saw Bess in the doorway. She was dressed in her dark blue riding habit, the breast a little open, showing a white front, corresponding with the turned down tips of her collar, which was a slight modification of that worn by men ; a black tie was fastened at the neck in a sailor's knot. The hat was placed jauntily on her head, and her veil formed a wisp round it. Austin could not help being struck by her beauty, for her dark eyes were flashing mirthfully upon him, and the smile which lit up the face declared her pleasure in seeing him with sufficient distinctness. "How do, Doctor," she said, carelessly; "very glad you've seen my patient ; he is a stubborn old fellow, I must tell you, and won't admit he is ill at all." " Just that — ^just that," muttered Cockie-leerie, regarding her with wondering admiration, and then taking a sly glance at the Doctor. They shook hands ; it was not his fault, it was not hers, that the hands remained clasped a little longer than was necessary. He was thinking about Coila ; that this was one closely allied to her and in constant communication with her. Certainly, the presence of Bess did rise like a mist between him and the lady to whom he felt himself betrothed just as much as if there had been no breach in the engagement. Yet, through that curious mist the form of Coila appeared vague and impalpable, whilst COQUKTTING. 133 ■room bows — le stood up at y of his best rway. , the breast a ith the turned cation of that ik in a sailor's , and her veil 3auty, for her »d the smile ing him with glad you've nust tell you, •egarding her glance at the lot hers, that IS necessary, slosely allied ertainly, the md the lady if there had that curious •able, whilst that of Bess, whose hand he held in his, was warm, tangible, and entrancing. Partly because of Coila, mostly because of herself he felt drawn towards Bess by more tender ties than he had ever sus- pected to exist between them. "There is very little the matter witli Macbeth," lu; said, " but I am glad you thought his case worse than it is, since tliat fancy secured me the opportunity of seeing you again." " 1 won't allow you to make light of my judgment," she cried, with phiyful indignation ; " 1 tell you he requires youi" most careful attention, and has been deceiving you if he has made you tliink otherwise. He is an artful old humbug." " Just that — ^just that," observed the patient, nursing his wooden leg, and apparently addressing it. '' I shall see him again if you wish me to\lo so ; but there really is no necessity as far as I can judge." " Oh, but you don't see far enough — you should hear him cough — he taker fits of it and promises to go off in one of the fits some rlay. His wife has told me all about it, and for her sake I must insist that you take liim entirely under your care." " Just that — it's the heart that's wrang, I tell you, Doctor," continued the gatekeeper, still affectionately nursing his peg. Bess cast a sharp glance at him, and then, decisively : "So much the more need of the Doctor, Macbeth." "Just that." " And so you must pay particular attention to what he says, and follow his mstructions implicitly." " Whatever is your will, Miss, I'll carry out." " Good day, then ; I shall be down soon again, aiul hope to find you improving." " Whenever the Doctor comes, I'll aye be at home." " Which way are you driving. Doctor ? " said Bess, pretend- ing not to hear the observation of the old cooper. ** To Craigieloup." " I am riding that way ; so we can have a chat about your patient." She marched out ; and Austin followed, after saying " good- bye," to Cockie-leerie, who repeated his exclamation : ''It's the heart that's wrang, Doctor. Mind that and never say I didna ken." E;' 1 I 134 WHAT WILT, THE WORLD SAY? r' 1 The groom was waiting outside with her horse. She had peremptorily rutusud the Major's escort for that at'iernoon, and she willingly accepted Austin's assistance to mount. Her foot rested in his hand. What a pretty foot. Strange that he had never observed it before. Only a second, and she was in the saddle ; he held the stirrup and the dainty foot slipped into it. He was sorry that the movement was so rapid and his services so speedily dispensed with. He climbed into his gig, and somehow the mere action sug- gested the difference in their positions. He felt sad, and in a feeble way a little vexed with himself that he had been forget- ful of the difference. There is a pride in poverty as well as in wealth ; and he was very proud occasionally. She rode quietly beside the gig ; the groom fell behind ; and so they were enabled to talk freely. He was wondering how he ahould broach the subject which was uppermost in his thoughts — why she never called as she had promised to do ; but she saved him all trouble on that score. " I count myself lucky in meeting you this afternoon, Austin ; I wanted so much to hear about your mother — is she keeping strong and bearing up like a man 1 " " She takes her sorrow like a sensible woman, and I think that implies much more strength than a ii;an usually displays. She has often wished to see you." "That is the very thing I wanted to explain — in spite of all my endeavours the arrangements here rendered it impossible for me to call. But you can tell her that she will see me soon, and that 1 often think about her." " She will be delighted." " Oh, we get on first rate together. I wish you lived nearer to us so that we might meet oftener." " You forget that Ravelston is forbidden ground to me at present, except in a professional way ; and I have had doubts even on that point." " Nonsense, man, my father is no tyrant, and he likes you, no matter what he may have said to you. Do you ever see him uowr' " Yes, when I am at the works." ** Are you often there V' " Twice a day just now. I have a patient who lives in the COQUETTINO. 135 She had [eiiioon, and Her foot that he had was in the >ped into it. his services action sug- 'J, and in a een forget- 8 well as in Jhind ; and •ing how he is thoughts « ; but she on, Austin; he keeping tnd I think ly displays. spite of all impossible e me soon. ^ed nearer to me at ad doubts ikes you, )i* see him es ill the row tit tiif gates. Ho is a puddler, and got severely burnt a few days ago. I have little hope of his recovery ; and ho has a wife and ten children." "I must see them — what is the name?" •' Jones ; he is a Welshman, who came here a year ago dur- ing the strike in Wales. They will need help, 1 think." " Thoy shall have it." H(; regarded luir with a grateful smile as if she had ren- dered him some ])ersoual service, and she was pleased. "I shall tell the man, and it will be a piece of rare comfort to him to know that you have promised to help his bairns. I generally visit him the last thing at night about ten o'clock. But we are getting near Craigieloup, and all the time we have been talking, I wanted to ask you about Coila." He mentioned the name awkwardly, as if more than half conscious of the decided neglect which he displayed in delaying the question so long. He was*not relieved by Bess, who laughed merrily as sh(! touched the hind quarters of the horse with her whip and made it prance along the side of the gig as if it too were laughing. " You certainly have been a little dilatory. However, fond lover, be content. 1 never saw her looking so well or so cheery in my life before." " That is good news, and I thank you." But in his heart he was not quite satisfied with the news ; Coila's contentment suggested indifference, and there are few lovers who can endure the suspicion of that state of feeling and lie quite happy. They entered Craigieloup : there was a hum of shuttles in the air, for the village was one of tne few in which the home weaver had taken refuge. The weaving shops were on the ground floors, and most of the houses had a second flat (or first floor) which was approached by an out-side stair. From one of these, as Austin and Bess passed, issued the sound of voices singing the Old Hundredth Psalm. It was the house of the precentor of the Craigieloup Kirk, and he was teaching his children to join efficiently in the parts of the pathetic and simple air. The sounds reached their ears distinctly, and despite the ab- surdity of the frequent repetition of the same line, the incident deeply impressed Bess. She caught a now meaning from the I t 130 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY ? words of tin; pHalni, and sho felt diHinayed by a sense of guilt. The simple earnestness of the singers inspired the words and music with a sentiment which she had never before perceived in them. " 1 have to make a call here," said Austin, pulling up before a humble looking cot : " I suppose we art* not likely to meet soon again ?" " That will depend upon you and circumstances." " If it depended upon me we should meet again to-day,"^ ho answered, smiling. " There is no saying what nuiy happen. Have you any mes- sage for Coila ?" Taken so suddenly, lie did not exactly know whether he had a message or not ; it had never occurred to him that he might send a message, and l(>ast of all by the lips of Bess. *' Shall I Hay that you are t^ing, ; or that you are happy and can forget 1" Something in her tone irritated him. " No," he answered, " if you say anything, say that I love her." The horse bounded forward, and cantered down the village street, Bess neither saying good-l)ye nor looking back. i ".TITDOK MK." 137 ClfAPTEK XX. ".IUT)(!K MK. JITlT was not a pleasant afternoon to Bess. Slie luul been jjf elatetl throughout the «hiy seeinj^ lier litth^ plans succeed ■"^^ one after another. Kverythinj; had happened just as slie wisheil ; the doctor's visit to Machetli, the meeting, and tlic opportunity for a tete-k-tete. Hut there was tlie end of her triunipli ; half-a-dozen words had transformed her apparent victory into an undoubted defeat. All her pleasure for that day was destroyed ; she felt .as if she had suddenly drop[)ed from the clou3r name, then covered it wrh the blotting paper. "My letter is finished now," che said, laying down the pen and rising. "You misunderstand me, Bess, [ am not indiffer- (Mit ; only I become nervous at times and quite unable to say the things I would like to say. So I am silent, and you call chat indifference. Biit we need not talk about that. What was the messajjje ? " " Such a ridiculous one to give a third person to carry that I can scarcely tell you for laughing, " And Bess laughed as merrily as if she had never known such a funny incident in her life before. •' I am sorry to hear that, for he is not often ridiculous." 'To you, I daresay; but he certainly was to me on this occ:\sion. Fancy, the only message he had to send you was" — (lowering her voice, head drooping to one side, and a general expression of mock sentimentality) — ' Tell her that 1 — love her !' ha, ha, ha." She gave no hint of the suspicion that he spoho che words as much for her own benefit as for Coila's. Yeu that suspicion had embittered her whole nature this afternoon. It was l)ad ' 1 i I \ ■):■ ■ i: 140 WHAT WILL THE WOULD SAY ? i i^i enougii to feel that she wished to win him and could not ; but to think that he understood her thoughts — that was beyond endurance. Coila walked close up to her cousin, face flushed and lips trembling. Her voice was low and unsteady. " I never thought you could be deliberately cruel, Bess, until now )> " Dear me ! — and, if you please, what's the special exhi- bition which has convinced you of my wickedne^? 1 " " You laugh at Austin because he spoke to you as to a dear, true friend — you know that he would nol, and could not send such a message by any other lips than yours, and you scoff at him for trusting you ! Does not your own heart cry shame 1 " Bess felt that it did — much more than Coila could imagine — but she had no intention of admitting such a cltarge. *' Don't look so indignant, Coila — you quite take my breatli away, and, besides, the look does not become your style of face. I shall be very good and sweet, henceforth, and carry your messages to him and his to you as the faithful go-between of both. It will be so nice for me ; and I shall look so charm- ingly melancholy that you will never again think T am making fun of eitlier. Your next message will be to him in this vein — ' Thar.ks, dear love. I am yours (^.evotedly until death and for ever after.' Will not that be the fitting answer l " " No, the ansvA'er is not at all like that." Bess quite broke through her mask of raillery. " You are both fools," she cried passionately ; " I wish you would get married and have done with it. You would be sufficiently miserable in a couple of montlis to gratify your dearest friends." Much to the amazement of Bess, she felt Coila's hands placed softly on her shoulders ; she saw Coila's eyes looking with sad tenderness into her own. " Yes, I am afraid we would be miserable in a few months. I have been thinking about it all, Bess, and although it was difficult to come to a decision so much opposed to my own wishes as the one which will be best for him, I have decided." "^ "JUDGE ME." 14)1 " I am not in a humour to seek answers to riddles — what do you mean 1 " " Vou love him." Bess sprang back with a little sharp cry of pain or anger. " How dare you say that 1 " and she stamped her foot on the Hoot. " Because T know it. Do not be angry with me, Bess, for I cannot answer you in anger. I owe so much to your father and to you, that I dare not even defend myself if you choose to blame me. There is nothing in the world I can do which can ever repay your kindness to nie. But I am ready to give up anything which may help you to happiness." Bess, although her amazement increased at every word, had somewhat recovered her temper. Patting the floor with her foot <*ill the time, she replied coldly — '"1 do not understand this stuff." " I am to tell Austin, that for his sake and my own, it will be Ijetter to put an end at once to all thoughts of each other ; that no matter how circumstances may alter, I can never be his wife." '* You have not dared to say that you thought I oh the folly of it makes me wild." "I have said nothing about you." Bess laughed somewhat nervously. " And do you imagine I can swallow this humbug 1 That I do not know you are saying this only because you see me put out." Coila shook her head and took Bess's hand between her own aff'ectionately j but Bess snatched the hand away. The indig- nant flush became again visible on Coila's brow ; but her voice was quiet and almost cold. The girl's nature rebelled against these petty indignities, when she was conscious of having done much more for her cousin's sake than could have been expected from her. She found it difficult to keep her eyes fixed only upon the kindness for which she had to be grateful, and so repress the words of retaliation which rose to her lips. ** You are wrong again, Bess, I said all this before you came in, and, therefore, without knowing that you had been particu- larly annoyed by anything to-day." " Said it— to whom ? " (if f l,i I 41; 142 WlfAT WILL THE V/OKLD SAY ? I. I:: "To Austin liimself." " Impossible ! " " Judge me." Che went to the desk, took up the letter she had been writ- ing when Bess entered, and gave it to her ; but she was crim- son with pain at the thought of submitting such a letter to other eyes than those for which it was written. Bess took the letter, and balancing it on her riding-whip as a reading-desk, she said — " What new absurdity is this ? " "Read the letter and see." Bess glanced at the lines, indifferently at first, then the rid- ing-whip trembled so that she was obliged to hold the paper with both hands. This was what she read : — ii 2 ' ll " Ravelston, Wednesday. " Dear Austin, " Forgive me. I say that first, because I think this letter will pain you, and, although I can say nothing which might win your pity, I would like — oh, so much ! — that you should pity me and not quite hate me. I am selfish — may be worldly ; and I want to say that it is best for me that we should now and at once cast away from us that hope of a future union which promised to be our strength in present difficulties. I want to say, think of me what you will, but you must not think of me as you said you would. Be quite satisfied that I am thinking of my own happiness in saying I cannot be your wife at any turn , no matter what changes may occur. You will make me i>Kcntial consideration? ; not the least idea occurred to him of the anguish with which these v/ords were written, or of the sacrifice of which they were the consummation. "We are so quick to see the worst, and so slow to give credit for the best motives even to those whom we love. " You have not opened the other letters," said the mother, desirous of changing the subject, for she was satisfied this was not the moment to urge her own designs, and to counsel him to transfer his regards to Bess. But she was well pleased to think that C/oila had broken faith with Austin ; and yet a woman's inconsistency inspired a feeling of anger against the girl because she refused her son. " It's a lucky escape for him," was her bitter and proud reflection. " This is curious," muttered he, with an open letter in his hand ; " Marjoribanks wishes me. to be at Kavelston before ten o'clock. He orders me to come as if I were a dog to follow humbly at his heels whenever he chooses to whistle. By heaven ! he takes large interest for his money." Austin was in very bad humour, and ready to quarrel with his shadow ; but this was the most unamiable trait of his character which he displaced just now ; he had a keen, cne might almost call it an exaggerated, sense of responsibiliry, and the fact that he was owing any man vhr-t he could not pay was a source of bili/cr humiliation to him, ind Coila's letter rendered the feel- ing more bitter at this moment. " You must go and sec what he wants, Austin," said Mrs. Murray ; •' .."nd it is wrong of you to speak so angrily about him. Everybody has faults, and whatever his may be, his generosity outweighs them. He has been a good friend to us." Austin felt the full force of the reprimand. He, too, was generous, and ready tc acknowledge an error, even when in his most impatient mood. " You are right, mother, he has been a good friend to us, " STUBBORN FOOLS.' 153 s. and I am ashamed of myself for tliinkiiig an angry thought about him. I shall obey him." Breakfast was a very light meal to him that morning in spite of his mother's wise precepts that he should begin work with a good meal, that an empty stomach was a bad companion, and so on. He started for Ravelston soon after nine, and was there a little before the appointed time. He was conducted to the library, where he was, in a few moments, joined by Marjoribanks. The reception was of the mo'st cordial kind — so cordial that Austin wondered if t\u) J(3nny Mine had turned up trumps after all. " Glad to see you, my man, glad to see you -uh-hum — sup- pose you wonder what it's about." " Yes, I hope there is no one ill." " Ha, ha ! You hope no one ill — on my word you're a character. You, a doctor, to hope there's nobody ill. But there is somebody very ill, and you are the only man who can cure her." "Herl" " Ay, it's a her, and you'll guess ready enough who it is." " Miss Marjoribanks ? " ■'No, she is quite M — better than ever. She is never ill." TheT'e was something sharp and uneasy in the tone of the reply, and he rang the bell vigorously. Coila and Bess entered the room together. '•What do you want?" exclaimed Marjoribanks to his daughter. " Coila refused to come unless I accompanied her," was the quick reply ; " and so, knowing that you were particular about having her here, I came with her." There was such a sweet air of utter ignorance of what was aboru to happen in her manner, that no one could have imagined her a party to the comedy on foot. She went over to Austin and shook hands with him in the most friendly way, asked for his mother, his sister and brother, and in the most sympathetic tone hoped that they were recovering from the pain of their recent loss. Coila was decidedly sour, or sulky, or iAiy — it was impossible to say which. She remained near the door, bowed very coldly to Austin, and made no offer of hex hand. i^ I I "' 154 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY? He felt the warm-hearted k-ndness of Bess, and he was the more indignant at the apparent indiiference gf Coila. She carried out exactly the terms of her letter — and the bitterness of the thought which she, poor girl, had suggested, in order to help him — that she rejected him as a matter of convenience, that her love was bounded by the most worldly considerations — rankled in his mind and rendered himjimpatient and irritable. He was utterly blind and stupid in his vexation and could not see the sacrifice she was making. Coila, as she glanced at him with drooping eyelids and sad anxiety, guessed much of what was passing in his mind — he was angry ; he was accusing her of faithlessness — he would, perhaps, despise her. Well, there was nothing for her to do except bear, with as much patience as she could command, all the wrath which might be vented upon her. She still thought that she had acted wisely for his sake and her own. That thought strengthened her. Marjoribanks cleared his throat, thrust his hands deep into his pockets (an action which he performed when he was pleased or when displeased, as if to restrain himself from too violent expression of his humour), and spoke — " There's your patient, Doctor ; see you make a good job of her." He nodded towards Coila. Austin did not understand ; he looked inquiringly at the speaker and then at the two ladies. He learned nothing. " You don't see the fun. 1 thought that, and so I'll tell you. Look here, I was meaning to keep you young folk apart for a twelvemonth at anyrate, just to see if you really wanted one another ; but I've changed my mind. There, Murray, there's Coila, a fine-hearted creature, and she will make as good a wife as man can wish for. You can take her as soon as you like, and on the day that you are married she shall have two thou- sand, and you shall have a full receipt for that siller your father owed me, and which you took on yourself to pay. That's a good bargain for you, man, and there is no saying what morel may do. " Marjoribanks stood upright, chuckling with self-satisfaction, and prepared to receive their expressions of gratitude and joy. But there were no exclamations— -no wild rushing into each "STUBBORN FOOLS.' I5r) as the She erness der to lience, ions — itable. lid not nd sad id — he would, r to do tnd, all hought That lep into pleased violent job of ,nd ; he ladies. ell you. ,rt for a ted one there's d a wife ou like, vo thou- ir father That's a t more I sfaction, and joy. nto each other's arms, as he had seen a couple do in play at Glasgow, blessing their stars and their benefactor. There was silence in the room. He had no idea of how coarsely he had offered the girl in marriage. He intended to act handsomely ; he thought he had done so, and he was astounded by the cold reception of hh munificence. Coila stood with head bowed, face and neck crimson, and hands tightly clasped. Bess had turned her face partly to the wall ; her elbow rest- ing on a bookcase, and a hand shaded her face ; but through the open fingers slie could see Coila, and by a slight movement she could also see Austin. Her lips were very close and thin. Austin, as soon as he heard the announcement, which a day before would have elicited from him all the expressions of de- light which Marjoribanks could have desired, turned his eyes to Coila with a dazed look in them. Had she been aware of this change in her uncle's designs, and had she written the letter to break with him before he could know that the obstacle to their marriage was removed ? Or had she been tempted by her cousin to play a cruel joke on him, in order that his astonishment might be the greater. " What's wrong now 1 " said Marjoribanks, frowning ; " you were ready enough to loup at one another not so long since, when you had neither gear nor sense on your side, and now you have both, you stand gaping as though you wanted to be off with the bargain. I don't understand such fiddle-faddling- — what's the meaning of it 1 " " I beg your pardon. Sir, I am as ignorant as yourself ; but in any case I ought to thank you for the great kindness which you are ready to do." " Then show yourself ready to profit by it." Austin took Coila's letter from his pocket, and went over to her. " I want you to explain, Coila, " he said quietly, and there was something of the lover's tone in the voice which made her heart tremble. " Did you write this before you knew what vour uncle had resolved to do 1 " "Yes," without raising her head. There was a bright gleam of hope in his eyes, he thought he understood it all now. ,1 ".I 156 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY ? (( M Forgive me, Coila, that I did not see at once the brave, generous motive which tempted you to be so cruel. It was to release me from our promise, which you fancied might hamper me, and so you tried to frighten me away from you by pre- tending that you wished to be free. Oh, you wicked girl, not to rememb ?r that you were taking away the prize I was work- ing for." The words cut deep into her heart ; resolution was failing her to carry out the sacrifice she had determined upon. The idea that she was bound to make the sacrifice had grown upon her during the sad hours of the night, when she lay awake, thinking, thinking until her liead ached : and remembering all that she owed to her uncle and to Bess, until it seemed as if tliis crisis were a heaven-sent opportunity to prove her gratitude and devotion. The same spirit which has enabled men to walk calmly to the stake and to endure the flames unflinchingly * actuated her. Of course we who are worldly and common-place may very honestly think her a fool for her pains. But there are no stakes now, and yet in the ordinary affairs of daily life there are possibilities of devotion and self-sacrifice the beauty and value of which the too practical are apt to miss. She lifted her eyes, saw Bess, and tlie brief hesitation passed away. *• You heard what your uncle said — he removes every diffi- culty from our path. Come, tell me to burn this letter and for- get it ; and then let us thank him with all our hearts for mak- ing us so happy." " I cannot." "Why?" " Because — because I mean what that letter says. . . My uncle is very good and kind, but he cannot change what I have decided upon doing. Please, forgive me, Austin — oh. He gazed at her, earnestly trying to discover the motiv^e for this strange conduct, since his first surmise had proved a mis- take. " What d noncense are you two talking now ? Be off" with you both, and don't show your faces to me until you have fixed the day for the wedding. I'm ready to implement my part of the bargain." vl STUBBORN FOOLS. 157 brave, was to lamper by pre- irl, not 5 work- failing I. The '^n upon awake, ring all 3d as if ratitude to walk ichingly lay very are no ife there uty and 1 passed ry diffi- and for- br mak- My what I iin — oh, )ti/e for d a mis- Be off ou have lent my " I am sorry, Sir, that you have so much trouble in this mat- ter ; for it seems all is at an end between us. Coila refuses me, and will not even give me the poor satisfaction of explain ing why." He spoke somewhat hotly ; but one piteous look from her and he regretted his haste. At ilie same time he felt that tliere was some hidden reason for her conduct, which, if he could only fathom, he might remove. " She shall do nothing of the kind, or I will know the rea- son why," exclaimed Marjoribanks. " You have been^ a good child so far, Coila ; don't compel me to change my opinion of you. I am not going to be bothered this way for liothing. Make up your mind at once, for marry him you shall, or — I'll see about it." His anger and threats calmed her. She held up her head, the flush still on her face, but quite resolute and collected. " I owe you so much, uncle, that I dare to disobey you in this, for you would yourself be sorry for it after." " That is my business." " I shall not marry him. Sir, and you cannot force me." Marjoribanks would not have been more astounded if an earthquake had swallowed up Ravelston and all his riches, than he was by this quiet and unconquerable resolution of Coila. The girl who hatl been always so docile, so eager to obey his slightest nod, suddenly proved herself capable of disobedience, and even of defiance, which Bess — from whom such conduct might have been expected — would never have attempted. He could not tie her up with ropes and carry her before the minister. She was right enough — he could not actually force her into the marriage ; and, with all his wealth, he felt himself helpless to overcome the obstinacy of a girl. He fretted, but he was not going to admit his weakness. " Ay, ay, this is a fine stour, when I want to do what you were greeting for. And what should hinder me forcing you to keep the troth you gave without asking my leave ? " " Dr. Murray would never take me against my will." That was the final blow to Austin ; it was an indirect ap- peal to his best nature, and he answered it. " She is right. Sir ; and I beg of you to look upon me as the cause of all your annoyance. Whatever anger you may feel, 158 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY? let it fall upon me, for I refuse to marry Miss Gardyne under any circumstances otherwise than with her own free will and because she wishes it." Marjoribanks felt his breath taken away, for here was the other one turning upon him as if the whole scheme had been got up by himself against the wishes of the persons most concerned. " On my sincerity, you are a pair of stubborn fools. What the devil is the matter with you both 1 I give up trying to guess. You go to your room, Coila, and stay there till I send for you, and by that time may be 1 shall have settled what to do with you. Go you, too, Bess." Coila walked out in oilence. Bess said " Good morning," and followed her. " I believe it's the Major that has got into her head," mut- tered Marjoribanks. " I'm mortal sorry that I asked him to stay till after the races. You have lost a cliance, Murray, that would h.ave set you on your feet, and it's your own fault." " I must bow, Sir, to the Lady's decision." ROMEO AND JULI^.T 159 CHAPTER XXIII. ROMEO AND JULIET. <~>- as bang. HE two ladies proceeded to Coila's room. As soon they were inside, Bess closed the door with a Coila opened the window, and began to crumble bread on the ledge outside for the benelit of the birds. There was a musical crowd of sparrows, robins, blackbirds and starlings hopping about the trees and grass opposite the window — for it was her custom to collect the broken bread from the breakfast table in order to supply her feathered friends. The birds ex- pected the feast, and about half-past nine collected near her window with a punctuality which would have done credit to a man of business. This morning, however, in her agitation, at the prospect of the scene which had taken place in the library, she had for- gotten to feed her tribe, and now she hastened to remedy the neglect. When she closed the window the birds fluttered up to the ledge with eager chirps. An epicure of a robin sat with head on one side coolly seeking a tit-bit, whilst the sparrows seized whatever came first and made ofl". One sly blackbird darted up by the corner and captured the largest piece he could see. Two starlings, who were shy of approaching the window them- selves, cunningly watched the sparrows and robins, pursued them and snatched the bread from them. They were just like many other bipeds. Bess laid her hands on Coila's shoulder. " Do you think you have gained anything for yourself or him by what you have done ? " " I cannot tell tha^ ; 1 only know that I have done my best to help you and him to happiness — if you rniss it now, it will be your own fault." " Oh, sweet martyr ! — but you have no right to be playing this grand role at my expense. You have made him miserable, and you have driven me out of u,ll patience. Do you imagine IGO WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY? I would accept him when he came to me only because you had rejected himi You insult me by such an idea." " I am sorry to have annoyed you when I wished to please you." " You should have been sorry sooner. JHd I not tell you you were blundering? — did I not get everything arranged for you, and you had nothing to do but to ; > an ' le n arried ? You shall find that he has lost by „'Our (uijiJner, lor t will never speak to him again." "Will you leave me to myself for a lliiie vJ^le, Bess ? I shall be ready to talk it all over with you in the aitt rnoon." " You need not be alarmed — I have no intention of staying with you. But you make a mighty mistake when you fancy that I cannot live without Austin Murray. I'll show you that you are mistaken." She quitted the room ; angry, and yet not quite sure of her own feelings. Although vexed with Coila, she was conscious of a secret, trembling pleasure in the knowledge that Austin had rejected her. But she tried to hide that pleasure from her- self ; tried to convince herself that she was indifferent, and that she was really vexed at the misunderstanding between the lovers. She was angry with Austin, too ; she would have liked to punish him. Whether it was distorted love or wicked vanity, she felt that it would be a satisfaction to make him care for her and then to dismiss him, c * that she might prove her power, and that she was in heart as iu position far beyond the country doc- tor. She was half disposed to rush out and meet him as he left the house and explain the real reason why Coila had refused him. But that would have exposed herself too much ; she had occasional glimpses of discretion, and was guided by them. Good and bad seemed to be so equally poised in her impul- sive nature that it was impossible to say how she would act under any given circumstances. Meanwhile she suffered torture at the idea that her regard for Austin should have been apparent to Coila, whilst he remained, if not blind, at any rate indifierent to all her attractions. It was a bitter humiliation ; and she was ready to perpetrate any wild act to prove that she, too, was indifferent — to suggest that in thinking of him she had been only amusing herself. UOMKO AND JUMKT. IGl L had lease I you )d for You never si I n." laying fancy lU that of her ascious Austin )m her- nt, and jen the iked to vanity, for her ^er, and ry doc- s he left refused she had lem. impul- )uld act gard for mained, ons. It rate any zest that Half an-hoii i-fter l»inche(»n slic was at the drawing-room win- dow, which 01 rlook'jd a green terrace, urraiighig some flowers in their va^es. Ccila was still in her room Miss Janet was upstairs takir-^ a nap, and B'^ss was well pleased to be alone. She had f>' jned the window and v'a*s looking out, seeing notbnig; for iier mind was oc^ ipied with uneasy recollections ot the day on which, from that spot she had tempted Austin to disobey the last command his father had been able to give him. It was only a little while since then, and yet she felt as if she had grown years older in the brief time. She was ronsfid by the sound of a voice from the terrace — " * Oh that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might kiss that cheek.' Is the quotation correct ? The wish is sincere." It was the Major, returned thus early from the moors. He was standing near where Austin had stood, leaning on his gun and smiling as he quoted Romeo's wish. Bess might be gloomy enough when alone — although that was rare, for she had little of despondency in her character — but the moment there was atiyone near her, and especially if that one happened to be a man, she must coquette, cajole, ban- ter, or scold. Something that exercised lier quick faculties she could not help doing. " The glove would be very soon thrown aside. Major." ** So you had worn it the glove would be happy, even in its discarded state." " Then the glove would be a spiritless thing, desei-ving its fate. I wonder Juliet did not see what a poor creature Romeo was to stand sighing and wishing and spouting poetry instead of jumping up and taking the kiss when they both wanted it." " Shall I play Romeo with your new reading of the part i " he said, stepping close to the window and resting his hand on the ledge so that he could touch her if he chose. " You ! — and die of poison 1 '' "No, of love." She laughed merrily, and almost a little too much, " You are amusing. I can imagine you in any position, Major, except that of dying for love." " Thanks— you give me credit for more sense." •* Not for sense, but indifference." " Are they not often the same — one the result of the other." 