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 , 
 
 
 

 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
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 THE UNIVERSITY 
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 JLci 
 
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 MISS CHEYSE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 NEW AND POPULAR NOVELS 
 
 AT ALL THE LIBBABIES. 
 
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 MISS CHEYM OF ESSILMONT 
 
 BT 
 
 JAMES GRANT 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "THE ROMANCE OF WAR," "THE CAMERONIANS,' 
 "THE SCOTTISH CAVALIER," 
 
 ETC., ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 1883. 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 128210
 
 SLACK ANNEX 
 
 & I 37 ^ A 
 J v. I 
 
 MISS CHETOE OF ESSEMOHT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OUT WITH THE ROYAL BUCKHOUNDS. 
 
 ' A ND your name is Alison,' said the 
 
 *"*- young man, looking tenderly in the 
 
 girl's eyes of soft grey-blue, that long, dark 
 
 lashes shaded. ' Yet I hear some of your 
 
 N friends call you Lisette.' 
 
 ) ' It is, I believe, the same thing an old 
 
 a Scoto-French name, long peculiar to our 
 
 family the Cheynes of Essilmont as papa 
 
 would say if he were here,' she added, with 
 
 a soft smile. Then after a pause she asked, 
 
 ' How did you learn, Captain Goring, that it 
 
 was Alison ?' 
 
 VOL. i. B
 
 2 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 ' By looking in Debrett after I first had 
 the pleasure' (he had well-nigh said the joy) 
 'of meeting you at the General's garden- 
 party in Aldershot.' 
 
 This simple avowal of an interest in her 
 (but it might only be curiosity) caused the 
 girl to colour a little and nervously re-adjust 
 her reins, though her horse, pretty well 
 blown after a long run, was now going at 
 an easy walk, pace by pace, with the larger 
 and stronger bay hunter of her companion, 
 and she glanced shyly at him as he rode by 
 her side, for Bevil Goring, in his perfect 
 hunting costume his coat, buckskins, and 
 boots, his splendid strength and engaging 
 debonair expression of face, his soldierly 
 set up, born of infantry service in India 
 was all that might please a woman's eye, 
 however critical ; and he in his turn felt that 
 every pulse in his frame would long beat to 
 the slight incidents of that day's glorious 
 scamper together on horseback. 
 
 Gathered into a tight coil under her
 
 WITH THE KOYAL BUCKHOUNDS. 3 
 
 smart riding hat and dark blue veil, Alison 
 Cheyne's hair was of that bright and rare 
 tint when the brown seems to blend with or 
 melt into amber, and these into a warmer 
 tint still in the sunshine, and with which 
 there is generally a pure and dazzling 
 complexion. 
 
 ' It was so kind of you 3 Captain Goring,' 
 said Miss Cheyne, after a pause, ' to invite 
 down papa to dine at your mess at Alder- 
 shot.' 
 
 'Not at all. Dalton, Jerry Wilmot, and 
 all the other fellows were most glad to see 
 the old gentleman. I only fear that he 
 thought us rather a noisy lot.' 
 
 ' It delighted him we live but a dull life 
 at Chilcote.' 
 
 ' And you have had two brothers in the 
 service, Mrs. Trelawney told me?' resumed 
 Goring, by no means anxious to let the con- 
 versation drop, or his companion begin to 
 think of friends who might be looking for 
 
 CD o 
 
 her. 
 
 B 2
 
 4 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 ' Yes two, much older than I, however 
 poor Ranald and golden-haired Ellon.' 
 
 1 What a curious name !' 
 
 'It is a place in Aberdeenshire where 
 much of papa's property once lay. Ranald 
 died of fever, and was buried in the lonely 
 jungle near the Jumna.' 
 
 1 Illness there does its work quickly four 
 and twenty hours will see the beginning and 
 the end, and the green turf covering all. 
 I have seen much of it in my time, Miss 
 Cheyne often buried the dead with my own 
 hands, by Jove !' 
 
 ' How sad to die as my poor brother did 
 so far away/ said the girl, her soft voice 
 breaking a little. ' We have a saying in 
 Scotland. "May you die among your 
 kindred." ' 
 
 ' In the service one's comrades become 
 one's kindred we are all brother soldiers/ 
 
 ' Ellon was thrown from his horse near 
 Lahore, and impaled on his own sword, and 
 so and so poor papa has now only me!
 
 WITH THE KOYAL BUCKHOUNDS. 5 
 
 I don't think he has ever got fairly over 
 Ellon's death, as it left the baronetcy with- 
 out an heir. But let me not think of these 
 things.' 
 
 ' I remember the unfortunate event of 
 Ellon Cheyne's death,' exclaimed Goring, 
 the colour gathering in his bronzed cheek. 
 ' It occurred just close by the Cabul road, 
 the day after we marched in from Umritsur ; 
 and, strange to say, I commanded the firing 
 party at the poor fellow's funeral, on a day 
 when the sky was like molten brass, and the 
 wind swept past us hot and stifling like the 
 blast from an open furnace.' 
 