11 t.'l !^ II 1G2 NVHAP WILL THK WOULD SAY? '• M:iybe, but J would rather have a friend who was capable of the wildest act than one who would submit tamely to circum- stances under the plea of common sense, which is indifference." " I do not quite understand you." " I shall put you to the proof. What is the worst extremity you would endure for your lady 1 " " I would live for her." " Oh, that would be too much." " The penalty would be equal on both sides." " But she might succumb to such devotion." " That would be a misfortune ; but such a lady as I imagine would bear up against the worst of calamities. I imagine such a lady as — as — suppose we say yourself, Miss Marjoribanks." " Too much honour," with an air of self-depreciation in which pride was most prominent. " The honour is entirely on my side. I have often imagined a lady strong of will, inventive in purpose, and bold to execute, with beauty combined to make all these qualities charming. This lady would endure even my existence and be always bright and complaisant, no matter what she might think of her yoke. With such a lady by my side there is no saying what heights I might scale — for I am ambitious, although the ambi- tion lacks purpose at present. She would be a spur to goad me on to new enterprise, and she would never succumb to failure ; on the contrary, she would by her genius, make even failure look like success." " You speak with as much enthusiasm as if you had seen this paragon of women." " I have seen her." " Where 1 — do tell me that, for the subject is most interest- The Major removed his hat, bowing low, he answered — "Here." " You are too funny, Major," she said laughing, but with a note of irritation in the laugh, although she had been quite ex- pecting what he was to say. " Your politeness passes all bounds — I might say all belief." " I am sorry for that, because I would like you to believe in something." ROMKO AND JULIFX 163 .ble Li ni- ce." nity igme such :8." ^rhich " But not in your protestations. Be advised in time, Major, give up the chase — it is a wild goose one." " I am fond of wild geese." " What, when you can never catch them 1 " " I have a very hopeful disposition. For instance I came back to-day in the hope that you would permit me to be your escort this afternoon." " Agreed, if you are not afraid of your neck." " It is at your service, as everything else is that belongs to me." " I shall be ready in ten minutes." She retired from the window, and the Major quietly pro- ceeded to prepare for the ride, feeling that he had gained one step. i o;inod ecute, ming. Iways of her 1 what ambi- goad nb to even 3U this berest- with a lite ex- ses all leve in 1(54 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY ? UHAPTKR XXIV. ONK STKI' FAIlTirKK. HVj rarely took long to dress, although she always man- aged to dress prettily and attractively. On the present occasion she was unusually particular— when Coila hap- })ened to enter the room. From the moment lier cousin appeared, Bess moved with a quicker step, her fingers were more nimble, and yet she had never taken such a long time in making her toilette. Mary Beith lost patience with the many re-arrangements of her young mistress's hair. Coila having found what she came to seek would have gone away, but Bess would not allow her. Apparently quite regard- less of what had occurred in the forenoon, she gossipped to Coila with more volubility than usual ; and at every attempt of the latter to escape, Coila's opinion of this plait of hair falling to the right or left, Coila's taste as to this collar or the other be- came invaluable. " You are not sulky, dear ? — as aunt would say. Now you will tell me whether the blue habit or the grey is most becoming to me to-day." " I think you should wear the grey to-day, the roads are so dusty." "Thanks— but what about the hat 1 Shall I take that ugly bit of chimney pot which makes me look as much a fool as if I were a man 1 or shall it be the broad Dorothy with the big feather 1 — I like it, for under its shade one can be so sly and yet look so prim. You like it, too, don't you ? " *'Yes." " Ah, then, I shall have it. . . . Don't go yet, Coila — I do so much wish you would help me to choose a bow. That's a good soul ; I know yon would help me." " You have a light heart, Bess," and there was a faint indi- cation of a sigli behind Coila's words. >. ONK STKP FARTTfKR. 1(55 J man- irosent la hap- with a he had Mary young re gone regard- ,o Coila of the ling to her be- ►w you joining are so |at ugly A as if |the big dy and ^oila — That's iit indi- "A light liead, you wouM say, only you thm't like to ho un- complimentary. Well, it's the same thing, for even the doctors have not agreed whereabouts feeling lies. But of course they iu!ver agree. . . . Mary, vvheni have you left the nail-brush I In the other room, of coursi; — anywhere but in its place." Mary departed in st^arch of the brush, which He.ss instantly held up in her hand whilst she made a laughing grimace at Mary's back. "I just wanted to whisper to you, Coila, that if you had any gumption you would dress and come with us instead of sitting moping at home — and you would see such fun ! " " Where are yut don't move on my acc(»iuit, dear — please don t." 1 ()re is my biography in brief. Now for our ride and your favour." He seemed to close the conversation with these words, and something like that feeling of fear with which he had once or twice inspired her, affected her again. i>ut she was in a reck- less mood, and so she thatiked him for his confidence, declared him quite a hero, and set of at a gallop. They ascended the hill to the " look out " above the quarry, crossed the head of the glen, and then came to a grand slope? down to the broad plains which stretched out towards the iron works and the pits. The slope was only broken by several squares of stone walls forming sheep-pens ; and on one side was- a long wall which formed the march between two farms. A small plantation at the foot concealed the farm-house, and a stream separated the base of the hill from the road. '* We can have a capital run down here," she crierl ; " now give me a fair start and win the bow if you can." " I shall catch the wild goose." But she was off ; he followed, both going at a mad pace. The frolic seemed to be most enjoyable to both ; their breath came quickly, the keen air hit their cheeks, and the ground seemed to fly from beneath the horses' h<^)ofs. Bess was in her element in this mad run ; the sense of pursuit and the half- implied favour which in her jest she had promised Kilgour, and which she never intended to giv< , ifftf/firteS zest to the chase. She was gaining ground upon him, fof >!lie iu>A much the bette: horse of the two, and she knew it wlien ?)y^ hafl challenged him. She was going straight down the hiil, and w/uld have to turn at a right angle to reach the road, fh mw that b taking the wall he could intercept her at the plantatjon. He turned a little to the right to execute this stratag/'W* Leishman, who was now a long way behind guessed his inten tion and yelled at the pitch of his voice : " Not that way, Sir, for the T.ord's sake, not that wa\. You'll be killed." But the Major did not h(>ar, and if hf^ iiad heard wouU| '.I li if ' !i 172 WHAT WILL THE WOULD SAY? not have heefhul. Ho, k«;pt straight on for th« point at which he had decided to leap \hv wail. At that point there wns on the other side a descent of twelve feet into a ditch. Kilgour was ignorant of that, and Bess did not see the d»?- tour he was making. It was a maxim with him that stratagem was njore potent in love or war than mere physical advantages, and he was congratulating himself upon the certain success of ihis present movement. Her ))ulses were bounding with the excitfment and enjoy- ment of th(! glorious fun ; she was already laughing at the ])rospect of the Major's defeat, and wondering how he could possibly meet the sneer witlj which she intended to salute him. The horses entered into tlie excitement of the race and stretched to their work bravely ; they seep'^d to throb with the ambition of their riders. l^ess was near the foot of the hill, the Mjjjot- was within twenty yards of the leap which was to give him victory, Leish- man was still hallooing and still uidieard. She turned — uttered a wil.,ain, she had no success. She worked steadily and with the method of a practised nurse. The farmer and four of his men soon joined her. Kilgour was insensible to any pain in being lifted on to the litter. " I'm doubting it's a bad case, yon, Miss Marjoribanks," said the farmer as he assisted her out of the ditch ; " he's more than half dead already." " I have heard of men meeting with accidents as bad and yet recovering." But there was a sickness at her heart which contra^ !i i II •! 174 WHAT WIJ.L THE WORLD SAY ? She followed the men who wt^re carrying the litter with all possible care ; she walked, leading her own horse. As they turned at the plantation to enter the farm-house she heard the report of a gun. Mrs. Bruce had hastily prepared a large bed-room on the ground floor, and into it the invalid was conveyed. The guid- wife had also got hot water ready, and tubs for bathing, lint and linen for bandages — all these her experience of accidents had taught her might be required. She exerted all her skill to place the Major in the easiest position, and tied a bandage round his leg to stop the bleeding until the doctor came. Bess looked on in silence, rendering what trilling services she saw Mrs. Bruce needed. Then she would hasten to the window to look for the doctor coming, and would turn back with certain symptoms of the revival of her impatient spirit. At length she saw Austin galloping up the road. She went to the d( nd met him as he dismounted. He was surprised t lind his arm gripped tightly and still more to see her face, with the dark eyea ill of fright and appeal, actually glaring at him. "Austin — I have done it — save him." He entirely forgot her coldness to him a little while ago and became anxious on her account " You must not blame yourseii unnecessarily." " I shall wait here to learn what hope there is," was the answer. He went into the house. She went round to the garden where she would be less observed. She walked up and down with apparent composure. " Not blame myself ! " was the mental cry, and then she shuddered, remembering the Major in buoyant health jest- ing with her, and the glimpse of him flying over the wall, fol- lowed by what she had seen in the ditch. She halted to listen for any sound which might help her to guess how matters wer« progressing ; but there was none, the place was painfully quiet. Austin rejoined her. " He may recover," was his disheartening report ; " but it would be folly not to tell you at once his condition is a very dangerous one." NECK Oil NoTHINd. 175 to the .t it 'ery (»hiit(r (Iry-eyiMl .she looked at him as it' hv were at a great distance, and she was straining her vision to see liini. "Will he die?" " I hope not — but I cannot, say more yet ; when he recovers consciousness I shall be better able to judge." " What are his injuries 1 " " There is concussion of the brain, and his leg is broken." " Make him well, Austin, make him well — make him what he was this morning and 1 will give my life to bring about the fulfilment of any wish of yours. I am crazy and miserable ; it is awful to know that if he dies it will be my fault. I laughed at him, mocked him, and dared him to the wildest folly ; and now I would be glad if I was lying there instead of him." " You will be my patient very soon if you cannot control this fr'-nzy. I will do my best for him," " You must do more than that, you must save him-~and you shall have Coila yet in spite of all that has passed." A cloud seemed to drop on Austin's face ; it became sud- denly dark and cold. " 1 will do what 1 can for him as I would for any patient ; whatever extra care I can give him will be for your sake. But if you wish me to do that you must not mention her name again. We have parted ; let us endeavour to forget our broken promise as quickly as possible." "Oh, you are blind, blind," cried Bess, passionately, and it was on her tongue to reveal the motive which had actuated Coila, but pride or shame or both checked her. So she only said : " She loves you — restore him to health and I will prove to you that she has acted thus because she loves you and is grateful, and that she is suffering cruelly." " And should there be no allowance made for my suffering," he answered bitterly ; then suddenly commanding himself ; " but there, we are not to talk of this. I ask you as my friend not to uncover my wounds by referring to her again." " And I answer that your request is refused — I would not be your friend or hers to grant it. I shall talk of her as often as it may seem proper to me to do so." " Then let me speak professionally ; you should go home now, rest and endeavour to allay the agitation which this accident has caused you." i ■;;■■ 1- J u M 176 WHAT wrij, THK woitr.n say ? " I sliall rcfciirn in tlio evoniii*;, and T will n his istor- into bled, that, and " Speak again," commanded Austin, after a few seconds silence, in which the eyes of the patient began to waver as before. " I am very, very sorry for this mishap, it was all my fault, and I hope you will. ... I hope you will forgive tne. " Forgive me," echoed the man, as if he were trying to realize the meaning of the words. He lifted one hand a little way, but it fell limply by his side. Austin sponged his head with cold water, which appeared to atford much relief, and then resumed his position with fingers on the pulse. Austin was interested in his patient, and he was filled with much amazement at the contrast between the saucy, reckless Bess, and the sad, .igitated lady, who stood by the bedside obe- dient to every word of authority which he spoke. " Yes, forgive me," she said again, and there was humility as well as appeal in the tone. He laughed, it seemed in mockery ; but his eyes had left her face, and he did not see her. " What a fool I have been. ... to bother myself. . . . . there are plenty others. Only she's pretty. . . and so tantalising." Another pause and Austin : " His strength comes and goes 1 if we could rouse him from this stupor it would be a great advantage. Your voice seems to have an influence upon him. Will you try again.* She took his hand. " Do you know me 1 " ** Eh 1 — yes, yes, yes — it was a fair battle and a fair chase, but I got knocked down just in the moment of victory. The fortune of war. Take it like a soldier — defy hunger and fatigue — march on and cj^nquer. She would make a rare wife — but she would require taming. They take such a deuce of a time to bring up the waggons that the men will never get supplies before daybreak. Then we may throw up our hands. . . . Carlos is our man — but it is not a man, it is a woman, and she is worth winning. . . . Wild goose — folly to pursue ! " Throughout these ejaculations she could trace the leading idea of herself, and the blood tiui'led in her cheeks ; but, slie 182 WHAT WILL THK WORLD SAY ? became white again, when she perceived that he had dropped back into a state of stupor. " We need not try further to-night," observed Austin witli proff'ssional calmness ; " it wouM exhaust him too much." " You will let me know when there is any change." She hastily quitted the room without even saying goo learned that he was in the house she would shut herself up in her room, and never sbir until from the window where she sat she had seen him quit the house. Or, she would run out whilst he was in the a'vik room, and wander about the least frequented part of the grounds ; hiding amongst the shrubbery whenever she heard or saw the door open. So he came and went for a week, and although she saw him often, he had never set eyes on her. Then he began to under- stand that she was avoiding him, and he became more at ease. Drolly enough, he also became somewhat dissatisfied — she need not have been afraid of him ; he would not have spoken to her or troubled her. But this was another proof of how little she cared for him. What a lucky esca*^e he had made 1 A wife without affection or sympathy would have been a fatal encum- brance. He ought to be grateful for his escape ? yet he was dis- contented and unhappy. Bess, too, was peculiar in her ways at present. She was most attentive in her inquiries about the Major ; but she was even more brusque than usual, and rarely spoke of anything except the condition of the patient. She never mentioned Coila. He was at Ravelston always twice in the day, sometimes he paid a third visit late in the evening, for the feverish symptoms which became manifest in the case causf d him some anxitity. He met Marjoribanks occasionally, who always saluted him with a disagreeable display of patronage, and bade him spare no pains, as he would be well paid for his trouble. Just after one of these unpleasant encounters, he quitted the house, determining for the hundredth time that he would never go back again. The Major was comparatively safe, and there was not the slightest necessity for him enduring so much vex- ation when Spence was ready to step into his place. The fresh air, the soft moonlight, strewing before him broad lines of silver, crossed by patches of pitchy darkness, soothed him. He had walked out from Airbridge, and now, to enjoy the relief of perfect stillness which the grounds afforded, he took a turn around by the terrace, instead of making direct for the avenue. IN THK MOON LIGHT. 185 the bver liere rex- ttp luul to pass the litthi lake, witli iUs wiUows ^InxuMug over it, and making fantastic shapes in the clear bosom of thm him through the sliruhlM>ry. A moment's indecision on his part and the opportunity for e.xpianation was lost. He could not he sure of the words, and yet he made a few steps in her track. He .saw her Hittinj; acn .js sevt^ral open spaces, i\w moonlight aiul the shadows fall- ing upon her slight form, her dre.ss fluttering in the wind. She seemed to h«; running to the hou.se and never once look- ing behind. Suddenly a cloud n the interesting topics of the price of iron anil the probabilities of a strike, he turned for amusements to the study of the backs of the elegantly bound books, which symmetrically filled the shelves in due accordance with the owner's instructions to the bookseller. " I observe, Sir," said Killievar, " that you have got the works of Burke here. I approve of Burke." Marjoribanks' mind was rarely alive to any reference to other books than those of the counting house, and it was not THK TEST. ISJ) he tu lot capabh^ at present of i;uessiii^ at the meaning of any allusion to an autiior. \\v answered <{uickly : " Hurke ! — ^lUukc ! — I saw the viUain hanged ?" lie was thinking of the notorious Burke ami Hare. Before Killievar oouM express his amazement at the answer, ('oihi enU'red. The presence of tin; laird in his resplendent costunu; made her pause, fancying that she was either too late or too soon. " I see that you are engaged, uncle — shall I come back by and by ] " "Shut the door and stay whv.."*' you are. I want Killievar to hear what I have to say, so that if you force me tu be, (lisa- greefible there may be one sensible man in the world to bear witness that I wished with all my h(virt to be generous." He jingleil the money in his pockets as if his heart lay some- where thereabout. ** You have been very generous," she said, and submittttd, although at the first instant she waH inclined to oppose, if not to resent, the exposure to Killievar of her quarrel with Austin. The former advanced gallantly and placed a chair for her. She did not sit down. Even Marjoribanks was touched by that pathetic acknow- ledgment of her dependent position, and he spoke a little less sharply. " 1 was not meaning to hurt you, and I only want you to do what you were eager enough about not Ion/; ago. Look here, now, Coila, I am asking nothing unreasonable ; you have had time to think over the matter — tell me why you changed your mind all of a sudden, or else say you will have him." " But I cannot marry a man who refuses to take me, uncle." " But he shall take you — I say it. He shall take you or — ril make him pay up the three thousand he owes me. " You know he cannot do that." *' Then he'll suffer for it, if he refuses to do what I tell him." " I cannot prevent you from carrying out your cruel threat, Sir ; but if Austin could yield to such influence I would regard him with contempt — I would hate him, and I would not marry him." k. '\ ;; I 190 WHAT WILT. THR WORLD SAY ? Her ryes wero bright, lips ticmbling, the whole form drawn up to resist the .attack, and there was dignity as well as passion in her look. "What do you think of that, Killievar 1 H6re is your gentle Coila, who could not speak an {ingry word." *' 1 must say, if you put me to it, Sir," was the cautious reply, ** that looking at the business this way and then that way, I am not sure but I agree with her ; she has just nothing to do but refuse the man outright." She was so grateful to him for these words. " And I'm not sure but the lad has nothing to do but to refuse her. 1 know what's what, and it is the Major has done this." " The Major ! " was her astoun ask for him, lest he should fancy that her anxiety indicated more than her regret that she had been, inadvertently, tlie cause of his suffering. Now, she began to fear that persistent avoidance of him might have an ecjually unpleasant result ; and so she determined to visit him soon. She had been very quiet during the Major's illness ; except that she went often to inquire for him, that she bribed the nurse with many presents to be faithful to him and careful of him, she had been more calm and less impetuous than usual. She did not appear at breakfast ; at luncheon and at dinner she was complaisant to everyone, but evidently always conscious that there was one in the house whose imminent danger was not to be forgotten. She avoided Coila. She dressed in her bed-room, and would not enter a chamber where there was a possibility of being left alone with her. Tliere was something almost of horror in the eagerness with which she would tly from contact with her cousin. There was in truth bitterness in her heart towards Coila. In the quiet hours of night, pacing her chamber, or tossing restlessly on her bed, she would cry, mentally ; " If he dies she is to blame, but all will fall upon me. She drove me to it — she iiaddeiierl me and made me wicked. Oh, I hate her — she would give Austin up for me ! For me ! — as if I would accept tlui man she rejected ! And then to satisfy her I made a fool of myself, and, maybe, I have killed this man. God f()rgivl(' cmII ' an ornament to society.'" " And the man I " " Must hav(! position, ;nid a lon^ roll of ancestors to make up for our lack of thoni. Hr must be handsome ; and a title of some sort, wliich will make me countess this or lady that, is a decided requisite in all applicants for my favour. You see, 1 am ambitious." "I am pi'omised a title by — this between ourselves — by Don Carlos. . . Check." " I Castle. . . You fail in the other requirements even if I could be content witli a sham patent of nobility. There must be no Brummagem in my title. But why do you always return to this theme ? " " I can scaicely tell, except that I am hopeful ahvays, how- ev(?r impossibh^ the course liefore me may seem." "That is folly." " No, hope is the most helpful blessing of our lives. We would all stick in the bogs of the most contiMuptible W(»rries if hope — Will-o'-the-Wisp as he may be — did not enable us to scramble out and forward." " Better to sink at oi.ce than wear out life in yearning after what we can never attain." " Not a bit of it ; I cling to life and enjoy it. . . You are gaining on me ; that was a bad move of mine, and gives you the chance of the game." " It kills your Queen." " So it does, and my poor King is desolate. We are the chessmen in the world, moved by influences which we neither see nor understand, but all tending towards a victoiy on one side or the other. That is a fancy which gives zest to the game in my eyes. . . You i)lay admirably, but I mean to win. Here, my sturdy infantry, advance and clear the way." '* Death to your Soldier." " I bargained for it, and so my Knight, my gallant Free Lance leaps forward and threatens the (^ueen." " And my Castle checks your King." "Excellent, but the game is not hnished y(!t, uiy second Free Lance leaps into the breacli and guards his Majesty." Both, whilst aftecting merely playful interest in the game, " (iUEEN TO MOVK." 215 Wc after , Free Free igame, had become as earnest in their watcliFuhiess of it as if fate de- pended upon it. 'V\w turn wliicli the conversation had taken inspired tlie piec(\s of ivory witli the power of ihistiny, and tliey felt as if the future were involved in the winning or the losing of the game. So she paused, and with careful eye surv(!ycd the fitild ; then, with breathless haste she hunied the; Queen through the enemy's ranks and cried : " Check." *' By the Queen, too, I am afraid you will win ; but t do not despair even now." ** There is the gong, I must leave you. We shall finish the game another day." "'Another day — good. My King steps into safety, so; and now there is the Queen to move, another day. . . Thank you, Miss Marjoribanks, time which has been so slow to me of late, has grown cruel in going so fast this afternoon." She went away utterly puzzled as to her own feelings, re- garding this man. She liked him, there was no doubt ; he was always amusing and devoted ; he accepted rebuffs with the utmost equanimity ; and never distressed her by complaints, or too serious love-making. It was an agreeable relaxation to spend an hour with him, and it was certainly pleasant to co- quette without danger of becoming seriously involved. Aus- tin with his anxious face and earnest devotion to the work on which he depended to relieve him from the responsibilities he had generously undertaken, contrasted most unfavourably with the placid face and easy manners of Kilgour. But it was Austin who still held possession of her heart ; it was h^^ who caused it to ache, and it was round him that she saw the halo of love and romance, although she owned that placing him beside the Major he was much the more common- place figure of the two. Yet in spite of herself it was of him she thought, remembering the sweet days of childhood and the bright hopes which she had centred in him ; all this, perhaps, because she had so fiercely determined not to think of him at all ! At dinner Marjoribanks was unusually gay. He made jokes in his own way upon everything and everybody ; and he laughed at them heartily, whether the others saw the point of his fun or not. Fie even ventured upon an allusion to the If I 216 WHAT WILL TMK WOULD SAY ? ])oac()ck uniform of Killievar, which although somewhat rude WU8 excused by the joviality of the occasion. " I am very j)roud of my plumage, Sir," said the chief gravi'ly ; " for there is no other person you can see in it ; and it is very much adtnired ; for all tlu; ))oys in (Jhisgow, or Edin- burgh (iither, come aft<'r m(s and say what a tine thing it is to l>e a chief and to wear such a braw kilt." After dinner, Marjoiibanks told Hess tliat he wishetl to speak to her ; and when she joined him in his room ho was as frisky as if he had been taking a litthi too mu(;h and found it agreeable. " Good news for you, Ress," he said, blithely. " I've done a fine stroke of business for you. Luck's in the fahiily, and you are to share it." " In what way, papa *? " "I've married you, lass — that is, as good as married you, to a real lord ; and the only son of an earl, so that he will be earl himself by and by, and you will Ix; the countess," Bess grew pale, then flushed at the information of the settle- ment which had been made without consulting her. She re- plied quite coolly however : " Who is the gentleman ? " '•' Lord Connoughmore — ho is a real lord, mind, and the son of Earl Ennisfawn. They are a fine Irish family, and you will be the queen of the county. He is to be here next week." " It is quite a stroke of business, as you say," she ^-^^plied bowing her head, which concealed the vicious biting of her lip she indulged in. " We'll have the best room ready for him ; we'll take him to the races and let him see we know what life is. Then there's no saying what may happen to me through the influence of his family ; for although they are poor they have influence ; and maybe I shall be — but that is neither here nor there. Y^ou will get everything ready to receive his lordship." " I shall speak to Mrs. Forbes and Baxter at once. But is it not a little funny, papa, that his lordship should make this ar- rangement without having seen me ? " " It's the siller, lass, the siller that does everything." She had no further objection to off'er, indeed, at that moment she was ready to agree to anything — even to accepting for a husband a man whom she had never seen before. But the queen was to move, and what might be the result 1 A SPLKNDII) MATCir. 217 CIIAITKK' XXXI 1. teres T ll A SI'I.KNIHK MA'ITII. ^ UK arningcmeiit tor tlic mnrrwi^j^ of Miss M-irjoriWiinks to Lord Oonnoii^lmum' l^'camc! known far jukI wid** with singular rapidity. Tlie teh^^rapii could scarcely have made the news known with j^reater celerity than did that mys- terious whisper which seems to pass on the wind to maids and matrons whcmever marriage or scjindal is the topic current. Marjorihanks found frecjuent occasion to mention to every one he met, from his l)utler upwards and downwards, what " my future son-in-law, Lord Connoughmore," might wish, or think, or direct ; and ** his lordshi[) '' was often repeated. " I am proud of the match," he said frankly, to Killievar ; " and I am not the man to bottle up my feedings. It's a great thing for Bess, and a great thing for mc;. I am proud of it. I was a penniless lad — now, you see what I am. Some peophi would pretend not to care about it ; but I do care about it atid I am not going to hide it." Tlien in the local papers of that week appeared a paragraph announcing a " Marriage in High Life. — We understand that a marriage has l)een arranged between the only daughter of one of the largest iron-masters of our district, and the only son of an Irish peer, whose family has been long distinguished in the political world." Nobody could misunderstand that. Congratulations pourofl in from every direction, and many people who had continued to be shy of visiting Ravelston, notwithstanding the acknow- ledged hospitality of its master, left their cards. Sc^veral young ladies even discovered that they had always entertained the most affectionate feelings for Miss Marjoribanks and wondered they had so rarely met ! Marjoribanks was delighted ; he glowed with all the pride of a conqueror — the barrier which had kept his more aristocratic neighbours aloof from him was at length levelled to the ground. \ : >■.!. |l ! 218 WHAT WILL THK WORLD SAY? Bess looked on wit"- apparently perfect calmness, only there was an occasional Hash of contempt in her eyes as she listened to the flattery with which some visitors added sweetness to their congratulations. She never had cared for the society of wome.n : she cared less for it now than ever ; and she wished as she had often wished before, that she had been born a man or a n\onkey — anything rather than a woman. She displayed none of the vain elation which many people expt^cted to see in her ; then they blamed her for hypocrisy — " pretending to take the affair as if she had been born to it and as cool as if she was not bursting with pride." " She has nothing but money," observed the ladies who were not well doAvered, and who philosophically consoled them- selves with the reflection that beauty, worth, and ancestry could not be purchased. " She is almost a nigger in complexion." " She is very lucky, though," said others who would have been willing to change places with her, complexion included. " 1 would never marry a man who took me only for my money." " There is no danger of that," said a disagreeable young per- son of forty or thereabout. " What do you think I heard 1 " said Miss Johnstone, of Craighead, in a mysterious whisper to her intimates ; " al- though the marriage is actually arranged, the engaged couple have never yet set eyes on each other ! There ! " *' Awful 1 " was the general exclamation of horrified young ladies. All young ladies surround marriage with a halo of romance — in the abstract. There were many of Marjoribanks' accjiiaintances who, whilst acknowledging that he was making a great social stride in effecting this matcli, thought he made far too nnich fuss over it. " He would have acted with perfect discretion if his daughter had only been pig-iron," was the comment of one friend. Meanwhile Marjoribanks was quite satisfied witli liimself, and chuckleil a good deal at tlie tliought of the envious jealousy of his neiL^hbours as well as at tlie submission of tlu^ greater number of the county families. " The siller does it — siller can do anything," was his con- stant reflection. I » A SPLENDID MATCH. 219 o of con- I Major Kilgour heard the report first from Mary Beith. Then the fact was announced by his host himself, and so he was left no peg on which to hang a doubt. And yet lu; did not despair ! He relieved himself by a good grumble at his lame leg, and then he conducted himself as if nothing had occurred to disappoint or annoy him. He had progressed so far that he was now enabled to take the fresh air every forenoon seated in a Bath chair which an attendant drew round the grounds. The chair had been specially provided for the invalid at the doctor's request, and he took his first outing with rare enjoyment of the fresh air. Bess came up to him with a blithe " good-day ; " he replied and turned to the attendant : " Will you bring me the book which is lying on my dressing- table, please ?" The man departed. " So we have got rid of him," said the Major, smiling ; " and now, am T to congratulate you 1 " " Upon what 1 " (as if she did not know !) "Your marriage." " Oh, that 1 — I suppose so ; it is the usual thing, isn't it 'I Wish me all the joy in the vorld, that I may live long, and never regret my choice — and so on ; and then go away grum- bling to yourself about the expense of the marriage present you will have to give me." " I will give you none." " All right ; I will be the better pleased, for I shall know you iiave no grudge against me — utdess you grutlge me those con- gratulations we were speaking about." He was watching her face with eager eyes ; it was calm, healthful ; no sign of tremliling or r(\gret ; only she lo«>ked not at him, but over his shouider, as if at somebody who was standing far away down the avenue. '* 1 am afraid I shall grudge you the congratulations more than the gift — I cannot offer them to you honestly." " Never mind, do it the other way ; it comes to the same thing in the end, and I am content." '* Or rather say you are indijrcn'nt." ,nl 1"! ■I I i f 1:1 !1 Ji I i 220 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY ? The dark flashed him instant, arid then resumed that uncomfortable gaze over his shoulder. " Possibly." " You are not satisfied." ** Why should you think thatl Tlie gentleman lias every- thing I require- -position, title, lainily. I ought to be satis- fied." " But you are not, and you will repent." " Very well, suppose I do ? I have read somewhere that is much more comfortable to repent in a coach and six than in a garret. I entirely agree with that theory of repentance." " I am sorry." "For whom?" " Your intended husband." She bowed as if acknowledging a compliment, and, with a short laugh : " Thaiik you ; none of my friends appreciate me half so much as you do. You think I shall make him miserable 1 " " Yes, and yourself as well." " But you are not sorry for me 1 " " No." " And why am I excluded from your sympathy, please ?" " Because I am vexed with you ; and yet it is not right to say that you are excluded from my sympathy. On the con- trary, it is all with you ; but I am vexed, because you are en- tering upon this marriage as you might enter a ball-room full of rivals — determined to carry everything your own way at any cost. The cost will be your happiness and your husband's." " I never saw you so earnest before, Major ; you entertain me very much ; pray go on." She mocked him so plainly that he leaned back with the dry answer : " I have nothing more to say." " That is why you make so much of the little you have said." He leaned forward on the arm of chair. " Do you see that statue yonder 1 " " Yes?' " Do you remember what passed between us whilst we stood beside it on the first evening I spent here 1 " A SPLENDID MATCH 221 esunietl I every - e satis - that is an in a with a o much r ght to le con- ire en- full of at any rl's." ain me le dry have stood Her gaze passed over his shoulder again, and towards the avenue, as if she were still seeking some one there. " I believe I was very rude to you, but I apologised and ex- pected to hear nothing more about it." A blackbird whistled among the shrubbery, and a troop of sparrows flitted by in the direction of the window-hidge of Coila's room for their forenoon feast of crumbs. " Pardon me ; I wanted to tell you that very soon afterwards I guessed why you had spoken to me so strangely," the Major went on, " and then I thought you capable of — shall 1 say love ? — it is the handiest word. Well, then, I thought you capable of a love which could dare anything, even a garret and repent- ance. Now — " He paused ; at first there was a startled expression on her face which immediately changed to one of amused curiosity. " Now you think me heartless," she said, completing his sen- tence. *' No, I am only puzzled." " Then give up trying to find the solution of the puzzle, Major ; it is not worth your while to strive after it longer. Good morning." " One moment — is the day fixed ? " " Not yet." " When does your affianced arrive 1 " " On Monday — the day before the races." "Three days. Shall I see you in the meanwhile? — our game at chess is still unfinished." " If you are good, and promise not to moralise I may see you. But you have been very disagreeable to-day, and, after all, I prefer your compliments to your scolding." " I shall Dromise anything you like, and do anything you like." " That is much more like yourself. Couldn't you say some- thing pretty to console me for the dreadful fate which you predict for me 'i " " There is nothing half so pretty in my head as yourself." " I have searched everywhere for the book, Sir, and cannot find it," said the attendant returning. The Major thought the man had been in a disagreeably active mood ; Jiess nodded and went away ; and he was slowly 1^ i 1 ! I 222 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY ? wheeled round the lawn. He did no^ stay out so long as usual that day, although the sun was shining and the atmos- phere was clear and invigorating. The chances were all against him at present, and Bess perplexed him beyond measure. " Is she merely vain and wilful, or are there depths in her nature which I cannot fathom 'i " was the (juestion he repeated to himself often. " There are occasional glimpses of serious- ness which give me hope, and then she laughs in my face as if she had been making fun of me all the time. She takes my scolding as if I had a right to challenge her doings ; and yet she treats it all as a jest." He remained very quiet in the room all that day seeking an answer to his question. " She tantalises me But she is worth a struggle, even without a fortune." Thai was the only result of his cogitations. And Be^s herself? She was quite composed, and began to like the sound of the universal exclamation — " What a splendid match ! " Her ftither gave her half-a-dozen blank cheques so that she might obtain whatever she required, his only condition being that everything should be of the best quality, and that she should appear in the very finest feathers money could obtain when his lordship arrived. " It's a first rate match, Bess, and I'll give him your weight in gold for your marriage trip." "He might change his mind yet, papa," she answered, weariedly. " What! " cried Marjoribanks, startled by the bare sugges- tion of such a possibility. *' You know he has not seen me ; and I think it would have been better if you had not made the — the affair known so soon." " Hoots — the thing is settled and all down in black and white ; the money is paid, and he can no more draw back than you can. It's just as good a thing for him as for you." *' Do you mean that you have already paid the purchase money of — your son-in-law 1 " " Not just that ; but on the day you are married a hundred A SIM. KN DID MATCH. 223 long as B atmos- vere all beyond IS in her "epeated serious- ace as if a,kes my and yet iking an struggle, d of the ' Her e might ng that should hen his weight swered, sugges- thousand will be placed to his credit at the bank. So you need not be afraid, no man wouM be fool enough to throw up such a prize as that. It's a s[)lendid match for you both." " Aye, no man would give up that ! " muttered Bess, when she was alone ; and there was an aching sense of something else requisite for happiness than that. She turned her thoughts immediately to the prospect of the pleasant life she would lead — the season in London, the park, the dinners, the balls, the opera (not that she carcil for it, only she had learned from other girls at school, and she had read in novels, that a " box " was one of the necessaries of fashionabhi life) ; then the castle in Ireland, filled with distinguished guests; the pleasure of being called "my lady," and, by-and- by, Countess — oh, it was delightful, charming ! what would make the world more enjoyal)le 1 She had a vague notion that people are never really happy when they have to strive to make themselves believe that they are so. ij; n M. B m Id have own so ck and N back ^ou." irchase undr«d 1 f ! 1 ii; r I t ■i 224 WHAT WlMj THE WOULD SAY ? CHAPTER XXXIII. UNDER THE SURFACE. VISITOR was announced — Mrs. Murray. Bess was startled by the name, and thoughts of the days of blackberry gathering, of the gleu, of th(i Hermit's Cave, and of the changes which had taken place meanwhile flashed through her mind even whilst she was tell- ing the servant to conduct the lady to the boudoir. Mrs. Murray was standing with eyes fixed on the door when Bess entered. The deep mourning of the widow appeai"ed the more sad in contrast with the bright colours of the young betrothed's dress — the one at the end of the hazardous journey of wifehood, the other just about to begin it. Quiet and methodical as ever, Mrs. Murray exchanged the usual greetings, and accepted the scat on the couch which was offered her. But wlien Bess sat down' beside her she changed to a chair opposite. " Forgive my rudeness ; I wish to see your face. I like it and I am anxious to discover if it is as bright and happy as it used to be." She drew up her thick black veil as she spoke ; then added, " No, it is changed." " It is sometime since you saw me last, and we all change." " True, and yon should have changed to more brightness, not to less." " You don't think I am looking well, then 1 " " Far from it ; you look distressed when you should be most joyous." " Everybody else says I never looked better. But opinions do differ so on these subjects." This was artificial ; they both knew that their meeting was not intenc^- d to pass in the ordinary way of a commonplace call, to exchange commonplace courtesies. Mrs. Murray took her iiand. rNDER THE SURFACE. 225 ts of tho 1, of tho :en place was toll- oor when eai'ed the le young s journey inged the hich was changed I like it ippy as it )n added, change." ightne&s, be most opinions ting was lonplace [•ay took " I am told you are going to be married. Do you remember our conversation on the day of my husband's funeral 1 It gives me some claim to ask — are you happy ? " Despite the coldness of her maniier there was genuine kind- ness in her earnest voice and look. Bess shaded her eyes with the disengaged hand. So few spoke to her with anything like real sympathy that her heart at once responded to the widow's kindly interest. She felt ready to speak out, to declare all that was passing in her mind ; but somehow the thought of Austin interfered ; and she replied hesitatingly : " I ought to be happy." '• That does not answer mc ; there are so many ought-to-be'a, which we are not." " I have no doubt I shall be perfectly happy. What pros- pect could be more attractive to a woman than the one which lies before me ? " Evasive, artificial again. Mrs. Murray dropped her hand and rose, as if longer stay were quite unnecessary. " 1 do not know what could be more attractive, but I will tell you what should be — a home in which your heart found its completesc pleasure ; a home in which affection should be the guiding spirit and the source of every thought and action." "My dear Mrs. Murray, I am going to live in a world where one's whole duty is concentrated in the observance of certain recognised forms and where affection is an intruder." " There is no such world. Miss Marjoribanks, and it would be bad for us if there could be such a state of existence. Love enters and commands in every place where there is hapi)iness." "I do not understand that — yet. Everybody says it is * a splendid match,' and 1 must accept the position." " You are content 1 " "Yes." " Good-bye, then. I will pray that you may not discover when too late that you have made a mistake. I misunderstood you when we last spoke together. I thought then that you knew what love was, and that it was one very dear to me who had inspired the knowledge." She moved towards the door. Two swift steps and Bess grasped her arm. " Stop, Mrs. Murray," she said, desperately, her eyes un- o ,11 I I If I M 226 WHAT WILL THE WORLD HAY ? naturally bright and the lips trembling. " You shall not go away thinking me heartless and selfish as everybody seems to do. Sit down." The widow obeyed, for the passion with which Bess spoke commanded obedience. Bess remained standing, hands clasped behind her back, the fingers twisting and entwining nervously, and clutching each other with spasmodic energy at intervals as she proceeded. " I know quite well to whom you have been alluding, and you did not misunderstand me. I do know what love is, and i,t was your son who taught me. All my heart has been his since we were children. I used to dream of the day when I should be his wife, but even then he turned to Coila, not to me. I was jealous, and yet too proud to stand between them. I helped them towards each other, while my whole soul trem- bled with despair." " Did he never see how much you liked him 1 " " I don't know ; he might have done if he had not been blind ; it was not concealed. He went away ; and then I thought — hoped — prayed that when he returned, with more experience of the world, he would see my devotion and value it — for it was devotion ; I could have done anything, I could have suffered anything for him. He came back, and he asked Coila to be his wife. I felt that I hated them both ; she seemed to have robbed me of all that I cared for in the world, and he seemed to be pitiless. But I clung to the hope of winning him in spite of myself. I was deceitful ; I tried to win him even when I knew of his engagement to her. She discovered my madness, and with some silly notion of sacrificing herself for my sake she refused him." *' And then r' " I would not have him under such conditions. Had he broken from her, it might have been different ; but to accept him as a charity gift ! — oh, it drove me wild with shame and vexation. To cheat them into the belief that they were mis- taken, that I had been only jesting, and perhaps, with some faint hope of cheating myself, I was ready to perpetrate any absurdity. I acted foolishly, and gave people reason to hint that Major Kilgour was my destined husband. To show them I'il; hall not go iy seems to Bess spoke ids clasped nervously, intervals as luding, and ove is, and as been his liay when I oila, not to ween them. J soul trem- ,d not been in I thought p experience e it — for it ive suflfered Coila to be led to have he seemed ng him in him even overed my herself for Had he |t to accept Ishame and were mis- Iwith some l)etrate any son to hint jhow them UNDER THE SURFACE. 227 that they were wrong, and to satisfy my father, I accepted at once this ' splendid match,' and I am misorable." She turned her l»ack upon Mrs. Murray, pressing fcvi^rish bauds on her eyes. She wheeled round in a moment, and as she ditl so something seemed to catch her breath, but althougii the eyes were moist, the face was calm, showing little trace of her recent emotion. Mrs. Murray was standing close beside lier now, with an ex- pression of sincere sympathy and pity. •' I am glad you have told me this ; I wish Austin could have heard it." Bess lifted her hands quickly as if to [jrotect herself from some danger. " He must never know anything about it. 1 havi? trusted you because you are his mother, and you will keep faith with me. But sometimes when you hear people talking of me as ^vilful and heartless, speak a kind word in my defence." " I could not help doing that after what I have learned ; but my heart is wae for you, poor child, just at the begirming of a wo- man's life, and knowing that your path is so dark and loveless. Is it too late to turn back 1 If he spoke to you even yet 1 " " Hush, do not suggest impossibiltties — I don't know what mad folly I might commit if he could say that lie— oare along the road, you will be greeted by faces on which you will see smiles of amused curiosity, or looks of supercilious a .i.azement that you are able to show yourself in public again ; or looks of triumph at your discomfiture, or of pity for it. Wher. you enter a drawing-room you will feel that every one is i ANOTHER CHANCE. 233 lave no doubt I find it most t will not be elish the posi- ig so sweetly ncy that your irould be star- say old Ross, talking of you and staring at you. The world will have its say, and in the present instance it will say much that will be unpleasant to you. Can you bear that 1 " " No," she cried, starting up, and unable longer to hide her emotion, " I would do — I would do anything rather than endure that."- "Then take my hand, and let the world say that you have made a fool of his lordship." The door opened and Killievar entered in full costume. : I le you with a r present mor- heavily upon ^en now, when a low earnest ^'•i es fixed on her 11 gave them a ii^h as she had his hand and ' 15 t 1 consequence ty, and there ley learn that will they say 1 nd gifted with er may be the andal and you s you ride or ices on wliich of supercilious public again ; )f pity for it. it every one is M 13 I ', i 234 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY? CHAPTER XXXV. CROSS-FIRING. I tHE Major heard the door open, but he could not see who entered. Without changing his position, except to stretch his hand farther in order to touch the book Bess Ihehl, he proceeded as if continuing a conversation : *' I am very much in^erefciced in this work," (he had no idea what the book was) " and as soon as you have read it care- fully, and considered its merits, 1 shall be delighted to learn your opinion of it— especially if you should happen to agree with me." There was nothing very particular in the observation — a imere chat about a favourite book, and Killievar would have thought nothing more about it if on his entrance he had not ob- served a strange startled expression flash across Bess's face, and a slight movement backwards, instantly checked though it was. She was generally so indifferent to the coming or going of any one, that the look and the movement set him thinking. He felt that he had arrived most inopportunely. To her the Major's words were full of significance ; she un- derstood him perfectly ; she was angry with him, and yet the anger was mellowed by a kind of gratified vanity, by the satis- faction of feeling that he olaced it in her power to turn the laugh against Lord Connoughmore, and to make him regret his dilatoriness in coming to woo. He had shown positive indifference ; it was little short of an insult — it was an insult. She was out of temper, vexed with herself, and most vexed with Killievar, who prevented her giving the Major a decisive answer at once. As it was, she could only bow, and address herself to the chief. " You have just come in time to save us from a quarrel." " I am very glad ; but it is a pity likewise that you should think of quarrelling with Major Kilgour when he is for the first time once more among us. I am very glad to see you, Major." CROSS-FIIUNG. 235 td not see who on, except to the book Bess »n : he had no idea e read it care- ghted to learn lappen to agree observation — a ar would have e he had not ob- jBess's face, and though it was. or going of any thinking. He icance ; she un- im, and yet the ;y, by the satis- irer to turn the ^ake him regret shown positive , was an insult, and most vexed Major a decisive 3W, and address n a quarrel." that you should 3n he is for the irlad to see you, " Thank you ; but you must not think our feud was to be a deadly one." " I hope not ; and what was it all about 1 " " We were discussing the merits of certain characters,'* answered Bess, quickly ; *' the Major's arguments threatened to get the better of me, and so I was going to be angry with him when you came in." " You see from what eminent peril you have rescued me." And the three smiled as if there had been a joke some- where, although they had not quite clearly comprehended it. The entrance of Marjoribanks, Miss Janet, and Coila formed an agreeable iuterruj)tion. Miss Janet glided over to Kilgour, her eyes fixed upon his boots, and dropping a glove and her handkerchief on the ^vay. Coila i)atiently picked them up, and held them ready to be presented as soon as they should be missed. " So charmed to see you again dear — that is. Major. So delighted that you have not been amputated, which would have been very unpleasant to you. I don't think you would ever get used to it." "I am afraid not," answered the Major, gravely; "but thanks to the generosity of your brother, and to the untiring attention of everybody, I shall be as well as ever in a short time." '•Very grateful we ought to be, dear, for such mercy — bless me, it is very surprising— oh, thanks, dear, thanks ; so sorry to trouble you." She had been searching for the missing glove which Coila handed to her. Dinner announced, Bess instantly took Killievar's arm, much to that gentleman's satisfaction. " What a horrible thing it would be to have a lame cavalier," she said, in a kind of whisper to her companion, but in such tones that the Major could hear, whilst she glanced at him with a jerk of the head as much as to say, " You will find yourself very much mistaken if you think you have conquered ine." lie replied to the glance with a slight bend of the head, which was anly perceived by herself. She felt less satisfaction after that, and more inclined to prove that she was quite happy and self-satisfied by a display of excessive gaiety. There seemed to be no crushing this man, he never would acknow- 1^1 :; r , 1 ( '! If ! ir i- 1^ I mm^mm>-»mmmm I r 23G WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY? ledge defeat ; after each repulse — any one of which would have been enough for an ordinary man — he quietly returned to his position, watchful, cunning, clever, ready to take advantage of every slip she made, and interesting by his very determination. Or, was it devotion 1 She felt at one moment that she positively detested him and would never speak to him again ; at the next she owned that it was something to be the object of such a steady siege, an«l was disposed to acknowledge some merit in him because he took so much trouble on her account. Marjoribanks suggested that Baxter should assist the Major downstairs ; but the latter answered : " My dear Sir, 1 am much stronger than you fancy ; my staff is all that I require, and if Miss Marjoribanks will permit me, you shall see that I do not join you as an invalid." He offered his arm to Miss Janet, who was pleased, and very much concerned about his comfort in descending the staircase, and she contrived to reach the dining-room without dropping anything on the way. Bess was in much glee at the idea of the Major's disappoint- ment in not being beside her ; he would feel that he was doomed to penance, for his boldness in the drawing-room, in being obliged to pay attention to Miss Janet, for whom he would have to find something every three minutes. She talked to Killievar with charming vivacity, and she laughed at his little jokes, or looked at him with an expression of sympathetic interest until he thought himself a born wit, and her the most perfect of women. But she was watching Kilgour ; and as dinner progressed, she became aware that instead of appearing distressed by his banishment from her side, he seemed to be very comfortable and happy seated between Miss Janet and Coila ; and she could not catch him once looking at her. His whole attention was given to the ladies beside him. Miss Janet was on her very best behaviour; her wig remained in position, she lost fewer things than usual, and although her eyes never seemed to be lifted from the tablecloth, she furtively examined the faces of every one present, often and acutely ; at the same time listened to the Major with an appreciative ear, and was really grateful for the respect he paid her. lich would have returned to his ie advantage of ^ determination. etcsted him and she owned that ieady siege, and everybody was iwx- ious to learn what he thought about the fortunes of the day. But his predictions were not always received with faith ; for , these coll'.fcrs were a hard-headed race, and would not yield to any authority which contriid.cted their own special views — not even to that of their wives. Strongitharm, the flesher, and Jack Morrison, the grocer, miller, distiller, and general mercliant, were at the height of lilos around tin; ivs, iron-workers, y" all met on day. Ztist was •s were for the veoks before the lid owner grad- iiastic devotion, 3 i^round in loud he favourites of 3 had been made efore a personal )r three Sundays ting the stables ious races, and :5round as if that )n8. ,st year, and the sed, and the dis- tbe argument by ill a tight on ihe |o of the evening ; |rybody was i\DX- • bunes of the clay. with faitli ; for [ould not yield to )ecial views — not |ison, the grocer, at the height of TIIK HACKS. 