 ' You ?' said Miss Cheyne, her eyes dilating 
 as she spoke. 
 
 ' Yes ; my voice gave the orders for the 
 three funeral volleys.' 
 
 'How strange and now I meet you 
 here !' 
 
 * The world is a small place now-a-days.' 
 
 Her eyes were full of a tender interest 
 now, that made the heart of her companion
 
 6 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 thrill; nor did hers do so the less that this 
 event caused a bond of sympathy a subject 
 in common between them. 
 
 A sad expression stole over the features 
 of Alison Cheyne, and so regular were these, 
 that with the fine outline of her profile they 
 might have been deemed insipid, but for the 
 variable expression of her very lovely eyes 
 and sensitive mouth ; and now, when flushed 
 with the exercise of fast riding, the excite- 
 ment of following the hounds amid such a 
 stirring concourse, and over such an open 
 country, they seemed absolutely beautiful. 
 
 Attracted by each other's society, she and 
 the Captain were now somewhat apart from 
 all the field, and the brilliant hunt was 
 waxing to its close. 
 
 The day was a bright and clear one early 
 in October, the regular opening day of the 
 regular season with the Royal Buckhounds. 
 The country wore the aspect of the month ; 
 swine were rooting in the desolate cornfield, 
 eliciting the malediction of many a hunts-
 
 WITH THE ROYAL BUCKHOUNDS. 7 
 
 man as he tore over the black and rotting 
 stubble ; geese were coming draggled and 
 dirty out of the muddy ponds and brooks ; 
 the hedges looked naked and cold, and the 
 blackened bean sheaves that had never 
 ripened -were rotting in the ground. An 
 earthy odour came from the water-flags, 
 and every hoof-print was speedily filled 
 with the black ooze of the saturated soil the 
 moment it was made ; but the sky was clear, 
 if not quite cloudless, and the sunshine 
 bright as one could wish. 
 
 The time-honoured meet had duly taken 
 place at the old village of Salthill, the 
 scene of that tomfoolery called the Eton 
 Montem, till its suppression in 1848 ; and we 
 need scarcely inform the reader that a cer- 
 tain sum is devoted annually to maintain 
 the stables, kennels, and establishment of 
 the Royal Buckhounds, and that with each 
 change of Ministry the post of their master 
 is an object of keen competition among 
 sport-loving nobles ; but the opening meet
 
 8 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 is said to be seldom a favourite one with 
 lovers of hard riding. 
 
 There is always a vast ' field,' and every 
 one who ' by hook or crook ' can procure 
 a mount is there. Salthill thus becomes an 
 animated and pleasant spectacle to the mere 
 spectator, while it is a source of unmixed 
 excitement to all who go to hunt perhaps 
 some five hundred horsemen or so, all 
 anxious to be first in the chase, and jostling, 
 spurring, and struggling to be so. 
 
 All know what a scene Paddington 
 Station presents a short time previous to the 
 meet, when the Metropolitan corps of hunts- 
 men begin to muster in strong force, and 
 well-known faces are seen on every hand 
 staunch followers of ' the Queen's ' going 
 down by special train, the present holder of 
 the horn being the observed of all ; and 
 the train, with a long line of dark horse- 
 boxes starting with sixty or seventy noble 
 horses for Slough, whence, after an eighteen 
 miles' run, the long cavalcade of horsemen
 
 WITH THE KOYAL BUCKHOUNDS. 9 
 
 and people on foot pours on to Salthill, 
 huntsmen and whips bright in brilliant new 
 costumes of scarlet laced with gold, their 
 horses with skins like satin, and the hounds 
 the perfection of their breed. 
 
 There may be seen young guardsmen 
 from Windsor, cavalry men from Aldershot, 
 which is about twenty miles distant, in spot- 
 less black and white, side by side with old 
 fellows in tarnished pink with the old 
 jockey-cap, horse-dealers in corduroys and 
 perhaps blucher boots ; city men, and appar- 
 ently all manner of men, and here and 
 there a lady such as only may be seen in 
 the Row, perfect in her mount, equipment, 
 and costume. 
 
 On the adjacent road a lady's pretty little 
 victoria may be jammed between a crowded 
 four in hand and a still more crowded 
 costermonger's cart ; and so the confusion 
 goes on till some well-known deer is quietly 
 taken away to the front ; and punctually to 
 time the master gives the order to advance,
 
 10 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 when the huntsmen and hounds scurry 
 into an open field, where the yeomen 
 prickers in their Lincoln green costumes have 
 uncarted the quarry. 
 
 Anon the line is formed, and away over 
 the open country stream the hounds like a 
 living tide, with red tongues out, and steam 
 issuing from their quivering nostrils, and all 
 follow at headlong speed. 
 
 Here it was that Alison Cheyne, Bevil 
 Goring, and others of their party lost some 
 of their companions in the first wild rush 
 across a hedge with a wet ditch on the 
 other side. Jerry Wilmot's saddle-girth 
 gave way, and he fell in a helpless but 
 unhurt heap on the furrows ; Lord Cadbury 
 a peer of whom more anon failed utter- 
 ly to clear the hedge ; and Tony Dalton, of 
 Goring's regiment, though a keen sportsman, 
 came to grief somehow in the ditch, and 
 thus ere long Alison Cheyne had as her 
 sole squire the companion we have described, 
 and together, after charging with many
 
 WITH THE EOYAL BUCKHOUNDS. 1 1 
 
 more a gate beyond the hedge, they had a 
 splendid run over an open country. 
 
 Together they kept, Goring doing much 
 in the way of guiding his fair friend, who 
 though somewhat timid, and not much prac- 
 tised as an equestrienne, had now given 
 her whole soul to the hunt, and became 
 almost fearless for the time. 
 
 In a pretty dense clump * the field ' went 
 powdering along the path through the vil- 
 lage of Farnham, after which the deer 
 headed off for Burnham Beeches, the beau- 
 tiful scenery of which has been so often 
 portrayed by artists and extolled by tour- 
 ists ; and then, like bright ' bits of colour ' 
 that would delight the former, the scarlet 
 coats could be seen glancing between the 
 gnarled stems of the giant trees, as the 
 horsemen went pouring down the woody 
 steeps. 
 
 * Take care here, for heaven's sake, Miss 
 Cheyne, and keep your horse well in hand, 
 with its head up,' cried Bevil Goring.
 
 12 MISS CHEYNK OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 ' The tree stumps concealed here among the 
 long grass are most treacherous traps.' 
 
 ' I fear more the boughs of the trees, 
 they are so apt to tear one's hair,' replied 
 the flushed girl, breathlessly, as she flew, 
 her dark blue skirt and veil streaming be- 
 hind her ; and now and then a cty of terror 
 escaped her, as a horse and its rider went 
 floundering into some marshy pool, though 
 generally with no worse result than a mud 
 bath. 
 
 At length the beeches are left behind, 
 while the deer shoots on past Wilton Park, 
 anon over Chalfont Brook, till she reaches 
 the stable in a farmyard, and there is cap- 
 tured and made safe, and so ends the day, 
 after which there is nothing left for the 
 breathless and blown, who have followed 
 her thus far, but to ride slowly back some 
 fifteen miles to Slough. 
 
 Less occupied by interest in the hunt 
 than with each other, Bevil Goring and 
 Miss Cheyne had gradually dropped out of
 
 WITH THE ROYAL BUCKHOUNDS. 13 
 
 it, and at the time of the conversation with 
 which this chapter opens were riding slowly 
 
 along a narrow green lane that led they 
 
 * 
 
 had not yet begun to consider in what 
 precise direction.
 
 14 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 AT CHILCOTE. 
 
 * rriHE hounds threw off at half-past 
 eleven, and the afternoon is far ad- 
 vanced,' said Miss Cheyne, with a little anx- 
 iety of manner. ' I must take the nearest 
 cut home.' 
 
 ' Thither, of course, I shall do myself the 
 honour of escorting you.' 
 
 'Thanks so much.' 
 
 She could not say otherwise, as she could 
 neither decline his escort nor with propriety 
 ride home alone; yet she gave a glance 
 rather helplessly around her, as all her im- 
 mediate friends and one more especially, 
 whose escort her father wished her t'o have 
 had were now left miles behind, having
 
 AT CHILCOTE. 15 
 
 ( come to grief at the first fence, and were 
 now she knew not where. 
 
 But then she thought it was not her fault 
 that they had dropped out of the hunt, or 
 out of their saddles perhaps. 
 
 ' To reach the high-road, we must take 
 this fence,' said Captain Goring, finding that 
 the narrow lane they had pursued, ended 
 in a species of cul de sac. 
 
 'Not a gap, not a gate is in sight.' 
 
 ' And by Jove, Miss Cheyne, it is a rasp- 
 er !' he exclaimed. ' Allow me to go first, 
 then follow, head up and hand low.' 
 
 He measured the distance, cleared the 
 fence, and came safely down on the hard 
 road beyond. 
 
 With a little cry of half delight and half 
 terror curiously mingled, the girl rushed 
 her horse at the fence, but barely cleared 
 it, as its hoofs touched the summit. 
 
 'What a nasty buck jump,' said Goring. 
 'Is that an Irish horse, used to double 
 fences, I wonder?'
 
 16 MISS CHF.YNE OF ESSILMOXT. 
 
 ' And all my back-hair has come down.' 
 
 ' Glorious hair it is, below your waist and 
 more.' 
 