24 1 th(;ir notoriety. Although they made a i)retenc(; of conieal- ing th(^ fact, everybody kn^^w that they had stakcul heavily on the forthcomini' " event ; " there was no concealment in reirai'd to tlu! ownership of ctirtain hors<'s which were entered for the races. They were too proud of the position to hide that. The interest which they created became intensified as the day drew near, until Strongitharm and Morrison wen^ lifti^l up on the foam of the general excitement to the belief that they w(;re the most [)opular imm in the world. Accordingly they swaggered very much and bragged a gnsat deal ; and the higher the l)ets rose on their iiorses the more elevated they felt themselves. "To see them gang up the causeway," an old weaver said, "you would think that the Hcishei- was Lord John o' the Hie lands, and that the whoU; toon btdangcMl to Jock Morrison." Strongitharm was (piieter in his ways than his comrade ; he boasted less loudly, and probaldy did more mischief in conse- (pience ; but they were equal in their desire to win a race, or lose it, to get the better of any one in a bargain, including eaeh other. If Morrison happened ])y any chance to outwit Strong- itharm, he was hap[)y for a week or a month afterwards, according to the extent of the transaction ; ho, was proud of it, and would tell his rlupe so in the midst of a group of sporting companions. The flesher would listen without any show of resentment ; but he waited fo)- the opportunity of re- venge, and seized it remorselessly. At 4he end of the year, Stioiigitharm was generally able to count himself the winner in the contest of wits, which seemed to form the bond of fellow- si lip between them. The morning was misty and damp; but about nine o'clock the suidight dispelled the mist and cheered the hearts of tlie various tent-owners, who had spent the night in their canvas houses, and were up early arranging the rows of narrow tables and forms, which they hoped to see filled during the day, cut- ting sandwiches of ham and beef, and making glasses anut they attracted a crowd and annised them. He had also many expe«Jients for helping his sales ; he would, when he found business slow, tak(! up an arn)ful of his wares and heave it over the heads of the crowd, shouting : " If you'll no buy, I'll gie it you fornaething. Here ye arc, noo ; here's Chambers's ' Information for the People,' and when ye iiae done reading the fine things that's printed in gold letters on the parlies, yn' can eat it, and that's more than Chambers say for his stuff'.' A laugh, and more sales. " Come on, lads ; here's sweeties to catch the maidens wi' ; I il ■ i I ,11 i ' ii ! i ' I ■1,1!:' 'I :i III i 246 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY? just take a pock (bag) and, wow, but there will be fine fun atween you and your lass " To the boys wlio gathered about him in crowds, hoping to catch some of his showers of parlies, '.e offered prizes for the first who should grip the ankle of some girl whom he pointed out at a distance. One, two three, and away went the urchins, the swiftest sprawling on the ground and seizing the girl, much to her dis- may and to the amusement of the observers. Another device of Sainders was to fill a woman's apron with his gingerbread for sixpence, and then pretend to give her back the money — in some cases he really did so. All these tricks combined, with his rude jokes, to make him pojjular and to en- able him to gain soii.e profit. Meanwhile, the races were proceeding, and much to his amazement, Morrison found himself beaten in the chief contest by a horse which Strongitharm liad bought from him on the pretence that ir^ was not worth entering. Sweepstakes, handicap, hurdle race, and others followed, provoking much excitement amongst those wlio had staked upon them ; and by the time the last race — a donkey race — came to bt3 run, the crowd had be3(»ine very uproarious, and disposed to take part in the affairs of the course, from which they were only partially restrained l)y a strong Ijody of police. In this iloid^ey contest tlie order of things was reversed, and the last was to be fii ^t. There was a goodly number of cuddi.!S entered for the race, and as the owner of each rode his opponent's donkey, there was no lack of effort to reacli the winning-post, it being the interest of the rider to attain that point In order to give his own animal the chance of winning. There was plenty of shouting at and belabouring of the poor condemned, she became a sort of thermometer of fashion ; the peoph; siie shunned were instantly shown the cold shoulder by all the ladies, maids, and matrons who desired her good-will. She had paid her respects to the future countess ; she now turned her back upon the de- serttid betrothed. The thermometer was observed, and its in- dications regulated the conduct of many who affected to have no egard for the opinions of the " upsetting " lady of Cairn- dhu. It is curious to observe with what facility people drop into their places in the game of " follow the leader." For good or evil, one man or woman, bolder than the rest, has only to step forward and the mass follows. We are constantly doing things, good and bad, because somebody else has done them. Ambi- tion and weakness often run in similar grooves ; and it /s a com fort to feel that if one is doing wrong, the sin is shared with others. Bess was instinctively conscious of all that the whispers and looks of the ladies meant, and she held licr hc^ad up more haughtily than ever. She was the first to reach the carriage ; her father had been seized by Strongitharm, who, flushed with his victory over Mor- rison — and inclined to rate it the more hiad lip more ther had been ory over Mor- )ecause of the ess— v/as per- iioughmore. le was saying ; d today ; and inwardly con- examine him btiiig match on (of the tents as I a \)rawny fel- loeks, stumbled [osjf a kick ; the He dropped his hand, growling to himself, and was animal howled, then snapped at tlie man ; he kicked it again, and it rolled over on the ground, screaming with pain. At the tirst howl, Ijess turned ; at the first kick, she cried : " You brute ! " At the secon which it occupied. " Leave the man alone," she said, and the merciful commanularity with which he was hailed mollified him — Bess had really done a deed which would redounrds]iip, exi)laining his ab- sence and promising an early ap[)earance, I may throw up my cards at once. But if there is none V Thought Bess : ''It has been the most (inpleasant day I have ever spent. I \\iite these people ; and would like to punisii Connougiiniore some- how. If I could trust that man !" (looking at Kilgour over the handkerchief wliich she held to her mouth.) At home ; no letters yet, and the party separated, each going to his or her room. Dinner was over when the letters were delivercMl. Marjoji- banks excused himself and retired to the library. Thither Bess followed soon afterwards. She found him busy writing, an angry frown on his face. She waited whilst he tinish(Ml a somewhat lowj, sentenc«i-he seldom wrote himself, and the ettort was vexatious to him as well as indicative; of his anxiety regarding the subject on which he wrote. " Who are you writing to, papal" "That — I mean, his lordship." " You have heard from him, thetil" He thrust the letter before her, a?id resumed writing. She read a very polite epistle in which his lordshii) grace- fully expressed his regrets for any disappoirtment he might have caused ; he thought that it W(juld be only fair to the lady rrl 1^ H' i'li'i III '11 r '\ 254 WHAT WILL THE WOJtLD SAY ? to give her more time to consider the step which she was about to take, and the character in which she was to receive him. He felt bound to say that the aftair had been arranged so su(k- denly, and so entirely without his knowledge, that he required a little time on his own part to make up his mind, in order to do justice to the lady and t<> himse^ ♦'. In every respect, altbou'^h the 1 'y and himself .^'ere 'ink,;. , n v ) each other, he felt that he had much to gain by I'l: [iiorosed arrangement; and he could not be sufficiently ^ralt f.;l i«:r such munificence as Mr. Marjoribanks displayed ; but Bess read no farther. She placed the letter quietly on the table. Marjoribanks raised his head. " Isn't he a scoundrel 1 But I'll make him pay for it. Why didn't he speak out at once when his father told him what had been settled between us?" " I presume you are writing to tell his lordship that he is at liberty to do as he pleases?" she answered, coldly. " Do as he pleases ! — no ; I'm writing to say that he is to do as I please, or by the Lord he shall pay for it — I'll have an ac- tion for breach of promise — I'll " "Papa!" she cried, shuddering, and })lacing her hand on the letter he had been writing ; "you shall not do this." " I'll do as I like ; I am not going to be humbugged by all the lords in the country." '' Are you gc^ng to kill me with shame ? " " Don't talk d — d nonsense." " Don't answer ; show that you can do without him ; say nothing ; spare me — you must spare me." She tore the letter into fragments, and flung them into the fire. It was the first act of open defiance of which she had been guilty. Marjoribanks got up furious. " I mean to do as I like, and you shall not be allowed to tell me what I am to do. You are going a great deal too far for my patience, and I won't stand it. You'll do just as I tell you, or I'll know for what." For an instant there was absolute terror in her eyes ; then a gleam of wild passion as without another word, she turned and left the room. NETTLES. 255 was about iceive him. red so suck- le required in order to b, altbou'^U :ie felt that it ; and he Bnce as Mr. ietly on the Th' itter degradation which was involved in the course her father hroatened to Uike, even in anticipation, wrung every nerve i i her lK)d} with agony. Mar oriba'ks looked frowningly at the black films which were all thtu remained of liis letter to Counoughmore. "Ijh-hum! T ilarcoay it was as well he did not get that letter — it would have spoiled the whole affair. I'll make a bargain with him." The notion of ^making a bargain enabled him to sit down with some composure. 'il- r it. Why n what had hat he is at b he is to do have an ac- er hand on liis." gged by all it him ; say em into the }he had been -H! owed to tell too far for ist as I tell eyes ; then she turned f 25 (I WHAT Wirj. TIIK WOlllJ) SAY? It iiii .fi is il'l W. ' lill: (TIAITKIi XXXVIll. THK nVAA. I'll'. t9-^ ]Ilt>1 AXTKIi t'nttTi'd. ami with vciry miicli tlio sanu' inatiner ^ f^ ;i^ tliaL ill vvliicli lie might liavc aiuioiuicod a visitor, ' -^ said: " Thcn^ has hcon an explosion at the Bell pit, Sir, and twenty men an' supposed to l)e killed. The overseer has sent a man out to tell yon." FiVeiything .seemed to he iijoing wron.L;; at once. But Marjori- hanks was eool and practical now ; he lockccl up his unfinished h'tter. "Send the man here, and tell FjiMshman to get the gig ready. A wiry fellow, with contracted shouMers, grimy face, out of whicli two dark eyes shom; like lights, was ushered into th(5 libra ly. He held his leathern cai» in his hand, but he paid no fui ther respect to " the Cork " than was expressed in a nod of greisting. " Clay Tam " he was called by everybody, the nick- name being suggested by the magnetic power he seemed to possess of attracting -'coom" — that is, dirt of every kind; in liis work-clothes he was like a nigger dressed for a fun<^ral ; in his l)est array lu; was pic^bald with mud. lie was a first-class workman when sober, and not a bad one when " fou." He had passed unscathed through more accidents than any miner in the district. " Providence is aye kind to drunk men and bairns," he would say often, and he was certainly a capable witness to the truth of the proverb. " How did it happen 1 " asked Marjoribanks. " We dinna right ken yet ; but I'm doubting it's a bad case." " When was it ? " " Maybe an hour or two after the men on the night-shift gaed down. I was going down mysel', when we heard the explosion, and Jock Wilson and Hdd Murray came fleeing up the shaft to THE BKLL PIT. '2:>7 tell us that tlio walls had fallen in, and th»'y were feared there was a fire as woel." "It's bad news ; we must do what we can to hcdp them." The gi<^ was ready ; Marjorihauks hiirrietl to the door, but halted a minute in the hall for Baxter to help him on with his heavy overcoat. ^The news had spread through the house ; Coila and Bess, the Major and Killievar, all with anxious faces, met Marjoribanks. " Is it as bad as we are told 1 " said the Major. " I am afraid it is." " I shall go with y«-)U." Th»^re was no time for objection ; the Major put on his hat and coat, and wps at th(>- gig as soon as his host. They took th'l the ti«'ry |»yramiithead was a u'lare of liii^ht. l^iowds of men and women were inovinj; restlessly ahont, eagerly watching the month of the sliaft JiK the cai,'e wmt down and came up. anxious to give aid, anil bitterly (tonscions «»f their impoteney. Wives sought hnsltaFids ; mothers son<;ht sons, 'i'here wei't^ few sounds of grief ; hut there was a white anguish on the faces of tlie women, a sullen glo-vni upon the jnen's more terrilde to witness that) the most clamorous sorrow could have been. A woman, nearly six feet in height, with hody and limhs in pro|)ortion, forced her way through the crowd. " Did my man go doon ?" she demanded of the overseer. " I (tanim tell — I did not see him go down," muttered the overseer, who was watching the ''pirns" as they twirled, coil- ing and uncoiling the ropes on which the cages dcpendi'd. " There's nothing wntng with your man, Kirsty," said a by- stander ; " he was at the races, and he's Iving uj) at Matthey Rrown's, the pieman's, as drunk as a lord." " Providence is guid to us ! " exi'laimed tlie wife ; and then, her fears being relieved — " I'll learn him better nor to get fou, and urie me a scare lik(^ this." She marclie(i off with wrathful intentions to seek her hus- band. She forgot in her own relief the pain of the others who wert; aronnd her. Drs. Murray and Spence had 'been early on the spot. Ten men had been rescued from the jaws of death. One of the numerous sheds which surrounded the place had been turned into a temporary hospital, atid there the doctors were doing all that lay in their power to restore to life the inanimate forms brought to them by the brave fellows who had risked their own lives to save those of their comras in irU'tl, coil- ntl«'y- t Mattl\t\v atid ihtMi, to get fon, her huR- )tliers who )ot. Ten hie of the fen turned doing all late forms 5ked their THi; \\\.\A. IMT. 2')f) Hnt there ratno a point at \vhi< li no one would vohinteer to descend the shaft, and there were still ei<;lit men known to he lyin^ insensihie helow, Marjorihiuiks stt^pped forward. " Fifty pounds to the man wiio will <^o dow!i ami help the lads np," he cried excitedly. No one move MMihin >iiiniiiiMW mmmlmfwmikmiim r ighter of h of tht' minute. y waiting •e. Near , her hag- l. ;ht up in ispe«l the saved my irmly but d them so den lining n density who were very hand le hope of onducting t stroke of y dozen of cause they [> laft. ther with hemselves hich they (lay 'ram, jnce xuore, THK nVAA. F^IT. 261 although tlie lopes iiad been touciuMl with fire in several places. A tongue of flame shot through the partition which divided the shafts ; and many eyes were turned in anxiety to the wooden framework overhanging the pit —if that caught fire the iron wheels and other gear would fall down and block up the shaft. " It's up again ! " *' He's safe — Lord be praised ! " Twenty men and women rushed forward to assist Marjori- banks out of the cage. As soon as it was known that he was safe, there was a low munnur of satisfaction, which swelled into something like a niufHed cheer. " It's all right," said Marjoribanks, gasping, " I've come through ; but tliere are four or five poor chaps down there yet. I tried to get them, and I would not have been here myself but ( )r this friend." He gripp»;d the Major's hand with hearty good will. " Tut, tut, Marjoribanks, you did the work ; I only looked on." " Aye, but you came to me when help was needed. By my fiiith, if you had not carried me to the foot of the shaft that time when I was falling down, trying to find the others, it wouhl have been a bad c;ise for me — look there." The rope had been burned, and the cage fell into the burn- ing gulf of th(; pit ; there was no more hope for tliose below. " I'll never forget it, man — do what you like." " Herv^ is one of your men who had as much to do in helping you as I had." Clay Tarn made a salute, and instantly lounged away amongst his comrades. He would have been considereil quite a hero if Marjoribanks had not absorljed all attention at the moment. Bess said, coolly : " I am glad you are safe, papa ; you ran a fearful risk." But Coila took his hand, and with the light of enthusiasm in her eyes, whispered : "It was very brave, and noble, a!jd good of you. uncle ; and 1 shall always be proud of this night." •262 WIfAT WIL!. THK WORLD SAY? I ; J Maijoribaiiks liked that ; it inado liiiii feel that he had done soinethiiim ad done liin. hispered lie shed doctors. )U." grateful intervals the side e amu se- llout to- ' ; at any >ving that you shall ir united ne which »,d for a -' I shall lorrow to him. CH.\PTK1{ XXXI K. I.l<;llT AM) SIIA[)()W. HE wounded men were carried home on litters ; three men were able to walk with the assistance of friends ; then a cart made several journeys between the shed and the rows of miners' cots. The people h)oked witli sad faces at the cart as it passed, knowing well what lay beneath the horse- rng which had been spread over its contents. " Our turn next, maybe," said one man to another, under his breath. *' What will Jean Boyd do vvi' her five bairns now ? " whis- pered tlie women. Marjoribanks was moving about, giving what comfort he could in promises of assistance, and earning many blessings from distressed widows and mothers. The doctors attended the patients to their houses ; and after visiting the last of those under his care, Austin turned back to the pit to see if his assistance were needed there. The glare of furnaces cast a warm glow upon his face ; but presently a tall engine house stood between him and the light ; he had to pass under the black shadow which it made. The darkness was the more intense to him as he stepped so sud- denly out of the light. A soft, trembling hand grasped his arm. He could just distinguish the outlin(; of a lady's form, and his heart bounded at the thought that it was Coila who stop- ped him — for he knew that she had come to the scene of the accident. The voice made him aware of his mistake. *' Austin, stay one minute." " Miss Marjoribinks ! — is anything the matter 1 — you are trembling." *• Am I '/ Never mind that., T want " She paused — agitated to a he hesitated in W. 204 WHAT WlLl. THE WORLD SAY '^ whut she was going to say, and her hand shook nervously in his. This was a mood in which she had never appeared to him before ; and her effort to assume the old reckless way of talk- ing rendered it the more painful. She retained his hand to prevent him leading her out of the shadow — she wished to hide her face. He spoke in the frank boyish tone of the happy blackberry- ing days. " Tell me what you want, Bess." " Ah ! — I am glad to hear that name on your lips again ; " and her hesitation seemed to vanish as she spoke, although the nervous hesitation remained. " I want you to forgive me, Austin, for troubling you just now, and at such a time — when we are surrounded by so much misery." *' If you are in sorrow or misery of any kind, Bess, that is the time to speak to the friend you think worthy of your con- fidence : and it will make me very happy to know that you can trust me." '' You do not know yet the test to which I am to put your confidence in me." There was red, flaring light around them — hut they stood in darkness. The position ^vas symbolic of their lives ; only one little step to right or left and they might have passed into the day of happiness. '* Put me to the test. At this moment I feel as if we were boy and girl again, with no secrets to hide from each other. I forget that you are the heir*^ss of Ravelston, and that I am a poor country doctor, heavily weighted with debts, which must seem small to you, but which are mountains to me. I forget all that, and I could forget it oftener, if I knew that you, too, could tliink only of the old days, and be as we were then, like brother and sister." " Brotlier and sister ! — I hate the words. Answer me — answer as if to your own conscience— have you ceased to think of Coilr, , He drevv bat k a iiv! le, and did not speak. The earnestness and passion of iier voice rendered a perfectly faithful reply necesso> V. " AnfiW'rir 'Vie truly or not at all. Do you not hope, do you not wish -^^t'.ii that sli.* might be your wife '' " IJOHT AND SHADOW. 265 H)usly in id to him of talk- hand to ished to ickberry- again ; although [•give me, e — when iS, that is your con- t you can put your stood in only one into the we were [Other. I ,t I am a lich must I forget you, too, ,hen, like ter me — to think Irnestness |ful reply ?, do you Another i»ause ; and tlicn, as if the words were diawn from him against his will. "T do — in spite of myself I fitai my thoughts and hopes turning towards her ; in every act of my life I find myself asking would this have pleased hn if sh'e had been with me as I once expected she would be. Then T try to turn away from the thought, to assure myself that I care nothing for her, but it is to no purpose. 1 work and work, hoping to forget her, and I cannot." " Thank you. I knew that you would speak honestly, and that you would not blame me too much for what may seem an impertinent curiosity." " But why go back to this subject, which is such a painful one to me ? " " Because I wantt d to tell you that Coila is faithful to you, and to advise you to wait patiently for what time may do. You will be very happy with her by-and-l)y." "Impossible; you are mistaken in regard to her feelings." " It is you who are mistaken. Now, let us look for my father and Killievar. We can be of no further service here." Her agitation was under control again, and she spoke with very much of her ordin.'ry quick, impt rative manner. She stepped out to the light ; her face was pale, but that \ is partly hidden by the glow which tlie furnaces cast upon it '• You have not told me yet why you put the cpiestioi! me. T would be tjlad to believe that Coila had asV I you- I ill I nd 1 " Coila had nothing to Aif yyii^ i[f)- ness for herself. Austin halted and confronted her. They were near the carriage, and Killievar was in sight. " There is something behind all this, Bt'ss, which you ' : ve not explained to me. You would not have acted so strangely without a very strong motive." fi SfiC WHAT WILL THK WO}jLl> SAY? Wi >■ \: " WliHt of thai 1 ]'»ii camot liclp mr." '' How do you know i " "One conundrum for aiiotlior, that's fair. Why isn't the moon made of green cheese ( Tliere, don't bother your wits to find an answei-, for th<'re is none; and that is just my position. There is no answer to your anxiety on my account — but I am grateful all the same." " I am sorry you will not let me help y<»u.' " And I am sorry to have to tell you that you cannot." " At least, count upon my willingness to serve you whenever and for whatever you may command me.' " 1 will count upon that. . (iood bye." The word lingered on her lips as if slie were bidding him a final farewell, and he fancied t^ao there was an unusually v.arm pressure of her hand just before she stepped into the carriage. He would have liked to speak again, bur Killievar was stand- ing close by, making some observations about the sad events of the night, which Aus*.'*- did not hear. He lifted his hat to Coila, and then, as he saw, or fancied he saw, a slight movement of her right arm, he instantly offered to shake hands with her. She would have been vexed if he had not done so ; and yet she wa^ vexed that he did offer his hand, for it seemed to in- dicate that although all was at an end between them, he wcdd not permit others to observe any particular difference in his c induct towards her. She could be proud, too ; if he did not care to know the real motive of her strange conduct to him, why should she trouble to inform him 1 It would have been a very difficult task to tell him— although she had said to Bess that she would do so, that was when she was feeling keenly the vexaMt>n *'f having caused him and herself useless pain. But when she came to think quietly about it afterwards, it > emed impossible : • re- peat to him the many words and aocs of Bess— often trifiing enough — which had convinced her that Bess loved hiui that .she would marry him, bringing him wealth to make his tuture success certain, and that he would make her happy. It would have been impossible to explain all that without feeling mean and contemptible in her own eyes. So now she pretended to herself that she was pleased to see how unneces- in't the wits to )siti()n. it I am leuever r him a y v/anu arriage. 3 stand- l events leieil ht' otfered and yet d to in- 3 vvc'dd in his Ithe real troubh^ task to 11 do so, having •anie to If ; ) re- 1 trifling 11, that tutuiv LK.'HT AND SHADOW. LHi7 sary it was ev(^n to think of such a matter ; \u' was evidently quite contented to leav*! the affair as it stood. Very Ukely lie was glad to escape — no doubt of it, indeed, since lie cou'd speak to her so coolly. So she shook hands quite formally, not the least warmth in the touch, not the faintest sign of a desire to clasp his h:ind in the old friendly way. Her hand touched his — that was all ; she hoped he was well, that Mrs. Murray was well, and ex- pressed her regret that lie should have had such sad work U> perform that night. His heart seemed to drop lower in his chest. He answered her in the sanu^ key — foolish as the girl in hispritle, and in the vanity which made him dread even the suspicion of seeking lu-r again because of the fortune which Marjoribanks had promised with her. The carriage drove away; he saluted the ladies p.' turned homewards, repeating to himself all the satirical << ■ nients upon the fickleness of woman lie could remend)er or invent. A verse of Burns's took his fancy most : " Wha e'er ye be that woiiiar. low, To this be never blind, Nae ferlie 'tis if fickle she prove, A woman has't by kind." He repeated this often, but did not derive much co!isolatit)n from it. The gig, with Marjoribanks and the Major, had arrived at Ravelstou a few minutes before the carriage. As Hess stepped into the hall, Kilgour touched her arm : '' Well I " " I shall be in the conservatory at nine to-!n«>rrow." A whisper — but Killievar heard it. 4 •I 4 '^ithout low she niieoes- 2GS WHAT WTLL THE Wf>TUJ) HAY? ('HAPTEIJ Xr. I MISS .1 A NETS W1(! MESSA(:JE from Bess to her tkthei- in tlie iiionniifi; ex- (Hised her from attendance at th(^ family breakfast tal>le ; she was fatigued by the events of the previous night, and wished to rest. The Major was still indidiijed vvitli breakfast in his own room. Killievar was at the side-table helping himself to a cutlet when he heard the message delivered by Mary Beith. " No man ever ♦ihought so wisely as Killievar lookt'd." He preserved :i -ignified look throughout the meal, but Marjoribanks talked much with his mouth full. He was in a hurry to be off to learn the ite of the men who had been rescued from the Bell Pit. The chief saw his host depart, nearly an hour earlier than usual, and then stalV'^d into the conservatory. He had taken a sudden fancy to ct ly flowers apparently, for he examined those at the entrance with particular care. He advanced a little farther, and seemed to be looking for some favourite which he could not find. He was alone in the place. There was a white mist outside, which the sun and a strong wind were combining to disperse. " It was a mistake ; and a very good thing, too, that I did not speak to her without making sure." He made half-a-dozen stately paces across the floor and halted again, with his eyes fixed suspiciously on a flower-pot. "' And it was a very strange thing, too, what I have seen — it was, indeed. I hope she is wise enough not to be a fool.'' He felt relieved, but still dissatisfied. By-and-by. he sent Baxter to ask Miss Marjoribanks if she would see him for a few minutes. The man returned with the information that the lady had gone out for a walk. Killievar went up to the Major's apartments ; knocked ; no reply. He knocked again, then openearish school, th«^ «loor was tlun^ oi>en, and the boys ancoguised Miss danet, and, although they had the deepest respect for her in memory and aiiti<:ipation of " cookie " feasts and strawberries and cream, they shrieketl with d<'light at the mishap which had befallen her. " Here's Miss Janet's wii: rinnin' awa' wi' the wind !" they shouted ; " wha'll catch Miss Janet's wig ? " And they of tlu' d sw«'[)t i UoniW't. llU't, slit^ 1 avidity, lad. iigh tlu'y [)ation of ked with !" they hiM'dU'SS [ich other [y of the She had :'a('e, too, i\ Gaelic, le endea- a windy catch it [ir, shout- 3theF." Heard the Mfss JANKTs wrc; 271 whip cratUini; ovn thfir lie.ids, ;iud tlie clatter of the 'xirsc's hoi)fs. Ahont two tlnrds ijave up the chase ; the others wt re ahead, closet npon tlic ^anie. The wig was sinhlcnly sw((i)t to one side anor, without Iviiockitiir. The d OOP was fast inside — a most unusual tbinif in the vil- iage— but she was too much confus'.d to observe the singularity of the circumstance. Killievar did observe it, and walked to the window to see if the house were inhubiteil. His head rose an inch hiiiher, and 'iirain he uttered an ex on. clamation in (iaelic, but this time with evident satisfacti Then he bowed to some one within. The > '/ /A fliotographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 272 WHAT WILL THt V/ORLD SAY ? ' 11 ««ri()ns enough to satisfy Miss Jtmtit that \w, ha«l no inclination to ridicule her. Behind them were two weaving machines, at one of which a little, white-faced, bald-headed man, with stooping shoulders, was busily working the shuttle, in entire indifference to all that was going on. " VVhat in the world tempted you out in a gig, auntie 1 " cried Bess, still laughing merrily, as she placed her in a big wooden chair, which the weaver's wife had drawn forward to the fire. Miss Janet looked helplessly at Bess and then at Killievar, who was standing in the doorway ; if what he had said was tru«?, she was utterly unable to comprehend her niece's manner. " Let me compose myself, dear ; I am out of breath, and I must arrange myself before I can speak — would you ask the gentlemen to retire, dear ? So sorry to trouble." Killievar wheeled round, but looked back at the Major, as if inviting him to follow. Kilgour accepted the invitation, and the two pi\ssed out to the road. " This is quite dreadful, dear ; I shall never survive it. What with you and the boys, and the Major, and — and — my hair, I am distracted. I wonder I didn't faint. Killievar is an excellent man, dear, so good-natured, and so thoughtful ; if it had been Robert — ! " She could find no words sufficiently strong to express her hor- ror at the bare 'dea of such an accident happening in the pre- sence of her brother. " You should not have ventured out on such a day as this — we will never get the curls right without the tongs." " We can tie a handkerchief over them, dear. I was obliged to come c'lt after you ; it would have been such a terrible thing ; so much talk ; so much scandal, you know, dear." " Yes, it would have been an awful scandal ; no fools like old fools, people would say. Besides, it was unnecessary ; I am sure papa would not have refused his consent." " I am sure he would, dear." " You surprise me — and they are such good friends. I hope nobody guessed why you left home 1 " •' We did not breathe a word to a living creature. You MISS JANKTS WK;. 