 1 And all my own,' said the girl laughing, 
 as she placed her switch between her pear- 
 ly teeth, and with her gauntleted hands 
 proceeded to knot the coils deftly up ; ' all 
 my own, by production, and not by purchase. 
 And now for home,' she added, as they 
 broke into an easy trot. 'Such a hard 
 mouth this animal has !' she exclaimed, after 
 a pause ; ' my poor wrists are quite weary.' 
 
 ' Why do you ride him ?' 
 
 * I have not much choice.' 
 
 'How?' 
 
 'I owe my mount to the kindness of a 
 friend of papa's, to Lord Cadbury,' she re- 
 plied, colouring slightly, but with an air of 
 annoyance. 
 
 1 Indeed,' said Goring, briefly, and then 
 after a pause, he added, ' you have ridden 
 with these hounds before.' 
 
 ' Yes, once when the meet was at Tver's
 
 AT CHILCOTE. 17 
 
 Heath, and again when it was at Wokingham, 
 and the deer was caught in a pond near 
 Wilton Park.' 
 
 ' And did Lord Cadbury on each occasion 
 give you a mount ?' he added, in a casual 
 manner. 
 
 1 Yes, we have no horses at Chilcote ; but 
 how curious you are,' she replied, colouring 
 again, and with a sense of annoyance that 
 he did not suspect, though the mention of 
 the peer's name by her lips irritated Bevil 
 Goring, and made him seek to repress the 
 love that was growing in his heart. 
 
 Yet he knew not that he had impressed 
 Alison Cheyne by his voice and manner be- 
 yond anyone whom she had hitherto met, 
 but she was conscious that her heart beat 
 quicker when he addressed her, and that the 
 very sunshine seemed to grow brighter in 
 his presence ; but to what end was all this, 
 she thought, unless if he loved her he 
 was rich enough to suit her father's standard 
 of wealth. 
 
 VOL. i. c
 
 18 MISS CHETNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 As they drew near Chilcote they tacitly, 
 it seemed, reduced the pace of their horses to 
 a walk. 
 
 ' If it does not grieve you now to recur 
 to the fate of your brother Ellon,' said 
 Goring, in his softest tone, ' I may mention 
 that I have a little souvenir of him, of 
 which I would beg your acceptance.' 
 
 ' A souvenir of Ellon !' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' How came you to possess it ?' 
 
 ' When his effects were sold at Lahore, 
 before his regiment marched again.' 
 
 ' And this relic ' 
 
 1 Is a ring with a girl's hair in it.' 
 
 'Thank you so much,' said she, with a 
 quivering lip ; ' but to deprive you ' 
 
 ' Nay, nay, do not begin to speak thus. 
 To whom should it belong but to you ? Arid 
 how strange is the chance that gives me an 
 opportunity of presenting it !' 
 
 ' I cannot decline it; but the girl who
 
 AT CHILCOTE. 19 
 
 can she have been ? Poor Ellon, some 
 secret is buried in his grave.' 
 
 ' Soldiers' graves, I doubt not, hide many, 
 and many a sad romance. I have generally 
 worn it, curious to say, as my stock of 
 jewellery is not very extensive.' 
 
 ' Have you it with you now ?' 
 
 'No, I never wear rings when riding, the 
 stones are apt to get knocked out. I meant 
 to do myself the pleasure of calling on you 
 after the hunt ; and shall, if you will permit 
 me. To-morrow I am for guard.' 
 
 ' For guard over what ?' 
 
 '.Nothing,' he said, laughing. 'There is 
 nothing to see or to guard, but it is all the 
 same to John Bull.' 
 
 The day after, then ?' 
 
 ' The day after.' 
 
 They were close to the house now, and, 
 lifting his hat, he bowed low and turned his 
 horse just as a groom, who had been wait- 
 ing in the porch, took hers by the bridle, 
 
 c2
 
 20 MISS CHEYNE OF ESS1LMONT. 
 
 and, waving the handle of her switch to him 
 in farewell, Miss Cheyne gathered up her 
 riding skirt and entered the house. 
 
 Bevil Goring lingered at the further end 
 of the avenue that led to Chilcote, which 
 was in a lovely locality, especially in summer, 
 one of those sunny places within thirty miles 
 of St. Paul's, and one secluded and woody 
 a place like Burnham Beeches, where the 
 tree trunks are of amazing size, and the 
 path that led to the house went down a deep 
 dell, ernblossomed in a wilderness leafy at 
 all times but in winter. 
 
 The ash, the birch, and contorted beeches 
 overhung the slopes on each side, and there 
 seemed an entire absence of human care 
 about them ; and there in summer the sheep 
 wandered among the tender grass, as if they 
 were the only owners of the domain ; but 
 Bevil Goring had but one thought as he 
 looked around him, and then turned linger- 
 ingly away.' 
 
 ( How delicious to ramble among these
 
 AT CHILCOTE. 21 
 
 leafy glades with her ! How deuced glad 
 1 am that I have that poor fellow's ring, 
 arid can gratify her perhaps myself toc% 
 Bother the guard of to-inorro\v ; but I must 
 get it over as best I may.' 
 
 He lighted a cigar, and at a trot took the 
 road to Aldershot, but so sunk in thoughts 
 that were new and delicious that he forgot 
 all about his ' soothing weed ' till it scorched 
 his thick dark moustache. 
 
 Meanwhile let us follow Alison Cheyne 
 into her somewhat sequestered home. 
 
 She had blushed with annoyance when 
 resigning the reins of her horse to Gaskins, 
 Lord Cad bury 's groom, while thinking that 
 there was neither groom nor stable at Chil- 
 cote, though, as her father had told her 
 many a time and oft, there were stalls for 
 four and twenty nags at Essilmont, where 
 others stabled their horses now ; and sooth 
 to tell, for causes yet to be told, she 
 was provoked at being under any obliga- 
 tion to old Lord Cadbury, especially in
 
 22 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSIRMONT. 
 
 the now reduced state of their fortunes. 
 
 She was received with a bright smile of 
 welcome in the entrance hall by their sole 
 male attendant, old Archie Auchindoir, Sir 
 Ranald's man-of-all-work, who looked re- 
 sentfully after the unconscious groom while 
 taking away the horse, which he would glad- 
 ly have retained for his young mistress by 
 force if he could, for Archie thought regret- 
 fully of the once ample menage at far away 
 Essilmont, where, like his father before 
 him, he had grown to manhood and age in 
 the family of the Cheynes. 
 
 He was true as steel to his old master, to 
 whom, however, he sometimes ventured to 
 say sharp things in the way of advice ; and 
 to the ' pock-puddings,' as he called the den- 
 izens of the present locality, he fearlessly 
 said sharper and very cutting things with a 
 smirk on his mouth and a glitter in his keen 
 grey eyes, and with perfect impunity, as they 
 were addressed in a language to the hearers 
 unknown ; but it gratified Archie none the
 
 AT CHILCOTE. 23 
 
 less to utter them, as he often did in the 
 guise of proverbs. 
 
 ' Papa at home?' asked Alison. 
 
 'Yes, Miss/ said he, receiving her gloves 
 and switch. * And waiting anxiously for 
 you, though ower proud to show it even to 
 me ; but, iny certie, it's the life o' an auld 
 hat to be weel cockit.' 
 
 Their household was so small now that 
 Alison had no maid to attend upon her, and 
 quickly changing her costume she sought at 
 once the presence of her father, smoothing 
 her hair with her white hands as she hurried 
 to receive his kiss ; for, so far as he was con- 
 cerned, Alison, in her twentieth year, was 
 as much a child as when in her little frocks. 
 
 He was seated in a little room called his 
 study, though there were few books there ; 
 but there were a writing table usually lit- 
 tered with letters, and invariably with an 
 unpleasant mass of accounts to amount 'ren- 
 dered;' an easy chair, deep, high-backed, and 
 cosy, in which he passed most of his time,
 
 24 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 and which was so placed that from it he had 
 a full view of the long, woody, and neglected 
 avenue. There he spent hours reading the 
 Field and turning over books on fanning, 
 veterinary surgery, and so forth, by mere 
 force of habit, though he had not an acre of 
 land or a dog or a horse to look after now ; 
 and these studies were varied by the peru- 
 sal of prints of a conservative tendency, and 
 an occasional dip into the pages of Burke. 
 
 He courteously threw into the fire the 
 end of the cigar he had been smoking as his 
 
 O O 
 
 daughter entered, and twining her soft arm 
 round him said, while nestling her face in his 
 neck 
 
 ' Oh, papa, I have never had so delightful 
 a day with the hounds as this !' 
 
 The master of a broken fortune and im- 
 poverished household, Sir Ranald Cheyne, 
 baronet of Essilmont and that ilk, as he 
 duly figured in that year's volume of Burke 
 and Debrett, with a pedigree going far be- 
 yond the first baronet of his house, who had
 
 AT CHILCOTE. 25 
 
 been patented in 1625, and duly infeft at 
 the Castle-gate of Edinburgh with a vast 
 patrimony in Nova Scotia, and ' power of 
 pit and gallows' over his vassals there, was 
 a proud and querulous man, stately in man- 
 ner and somewhat cold and selfish to all 
 men, save his daughter Alison, who was the 
 apple of his eye, the pride of his old heart, 
 on whose beauty, as the means of winning 
 another fortune, all his hopes in life were 
 based, and with whom he was now living in 
 semi-obscurity at Chilcote, a small, vener- 
 able, and secluded mansion in Hampshire. 
 