273 ihis- know, dear, we hoped to get it all quietly settle«i without any- one being the wiser or the worse," " How sly you two must have been. I never even suspected it. But you cannot go any farther to-day with your head in this condition." " Go farther ! — go where 1 " " With Killievar, of course — wasn't it an elopement 1 " Miss Janet absolutely lifted her eyes from the ground and stared at her niece. The eyes went down again, and she fum- bled in her pocket for a handkerchief. " You understand quite well, dear, what I mean. We came after you in the hope of saving you frovn a great folly." " What folly ? " " You know, dear, it is silly to disguise the truth, from me. We do not wish even your father to know that you were going—" " To Edinburgh," interrupted Be.ss, quickly ; " why should I disguise it ? As I was to walk to the station, the Major es- corted me. I missed the train, and then came in here to see Mrs. Greig's sick child." Miss Janet nodded, and smiled approvingly. ** That explanation will do admirably, dear if anybody should say anything. But don't say Edinburgh — because the train you have missed does not go there. You are very clever." " Here's your bonnet. Miss Janet," said Mrs. Greig, enter- ing ; ** it's a wee soiled, but it'll serve till you get hame." That stopped further conversation ; and presently Killievar looked in : " We are quite ready to start for home, ladies, as soon as Miss Janet feels able." " fVe are ready," thought Miss Janet ; *' he means that the Major is to go too. Surely he has not been persuaded that they were not running away." The Major was going back with tliein ; and hf sat in front beside Killievar, who was driving. I hope You Hi 274 WHAT WILL THK WoRLD SAV ? I i I ■ CHAPTER XLI. WHITE MICE. HIS was the passage-at-arms between the Major and Kil- lievar when they stood outside the weaver's cottage : — " I think, Sir, we know the position of affjiirs.'' The Major bowed. " I think also, Sir, that it wouhl be a very good thing if tliere was to come a message to you by telegraph or letter which rendered your immediate departure from Kavelston necessary." " Do you mean to-day ? " " Yes, Sir, I mean this very day, and before Mr. Marjori- banks comes home to dinner ; then he need not know anything at all about anything that we know. I observed that your portmanteau was ready packed." " Would it not look better to remain till to-morrow." " You must go this very day, Sir, or you must explain to Mr. Marjoribanks in my presence everything. I would advise you to do thjit if I thought there was the least chance of any- thing but a very unpleasant row. Therefore, Sir, as his friend, and her friend, and your friend, I say, go at once ; it will be the very best way for everybody, and it will spare her some words. Her father has views for her, and very proper views, and it is not very good of you to interfere." The Major reflected, and then, quietly : " I believe you are right. I shall go to-day." " I am very glad to hear you say so. Sir. You are a good shot, and I will be missing you often. I approve of you as a sportsman, but I do not approve of what you have attempted to day." " You will at least approve of my not attempting to alter your opinion." The gentlemen bowed formally to each other, and the terms of peace were thus settled. VVHITK MfCK. 27'y nd Kil- ,age :— bhiiig if r which Bssary." klarjori- aything at your )lain to advise of aiiy- 'riend, will be ?r some views, a good ou as a :^mpted io alter terms On arriving at Ravelston, the ladies proceeded to their rooms at once. " How long do yon give me to remain here ? " asked the Major, in a low voice. " You will take luncheon, that no suspicion may he roused. Then, in half-an-hour after we leave the tal)le, I suppose you will be ready to start.' The Major sat down in his private room and considered the position ; he did not regard it as one of defeat yet. Every- thing depended upon the humour Bess might be in, and that could not be counted upon for five consecutive minutes. He was chagrined : to have been so nea^- victory and then to fail by being two minutes late for a train was decidedly irritat- His difficulty now was to communicate with Bess. He might employ Mary Beith ; but he would only use her as his medium as a last resource. His theorv was that in the intriiiue of love, as in the intrigue of war, a service upon which every- thing depended should be performed by one's self. He wrote two letters — one to Marjoribanks, expressing gratitude for all his kindness, and regret for the necessity which compelled him to leave Ravelston so abruptly ; the other to Bess. At luncheon Miss Janet appeared with her wig carefully ar- ranged ; but she had less than usual to say, and there seemed to be more than ever to search for under the tables and chairs. She did not once lift her eyes. Coila, who was not in the secret of the morning's doings, was yet conscious of something very unusual being wrong, and felt awkward. Bess, the Major, and Killievar were perfecdy composed. " 1 am sorry to have to tell you," said Kilgour, addressing the company generally, between the service of cheese and fruit, " that I shall have to leave you in half-an-hour. My stay here has been delightful to me in every way, and I go away much against my will." Everybody was sorry ; everybody wished that he could stay a few days longer, or at least until Marjoribanks came home. He said it was impossible, and by and by he formally took his leave of the ladies as they passed from the room. Shaking U |i > I V ■ 1 1 n .1 <: ? 1 ^ i' ! ; ^': j .1 276 WHAT WILL THK WORLD SAY? hands with Bess last, ho adroitly ])laced in her palm the letter he had written. The door closed. " Are you satisfied ?" he said, turning to Killievar. " I shall answer you when we meet next. Sir." " That will not be for a very long time, I am afraid. How- ever, good-bye : I have had a pleasant time of it here. Tell Marjoribanks I shall write to him from London." He tipped the servants liberally, and went away with their good opinion, at any rate ; half-a-dozen of them were in the hall to see him depart ; they would have given him many smiling well-wishes but for the presence of the chief, who was so grim that he damped their ardour, and kept them on their gooeen dilHcult for even friends to identify him. lie lialf rose when she appeared ; she partly turned asifto re- treat, but, controllisig herself, slu^ passed on to the platform. The man followed leisurely, but din the SAY? cvcryl)()(ly rr^anlfd as a mere advrntun'r, a?ul towards whom h«;r own feelings were certainly doubttul. At one m(>ment aho liked him for his dev(>tion ; at the next, hIk? hatetl him tor the temptation he had put in her way to Hee from home. During the ni^^dit she had been at first amused hy the dis- covery that she was watched ; next came the desire to outwit her guardians, and to make fun of Macbeth by frightening him with the mice. Then came the disappointment at the door, the irritation, and the dogged resolve to carry out he? scheme in spite of every obstacle. Now 1 — she wished they had kept her under lock and key until the Major had left the district altogether. The poor vanity which had caused her to think with some pleasure of the excitement her elopement would cause, was quite extin- guished, and she wished *'hat she could cry. The train stopped at another station, and the Major came to the window. He had taken ott' his travelling cap, and put down the collar of his coat. She thought lie was to enter the compartment, and shrank to the farthest corner. But he was not coming in, and he pre- tended not to observe her movement of repugnance. " We had better not travel together," he said, " they are sure to telegraph after us. Here is a rug and a hood which I bought in Glasgow yesterday afternoon. Try to make yourself comfortable. Can I get anything for you ] " '* Yes," she answered suddenly, springing to the door, " the first train back." He was taken by surprise, but he was cool as ever in an instant. Turning to a porter, he asked : ** When is there a train for Airbridge ] " '* Two-thirty is the first, Sir." The man passed on, shouting the name of the station unintelligibly. '* You hear ? By the time you got back everything would be known, and you would endure all the annoyance which an adventure like tliis is sure to entail — whether you succeed or fail in it. You will do better to go on — what do you fear i " "You." " What ' — already t That is not kind. I waited for you all last night at the gate where I said you would find me,; I was vhoni it h\iu n- the le (U«- mtwit Lening lit the Lit her III key e poor sure of I extiii- >r came nd put shrank he pre- ley are aiich I yourself " the br in an station would fhich an ;ceed or jar f you all ; I was "o'er the nORDEHS AND AWA*. » •• 2H3 at the fitatiim tliis niorninj^ an hour before you arrived, and I have tried to show yiMi in every way possibh' tliat I wish to«h> whatever may he best for your liappiness. lie a little merciful ; j.Mve nie one kind word, one kind look at least." " Sfats, going on," HJiouted the guard. "Come in." He o[>ened the door, and took a seat opposite to her, as the train bt^gan to move. She remained silent for a little whi!" her eyes fixed on the floor, hii.ids clasped, and a troubled expression on hei' face. He watched her closely, but made no attempt to influence her reflections. " This is madness, Major Kilgour, and we will both be sorry for it before many days have passed," she said, at length, with- out lifting her eyes. *' I shall not be sorry except when I see you vexed." " I am vexed now — with myself and with you. 1 shall be a burden upon you, and the thought of that will make me hate you." " Surely you have left all your courage at Ravelston ; I wish I knew how to charm it back to your breast. Take the posi- tion in its worst light : you cannot go home now ; the attempt we made yesterday and our journey to-day are sure to become known, and these circumstances, with the gossip which Con- noughmore's withdrawal will create, would render life at Kav elston unendurable for some time, at any rate. Suppose you go on : the sympathy of your friends will be with you -what- ever they may say about me — and they will admire your spirit and your generosity — folly, they will call it, probably — in trusting your future to the care of a penniless soldier. Which position is the best ] " " I am too far compromised to go back," she said, bitterly, and looked out of the window, as if she took an interest in the landscape of broad fields, deep dells, glittering streams, and blue mountains in the background, which they were flying past. To all the beauty spread out before her she was as one blind : she saw nothing. There was silence ; and the Major was the first to break it. " We are in an awkward predicament ; I have gainerl what I most desirifd, and am not satisfieil because you seem to ha !ii ij I I M ' li I 284 WHAT WILL THJ: WOULD SAY? resolved not to make the best of your bargain, but the worst. There is one way by which you may save yourself yet from the future you now dread so much." " What is that ?" " I have taken tickets only for Carlisle, counting upon hav- ing lime enough there to obtain others for London. We shall stop there and telegraph for your father ; he will come and take you away to some friend's place, where you can remain until this escauade is forgotten. Then you can go home, and — you will have no lack of lovers." " Do you wish me to do that ? " she asked, turning sharply to him. He took her hand ; she made an impulsive movement as if to withdraw it, and then remained passive. " You are a strange creature, Bess " (the first time he had addressed her by that name, and yet it sounded as if familiar to his lips), " and you often puzzle me. What I wish is that you should become my wife. I shall \u^^ be a very bad husband, if you will only trust me — a little." She looked at him steadily, and then : ** I will trust you." His arm slipped round her waist ; he kissed her, and she made no resistance. " You have made me happy ; I shall try to deserve your trust." " We snJ' be miserable." '' Do you hate me so much ? " ' *' No, there are times when I even fancy it would be possible to like you." " Live in the fancy, and some day you may discover it is a reality." He returned to the next compartment when the train stopped at the next station. Bess was beginning to feel a kind of pleasure in the wild ad- venture she had entered upon. She discovered that she really admired the Major, and then she detected one of the first im- pulses towards affection ; she found herself summing up all his good qualities, and forgetting the bad ones. He was coura- geous, he had talent — both assertions being sufficiently proved by his success in America, in Mexico, and in Spain. Then his " o'kr thk bohdkin and awa'.' 285 le worst, from the ipon hav- We shall s and take nain until and— you sharply to ent as it' to me he had familiar to is that you I husband, she made serve your [be possible )ver it is a the train le wild ad- she really lie first im- up all his Iwas coura- ]tly proved Tlieu his devotion to her w^as h(^yond doubt, and it was tho most pow«M'- ful element in her favourable judgment of him. After all, she had not made such a great mistake ; and for the first time in her life admitted that genius — the Major hud become a genius by this time — was much greater tiian mere wealth. This was a most consolatory view of the case, a view which has comforted many a poor struggler in life, when with- out it he would have sunk in despair. Then there was the fun of imagining the chagrin of Killie- var, the distraction of Aunt Janet, the bewildered amazement of Coila, to say nothing of the excitement which her elopement would cause throughout the county. P^verybody would make the event the special topic of conversation for the next month or more. What would they say ? The Carstairs would talk of her with pretended scorn ; the mother would shrug lier shoul- ders and ask — " what could you expect 1 " The Johnstones would be all astonishment, and would post round the county to spread the news. Miss Bethune would be in ecstasies of ron-antic admiration ; and Miss Susan Auldjo would grimly reprehend any conversation on such a dreadful subject as that of a run-away young lady, whilst she wouhl be continually lea-l- ing the way to it herself. It was such fun to imagine what the world would say of her conduct. But the fun somehow disappeared when she came to think of her father and Austin. The former would be very angry, and he Arould not forgive her for — say a year ; but Austin, what would he think 1 He would regret his own stupidity, and vainly wish that he could redeem lost opportunities, or perhaps he would pity her and forget. No, he could not forget ; he must know that he had some share in goading her on to this desperate step. She would not have his pity or any one's ; she would show them all that she did not require it, and that she had chosen well, if rashly. The excitement, the novelty of her situation, the mingled hopes and fears which beset her, combined to sustain her throughout the day, in a cpnstant whirl of thoughts, which excluded all sense of weariness. The Major was attentive without being troublesome ; but l-^ 28() WHAT WILL THE WOULD SAY ? she required little service ; a cup of coffee was the only refresh- ment he could persuade her to take. At Rugby he asked her to alight. " I thought we were to go on to London 1 " " Not by this train ; we would find some of your friends at the station ready to receive us. We stay here to-night. I will engage rooms for you at the station hotel, and T will take up my quarters somewhere in the town." She yielded, but there was a strange chill at her heart as he assisted her out of the train. That old feeling of fear with which she had once or twice regarded this man affected her now more strangely than ever. THK SURPRISK. •287 CHAPTER XLIII. THE SURPRISE. Gfci " 5TL ^^^^"^ believe it. She is not an idiot— I won't believe M it," cried Marjoribanks, excitedly. ""^ He was in his private room at the works, and Killie- var was his interiocutor. " I have been at the station. Sir, and the porter tells me that Miss Marjoribanks got into the train for the South this fore- noon. I have searched everywhere for her, and I am obliged to believe that the man is quite right, especially after yester- day." " Why the devil did you not i-ell me sooner 1 " was the angry exclamation ; " I would have stopped her. I would have tied her lip with ropes ; I would have — good Lord, can it be true ? " Killievar accepted the blame which was cast upon him for his silence with the calmest philosophy. " I did not tell you sooner, because I hoped the affair would pass without harm to any person, Sir : but we need not talk about that ; we must think what is to be done to save her." Marjoribanks sat down, wiping the perspiration from his brow. He was bewildered and angry ; he could have under- stood Coila doing such a foolish thing as running away with a man ; but he could not understand Bess doing it ; Bess, who was so shrewd and practical. Here w^as an end to all his schemes for her, and here was an end to all his indignation against Lord Connoughmore and the Earl. They would laugh at him, everybody would laugh at him, and all the success of his life would never redeem this fatal blunder of his daughter. But he was a man of action. The first shock of surprise over, he applied himself instantly to the task of discovering and of saving Bess. He telegraphed to his London agent, Mr. Hor- rocks, who having been at Ravelston, knew Bess, and desired him to be at Euston Square in good time for the North train, and to take her by force, if necessary, to his house. *.. . ;.:t •-■t I I' 1:11 288 WHAT WILL THK WORLD SAY ? ! '-%_^' m •sr Then lie arranged for a special train, which was ready for him in three liours. He started for London, Killievar accompany- ing him. Telegraph and special train served him little ; the Major's cnnning was more powerful than the millionaire's gold. Mr. Horrocks was at Euston Squan^ with a couple of detectives ; but the lady diu only st, you did try ghmoie ve hap d about I could d been irybody )king at awful ! y killed and for ig hhu, have to vexed, ith the r things ;he idea covered 1 cheat- ledicine wicked, ind yet i in my le able was a dream, and I almost wish to wake in my bed at dear old Ravel- ston, and find that it really was a dream. But, of course, that is nonsense. " We are married. Please don't blame the Major. The fault is all mine, and he is most kind and considerate. We are going to be very happy in this small place ; we would be quite happy if you could only forgive us. I would like .so much to see you — but that is impossible. " Good-bye, my dear papa ; I pray that you may never know the frenzy which has driven me to cause you so much distress. Whatever you say or do " I shall be always, " Your loving daughter, "Bess." He read the letter with a frown on his brow all the time, and Killievar, who was watching him, augured ill for the run- aways ; but his voice was a little husky as he said : " Come, we'll go and see the fools." In half-an-hour the two men drove into a dingy street in Pimlico. The dark grey walls were speckled with windows, which were dim with dust, and behind them were blinds, which had not been cleaned for ages. Here and there the corner of a blind had broken from its fastening, and flopped to one side, where it remained, indicating the indifference or laziness of the inhabitants. The street was melancholy in its appearance of dead gentility, upon which dust and ruot had accumulated. Bess had given the address in her letter, not dreaming that Marjoribanks had followed her to London ; and so the cab stopped at the door. At a sign from his companion, who seemed disinclined to speak, Killievar inquired for Major Kilgour. Yes, he was at home ; what names 1 There was a long wait in the hall, and then the visitors wwe taken up to the drawing-room floor. Marjoribanks cast aquiclc look round the room. He saw threadbare furniture which had once been respectable; a poor attempt had been made to con- ceal the defects of a shaky-looking couch by spreading a shepherd's tartan plaid over it. A couple of Moorish swords \: .i[.\ ' ii warn 292 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY? onianientfid tho wall above the couch, and folding doors com- municated with another room. Dust everywhere, everything worn and faded ; the place was a fitting adjunct to the street in which it was situated ; and yet it was surrounded by many brilliant mansions. The folding doors opened— the Major and Bess entered together. Both held themselves erect, and, although they were pale, there was a spirit of defiance in their eyes, as if they were prepared for the fiercest assault of passionate up- braiding. They halted, apparently waiting to learn on what terms they were to approach the enemy. Marjoribanks regarded his son-in-law with a fierce scowl, and yet he was inwardly much agitated. He nodded to his daughter, and she instantly made a step forward, as if to embrace him, but he lifted his hand, warning her back, and she stood still. Killievar gave his jacket a jerk downward, and looked fiercely at the Major, who smiled, as if welcoming him. " I don't come here to make any fuss," said Marjoribanks, huskily ; " it's lnzzled by this man, who spokti with as much assurance as if he had been the possessor of millions, and seemed to be asserting his superiority to the niast(T of Ravel- ston, even in that j)()or lodging. *' I never doubte(l that you were a i>lucky ft'llow, Sir. I owed you something for what you did at the Hell Pit. I have paid you " (pointing to the cheipies which lay on the table), " but you would have found it more to your advantage if you had left Bess alone. I am glad you are both so well pleased with your bargain." He walked out of the room, and whilst the Major rang for the servant to see the visitors out, Killievar said to Bess : " You can tell me if you ever need a friend." He followed Marjorihanks, and as the two stepped into ihe cab which was waiting, he observed : " They are a very well-matched couple, Sir ; and if he had only been a man of family, he would have been a very good son-in-law without a penny. They stood their ground like one man, and it was a brave sight." This commendation of the chief was not without effect upon Marjorihanks, for he was as readily influenced by anything in the guise of admiration as the former was by any sign of courage. The Major had gone to the window to observe the depar- ture of the visitors, and now he turned to his wife. She was If? HARD TERMS. 297 ih one Ktaiulin^, with oycR fixed vacantly on the door, in the sam^ position as when her father had gone out. There wan a brief expret^t^ion of uneanineH^ on the luiHband'it face, and then, gaily : '* The meeting passed off much more (|uietly tlian I «'X|>ected. That is the wi\y with all the ills of life ; the reality is much less troublesome than our anticipations of it." She did not move or reply. " I am afraid it has upset you, though," he said, taking her hand. She gave him a (piick, distressed glance, shuddereIrs, Murray. She was going to the Miners' Row, at any rate, "THIN(JS ARE NOT WHAT THEY SEEM. 299 Coila than g over the lied, many n imagina- the story, I acted so he feelings mce of in- ^ed by her i been the the dread be wrong f a friend ce of this step Bess lad found guished ; and of iving her ti finding he event s fidelity )f uncer- in utter position v^eakness ' brother I visited my rate, I to convey to the invalids various little comforts, prepared for them by her own hand. It was not much out of the way to go round by Mrs. Murray's house. She would have liked to cheat herself into the idea that she was only desirous of paying her respects to the lady ; but she knew quite well that her real object was to learn in what n an- ner Austin took the news of the elopement and the marriage of Bess. Mrs. Murray received her in the usual quiet manner, but there was a faint sign of stiffness, which the mother could not overcome, feeling ti.at this girl had deprived her son of a for- tune and a wife, who would have made his life a success. " I hope we have heard the worst of it," she said, when Coila liad given her the latest news; "but a man like this Major is more likely to guide her into shipwreck of her life than into any safe harbour. Let us hope for the best — only, she would have been wise to have settled at home." She was thinking of her son, and sighed, remembering how easily he might have gained the prize. She never doubted that it was his obstinacy which had driven the lady into the arms of another. " Where is my hat 1 " said a voice in the hall, which Coila recognised as Austin's. The door opened, and he was about to enter the room when he observed the visitor and paused. Recovering himself, he advanced and shook hands. " How do you do. Miss Gardyne ] Tt is an unexpected pleasure to see you here." " I was just going over to — to the works," she stammered, " and thought I would call." " I am sure my mother is pleased to see you." He spoke with no more politeness or feeling than lie would have shown to any ordinary visitor. Mrs. Murray was pleased. ^' I am going now. Good-bye. I am glad to have seen you." She was fluttered, and found refuge in the most conventional phrases. " Going ? You are driving, I suppose," he said, looking at his watch. " My time is up, and | would b»' <;liid if y<»u would take me v/ith you." " Certainly." Mrs. Murray was dissatisfied. 300 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY ? I f As for him, ho only wished to sliow how entirely he had mastered all sentiment in regard to Ooila. She was nothing more to him than any other lady who happened to call ; not nearly so interesting as if she had been a patient, suffering from chilblains or toothache, or any other inconsiderable malady. He would drive with her to the Miners' Row, and let her see how entirely he was changed towards her. He would tell her of his improving prospects, and of the probability that some day — after he had settled accounts with Marjoribanks — he would either marry and settle down there, or sell the practice, and bo oft' to some more genial country. Oh, he was quite safe, because he was so indiff'erent. The old folly had been thrust aside, because it was folly, and it aftected him no^nore. He was now a plain, practical man, putting his shoulder steadily to the wheel of fortune to discharge what he regarded tis a duty to his father first, and, next, to earn a decent competence for his mother and himself. Love and all that sort of nonsense had nothing to do with his busy life — indeed, he had not time for it, even if he had retained the inclination, which, of course he had not. He had given up such frivolities from the moment he found himself deceived by Coila. He handed her into the carriage, and took his seat opposite with as much ease as if there had never been anything between them. He nodded to his mother, who was watching from the window, as they drove away. The nod and the accompanying smile reassured her, although that discreet lady began to specu- late upon the possibility of Coila's fortune being materially in- creased by the mistake Bess had made, and to wonder whether or not it would be well for her son to renew his attentions to the millionaire's niece, now that the daughter was out of the question. When the carriage was fairly oft', and the two were alone in the small space of the vehicle, Coihi discovered unusual interest in the opposite side of the street, her hand resting carelessly in one of the loops beside the window. Austin assumed all the gravity of a family physician, and, affecting to think himself alone, began to study his visiting note-book. IMt his eyes wandered over the top of the boojc to her pro- \ "THINGS ARE NOT WHAT THEY SEEM." 301 tirely he had was nothing to call ; not snt, suffering iconsiderable d let her see ould tell her >y that some ribanks — he the practice, B was quite ly had been m no^nore. der steadily 3d tis a duty petence for >1" nonsense id not time 1, of course be moment it opposite ig between g from the ►mpanying to specu- rially in- whether entions to out of the i alone in il interest elessly in ian, and, 5 visiting her pro- file, and rested there, until some movement on her part ma nts, and im. He to the nfluence etended simple CHAPTER XLVI. MAKING THE BKST OF IT. RS. HECTOR KILGOUR was not fit to be the wife of a struggling man. As the partner of one in posi- tion, and with sufficient wealth at her command, she wouhl have done credit to her husband, and helped him for- ward to new honours. But as the wife of one who had everything to win, and only wit and courage to gain his object with, she was wanting in the chief qualities which would have rendered her helpful to him and happy in herself — namely, hope and faith in the niau. Bess was too changeable in mind and heart to be the fitting companion for one who required steady sympathy to support him in his fight with the world. She took her humour too much from surrounding circumstances — if the world doubted, she would doubt. She could not believe in the man unless others believed in him ; and that was just what he needed most — that she should show confidence in him and in his fu- ture, when every body else regarded his career as hopeless. She made an honest effort to do her best, and the Major ac- cepted the little she could do with generous exaggeration of its value. He knew that it was a sad drop for her from the opulence of Ravelston to the poverty of a shabby-genteel lodg- ing in Pimlico ; from entire ignorance of the importance of money in the conduct of life, to the bitter dread that every knock at the door brought a bill which could not be paid . They were blithe enough whilst the sum given by her father lasted. The Major took her about to all the gaieties of the town ; then to Cheltenham, to Brighton, and to every fashion- able resort. The excitement of her situation, and the novelty of all she saw contented her for the time. He presented her to many friends ; ladies in faded finery ; gentlemen with all the airs of princes, and with very hungry faces. Counts and countesses, generals, colonels, and majors T ,JI ■■}! jt H \ n 306 WHAT WILL THi: WORLD SAY? iJI . n KtH'incd to In' very mnnerous in the circle ()t'liisac(|iiaintances. All .s|)(>l«' <»f a !4<)(hI time camiii",', when the "Restoration" should take place ; hut all setiined to sutt'er much privation in th(! meanwhile, although th(\v hore it with much gaiety of heart. Oiu; 8(^t ln>h)iige«l to Spain, the other to France, and the latter s»M'ined to he much tlu^ more i)ros[)erons of her hus- band's frieiuls. She was inteiested, amused, aiul sometimes puzzled : for there were freipient mysterious meetings, anrij,'ht eyes spark- ling; with pleasure, and the erect, pcrhct funn wt-re worthy of observation. Several p»'(»ph' who had not seen or known lu-r the day bufoke reco^'rnsed her now ; and she was full of triumph. What joy there was in the worhl for her ; althoui^h the at- nu)S[)hrre was cold and tlull, sunsjiine could not have made hfr content greater, 'i'he carriage of the Prim-ess of Wales drove by, ami the calm, int<'llectual beauty of tiu^ noble lady added new charms to the scene in the eyes of I Jess. She felt herself part of the distinguished pageant which the groups of promen- ad(jrs watched so attentively, and was happy. "What o'clock is iti" she asked, like a child anticipating and dreading the end of a holi«lay. " About six," replied the Major, promptly. " I suppo.se we will have to go soon." " We can take twenty minutes yet." They rode from one end to the otlu'r of the course, and as the carriages were rapidly disappearing, they had more space for a gallop than in the earli«;r part of the afternoon. The Major kept by her side, quiet and anxious that she should derive every passible enjoyment from th(; ride. He left it to her to say when they should leave ; and at length, seeing that the Row was about to be deserted, she signified her desire to move homeward. The buoyancy which had distinguished her manner during the ride became subdued as she turni'd lua* back upon the Park. She was sorry to leave the place, but she said to him gratefully : *' Thank you, Hector, I have been very happy during the last hour." "I am glad of that." There was a strange note in his voice, but it did not strike her then. He had half hoped that she would find how very small was the gratification to be found in parading up and down a course for the amusement of a crowd, anur which hand on r all." ired, pre- e such a t in the ss, only olour re- used to augh in Ve shall y to be ret will t three of re- RFPKNTING AT LEISURK. 313 •'^i i» turning with laurels to share with you. uke. "Is it— is it truer' A pause ; they were facing each other, and despite the con- tinual rattle of cabs outside, and the hum of busy life in the atmosphere, there appeared to be a breathless stillness in the room. At length, very quietly came the answer : "Yes, it is true." " True ?