 Sir Ranald had a pale and worn face that 
 in youth had been eminently handsome ; his 
 silver hair, or rather what regained of it, 
 was brushed back behind his wax-like ears, 
 
 and a smile of great tenderness for his 
 
 \ 
 
 daughter, the last of his old, old race and 
 the hope of his age, lighted up his aristo- 
 cratic features. 
 
 A gold-rimmed pince-nez was balanced on 
 the thin ridge of his rather aquiline nose,
 
 26 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 and though his bright blue eyes were smil- 
 ing, as we say, their normal expression may 
 be described as usually one of ' worry.' 
 
 His voice was in unison with his face it 
 was worn too, if we may use the expression, 
 vet soft and not unmusical. 
 
 */ 
 
 ' You had an escort to the gate, I saw ?' 
 said he, interrogatively. 'Lord Cadbury, 
 of course ; why did he not come in ?' 
 
 ' Oh, no ; I missed him in the field some- 
 where.' 
 
 ' And your escort ?' 
 
 ' Was Captain Goring you know him 
 from Aldershot,' she replied, a little ner- 
 vously. 
 
 'Again?' said Sir Ranald, with just the 
 slightest shade of displeasure flitting over his 
 face. ' You were safely driven to the meet 
 by Mrs. Trelawney-?' 
 
 ' Yes ; and, when I last saw her and dear 
 little Netty, their victoria was wedged 
 between a drag and a tax-cart. I do hope 
 they escaped without harm.'
 
 AT CHILCOTE. 27 
 
 ' I hope so, too, for she is a very charm- 
 ing woman. And you found Cadbury duly 
 waiting at Salthill with his horses ?' 
 
 ' Yes ; and Gaskins came here to get 
 mine.' 
 
 * I hope you duly thanked Cadbury.' 
 
 ' Of course, papa.' 
 
 ' But why did he not make an effort to 
 escort you home ?' asked Sir Ranald, whom 
 this point interested. 
 
 ' I missed him in the running, as I said, 
 papa,' replied Alison, colouring now. ' He 
 is so slow at his fences.' 
 
 ' Slow ; he has the reputation of generally 
 riding faster than his horse,' said Sir Ranald, 
 who was unable to repress a joke at the 
 parvenu peer, whom he was not without 
 quiet hopes of having for a son-in-law. 
 ' Then, I suppose, Captain Goring was your 
 escort for most of the day ?' 
 
 ' Yes,' replied Alison, frankly. 
 
 ' In fact, I may presume that you and he 
 were always neck-and-neck ; taking your
 
 28 MISS CHETNB OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 fences together, and all that sort of thing ?' 
 
 ' Oh, no, papa ; certainly not,' replied 
 Alison, thinking it was unwise to admit too 
 much, though her father's surmises were 
 very near the truth. 
 
 'I am astonished that Cadbury did not 
 make an effort to join you.' 
 
 'I never saw him after the hounds threw 
 off,' said Alison, a little wearily, as she 
 knew how her father's secret thoughts were 
 tending. 
 
 'Did you look for him?' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 ' So so this is exactly what happened 
 before.' 
 
 1 Can I help it, papa, if his wont is to fail 
 at the first fence ?' 
 
 ' You can help Captain Goring so oppor- 
 tunely taking his place.' 
 
 ' I do not quite see what his place is ; but 
 oh, papa, what do you think ? Capt. Goring 
 heard of poor Ellon in India he actually 
 laid him in his grave, if one may say so !'
 
 AT CHILCOTE. 29 
 
 ' HOW ?' 
 
 1 He commanded the soldiers who fired 
 over it.' 
 
 ' Indeed !' said Sir Ranald, with some 
 interest now. 
 
 She was about to mention the proffered 
 ring, which she deemed a precious relic, 
 when her father said with a tone of some 
 gravity, and even crustily 
 
 ' I don't much like your following the 
 hounds, and think you must give it up.' 
 
 ' Oh, it is delightful ; and if I had a horse 
 of my own ' 
 
 'There you go!' exclaimed her father, 
 with a petty gush of irritation ; ' I don't like 
 it ! Think how a girl looks in an October 
 morning at a cover-side, her eyes watering, 
 perhaps her nose red, and her cheeks blue, 
 and after a while, perhaps, with her hat 
 smashed, her habit torn, her hair hanging 
 down her back, and some fellow fagging by 
 her side drearily when he wishes her at 
 the devil ; or think of her learning to talk
 
 30 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 of curbs and spavins, hocks, stifle, and 
 thoroughpin, like the gentleman jockey of 
 a dragoon corps.' 
 
 ' Oh, you dear old thing !' exclaimed 
 Alison, caressing him and laughing, though 
 she knew that his irritation was caused only 
 by her having permitted Bevil Goring to 
 take the place of her elderly and titled 
 admirer. ' I have so little amusement here 
 at Chilcote, papa, that I did not think you 
 would grudge me ' 
 
 'A run with the hounds on Cadbury's 
 horses ?' he interrupted, with a slight quiver, 
 ' but I dislike the risks you run, and the 
 chance. medley acquaintances you may meet ; 
 but pardon my petulance, darling; and now 
 to dress for dinner, such as it is.' 
 
 Too well did Alison know that one of the 
 acquaintances referred to was her late hand- 
 some escort ; but she only said 
 
 ' I do love horses, and you remember, 
 papa, how grieved you were when I had to 
 relinquish, as a little girl, my dear old
 
 AT CHILCOTE. 31 
 
 Shetland pony, Pepper, and you called me 
 your "poor bankrupt child;" and I did so 
 miss Pepper with his barrel-shaped body, 
 his shaggy mane, and velvet nose that he 
 used to rub against my neck tilt I gave him 
 a carrot or an apple.' 
 
 ' Hence, I am the more grateful to Cad- 
 bury for so kindly putting his horses at your 
 disposal ; but for him,' added Sir Ranald, 
 forgetting his recent remark, 'you could 
 not have been in your proper place with 
 the buckhounds, or shared in the pleasures 
 of the day. Of course you wince when I 
 mention Cadbury,' said Sir Ranald, observ- 
 ing a cloudy expression flit over her face. 
 
 ' Well, papa, he bores me.' 
 
 ' Bores you ? This is scarcely grateful 
 after all the pleasure he puts at your dis- 
 posal his horses, his box at the opera, and 
 the bouquets, music, and so forth he so fre- 
 quently sends you.' 
 
 But Alison only shrugged her shoulders, 
 while her father retired to change his cos-
 
 32 MIS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 tume ; for either by force of old habit, or 
 out of respect for himself, he always assum- 
 ed evening dress (faded though it was) for 
 dinner ; albeit that the latter might consist 
 of a little better than hashed mutton or 
 scrag of mutton a la Russe, in which the 
 housekeeper, Mrs. Rebecca Prune, excelled. 
 
 'I wish he would not talk to me so much 
 of Lord Cadbury,' thought Alison; 'if his 
 kindness is to be received in this fashion, I 
 shall never accept a mount from him again, 
 nor a piece of music either !' 
 
 In the few joyous hours she had spent 
 hours which the presence of Bevil Goring 
 had, undoubtedly, served to brighten 
 Alison Cheyne had forgotten for a space the 
 petty annoyances of her home life ; its 
 shifts and shams that often made her weary 
 and sick at heart ; her father's pride and 
 frequent petulance ; his constant repining at 
 the present, and futile regret over the past ; 
 his loss of position, or rather of luxury and 
 splendour, which the loss of fortune entailed.
 
 33 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ELLOS'S RING. 
 
 jPlOR a man of acknowledged and un- 
 doubtedly good family, Sir Ranald 
 had rather eccentric ideas of ancestry and 
 the value thereof. He did not certainly, 
 like the Duke d'Aremberg or Sir Thomas 
 Urquhart of Cromartie, claim kindred with 
 the antediluvians, nor even carry his genea- 
 logy back to the dim days of Gadifer, King 
 of Scotland, of whom it is recorded in that 
 most veracious record Le Grand Chronique de 
 Bretagne, that with Perceforest, King of 
 Brittany, he sailed in company from the 
 mouth of the Ganges, and was wrecked on 
 the coast of Armorica; after which they were 
 subsequently and severally raised to the 
 VOL. i. r>
 
 34 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSlLMONT. 
 
 thrones of Britain and Caledonia by their 
 mutual friend Alexander le Gentil, in the 
 time of Julius Cassar; but he could 
 solidly trace his descent from that Ranald 
 Cheyne of Essilmont, Cairnhill, Craig and 
 Inverugie, who was one of the barons that 
 signed the Litera Communitatis Scotice to 
 Edward I. of England, about the marriage 
 of their queen, the little Maid of Norway. 
 
 Thus he had among his ancestors men 
 who figured greatly in the troubles and wars 
 of the olden time, who fenced with steel 
 the throne of Robert I., who were ambas- 
 sadors to England and France for David II. 
 and the early James's, who shed their blood 
 at Flodden Field and Pinkie Cleugh, at Sark 
 and Ancrum Moor, and whose swords were 
 ever ready when their country was in peril ; 
 and so, when he thought of these things, his 
 proud spirit was apt to chafe, and at such 
 times especially he was inclined to view with 
 some contempt his friend Cadbury as a 
 mushroom, being only a peer of yesterday,
 
 ELLON'S RING. 35 
 
 the second of his race, and for whom not 
 even the ingenuity of the united College of 
 Heralds could 'fudge' out a pedigree; but, 
 for all that, the ample wealth of the latter 
 was not without its due and solid weight in 
 his estimation. 
 