— then you deceived me ? " " No, I told you that my parents were poor, that I rose from the ranks, and even gave you some idea of my history." "You made me believe that you were — a gentleman." " I still lay claim to that title, which belongs to every man who is honest, neither lies to his fellows nor tries to swindle them." " Lies 1 — is not your whole conduct a lie ? Did you not come amongst us as a man of position — as our equal V " I have earned some sort of a position, and am proud of it. As to equality, that entirely depends upon what you mean by it. If you mean that I led you to believe that I was as rich as your father, then I have wronged you ; but I never pretended to such equality as that." " Is not your name a lie ?" He winced ; that shaft struck deep. " Yes, if you choose to think so ; but I have worked long enough and hard enough as Hector Kilgour to think that I have a right to that name." " Oh, man, can you answer me so flippantly and forget the degradation you have brought upon me 1 You know that you promised me position, t.hat you held out the prospect of a glorious future ; honour, respect, distinction were to be mine it' I became your wife ; and now it all descends into my being the wife of the son of my father's gatekeeper. Did you never think of what that discovery would be to me 1 Did you never imagine the shame and humiliation which I would suffer when I learned the truth ? You have been cruel, false, and base," She spoke fiercely, wildly ; he listened with a pitying calm- ness, -.vhich distracte,! her. " I thought of all that, and yet I dared to hope that you might be happy with me." ■i: THF r.ATEKF.KPKHS SON. 319 'M " Happy ! — oh, I needed Coila's prayer more than I fancied God help me ! " She passed into the bedroom, closing the folding iloors be- hind her. The Major sat dowji by the fire, took up the poker, and swung it like a pendulum between his legs, whilst his eyes were fixed upon the red embers, seeing strange shapes and fancies in the changing films. Hours passed ; at first he heard her moving .about the room agitatedly. What was she doing? was she going to leave him? What a pity the bubble had burst at this moment, just as she was beginning to like him. Droll thing that a man is never loved for his own self, but always for some outside quality, in the creation of which he has no merit. By and by the rapid movement of her feet ceased. Then he heard smothered sobs, and he knew that she was lying across the bed, her face buried in the coverings, crying her heart out. " Poor thing, poor thing ! " he muttered, keeping time to the swinging of the poker ; " what a d — d rascal as well as fool I was to tempt her away from home. Poor thing, poor thing ! " The place was darkening, but a narrow golden bar shot across the room, dropping at the foot of the folding doors which separated the husband and wife. " A fairy s wand," said the Major to the sunbeam, "and it would work a miracle, indeed, if it could unite us." He put out his hand, crossing the golden bar, but the beams stole through his fingers. Absolute silence in the other room ; the sunbeam slowly fading away. By and by a step on the floor, which creaked the intimation that Bess was moving. Then, a hand on the door, and it opened stealthily ; a dim twilight in the room ; the fire flickering, and the Major's eyes fixed upon it in deep abstraction ; the poker still dangling between his fingers, but scarcely moving now. A light hand rested on his shoulder, he started from his waking dream and looked up. Bess was standing beside him, lur face whit*' and cold, eyes swollen, and the lids red. *' I beg your pardon." She uttered the words like a child repeating a phrase which 320 WHAT WILL THE WOULD SAY? has been dilig«;ntly drummed into its head ; she had evidently been trying hard to school her tongue into the expression of this apology. But, mechanically, as the words were spoken, they thrilled him with a mingled sensation of pleasure and pain. He got up, taking her hands in his, and turning her face towards the window, so that what light there was might fall upon it. She half turned her head, as if she could not bear the light. " You have no need to say that, Bess ; I am the offender." '• I am sorry for having said such — such things to you. For- give me." " You make me feel as if I deserved all your reproaches ; but you also bring back hope to me. When you left me, I thought there was no future for us ; now 1 feel that there may be one of which even you shall be proud." *' I am ready to accept the condition which I have chosen. You shall hear no more complaints from me. I will do miy best to be a true wife to you. I only beg that you will take me abroad somewliere, so that in a new place I may forget all those vain dreams, the remembrance of which made me feel so mad just now." " I have something to tell you," he replied, and there was earnestness as well as reg^'et in his tone. " You have been struggling with yourself, and for the time you have conquered. I am to blame for having rendered such a struggle necessary, but you shall have no need to repeat it." " What do you mean ? " " I leave you to-night " " You do not forgive me, then," she interrupted. " I have nothing to forgive ; I have your love to win. The work I had to do here for Don Carlos is completed, and I am commanded to join his Majesty with the least possible delay. I start to-night, and when I come to you again it shall be as a man whom you will be proud to call your husband, and whom your father will not be ashamed to own as his son-in- law." *' Have I done this 1 — have I driven you away 1 " " No, Bess, no ; and when you speak to me that way, you fill me with joy and courage ; for the hope that you mary learn to love me, in spite of all that is past, will nerve me to over- vidently ession of thrilled He got ards the it. She jnder." 3u. For- roaches ; jft me, I lere may 5 chosen. I do my irill take orget all le feel so lere was ve been iquered. cessary, 1. The d I am e delay. 1 be as id, and son-in- y, you y learn over- THE GATEKEEPER S SON. 321 i come danger and will help me to bear whatever misfortune may befall me." " I am sorry you are going — and so suddenly." " You will be blither when I return." ** You will never return." *' That is an ill prophecy." " I don't mean that you will die ; but you will remember how vicious I have been to-day, and be glad to escape from me." " You cannot trust me yet ! Well, you shall prove me, and you shall iind that old Macbeth's son can be loyal, however un- fortunate lie may be, or however lucky." " And what am I to do whilst you are away 1 " '' That was the one thing which troubled me ; you must wait here — you must endure solitude for a little while ; but I have made arrangements to secure your comforts as far as possible. Mary Beitli is coming to stay with you as your maid ; and if you can only be patient we shall have bright days in the future." " I will try." " And you will succeed. There, I have faith in you, Bess, although* you have none in me. What sins I have committed have been done with no thought of harming others, and least of all, you. If I was sileut about my parentage, it was because it ilid not seem necessary to go about proclaiming my pedigree as the bellman announces the description of a lost child ; and at any rj*te you will own that I did not hide from you the truth, although I did not give you my father's name." " But you were unkind to him in not owning him." " There 1 am guilty ; I wanted to v/in you and I knew it would be impossible if I presented your gatekeeper as my father. But I have told him since, and that is, no doubt, how the fact has come to be known at Kavelston. Forgive me ; I shall win fame and fortune for you yet — dear Bess." He clasped her in his arms, and for the first time she kissed liim. Now, when she knew the worst she turned to him more than ever ; she was full of the spirit of a soldier's wife. She wished him " God speed," although she was to be left lonely and friendless ; and when he said ''Good-bye," she whispered " I tliink, i love you." V k I; m 322 WHAT WILL THE WOULD SAY 'i r CIIArTER XLIX. A [.ONE. X(1^7Kx\KINKSS, self reproach, and poverty in the prc- yy/^ sent, and a future in whicli, try as she woidd, she couhl see little hope. Tiiesi; were the conditions under which IJess found herself placed. She did not cry when the IMajor went away ; but she lay awake all night listening and wondering if he would return, although she knew quite well that he had started in time enough to catch the night express from Victoria U. Paris. Still he miyfU have missed the train, and in those m(;lancholy hours of dark- ness and nervous excitement she remembered so many things that she would have liked to say to him, that she prayed for his return. Then she assured herself that it was absurd to think of his return, and her thoughts reverted to the many little acts of tenderness which he had displayed during the few months they had l)een together. How he had studied her every wish, and hoAV he had tried to gratify it. How faithfully he stood beside her when her fjxther repudiated her, and told him that he had made a mistake if he had been seeking a fortune with her. " It was false ; he loves me, and he has proved it," she cried, in imagination answering her fiither's charge. " He did not turn from me when he found me poor. Ho Avas true to his promise, and he has gone to earn wealth and honour for me." She had no idea that she was trying to convince herself of the purity of his attachment. She recalled oidy his kindness, and she was full of remorse for the petty tyranny she had prac- tised towards him from their first meeting till the last. She was glad she had been able to ask his pardon ; and then she shuddered, covering her eyes with the l)lankets, as if to shut out the remembrance that he was the son of the gatekeeper at Ravclston. What did that signify ? It signified his genius in being able Jie pro- nld, she iiditions she hiy [ return, i enough he miyht of dark- y things ayed for fk of his acts of ths they ish, and d beside t he had h her. le cried, did not [le to his If or me." If of the ess, and [ad prac- t. She lien she to shut lecper at luig able ALONE. 323 to win the position he held, and tliat was a matter to be proud of. She became a Communist on the instant, and feU. satisfied that one man was as good as another. She did not care what the worhl might say ; he was brave, and noble and good. The morning was dull as her own weary eyes. The day brought no feeling of relief, only the keener sense of her desolate position. Her husband was by tliis time in Paris, pro))ably starting forward on Ids journey to Si)ain ; her father's r with his i^ratid dress — the })eacock dress, yon remember. I wish 1 could lau^h, or better still, I wish I could make you laugh. I am so full of sorrow to think of you alon<^ in London that T am more likely to cry. " Good bye, my dear cousin, and I am ever yonr aifectionate " CoiLA. '' P.S. — Aunt Janet has got a net'- wig ! " Bess experienced a choking sensation several times whilst she was reading these aifectionate words. She Avas grateful for them — most grateful ; and the gift which accompanied them wTiGofthe greatest value, for it relieved her of many petty fears, whilst the manner in which it was conveyed enabled her to accept it without any qualms of vain pride. Siie was less desolate after reading that letter, and she was full of joy in learning how much more kindly a friend could think of lier tlian she gave th(^ friend credit for, or than slu^ could think of ht^rself Disappointment and misfortune afflict the eyes of most ]:eop]e with scmie degree of jaundice, so that they lose faith in friendship, and too often misinterpret actions which are intended to be kindly. She did her best to endure the monotony of her days ; she never could become reconciled to it ; but she displayed much /lore patience than any one who liatl known her in former times would have expected. JNlary -.-irli marvelled how it could be tliat the wild madcap Bess of Kavelston had subsided into the demure lady of th(> poor London lodgings. The lire was not extinguished, how- ever, only a dan^r^er had been placed upon it. There were two brief letters from the Major, one from Paris, and the other TiOm the frontier of France and Spain. He was full of hope as eve)-, and lold Ihm' to w;ut, to take courage and I Jllll Amit fl never bcr now rksciip- 11(1 dress auiili, or » fiill of ro likely 3ctionate 30ILA. ?s whilst iteful for ied them ny petty ibUid her I she was ^nd could than sh(^ me afflict 3, SO that t actions ays ; she rvA much n former I madca[) [ly of th(> led, how- om Paris, He was lu-age and I AhoNE, ivi: trust in the futuie. ITe made no protestations of affection, used i"«.'w (indiiariui;- terms ; he only said, ■' t live or die for you." Sh(^ was pleased, and looked at the letttjrs often ; she became impatient for others, ami sometimes sh(^ discovered herself p(Mi- sively brooding over the image of the iMajor as he was, and imagining what he might have been if he had been born inha[>- pier circumstances. She could not help being touched by the many proofs of his devotion to h(ir; and she actually cried a little when she discovered that he had carried away her plioto- graph from the little stand on the side tabl(\ She wished again and aiiain that she had been kinder to him. -l^»y-an(bby she began to imagine him engaged in all the hor- rors of war, and she shuddered at the fancv of the stray bullet which might lay him low. He was so brave, so daring, and, thinking other, he wouhl be ready for any desperate adventure — he was a man to love ! No more lettcus. I'he absolute silenc(3 became painful. She watched the newspap(.'rs for every sci-ap of information al)out the jjrogre''^ of affairs in Spain. Her sympathies were all with the Carlisto. She kiunv nothing about the cause of the struggle ; she wished her husl'and'r^ P''^i"ty t(.) b/O victorious ; that was all \wi' car-'. The contiadictory telegrams causf.'d her cruel varia- tions of emotion ; now she was in misery on account of the de- feat of the Carlists ; an hour later she was in ecstacies at the report of their triumph. But it was a pitiful life for one so youjig to lead — one so capable of enjoying tlie mirth of youth. She was like a l)utter- tly shivering on a withered rose tree in late autumn winds.. " I wish he had not jione ; I wish I had known how much 1 cared for him. He would hav(i stayed for me." That was her mental cry, and she felt as if she had with her own hand put away the one possibility of ha[)piness which re- mained to her. Mary Beith grew tired. Instead of the round of theatres, concerts, and slioj^ping which had made her regard Loudon as a paradise, there was a dull morning in a dull loom, a mistress WHO spoke little, and whom she had expe aed to speak a great deal. There were no lovers, and no pros[)ect of one, which was the worst of the position. There was a dull walk in the park, and an evening of solitary confinement, only relieved by the 328 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SA.Y ? view from the window, and the occasional diversion of a barrel organ or a German band, with the happy children dancing blithely to the discordant strains. Mary did her best, however, to hide the yawns which would attack her. She was a good girl in the main, and wished to be faithful to her old mistress, so she took as much enjoyment as she could from an occasional chat with the tradespeople, arul from the hope that the Major would return iu a few weeks as King of Spain, or something great, and with a boxful of Indian shawls. She was not at all clear as to wha'j he was doing or whither he had gone ; bat he must bring back Indian shawls and lace. One day she rushed into her m?stresi with a beaming countenance. " Good news, ma'am — who has come to see you, do you think 1 " " Come to see me 1 " "Yes — the Chief of Killievar, and oh, but it's a pleasure to see a ken't face in this weary town." I '4i^llW:. SACKCLOTH AND ASTTES. 329 !!l ' a barrel dancing h would ished to >^ment as pie, and veeks as f Indian iloing or shawls beaming , do you 'asure to CHAPTEPt L. SACKCLOTH AND ASHES. ^ ILLIEVAR embraced her with paternal kindness. She was someA\diat taken aback by this unusual demon- stration of regard, and all lier efforts to appear self- possessed and satisfied failed. The stiff dignity of the chief made his embrace the more remarkable proof of his interest in lier. " You have been unhappy, my child ; you have been deserted by the man who was to take care of you, and you did not tell me. That was not very good." " I cannot pretend to have been happy," she answered, her eyes drooi)ing, then suddenly rising to his with a flash of the old pride ; " but you must not blame Kilgour ; he has been kind to me, and he has only gone away to fulfil his engagement with Don Carlos." "Ah, well, my child, I am very glad that you can speak generously of him, and I hope he will prove worthy of your esteem. It is very good of you to speak so, and I approve of it. But we will not speak of that any more. I want you to dress yourself very quickly and come away with me this moment." " Go with you — where ? " " To see your father." " Did he send for me ?" she cried excitedly. Killievar paused before replying, his pale grey eyes full of compassion. " No, my child, he did not send for you." The brief gleam of hope was extinguished, and she answered sadly : " Then I must not go." " But you must go. It is a very fine plan of Miss Janet's, and Coila's, and myself, and yoi will disappoint me a very good ■i :}.S() VVIfAT WILL TirrC WORM) SAY? deal if you go to m.ako us .ill three together uiilia]>p.y as well as yourself." " Does he know that you have come to me ? " " lie does not ; but you will think of us, and of yourself, and you will b(^ a good child and do as you are hid." " I will do whatever you say is right." He took her hand, patting it approvingly. "A good child, a very good chiM. Then you will do as 1 bid you. Your father is happy at this very moment, because he is assured of an honour being conferred upon him which he wants. When a nian is happy he is merciful, and so you shall come with me to him this momimt — it is not far, and lier<> are your things." Mary, having received instructions from the chief, had brought hat, polonnaise, and all walking gear for her, so that in a few seconds Bess was ready to descend to the cab. She submitted rather than agreed, although she was yearn- ing to see her fiitlier, and eager to obtain the faintest sign of reconcdiation. " I woidd be glad if he would only say that he forgave me. 1 would endure anything for that," she said as they were driv- ini; alonjij. They had not far to go, only across St. James's Park, and on to one of those quietdooking, fashionable, semi-private hotels, where double first-class price is charged for second-class accom- modation. Marjoribanks .made it a rule always to go to those places which were reported to be " the thing." Ashe said, vvvy sensibly, " I can rough it, and I can afford it." 15ut ] s '.'ian looked with contempt at the young swells who came i ) } only because it was "the thing," and not because they ccild afford it. A couple of neatly dressed footmen were at the door of the cab the moment it stopped. Killievar assisted the lady out, and up the step.s into the hall. There he spoke to a very stiff- necked personage in a stiff white necktie, which he seemed to be afraid to crease. They wei'e conducted up one flight of stairs, and halted at the central door of the laniling. " Be honest with him — be natural, I will be near to help you," said the chief, as he opened the door and thi'ust her into the room. as well as urself, and ill do as 1 t, becaiiso which ho you shall and hero hiof, had r, so that lb. ^as yearn- st sig!i of I'gave Tiio. wore driv- 'k, and on ite liotols, iss acconi- to go to ." Ashe ■fford it." '^ells who t because >r of the lady out, rery stiff- eemcd to flight of r to help her into SACKCLOTFf AND ASFfKS. :^ni "Come in, como in," said Marjori])aJi]vs. without lifting his head from the letter ho was wiiting. She stood with bowed head, tromblingiu the prosonco of hoi- fatlior. When he had finished the sentence upon which h(» was so la])oriously engaged, ho lookc^l up. '* Eh !— you ? *" " Yes, papa." " Oh I — what is it folic '^ay ^\'hen they m(\*in you are a nuisance ? — I remf^mber : tliis is an unoxpr^ctod pleasure, ]\Irs. Kilgour. But I am a plain man, and I will sav(^ you and myself some trouble by a- king you at once, what do von want V " Only to see yon, papa." " Here I am ; you are welcome to look at me. How long will it take you to examine mo to your satisfaction 'I " He took out his watch, and waited with tln^ air of on forced patienc(^, which a busy man assumes in the presence of a bore whom he does not like to dismiss by force. There was a ([uick catching of her brciath, and a sound like a suppressed sob. "I see I disturb you too much, Sir; [ will go away at once ; I am sorry to have intruded upon you ; I will not do it again . . . but will you only permit me to touch your hand before I go ? " He placed his hand on the table, but it was not quite stejidj-, although he pretended to be perfectly culm. She advanced slowly, t(mched the hard knotted hand ten- deny, and then, with another uncontrollabl*? sol), she sud- denly stooped and kissed It. The hand was drawn back as if it had boon stung. She was acutely pained by the moN'oment. "Forgive me, papa; it may bo the last time I shall see you, the last time I shall touch your liand — and I could not help myself. God bless you, Sir, I am \cry sorry for all the trouble T have caused you." She turned to go away. He had been half stupified by her singular action : demon- strations of affection were quite outsiih; his experience, and the fact of even his own daughter kissing' his hand startled 4 ^■n 332 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY ? I and confused him ; and, curiously, whilst he was touched by this token of her broken spirit he was abstractedly wonder- ing where she had learned this " high falutiiij^ " courtesy, which did not belong to, and ought not to belong to the ordinary life of busy mortals. But when he saw her back, and saw that she was close to the door, he shouted after her : " Stop a minute, Bess ; since you are here, we may as well have a chat. Sit down." He pointed to a chair opposite —he w^ould have thought it undignified to have yielded so far as to place the chair for her. Submissively she sat down as directed. He cleared his throat with many severe " uh-hums," and the sound was repeated with unusual persistence between each word. " Look here, you make me feel as if I was cruel to you " " No, no ; you have not been cruel." '* You make me feel it, and that's the same thing. I don't want to be cruel, but I think it is right for you, right for me and for everybody, that you should paj' the piper you have chosen to dance to. You took your own way without asking my leave, and much to my annoyance ; it is right and just that you should bear the consequences." " I r.m trying to bear them as quietly as I can. I have not attempted to alter your determination more than once, and that was in a moment of sore trial ; but oh, papa, it is a bitter thing to feel so desolate in this big city as I h.-ve done, without a friend to speak to, without a friend to comfort me or help me. And in the dreary time which has passed I have thought of all your kindness, of all your indulgence to me, and I wanted so much just to see you, just to be near you for one minute again, that I came here, although I knew that you had not sent for me, and feared that you would be annoyed, as you are, by my coming. Indeed, indeed, I have suffered very much before I would risk meeting your displeasure again." He had to clear his throat, as if he were suffering from a severe cold before he spoke next. *■ Do you want money ? " "No." touched by ily wonder- courtesy, DUg to tlie ^as close to nay as well thought it le chair for 8," and the ween each you- >» ;. I don't ght for me you have )ut askinc: i just that have not once, and is a bitter >, without le or help e thought I wanted e minute I not sent are, by ch before g from a SACKCLOTH AND ASHES. 333 " Does that — that :nan want money 1 " " No." There was a brief pause ; and Marjoribanks again : '* I understand he has left you." " He was obliged to go for a little time — he had an honour- able engagement and he was bound to fulfil it. He may re- turn successful and rich." " Of course, that is the usual explanation of thesti — well, I'll say these kind of people. Did he make any provision for you meanwhile 1 " " He could make none except leave mo entire control of the allowance you gave me." " Most generous." " What else could he do ? " '* Evidently nothing else ; but suppose it had pleased me, or that the fancy had taken me to withdraw the allowance — what would have become of you then ? " " T do not know — I would have tried to work." " Humbug — you know that you could not work at anything for five minutes together. And this is the man you left Ravelston and all its prospects for 'i You are a fool, Bess, after all, and I was a fool to think you were shrewder than other women." She rose from her seat. *' Kilgour has been kind to me, he is my husband ; his poverty is not a disgrace ; his humble birth is a sign of his ge- nins in lifting himself above it, and we should not be the first to complain of that. He has been honest to me ; I will ))e true to him, and I will go back to our poor lodging to wait for him." She seemed to be ready to endure any blame cast upon herself, and yet she would not listen to the slightest slur cast upon her husband. " Stop yet," said Marjoribanks, authoritatively, and she halted. " I admire your spirit, Bess, but answer one question before you leave me — will you go home 1 " " Will you go home 1 " — the words were like sweet bells ringing in her ears, sweet as marriage bells to the waiting bride. Presently the bells seemed t ) be muffled, and to toll U I I 334 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY ? as if for a funeral rather than to give the merry peal for a wedding. She could not answer. " Now, hiok here, Bess, let us put the ease in a plain, prac- tical way. You have disappointed me, very seriously disap- pointed me; hut you are the chief loser in doing so. I do not want to be too hard upon you; I would likt; to be kind to you, }>ut I can only l>e so under certain conditions." " \Viiat are the conditions, Sir T' '■' Take you I actual position lir.st. The man you left your home for has left you ; you are miserable, and I say ' (^omc Innne.' Tlicn come the conditions. You must come honu; as if vou were a widow, and. you must resolve to have nothing iJiLiC to do Avith tliat — man." She staggered and almost groaned, so dc^ep was the ])reath she drew. Then res})ectfully, but resolutely : *• I am sorry, Sir, but I cannot go with you on these con- ditions.'" " Now, don't be a fool again ; I slndl not repeat the offe)-. Look at it from a practical point of view. The man induced you to run away with him because he expected me to give you a fortune, no matter what you did or who you married. Ho found out liis mistake, and he left 3^ou." " He was obliged to go," she cried, in agony, l)ut wavering between her yearning for home and the fidelity she felt to l>e due to her husband. " Tut, tut, listen to me. He has left you ; I say, come home. He sought you oidy for the money he expected you to bring him. Very well, come home, and I shall settle upon hini the full allowance I have given to you. 1 have been fortunate ; 1 would like to save you from grief, and so 1 an- ready to do this if you are willing to turn your back upon tiie scamp wlio has ruined you. He will be glad enough of the ex- change, and 1 will add fifty a year to the amount for your sake. Come, that is a fair offer." " He will never consent to such a bargain as that." "Try him." " He would despise, me for yieldnig." '^ Give him the chiince of deciding between an expeiic^.ive u_/> peal for a lain, prac- isly (lisap- so. I do to be kind IS." left your ay ' Conic le home as e nothing ;lie breath tliese con- tlie offer, m induced give you ried. Ho wavering felt to 1)0 say, come ted you to ettle upon have been id so I an/ : upon the of tlie ex- your sake. SACKCLOTH AND ASHES. 335 wife and a free income, wliicli woultl be a good thing for any man in his position." Her mind swayed to and fro, all the desolation and misery of her pOfiition, and the feverish home-sickness which had afflicted her of late swaying her one way, the remembrance of the Major's devotion and hupefnliiess swaying her another. She lacked faith, and mistaking her own inclination for a desire to prove his truth, she said, deliberately : " I will try him. You shall write and ofi'tir him in ex- change for his wife an unburdened income. If he consents, asfree. " No, it is not to be done that way. You must go homo with me to-night, and when lie returns to s«;ek you — which I do not suppose he ever means to do — then the offer can be made to him. T know how to arrange a baru-ain." " But if he does return — and he will — and if he refuses your offer, you will not prevent me going to him I " "Certainly not." " Then I shall go with you, for I hate this place, it is so desolate." " You had better go and get ready." He sat down, as if he had clos«'d a bargain, and was at lib- erty to proceed with his other affairs ; no sign of affection or of joy; and she left the room, in sad doubt as to whethex" or not she should have yielded to his plan ; but she was too deeply humiliated to make any efibrt to win him from the stern policy lie had adopted. il expeUoive 336 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY ? CHAPTER LI. "HOiMK, SWKET HOMK." IlKjWent liome. The trial in meeting Miss Jjinct and Coila was severe, and their exceeding (h'sire to make her comfortable and happy only made her the more miseral)l(5, because it reminded her of the eciuivocal position she occupied in the houseiiold, where she had been so recently the first to be consid«}red and the first to move. She was demure and patient. For the first few days she kept her room ; by-and-by she began to move about the groujuls, but shrank and shuddered at the approach of any of the servants. 8he felt like a guilty creature doing penance for her sin. But it was such a joy to be home again, even under these conditions, such a joy to move hither and thither in familiar scenes. She had never known how beautiful the place was until now, when she had returned from what had threatened to be an eternal banishment. Although Marjoribanks made no attempt to conceal the re- turn of his daughter, he did not talk about it, and it had so hap- pened that the arrival took place late in the evening. The carriage passed even Cockie-leerie without him observing who was in it. In consequence, the return of the prodigal daughter was unknown beyond the household for almost twenty-four hours. But afterwards, the news spread rapidly enough to make up for lost time. A few slirugged their shoulders in pitying con- tempt ; but by far the greater number of the ladies spoke of Bess with sincere commiseration and sympathy. They only refrained from seeking her because they knew that in present circumstances the kindliest service they could render was to respect her privacy. She was thankful to be left alt>ne ; but she could not live un- " IIOMK, SWKKT IIOMK. •>•»' • ).i, iiiict «ind to make he more position I recently days she bout the of any of nance for iler these 1 familiar )lace was tened to the ro- so hap- r. The ing who daughter 3nty-four make up ing con- >oke of ey only present was to live un- der a cloud, and with all the means of enjoym(Mit within her reach came; speedily tlie desire to us(> tlimi. She saw h(;r horse; taken out rcgulaily ])y Lcishinan for ex- ercise. She wouhl have liked to exercisi; him herself, and he- gan to weary for the afternoon gallop, which had heen formeily the great delight of her 11 33« WHAT^WILL THK WOULD SAY ? never expressed a desire to pass beyond the boundary of the grounds. But the blithe, mischievous spirit which piodominated, showed itself furtively at intervals. She would still, in a sly way, make fun of poor Miss Janet ; wickedly suggest that there was a curious change in the colour of her hair, and won- diT if it coidd be due to her disappointment on account of l)eing stayed in her mad career towards Edinburgh with Killievar. *' Vou know, dear, it is nonsense," Miss Janet would say, in real distress. '* We were looking for you, dear, and — where can the needles have gone to 1 Now, phfase do not disturb yourself on my account i it will annoy nn; very much if ycui do. Oh, thank you, dear, so very much — but, please, do not speak in that ridiculous way about Killievar and me again. Don't, dear." Miss Janet, looking anxiously un(!<3r the table, smiled as if the subject were not unendurable. Then with Coila : " When did you see Austin 1 " " Yesterday evening. He has been most faithful in his at- tendance upon the sufferers from the Bell Pit accident ; he has been most devoted, and has saved the lives of three men, who were given up by every other doctor." " Oh, he has been faithful in his attendance ! — and I presume you have not been remiss either." " I have gone often to see the men, and have been very glad to watch their improvement. I have done all I could to help the widows, for I thought I had to do your share of the work as well as my own." " That was a good soul ; thank you for my share. Of course you saw Jdm often 1 " " Very frequently." " Then you have got it all settled between you 1 " "All what?" " Your misunderstanding. You have explained to him the foolish idea which made you so cruel to him ; you have kissed and made it up, and you are going to live happy ever after, as the story books say." " No, Bess, we have not settled it in that way," was th« " IIOMK, HVVKKT HOMK." VjIV.) iry of th« lominated, 11, in a sly g^(?st that and won- nt of being Lillievar. mid say, in nd — vvhoro lot disturb uch if you [ISO, do not mo again. miled as if I in his at- pnt ; he has ) men, who I I presume n very glad lid to help the work Of course Lo him the lave kissed tr after, as r was the sighing answer ; " wo are friends, it is a pleasure to meet him, and that is all." " What, have you not told him, as you threatemMl to do, that I was the cause of your refusal 1 " " No." "What a silly girl you are ! — with so many opportunities for nn explanation, and not to tak(^ advantage of onc^ of them. 1 would have b(;en married to him by tliis time." " 1 never can explain to him." "Now, Coila, you are naturally stupid, but Tong, that you cared noth- ing for him, and that all my sacrifice only meant so much vex- ation to him, an 1 — oh, so much agony to me." The simph; eariu^stness of the girl, and the entire absence of anytliing like a reproachful feeling, had far more eil'ect upon Bess than the most unanswt^rable accusations would have had. " Tell him now, then, and I will bear witness to what you say." " I cannot," was Coila's reply ; "besides, it would l)e useless ; he does not care for me now." She left the room, feeling that i'f she remained longer she would either cry or become angry, for it was impossible to for- get altogether that Bess had been tiie cause of much unneces- sary suffering to her and to Austin. J Jess sent for Leishman ; she knew that the man would obey her implicitly without being inquisitive. She sent him for Austin Mr.rray. The message w^as a mysterious one, and it puzzled Austin considerably when he received it. " The mistress bade me give this to you, Sir, and to say that she would count upon seeing you," was all Leishman said when he delivered the note?. He rode off irximediately. The note said : "Come to Ravclston this evening at half-past eight. If you are seen, make some excuse for tne visit. You will find mc standing by the stoXue on the terrace, in front of the dining- room window. Do not fail, your own and the happiness of another depends on your obedience. A lady's handwriting, and no signature. Was it Coila 1 — the penmfinship did appear to be written with some attempt at disguise, but he ^bought he v/ould have known Coila's hand no .natter hy»v slie had tried to hide it. So it could not be hers. Was it Bess ? He had heard of her return, and that she was living in strict seclusion. But what had Ids happiness to do witli meeting her. He performed his work that afternoon as rapidly as possible, and at the appoint(;d hour was on th(3 terrace at Ravelston. Cockic-leerie was the only one who had seen him. .. - ■ r [ired noth- nuch vex- abscncc of ffect upon have had. what you be useless ; longer she ible to for- h unneces- vvould obey nt him for ;led Austin to say that [1 said when lit. If you ill find me ,he dining- ppiness of Coila 1— le attempt Joila's hand n\d not be hat she was Iness to er with a white face a!id stai-iiig eyes. 8he spoke as if she had heard news which she could not understand. " He is dead." 34G WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY? |i i! " Yes, and we must not make any sham mourning about it. I am glad it is so ; you are luckier than you had any right to expect. You may do anything yet as the widow of a roman- tic adventurer ; you would have been miserable as his wife. I am glad this has happened — he has done you the best turn he could." " He is d(;ad," she repeated, as if trying by the mere itera- tion of the sound to realize its meaning. " There, take the papers and go up to your room ; have a good sleep and we v/ill talk about it in the morning. I think you arc in luck, for he never intended to return to you." She looked at him ^'acantly, then gathered up the papers and went to her own room. She was not stunned, but bewildered ; a little while ago she had been a wife, and now she was a widow — that is, she would never see her husband again. It was queer, and resulted in dull stupefaction, but no tears or hysterics. Austin and Coila were utterly forgotten. ; about it. ly right to a roman- is wife. I st turn he oaere itera- n ; have a I think ou." papers and Bwildered ; as a widow 1. It was tears or AN INTERESTING WIDOW. 347 CHAPTER LIII. AN INTERESTING WIDOW. AKJORIBANKS being still suspicious that the de- parture of* the Major had been due to the discovery that Bess would not bring him the expected fortune, rather than to any necessary engagement, made every inquiry as to his fate by letters and telegrams. The news was con- firmed as far as it could be by the statements of the moun- taineers whom K.ilgour had led through such brilliant exploits as those which gained the victory of Lacar. There was even a message from Don Carlos himself, condol- ing with the widow of his lamented friend. That removed all doubt, and Marjori banks was satisfied and glad. Now there was a hope for Bess ; she might make a brilliant match yet, and the romantic story of her escapade with Major Kilgour would give additional attraction and interest to her charms. His calculation proved correct ; the whole county was ex- cited to the utmost degree by the series of strange events which had afflicted the family of Ravelston ; letters and cards of condolence poured in upon Marjoribanks and his daughter ; each card representing the burning curiosity of Bome triei dly neighbour to see the widow, and to learn how she was bta-ring her loss. She was bearing it wonderfully well. At first there was a period of bitter disappointment that he could not return as the conquering hero her imagination had pictured, when she would liave been so grpciously condescending to those who had con- demned her choice, and, leaning on his arm, she would have walked in bridal wreaths, smiling through the midst of ad- miring crowds. That was a disappointment. But then there came all the excitement of selecting her mourning gear, of arrr^nging it in the most becoming fashion, and of choosing the best and most expensive material, in accordance with her faoher'sinstruc- ^^1 If 348 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY ? ■.-1! *■ tion. She almost forgot her melancholy condition in her busy consultations with dressmakers and milliners. But when she surveyed herself for the first time in the largo mirror, dressed in complete wiiloAv's weeds, looking decid cried. Hither- to she had t;iougLt most o- the ciiciim«t;inccs as they affected hers(df The tears did not endure long, and t'l sh i id spoken quite honestly she would have owned that her sorro.v was mingled with a shadowy sense of relief, which she scarcely dared to ac- knowledge to herself, but which was there all the same, that she had escaped from the troublous unceitainties which a future with a husband like Kilgour would have involved. It was a wicked feeling and she turnerself. But it was agreeable to know that all the world was talking about her, sympathising with her, and full of curiosity to see her. Kilgour's death seemed to have atoned for all his faults and hers. Then he had died so gallantly ; the newspaper correspondents mentioned his bravery in such glowing terms that she was proud of his memory. She took the pleasure of a girl who puts on her first long skirt in examining herself in the glass, and in trying the differ- ent effects of the dresses approju'iate to her new character as a Avidow. There was aim )st a sly twinkle of fun tiashing from beneath the widow's cap, the face was so young, the figure so girlish, that she seemed to be dressed up for juivate theatricals I'ather than to be wearing the tokens of loss and sorrow. " Now, 13ess," said Marjoribanks to her a few weeks after the battle of Lacar, " I have given you time enough to get over wliatever grief you thought it desirable to show for your hus- l)and, as we must call him ; but I want you to understand me. You an^ not going to be a widow all your days ; and I expect that next time you marry you will try to please me, seeing that the first time you liave pleased yourself only — and I think you have found it a failure." " i shall do just as you want mn, papa," she answered, de- murely ; " I shall marry a nigger if you say that you wish me to do so." AN INTRKKSTfNC! WIDOW. 349 n her busy n the large T decidedly on account 1, there did rl. Hit-un-- iiuy affected poken quite ivas mingled dared to ac- e same, that ies which a ^'olved. from it, de«- that all the her, and full ) have atoned •respondents .hat she was er first long the difler- aracter as a ashing from the figure so c theatricals rrow. ks after the to get over r your hus- crstand me. nd I expect , seeing that I think you liswered, de- lou wish me " 1 si) not ask yon to dn;el)ody who .vdl ho. able to ir -ke you happy in tht- only way 'o;i ever v dl l»e liaj>py, ))y givnig you position, and l)y surroi' iding you witli luxuries Oonie, tell the truth ajid "hame tl -. di^il — you were not happy in those niiserabh' lodg- ings Kilgour took yow to i" , '" I was not." " That's honest ; I like to hear people speak out the truth. Well, there's no hope of ('onnoughniore now ; but there is a young fellow wlio saw yon driving with me last week, and has asked my leave to moke up to you. Me is om; of the largest shipowners in Glasgow, and it's my opinion the affair with the Major has done you some service^ in his eyes. Suppose 1 ask him to spend a few days here, there will be no nonsense with him, you will treat him kindly 1 " "I shall obey you, papa^ in everything." " You aid that once before, and you made a fool of me." " It was not altogether my fault." " We sliall not discuss the (piestion. But look heie, Cess, think of yourself, and try to remember that I am thinking of you. It does not matter to me whom you marry, except that it would be so much pleasanter if you got somebody who would be agreeal)le to me, and who would make you comfortable." " I hope you will have no reason to complain of my conduct again." "You are lucky ; you have a splendid opportunity, and I shall expect you to prove yourself my daughter by making th(5 most of it." *' I shall try." After that conversation she w^ent out to the grounds to walk. She did not feel quite satisfied with heiself, although she was quite determined to obey her father this time, no matter wliat she might suffer in consequence, liut there were certain little signs of devotion on the Major's part which recurred to hei', and stung her sharply with t \\e. thought that she was cruel as well as ungracious to his memory in thinking so soon about a second marriage. The fact tliat the subject was thrust upon her did not in the least soothe the prickings of her conscience. She was quite conscious of the sym[)athy and admiration which lier appearance excited ; and she was gratitie.d by it. ■t ma: if ¥ti^ 350 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAT ? But when the subject of a secoiul union was brought so close to her .'IS it had been by lier father just now, she was stirred with compunction, roused to tlie knowhslge that she; was not behaving ri'ilitly, and she was troul)le(l. Her bric^f widowliood had been agreeable ; it was something to be the object of uni- versal condolence, and something to b(; the object of sympathy, which is always the handmaid to love. She would like to re- main a widow a little longer. She had wandered down to the foot of the park near the lodge, and she was suddciidy confronted by Cockie-leerie. " My father-in-law," was her first horrified thought ; but then, as she looked at the tall, erect form, with the white curly hair, now matted as if it had not been combed for weeks, and the sallow, careworn face, she felt sorry for him, and held out her hand. He did not take it. " I have been trying to get a word with you, Mrs. Kilgour, ever since you came home ; but they wouldna let me." " I am vexed at that, Macbeth, for I would have been glad to see you." " It's kind of you to say it ; thank you. But I'm no going to fash you, and I mean to leave this place, so that I may be no hindrance to onybody ; only, afore I go I would like to speir at you, mistress, just ae question." " What is it ] " " I kent fine that your man was my Hector the first minute I seed him ; he was just what I might have been mysel, if I hadna married the plaiden merchant's daughter. But I wasna going to own to him when he wouldna own to me ; and, after- wards, I didna want to spoil sport. Odd, if I had jaloused that you was wanting to meet him yon night I was watching you, fient a bit of me would have hindered you." " But the question." " I'm coming to that. They say he is dead — do you really think it's true, or is it that you only wish it to be true, and so believe it ? I dinna believe it." The question and the comment almost stunned her. Cockie-leerie was the first to suggest a doubt of the Major's death ; and his quiet air of thorough conviction, combined with the suddenness of the assertion to startle and bewilder her. " No, no, Macbeth," she said recovering ; " there is no hope. nl »•■ iif I'; Iif ght so close was slimMl sU(^ was not widowliood bjoct of uni- )t' synipatliy, 1(1 like to iv- )ark near the ;-leerie. tiouglit; but i^ white curly )r weeks, an«l and hehl out Mrs. Kilgour, , me. ave been giacl i I'm no going that I may be would like to he first minute [een mysel, if I But I wasna ; and, after- had jaloused was watching -do you really )e true, and so Id her. of the Major's Icombined with Wilder her. lere is no hope. AN INTERKSTINCJ WIDOW. ;]5i You cannot know all that has been done to ascertain liis fate, or you would be satisfied, as we all are, that there is no hope." "What has been done T' She told him, repeating as closely as she could remember the actual words of the letters and telegrams, and she promised to show him the message of Don Carlos. He listened with grave attention, breathing occasionally a half suppressed exclamation of surprise, disappointment, or doubt. When she had finished, he saiasur<% I'll l)i(l«'," \w .'uiswjm'cmI .it'Lcr much Ijosit'itioii. So tli.it was settled. Slic! haan»r.s father, whatever nii^ht liaitpeiito lierself, nh.h<>ii,i;li she still shrank from an open aclvn<>whMl,^ineiit of tlie nilatioMship in whi(;h sin? stood to him. lUit it was a kind of penance slu^ was paying for lier folly, and that idea helped mateiially to sustain her stslf-respect. h= ■■ PEllPLEXITY. 353 at'U'r much i to tho com- i-n to licrsolf, MlU'Ht of tVjt) viis a kiinl of ClIAPTEK LIV. PERPLEXITY. S) ESS was in anything but a contented frame of niiml when she turned again to the house. The suggestion of Macl)eth still seethed in her mind, and spoiled all tlie beautiful resignation she had begun to find in her interest- ing widowhood 1 Life had so many pleasures for iuT that it w:\s irritating to have it crossed by such an awkward possi- bility as that of a husband who was suppos«^d to be dead turn- ing up again at any unexpected moment. Would she be sorry 1 She did not know ; she could not answer tho question even to herself. If he would only appear as the hero she had im- agined coming to claim her, then she would be proud ; if otherwise ! — she would rather not think of the matter. It was much more agreeable to her to put unpleasant thoughts aside than to face them before the necessity arose. She was philosophical in that respect. However, she ex- amined again all the documents referring to the Major, and felt assured that there was no hope. Then she lamented him, not exactly as he was, but rather as what she fancied he might have been. " No message from Austin yet ? " she had said several times to Coila. *• . '^ None." " Never mind," she would say, patting her cousin's cheeks, " it was my fault that in the confusion of that night he was forgotten, and I will see you through it, don't fear." " He will think — he must think, it was another slight I put upon him, and he will not speak to me again." " Give him credit for a little common sense ; if you can't, why on earth should you bother about him 1 Ht was sud- denly carried away to London in attendance upon one of his wealthiest patients. But for that he would have seen me, and w ni, 354 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY ? everything would have been explained. Being away, he does not like to write, knov/ing what has happened to me." " I wish it may be so." " It is so ; and, poor fellow, I hope he did not catch his death of cold waiting for you that night. I would never forgive myself." " It was such a pity you forgot, Bess ; but how could you remember at such a terrible time ? " '' I doMt know ; anyhow I did not ; but it will be all right by and by." Ooila shook her head and smiled, dreamily — hope and sor- rowful doubt had equal shares in the smile. Austin had been indeed bitterl}? disappointed. He had turned away from Ravelston on the niglit Btiss had told him to wait, with the sad conviction that Coila, by declining to meet him, gave a too unmistakable repetition of her refusal to marry him. Boss was mistaken in her good-natured surmise of the cause of Coila's refusal ; it was soixxething else than gratitude to her cousin which had moved her to act so strangely. What else 1 Was it not possible that Marjoribanks, the shrewd man of business, had detected the real cause — that she had been attracted hy Kilgour 1 The thought stung him, and he quitted the place with hasty steps. He returned several times, however, taking liimself severely to task for his nonsense, and still hoping against liope that, late as the hour was, she might yet appear. She did not appear. On the following morning he was told of the death of Kilgour at Lacar, and, sensibly enough, he at once associated the news of this event with the absence of Coila and the silence of Bess. Mrs. Murray saw that her son was much disturbed, but on such occasions she discreetly left him to his own devices. She answered him when h« spoke, but never attempted to force conversation upon him, knowing that when he was able he would explain everything. His intention was to see Bess after a decent interval, and learn from her why Coila had not met him. Then came the summons to attend his patient to London — a rich old gentle- man,, who had taken a great fancy to him. lie was only to be y, he does catch his uld never could you )e all right )e and sor- , He had bold him to ng to meet refusal to red surmise g else than to act so ibanks, the ie — that she with hasty ing himself gainst hope he was told lough, he at absence of i'l-)ed, but on vices. She ted to force was able ho nterval, and en came the 1 old gentle- LS only to be I'ERPLEXITY. 3; i):) away for a few days ; but liis absence continued for weeks ; and so there had ))een no opportunity of coming to an understand- ing with Coila. lie would not write to her, and he could not write to Bess at present. Me told liis mother something of the position of aft'airs, and she being a sensible woman, thought that now Bess was unat- tainable, Coila would 1j<' a good l)argain, and encouraged him to hope. But when it became known tiiat Bess was a widow, Mrs. Murray changed lier tactics, and threw cold water on tlu3 ardent fire wliich would have promi)ted Austin to comnuinicate with one of the two ladies dircict. Mrs. Murray really intended no harm ; only she was selfish on her son's account. She wanted him to obtain the best and richest wife within his reach, and she had an honest belief that Bess would be the best wife, even apart from the wealth she might bring, although that was certainly a heavy weight in the scale in her favour. So she contrived, without compromising her son, that he shoidd hold his tongue in the meanwhile, until she could un- derstand the position of affairs, and decide wliat he ought to do. She had no idea of directing him, but she was quite sure of being able to influence him, an«l probably to marry him to the wife she thought most suitable. She was a very quiet woman, but very persistent ; and quiet persistence is most potent in the direction of human affjiirs. Bess began to drive out daily for the benefit of her health, as formerly she had been in the habit of riding. The demure* prettiness of her face, charmingly set in the widow's bonnet, full of the suggestiveness of the capacity for mirth or pity, laughter or tears, rendered her most attractive, and contrasted strikingly with the pale sweetness of her companion, Coila. The former caught the eyes of people as a magnet catches a needle ; the latter was always too absorbed, too earnest to flash upon the mind. It was in the quiet nooks of suffering, where the gentle hand and the sympathetic nature were needed, that Coila was pre-eminent. She was i othing beside her brilliant cousin driving along in the glare of day. "We can't go in, we have so many things to do," said Bess, Murray came to the gate and exchanged greetings. (( Have you heard from your son, lately I 1 1 i 350 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY ? " This morning. He is very well, but anxious to be home." " When is he likely to he home ? " " It is impossible to say. Tlie gentleman he has gone with is very i'l, and he has sucli conridence in my son that he will not part with him on any account." " He ought to leave iiiin a handsome legacy. Please toll Austi 1 to call at Kavelston as soon .is he comes home." Anace. He threw away his cigar, took a firmer grasp of staff, and advanced steadily, but slowly, and more slowly as he ap])roached the entrance to th" millionaire's home. The gates swung open, tlu' carnage swept out — ahnost run ning over the strangei' — and passed on down the road swiftly. The man stood looking i:fter it ; he had only caught a glim))se of the two ladies who sat in the cariiage, but he had noted that l)oth were dressed in black. The ladies had becai so deeply engaged in conversation that they had not observed him at all. " Who's dead ?" he muttered to himself, still watching the receding cari'iage. The gates clanged as Cockie-leerie shut them. The stranger drew his hat lov/er on his brow, and the broad collar of his coat higher. *' A cold day, friend," he said, turning to the gatekeeper. " It is that." *' Would you mind letting me warm my hands at your fire ] " "Come in^ and welcome." Cockie-leerie's was a hospital)le disposition, and he was al ways eager for a " crack ;" indeed, his fondness for society had more to do with tlie failure of his career, than his marriage with the plaiden merchant's daughter, although he had never disc^overed that fact. He opened the side gate, and the stranger followed him itito the lodge. The room was small, and the heavy eaves of the window made it almost dark this afternoon. Coals had l)een recently placed o • die fire, so tluit whilst there was a red glow beneath the grate, th'?r ? wa?; blackness above. " I'll rouse the fire in a mhmte — sit you down," said the host, seating himself, an.l beginning to poke Ihe fire. "Thank you" " You'll be a stvani/.er here:*bouts ? " " Yes, in a manixyr , bit 1 »iave been here before. Is there fiJ'4 THE stran(}i:r at the gate. 359 .' a' thae e. Thf^re ull atiiios- !S shivered [I groaned. I \w slack- er grasp of owly as he dmost run ad swiftly. taglinn»se noted that so dee 1)1 y him at all. atching the d tlic broad ekeeper. your fire "i he was al society had [is marriage had never led him into laves of the lis had Vteen a red glow laid the host, Is there any of the Ravelston family dead 1 — I saw the ladies were in mourning." Cockie-leerie paused in his assault on the fire, and balanced the poker in his hand ; but he did not hft his head ; he spoke as if he were slowly reading the words in the red embers be- tween the bars of the grate, " No, there's naebody dead at the house, exactly ; but, you see, the young mistress made a moonlight marriage, and her man is said to be dead, and they are all very weel pleased." "Oh ! and is the lady pleased ? " " Who can tell 1 She's a queer creature ; whiles I think she's no right in her head, and whiles T think she is the best and bonniest woman that ever was born. She has been aye good to me, and I must speak the best word I have for her ; but, ony- way, she has put on her mournings with right good will, and there's nae prospect of her breaking her heart for the loss of her man." " I suppose she will soon throw aside her widow's cap, and make a better match next time," " No a doubt about it. Baxter — he's the butler, ye ken — whiles comes down to me now, thinking maybe that I'm of some consecpience owing to the relationship — but that's neither here nor there. Baxter comes down and has a crack with mo late at even, and maybe a tumbler ; and he kens a heap moro nor folk think, or he let's on. Weel, he says that there's a speak out already about a new man for the young mistress. She's bright and clever, ye ken, e^/J ^ije will have a heap of siller if she marries wi' her father's VfiU/' The stranger sat for a few seconds in Bthnte^ Mk hands spread before the fire to warm them, shade the small portion of face which was visiVyl'^ " I presume from what you tell me," he said, ^Mch'M\y " that her late husband was some scamp, whom they were j^i4 to get rid of on any terms." " He was nae scamp. Sir," cried Cockie-leerie, with fierce en- ergy, and thrusting the poker into the fire so that it flamed up, " he was a brave man and he was — Lord be here, it's himsel' ! " The two men gazed at each other ; the Major put out his hand, the bright flame which had betrayed him still playing on his face. The face was much browner than it had been before and serving at the sam/* time to 360 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY? ,1' i,:': Ml 'iW his departure for Spain, but the eyes were keen, and the smile as quietly self-possessed as ever, onl}'^ there was a line of sad ness in it now. Cockie-leerie gulped down something which might have been a sob, and gripped the offered hand with both his own, looking at the long absent son with wonder and intense admiration. " Man, and you're no dead ! " was his first exclamation. Another long pause ; then he rose, and with simple dignity placing his hands on the shoulders of his son, he said • " I am proud to see you, Hector, and I am proud that you should come to me first. It's like the prodigal coming home, and though I have no fatted calf to kill for you, my heart is proud and glad to see you. I liave thought about you many's the time, and wished that I might see you oace before I gang to the long home. That's granted • I'm satisfied. Eh, lad, but it was hard to thole when jou Mere here a while syne that you wouldna own me ; but I was real pr cud of you all the same." The son pressed the old man'^ ^^and again. *' Thank Heaven for this hour, at any rate," he said, " it will do me good to think that I made you happy even for a minute, father. But for that I would wish that my steps had wandered anywhere except to Ravelston." " And what for should you have such an unnatural wish, when both your wife and father are here ] " " Because my wife does not want me, as it seems from your account." "I never sad that." " No matter, what you have told me amounts to the same thing. The whole affair was a mistake on my part as well on hers." " De'il a bit o't — carry her off to Spain and she ha'-' s]>int enough to lead a regiment on to victory or death. She's just the very wife for a soldier, take my word for it " " I, daresay, when he is fortunate." Tiiat was said with some bitterness. " Hoot', man, but there is aye the chance of luck next time in a soldier's life." " Yes, the luck of a grave. But that is stuff; I had a hoj)e —which was ridiculous, so we shall say no more about it. I THE STRANGER AT THE GATE. 3G1 d the smile line of sad t have been kvn, looking fiiration. nation, pie dignity d- id that you ning home, my heart is you many's fore I gang . Eh, lad, while syne • you all the id, " it will pr a minute, "^ wandered tural wish, from your o the same as well on have been accustomed to take life contentedly as it came to me, but I have found it a little difficult within the last hour to re- concile myself to the knowledge; that she was glad 1 was dead." " I never said that," exclaimed Cockie-leerie, more energeti- cally than before. "No, no, you did not." " I am glad you own it, for I would be vexed to miscall her, especially to you." " And I would not like to hear it. But it is a toss up with me at this moment whether to set off again and leave her to tlie pleasant belief that she is a widow, or to make myself known. The first would be the kindest act to her." " But you cannot do it." " Why ] " " Because I would let the truth be known before you could get to the station. Na, na, Hector, my man, you will just sit down again and bide or she comes hame. There's to be no more runnings awa' ; she's your wife and you will both -.talvi the best of your bargain." " I believe you are right." " I am sure as death of it. So whilst you are waiting you will tell me all about what you have seen, and what you have been doing. Man, I'm that anxious to ken that I'm fear't to hear the carriage." Kilgou" was in anything but a mood for the retailing of his adventures. However, he forced himself to begin the story, and the enthusiastic interest of the old man speedily inspired him with forgetfulness of the present in ihe excitement of his recollections of tlu; past. t! 3 ha a])irit She's just next time icid a hope )out it, I 3G2 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY ? M I i mm ft - 4 1 : 4 T 'n •x u CHAPTER LVI. THK " LOOK our." HE carriage liid not return tluit afternoon nntil a later liour than usual. The reason was that Bess had been seized by one of her inexi)licable whims, and declared her resolution to pay a vi>»it to the "look-ont" at the top of the j^len. This was immeay a visit imriKMliutely icli an exciir- , least, if we with the re- ith Austin — is so distant )uld see grey nany months ,1 hands of a it is possible our marriage iy accident." they ascend- the cold and o something She had not ot sinc(5 the immediately Y^ " and be saitl Coila, THE " LOOK-OUT." 3G3 laughing, and springing up the ladder, eyes sparkling and cheeks Hushed. Then, as she stepped on to the platform, she cried " Oh ! " in amazement and confusion, for her hand was grasped, not by that of Bess, but by a man's ; and the man was Austin Murray. A merry peal of laughter from Bess, as she said : " V^ou will find me in the carriage when you are tired of each other." She bowed, laughed wickedly again, and tripped nimbly down the ladder, then scamperew you how indifferent I was to you, and all the time my ievc it. But r, and I am able to sec cro making, ig fellow as e has never ne on which Then your now it was ling all that cause it was dy, whilst it s, wondering id confessed. ,nd drew her •ship. They ade amends jr we did for ig with joy ; shall mend |said, laugh- keen wind fire of love )ila, though Ilis. I had again, ex- }d to speak licious in a |i trying to time my THE "LOOK-OUT.' Mrj lieart was yearning for you. Those meetings at the Miners' Row almost drove me crazy, for they j)roved how d«;:ir you were to me, although pride would not permit me to speak." " And I thouglit you really had ceased to care for me, and I was very sad. I used to go houicand cry ; th(f coming years showed m(^ only a dreary waste-land, in which no Howcr of hope could grow. But all is changed now, and it seems a pleasant garden filled with fruits and beautiful fiowers, through which we are to walk han I ! THE BATTLE OF THE HEART. . Their J waiting le was to she had arms im- sitated to drove me o see me. •eally glad gladness." jating the jam. V did you and taken aved very n as I got and each ie number have been y one who me back to r a general )t serve m u." omentary tom every- (hose glory Iment, and 3G9 rendering her choice of a husband an enviable one. Then to learn that he came back without distinction of any kind was very disagreeable. Everybody would ridicule her. " I came back, Bess, because I was thinking about you," he said. " In all the heat of the fight, in all the monotony of the hospital and the fortress, I was tliinking of you, and yearn- ing to see you again. I hesitated to return, for I knew that my promise was unaccomplished. I had neither position nor fortune to offer you. I was anxious about you, too, thinking of you alone in London. I thought it would cheer you to see me, poor as I was, and disappointed as you must be by my return." " You had no business to think I would be disappointed," she interrupted, sharply. He went on without seeming to have observed the interruption. " When I learned at our lodgings that you had returned to Ravelston, 1 was relieved, for then I knew that you had been spared many petty annoyances ; but I was vexed, too, for your return here seemed to be a sign that you had abandoned me. You were right — I was a failure ; there was no hope of any future with me that could satisfy you. . . . You don't know what a hard thing it is for a man to look calmly at his life and to own that it is a failure." " But you can begin again," she said, looking at the floor, and feeling that somehow she was wanting in all kindness — that his utter frankness lifted him above her. " I might if — but I want to tell you how I came here. At first, it seemed to me that it would be kindest not to show myself at all ; then it seemed cruel to keep you in doubt, and I felt that it was due to you to come and tell you the truth. I would confess more, only you would laugh at it as foolish senti- ment — I am inclined to laugh at it mj self occasionally. But I had an unconquerable desire to see you once more, and to discover how you would treat me when you learned that all my grand hopes were not to be realized, that all my big pro- mises ended, as bunkum always does, in nothing." " It is a misfortune." She was still looking at the floor, trying to understand her- self, and quite innocent of any intention to give pain. X i 1 370 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY ? " A great misfortune for you. On coming here I learned for the first time that you believed mo dead. I would have gone away and left you to that pleasant belief, but Macbeth — my father, I ought to say — discovered me, and threatened to proclaim me if 1 dared to move without speaking to you. So I remained, and I am sorry for having vexed you." She looked up quickly, as if to say something sliarp — checked herself, and sat down on one of the wooden chairs. " What do you mean to do now ? " she asked after a pause, and with forced calmness. ' To say good-bye ; to go away and to leave you as free as if you had really been the widow you wished to be." There was a curious quivering about her lip, and a nervous clutching of the hands ; but she answered calmly : " I cannot be free, since I know that you are alive." "Then I shall arrange to be killed at as early a date as may be convenient. It can be easiiy done — I have only to break my parole and to appear in the Carlist ranks again ; then there will not be the slightest chance of my escape, for even my nationality will not shield me a second time." " Are you in earnest ? " " Perfectly ; why should you think otherwise ? " She got up and gripped his arm, gazing fixedly in his face. " Because you are cruel — because you are mocking me. You believe me incapable of one kindly feeling or of one un- selfish thought. — be fair to me ; remember that in an hour of thoughtlessness I hazarded and lost fortune and ease on your account. Now, when they are restored to me, when I am calm, and have the past experience to guide me and to show me the folly of my conduct as well as yours, it is not wonderful that I should be stupid and bewildered, not knowing which way 1 ought to turn for /our sake as much as my own." " Turn your back upon me, Bess ; go home and be silent. I shall not trouble you again." " Do you care for me ?" There had been bitterness as well as regret in his manner, yet he did not fail to admire the honesty with which she spoke ; but at that question he regarded her earnestly, and his eyes kindled with the question " Is it possible that she can love me?" I . I I learned ould have Vlacbeth — jatened to ) you. So • > — checked er a pause, IS free as if [ a nervous e." iato as may ly to break ; then there or even my n his face, ocking me. of one un- an hour of ise on your 1 1 am calm, low me the erful that I lich way I i be silent. jis manner, she spoke ; nd his eyes le can love HI THE BATTLE OF THE HEART. 371 " Yes," he answered, quietly ; " I care so much that I would be glad to relieve you of my presence." A pause, she gazing steadily in his face as if trying to realize how much of his assertion was true, how much mere words. " Give me your arm and come with me." He obeyed, wondering what she meant. She led him straight up the avenue to the house, never speaking a word to indicate her purpose. There was a kind of haughty authority in her manner, mingh^d with " dourness," which forbade any attempt at conversation. Ho was interested and curious. They entered the house. Paying no heed to the wondering looks of the domestics, she passed up to the drawing-room, still leaning on Kilgour's arm. She rang the bell, and Baxter, who had followed them, in- stantly answered it. " Will you ask my father to speak to me for a few moments ? " Baxter bowed and retired. The Major was observing her closely, and his expression had suddenly become very cold. His customary .^If-possession re- turned to him, for he fancied that Bess, in her resolute way, had determined to have an immcnliate settlement of their position. Clearly, she did not care for him, although she had demanded an assertion of his regard for her. He did not like the position she had placed him in, and it seemed to be another proof of her eagerness to get rid of him that she stood gloomily silent, offering him no explanation of what she intended to do. He shrugged his shoulders : he had no right to expect any other reception than this — if she had only cared for him, how differently he would have borne his failure ! Enter Marjoribanks. As the door closed behind him, Bess advanced. " Here is my husband, Sir ; the report of his death was a mistake." " I am so sorry," said the Major, bowing. Marjoribanks looked at him sharply, cleared his throat, and : " Uli-hum — I am not sur[)rised. I thought he would soon turn up when he discovered you were settled here again ; he can't humbug me, although he managed to make a fool of you." '' Make your proposal to him, papa, and let us have done as 372 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY? '{ !i soon as we can ; bub please do not forget I am to blame as well as he." She seemed to be struggling with some emotion whilst she spoke, although the words were uttered deliberately enough. The position was hatt;ful to her ; there was not the least bit of romance about it, not the faintest glow of the halo of heroism touched her husband's head ; and the whole business now was reduced to the vulgar calculation — for how much would he sell the right lie had obtained to compel her to follow him 1 And this was the man whom she had imagined returning as the onquering hero, making a triumphal progress through admir- ing crowds, and she proudly leaning on his arm ! " You had better leave us to settle the bargain between our- selves. I will call you when we have done." " If you will allow me, papa, I wish to remain." " Very well. Now, Sir, we need not have many words. I hoped you had been shot, as you deserved to be ; but as you are here again, I expect you will not refuse to make some re- paration to iny daughter for having spoiled her prospects in life." " I shall be glad to discover any means by which I can make amends to her." Bess drew breath quickly ; her ftither was right, then ; the man thought only of her money, and was ready to sell her ! " Glad to hear it. This is what I expected of yor, and we can easily come to terms. I need not tell you what 1 think of you " " Quite unnecessary, you have shown it in so many ways." " Glad to hear that, too ; so we can proceed at once to make our bargain. I allowed my daughter two hundred a-year when she was with you, and when I never expected to see her again. How much will you take to quit the country, and to bind yourself never to see my daughter again, or to communi- cate with her in any way 1 " " Is it her wish that I should make this arrangement ? " said the Major quietly, and glancing at his wife. " Of course it is her wish." " Then we can easily agree about terms." Her flesh seemed to creep as she heard these words — how blindly foolish she had been — how wise her father. blame as hilst she enough, least bit • heroism now was Id he sell 1 1 And ig as the ;h admir- ^een our- rords. I it as you some re- ispects in jan make len ; the her ! and we think of I ways." to make a-year see her and to )mmuni- ?" said Is — how TFTE BATTLE OF THE HEART. 373 " I thouglit so," continued Marjoribanks, briskly. " Well, I propose to givc^ you the two hundred with fifty added on her account, providecl yon agree to the conditions I have named." Tiie Major went up to IJess. " You desire this 1 " " It is best for us both," she answered, coldly. A steady look into her eyes, and then his shoulde'-s liftcaHsionat(^ earncstm'ss : " Stop, you shall not go alone. Kitlun", you have mad«!your proposal, and he has refused it. V'ou promised that I shouhl he free to act as I thought best in that evtMit. I have nd time. Think of t\w. strug- gle we had Ix^fore ; it may be worse — it wdl bo worse this time. Be sure of what you are doing." *' 1 have decided ; I go with you." Th(^ Major turned, smiling, to Marjoribanks. ** You see, Sir, money is not everything after all." " It is easy to say that just now, but wait ; mind what you are about, Bess, and don't mistake me. T have yielded once to save you from a beggarly life I will not yield a second time." " I go with my husband." " Take care ; if you go with him you shall not have one penny from me, and 1 withdraw the allowance I made to you before." " 1 go with my husband," she repeated, resolutely. Marjoribanks was angry. " Very well ; you have been warned both by him and by mo. Take time to think of what you are doing — you are choosing between a life of comfort and a life of poverty." " I have chosen— I go wit!i my husband." " Uh-hum — very well. I can be dour as well as you ; but don't blame me when you come begging to me for help and I refuse it.'" TFrK BATTLE OF THE HEART. ^75 aftor liim, oke. He was conscious of the struggle in her heart ; he appreciat(;d the sacrifice she had made for him, and the difficulty she must have felt in deciding how to act when her father, friends, and fortune stood on one side, and only him and his poverty on the other. But he was all the more elated by her decision, all the more resolved to win distinction for her sake. She had a lingering fancy that at the last moment her father might relent and, seeing that he could not have his own way, that he might send after them. But no hurrying footst(^ps an- nounced the approach of a messenger of peace, and the black shadows wh'ch now crossed the avenue seemed to be symbolical of her fate. Sh«^ clung the more closely to her husband as she realized that he was to take the place of all whom she left be- hind. She was sad, but she would have acted precisely in the same way if she had had to do it over again. So they passed on under the shadows, but with love in their hearts, and therefore bright possibilities before them. The battle of the heart had been fought out, and the wife's duty and love had conquered all selfishness and vanity. T.OVK IS LORD OF AI-L. 377 ilo calciila- liad given '(lit. He e, li.'ind in It Imk nnule jfifl bowed ea«l erect, own, j)at- Imt witli >oke. Mo Ljiated the Tuist have ifl fortune he other, the more ler fatlier )\vn way, [;st(»p.s an- he black '^mbolical id as fi\\e p left be- y in the in their m. The uty and nUlTKU LVill. LOVK IS LOUD OK ALL. ]jj^ ARJ0RIBANK8 was unhapi)y. The Major iuul br- haved in (juito a diflVrcnt manner from what \\o had expected ; IJess had l)ehav('d dittere. 'y also. Me m had lu'en ready to make a bar^'ain which would have secured the c«»m[)arative comfort of lioth ; and they had both refused to be comfortable except in their <)wn way. For the first time in his career he had found money fail to remove all dilficulties. His calculations wen? upset ; his predictions as to the character of the man liess had chosen were shown to lie altog< ther wrong, aiul he was unhappy. He would have liked to call them back and let them tjike their own way ; but be was disappointed and annoyed, and he could not bring himself to own that he had been wrong. Secretly he acknowledged that perhaps, seeing things were as they were, it would have been the wisest thing to give Bess his blessing and a comfortable income. But his suspiciousness interfered and said " that is just what the man is bargaining for," and so he held his tongue, and would not call them back. He explained everything to Killievar ; and the chief disap- pointed bim, too, for, after mature deliberation, he spoke like* an oracle : " You are wrong. Sir, that is my opinion ; by doing wrong yourself you cannot make the fault of your daughter right. It is a very great pity that man was not shot as we thought he was, and as he ought to be. But since he is alivo and is her hus- band, there is no' getting over the difficulty, and you should have given them, any way, the income you promised at first." " I can punish the scoundrel by withholding the money." " Well, I am not precisely sure that he is just altogether a scoundrel ; for it was very decent and manly of him to offer to go away without anything at all. But whether that is so or is 37S WFIAT WILL TFrp: WOKLI) SAY? not SO, in trying to punish him, you make her suffer a very great deal more indc(Ml. I do not approve of tliat." " I can forget all about them. Coila shall he my daughter ; I'll give h(T half a million, and if that doesn't get her a goocl match, nothing will." But he was doomed to another disappointment on this score. Austin Murray s»'nthim a note, saying tiiathe purposed calling upon him next day on a matter of much importance to them both. He came, and he presented a checpie for the full amount of his father's debt, with interest. Marjoribanks was honestly pleased by this proof of Austin's success, and heartily congra- tulated him. " You are the right sort, Murray, and you will get on. You will have my help whenever you need it." " I necjd it now, Sir." "What for?" " Well, it is not so much your help as your good will I want in order to marry Coila." " Eh? — but she won't have you." " We have had an explanation, and we only wait tor your consent to fix the date of our marriage. We have both been stupid an(i mistaken in each other, and wo are sorry. Now, we hope that you will pardon the annoyance we have given you, and allow us to have the wedding soon." Magoribanks was disappointed again ; everything seemed to be going wrong in his home arrangements. " That's annoying ; I 1. ul just hit upon other plans for her ; but it seems to me that you _, ^ung folk settle things in your *own way, and your way is never the one wliich common sense V <)uld sh.:'V; \-v\ Are you quite sure she means to have you this time • '' « Yf ly • (m1, I won't interfere, but it is not what I would have likcf". ' His guttural " uli-hum" was almost a sigh as he gave up the last hope of being able to carry out his pet scheme of uniting his heiress to some man of distinction. Fie would not allow Aust'T- uo utter a word of thanks, said "good-day" very brus- quely, and settled himself down in his chair to review the whole position. LOVE IS LORD OF ALL. n79 suffer a very t>. ly (laughter ; t her a good 3n this score, posed calling mce to them i full amount was honestly Ttily congra- jet on. You will I want ait tor your 3 both been '. Now, we ! given you, ; seemed to us for her ; gs in your imon sense 3 liave you at I would ave up the of unitins: not allow- very brus- eview the The revie;/ was unsatisfactory. Here wasi he, a hard work- ing man, who, by his own ability, had attained enormous wealth, had won ^he esteem of tlie world and the envy of many — (he felt somewhat more comfortable as he continued his reflections) — and yet a parcel of women upset his plans, put him out in all his calculations, and left him no alternative but to play the part of an unforgiving and heartless tyrant, or to yield to their whims — whims which made them los(^ all the grand things he had intended for them, A mere sentimi^nt had overthrown all the astute speculations which his riches would have enabled him to realize. " Hut there's no doing with a parcel of sill}-^ women ; they never know what the}^ want, and they will nev(T be content till they get it. I've a notion that it might be a good thing to make Janet my heiress, and marry her to the first man who offers." The afternoon post brought him an important letter from Lord Connoughmore. It informed him that one of his ambi- tions — the greatest of them — was to be achieved. In consid- eration of his services to the Government, of the good work he had done for education and religion in founding schools and building churches, it was Her Gracious Majesty's pleasure that the honour of Knighthood should be conferred upon him. His vexation vanished, his breast swelled with pleasure and pride. He went in search of Killievar to communicate the good news, and to take his advice about the necessary arrange- ments for the forthcoming ceremony. He foi\nd the chief walking round the lawn with Miss Janet- -they had consider- ately stepped out in order to leave the drawing room free to Austin and Coila. " It is very good news, indeed," said the chief, gravely. " It is enchanting, dear — but did you see my shadt; 1 — please do not move on my account, dear ; you will " " Why don't you go into the house and fasten all your things about you with ropes 1 " said the knight-to-be, laughing. "Thank you, dear — it is so awkward to lose things." (This to the chief who had found the shade on the seat they had just quitted, and presented it to her.) "I congratulate you, brother ; I feel as proud as if the honour had been conferred 380 WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY? upon myself. It is so charming to think of you as Sir Robert Alarjoribanks ! " " Sounds well, doesn't it 1 Then I am to be presented to the Queen — she is a noble lady, and I say long live the Queen. Wish we could only get more women like her. What are yoii looking so glum about, Killievar ? " " I was thinking. Sir, that when you are about to go before her Majesty it is rather an unpleasant thing that people should be saying ill words about you." " What are they saying now ? " " They are saying, Sir, that you have turned your daughter out of the house without a penny, and tliat you have left her at the mercy of a man who has nothing to support her. That is very awkward indeed. Sir, at this moment." Marjoribanks frowned. " It was her own choiee." " Yes, Sir, but she was too young to choose wisely, and the mischief being done, it should be your eiuleavour to spare her as much as possible. That is my opinion, Sir, and people have raised a very great scandal indeed." "What should! do]" " Send for Bess, and give her a chance of being happy." THE EXILES. 381 Sir Robert mted to tlio the Queen, lat are you ) go befoHi )ple should r (laughter Ae left her ler. That y, and the spare her 3ople have ppy. CHAPTER LIX. THE EXILES. OU are not losing courage, are you 1 " the Major said one mornii g to Bess in that same poor lodging in Pimlico they had formerly occupied. She was making the tea for breakfast. She had been happy in a quiet way since thev had been banished from Ravelston, contented with her fate, and had set herself to make everything as neat and comfortable as willing hands could make it. She had even attempted washing on a small scale, and that was an act of self-abnegation which no one wiio had known the proud impulsive heiress of Ravelston would have believed possible. But she enjoyed the fun of it, and the Major declared that if everything else failed they would start a laundry ; he would get a wheelbarrow and collect and deliver the linen of their clients. They laughed at this absurdity, and were altogether merry. In fact, they hud ntjt known a sad day since they arrived in London, although their only amusement outside the house had been a walk in the park, or a visit to the pit of a theatre, walking there and back, but occasionally venturing upon the extravagance of a shilling ride in a hansom — Bess preferred a hansom to the lumbering and dingy " four-wheelers," and she enjoyed it all the more because there was a suggestion of fast- ness in using it. " On my soul, Bess, I never could have given you credit for so much common sense." "Delighted that you are so agreeably disappointed. Sir," she said, with a curtsey. She was transformed. The practical element of her nature, which at home — for she still called Ravelston " home " — had often appeared to be selfishness, now shone out as an invaluable quality in the management of their limited funds and of their apartments. i If 382 WHAT WILL THE WOULD SAY ? It was love which had effected the transformation — love, in- spired by admiration of her husband, and by the remorse she felt in the knowledge of how much she had wronged him by her doubts. He had returned to her in a very different char- acter from that of the conqueror her imagination had pictured. There was no triumphal march, no bending of the knees of those who had ridiculed her choice, and that was a cruel dis- appointment. But he was still a hero to her, although he had failed — for are not many of those who fail in the struggle of life as worthy of the title of hero as the few who win the laurel 1 She believed that many were, and he was one of them. So in her new born enthusiasm she loved him all the more because he was unfortunate and poor. Therefore, she was contented, and held her tongue whenever she felt vexed by their impecunious condition. But this morn- ing he thought she looked troubled, and hence his question. " No, I am not losing courage," she answered, measuring out the tea with a teaspoon, " but I was wondering what you are to do next." " Make the toast." He stuck the fork into a round of bread, and held it before the fire. " Do be serious." "I'll try— look at this." He screwed his face into such a lugubrious expression that she could not help laughing. " You are either very thoughtless or very hopeful. " Hopeful it is, and thank Heaven for it. I would have died of despair long ago, but hope sustained me. Then 3'ou came in to back up hope, and so I have no fear. To-day we shall learn whether or not my grand scheme for securing that mine at Linares is to be-carri(id out ; if it is we shall make a fortune." " But I am to go with you this time." " Of course ; my next visit to Spain will be entirely in a civil capacity, and, luckily, Linares is comparatively undis- turbed by the war. The mines are being steadily worked in spito of the row which is going on all round them, so you can accompany mc with safety." Kat-tat, on the outer door. THE EXILES. 383 -love, in- norse she d him by 'ent char- pictured, knees of cruel dis- h he had niggle of e laurel ? I. So in 5 because i^henever lis morn- stion. iring out > you are it before Lon that ive died )u came i^e shall \t mine Ttune." 3ly in a undis- ^ked in ou can The Major flung the toast and fork on the table as he sprang up. " By Jove ! — there's the message -a telegram, it must be, for there is no post at this hour." A telegram it was, but not the one he had expected ; it was from Ian M'Killop, of Killievar, and dated from Ravelston. " You are both to come here by first train. Your future depends on instant obedience. Horrocks will supply all neces- sary.'^ They were amazed, and unable to guess what good fairy had worked this miracle in their favour just when they were about at the end of their resources. " Horrocks is papa's London agent, we'll go to him and see what it means." It meant that they were to be supplied with whatever money they demanded, and that they were to he urged to obey the telegram at once. " Is papa ill 1 " inquired Mrs. Kilgour, anxiously. " I don't think it, but he is eager to see you." Afternoon at Ravelston ; the sun tipping the trees with gold, and making the western windows ablaze with fire. The breast of the tiny lake glistening like a mirror, and reflecting surrounding objects with softened outlines ; two shadows, hand in hand, under the willow near the boat. The mavis, the sparrow, the blackbird, and the starling singing gaily as they flitted about on business or pleasure intent ; the yellow prim- rose — first of the season — glimmering shyly on the banks and in mossy nooks, and everywhere a sweet sense of spring merg- ing into summer. The two shadows under the willow talked in undertones — twittering like the birds — utterly happy in the sunshine which had entered their lives, and which they believed was to abide with them in spite of the coldest blasts of winter. Here they had first understood each other ; here the first kiss had been taken ; and the spot was hallowed by those blissful memories. Coila and Austin were arranging the date of their marriage ; what brighter moment is there in the course of true love 1 They were wholly unconscious of the neighbourhood of two 384 WHAT WILI. THE WORLD SAY ? gentleman who were pacing to and fro along the outer path by the side of the park. " I'll make it all right with them," said Marjoribanks, glanc- ing at the telfgiam he held in his hand ; " but they have you to thank for it — hicky you were here to put in a word for them." " And a very good thing for you too, Sir," answered Kilievar. " Maybe, but it's a weak sort of thing to give in a second time, and you know the whole affair is a disappointment to me." " It is never a weak thing. Sir, to own that we have been wrong ; for the admission shows that we see more clearly. It is a disappointment ; but when there is no remedy, a wise man makes the best of his position." " Right enough, and it would be nonsense, as you say, to try to punish him when she must suffer with him. We'll make tlie best of a bad bargain. He is not a bad sort either, and, maybe, we can manage to make something of him yet." " It is my opinion. Sir, he will make something of himself if ho gets the opportunity. You can give iiim the opportunity," " We'll see ; but why didn't they come straight here instead of going to Glasgow 1 " " The message says he has business to transact there. If they do not come by the next train you can telegraph to the Imperial Hotel, and say you are waiting for them." The gentlemen looked towards the avenue ; there was a sound of wheels, and presently they saw the carriage drive up to the door of the house. The Major s^-rangout, assisted his wife to descend, and learn- ing from Baxtei' that Marjoribanks was walking in the grounds, they passed across the lawn in search of him. Bess caught sight of her father through the trees and scam- pered ofi' to mee* him. The Major followed with a light, springing step, and heatl erect as if he were leading a charge upon an enemy's entrenchment. "Oh, papa, I am so glad you sent for us ; because we are just going away to Spain and we may never see you again." She put htr arms round his ne<;k and kissed him again and again, utterly indifferent to the fact that they were exposed to the view of Killievar, of the servants at the door, of Miss Janet sidling towards them, and of Coila and Austin coming up from the lake. THE EXILES. 385 jr path by iks, glanc- ive you to or them." I Kihevar. 1 a second iitment to lave been early. It wise man ou say, to /"e'll make ther, and, t." )f himself ortunity," instead of ;here. If ph to the s a sound ip to the nd learn- grounds, id scam- a light, ti charge are just ain and 30sed to of Miss coming " What," he said, " are you going out to tight for Don Carlos tooT' " No, no, but Hector has started a company to buy up a mine in Linares, and he is going out to settle the business." " So he has been taking a leaf out of my book and going into trade. Glad to hear it, Major, for there is a chance for you in that way." " Thank you. Sir, I have no doubt of brilliant results, for I have been lucky in finding a capitalist to back me to any ex- tent, and I have been equally lucky in discovering a safe specu- lation." " I'll join you in it, if you like — a thousand or two is neither here nor there to me." " Our shares are all taken up, and it would not be worth your while to buy at a premium." " Anyhow, I will be pleased to know what your prospect is, and to give you my advice. Meanwhile, you are welcome to Ravelston. I never thought I would say that to you again, but Killievar and common sense have overcome my anger ; and what you tell me now proves that Killievar was right. Good luck to you, and God bless you — I feel more comfortable than I have felt for a long while." He grasped the Major's hand cordially, whilst Bess retained possession of the other hand and arm. " Look here, you know," he went on, " I did not mean to be cniel to any of you ; but if I pay the piper it is rather hard that I can't get him to play my tunes. 1 had plans for Bess and for Coila, and they have both rendered them impracticable. You cannot blame me for being angry. I might have been a great deal more severe than I have been, and no man of com- mon sense would have said I was wrong — would he ? " The Major answered, laughing : " I entirely sympathise with you, Mr. Marjoribanks, and I believe that I would have been a great deal harder than you upon my daughter if she had run away with a rascal like my- self. But, you see. Sir, there are so many incidents in life for which we cannot prepare ourselves, and accidents will happen, et cetera — and this is one of them. Bess ought to have married a prince, and she chose me instead. Money is only the second power, Sir, for in the young heart there is a ridiculous senti- Y 386 WHAT WILL THE WOULD SAY ? ment — some people call it love — I call it the law of natural selection — which supersedes even the dictates of selfish consid- eration. We are grateful to you for your forgiveness ; we are glad to be with you again, for it gives us more heart to go on our way, and I hope to prosper." " You must prosper, Kilgour, and 1 will help you. There, don't let us talk any more about it. I cannot alter things, and, maybe, they are better as they are.. You are a witch, Bess, and you have made me yield in spite of myself. As for Coila, I gave her up long ago." " Thank you," said Austin ; " I am glad you gave her up to me. i> <( " This is very beautiful, indeed, Sir," said Killievar, gravely ; and I will be a proud man, too, when I dance at Coila's wed- ding. It would not take a very great deal to make me ask Miss Janet if it is not too late to offer myself aiid the peacock livery also." He peered into her face with a half smile, which »vas plainly indicative of his readiness to turn the jest into earnest if the lady would give him the leas^ encouragement to do so. For once in a way Miss Janet looked up, and there was a mild sadness in her eyes as she rested a hand on the chief's arm. " Yes, dear, it is too late. People would just laugh at us and say we were old enough to know better. But it might have been so different to us both if you had spoken in the old days. Dear, dear, what a long time it seems since you first scolded me, and I knew by that how kindly you were thinking of me ! We will be happy in watching the happiness of the young folk, and we will be good friends always, dear ; but it is too late." He did not speak ; he took her hand and in silence they passed on up the path under the shadow of the trees, feeling that the time had passed for marriage, but that it was never too late to love. " It would not have been a bad thing if they had made up their minds to it," commented Marjoribanks, " only that would have forced me to marry the cook so that we might have had weddings all round." THE EXILKS. 387 There was a blithe party at Ravelston — the blithest it had ever witnessed yet. Ev^en Mrs. Murray was satisfied when she heard how generous Marjoribaiiks had been to Coila. She received the girl with sincere respect and a degree of affection which was sure to increase as days passed. Cockie-leerie was invited up to the house, but he refused to go, so the Major and Bess went down to hira. " I'm proud to see you both," said Macbetli, " but never you be feared that I will interfere with you. I ken that e are far apart, but I'm awful happy just to ken that you twa are all right. I'm perfectly content to bide here, and when you hae gotten a fortune, I'll come and bide with you. But I'm no going to mar your prospects by coming to you the now. God bless you, my bairns, and I'm proud of you. Hector is just what I might have been if I hadna married the plaiden merchant's daughter." 388 WHAT WIIJ. THK WOULli SAY ? C'HAPTKU I.X. KNIOHTHOOI). MAlMOlil HANKS \va.s in high glee ; for everybody was adniiring tlie forl)earance he li.ad exercised towards his '"^"^" ^ (laughter and her husband, and praising his gener(»sity to Ci)ila. In a vague way he began to comprehend that the World was cn])able of ap))reciating kindness as well as riches. The people who had cov