 Like more than one old northern family, 
 the Cheynes of Essilmont were supposed 
 nay, were confidently alleged to have a 
 mysterious warning of death or approaching 
 woe, such as the spectre drummer whose 
 beat at Cortachy announces when fate is 
 nigh the ' bonnie House of Airlie,' like the 
 bell of Coull that tolls of itself when a Dor- 
 ward dies, the hairy-handed Meg Moulach 
 of the Grants, the headless horseman of 
 Maclean, or the solitary swan that floats on 
 a certain lake at times fatal to another race; 
 and so the Cheynes of Essilmont were sup- 
 posed to be haunted by a spectral black 
 hound, in the appearance of which Sir Ran- 
 ald strove to disbelieve in spite of himself, 
 though its solemn baying had been heard 
 
 D 2
 
 36 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 when Ellon died in India and his mother in 
 London ; and as for old Archy Auchindoir, 
 the family factotum, he believed in it as he 
 did in his own existence. 
 
 'Original sin/ i.e., the accumulated debts 
 of a generation or two past, with his own 
 mad extravagance in youth, had so com- 
 pletely impaired Sir Ranald's exchequer that, 
 on a few hundreds per annum, the wreck of 
 all his fortune, he was compelled, though 
 not content, to live, ' vegetate ' he deemed 
 it, quietly in an old house in Hampshire ; 
 and times there were when in the great 
 weariness of his heart especially after the 
 death of his two sons he often thought, 
 could he but see Alison provided for as he 
 wished, he had no other desire than to be 
 laid where many of his ancestors lay, a right 
 which none could deny him, in the ancient 
 chapel of Essilmont, where often he had 
 with envy regarded the stiff and prostrate 
 mailed effigies on their altar tombs, lying 
 there with sword and shield, their faces ex-
 
 ELLON'S RING. 37 
 
 pressive of stern serenity, and their hands 
 folded in eternal prayer. 
 
 Chilcote, his present abode, was buried 
 deep in woods that must have been a por- 
 tion of the New Forest or the relics thereof, 
 and had been built somewhere about the 
 time of Queen Anne. Thus a great amount 
 of solid oak formed a portion of its struc- 
 ture ; and in the principal rooms the mantel- 
 pieces ascended in carved work nearly to the 
 ceilings, while the jambs were of massive 
 stone, with caryatides, like the god Terminus, 
 wreathed to the waist in leaves, supporting 
 the entablatures. 
 
 The walls were divided into compart- 
 ments by moulded panelling, painted with 
 imaginary landscapes and ruins ; the armo- 
 rial bearings of the Chilcotes of other days; 
 and beneath the surbase (or chairbelt, as it 
 used to be called) were smaller panels, all 
 painted with fruit and flowers. 
 
 The windows were deeply embayed, with 
 cushioned seats. One of these was, in the 
 
 12S310
 
 38 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 summer evenings, the favourite niche in 
 which Alison was wont to perch herself 
 with one of Mudie's latest novels. 
 
 The furniture was all old, faded, ' shabby/ 
 Alison truly deemed it ; but in tone it seem- 
 ed much in unison with the rooms, on the 
 walls of which her father had hung a few 
 family pictures, the pride of his heart, gen- 
 tlemen in ruffs and cloaks, dames in stom- 
 achers and capuchins, and two there were in 
 whom he loved to trace a fancied resem- 
 blance to his dead sons, Ranald and Ellon, 
 for they were brothers, and bore the same 
 names Ranald Cheyne, who fell at the head 
 of the Scots Life Guards at Worcester, and 
 Ellon Cheyne, who had died previously at 
 the storming of Newcastle ; both men por- 
 trayed in the gorgeous costume of their 
 time, and both looked to the life, ' blue- 
 blooded Scottish cavaliers, pale, smooth- 
 skinned, with moustache and love lock, 
 haughty and ' imperious/ and each with an 
 expression of face that seemed to say they
 
 ELLON'S KING. 39 
 
 would have thought as little of spitting a 
 crop-eared roundhead as a lark, with their 
 long Toledoes. 
 
 On the day after the hunt Lord Cadbury's 
 groom, Gaskins, came riding to Chilcote with 
 a magnificent bouquet from the conserva- 
 tories for Alison, and his master's anxious 
 inquiries as to how she had enjoyed the sport 
 of the previous day, and a hope that she 
 had not suffered from fatigue ; and Alison, as 
 she buried her pretty pink nostrils among 
 the cool and fragrant roses, smiled covertly 
 and mischievously as she heard from Gaskins 
 how his master had 'got such a precious 
 spill by funking at a bull-finch, when the 
 hounds were thrown off, that he would be 
 confined to the house for some day$.' 
 
 Thus for a time she would be free from, 
 the annoyance of his presence. 
 
 Archie, the white-haired man- of-all- work, 
 gave Mr. Gaskins a tankard of beer after he 
 had leaped into his saddle, where he took 
 what Archie called a ' standing drink, like
 
 40 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 the coo o' Forfar.' Lord Cadbury's pow- 
 dered servants, iu elaborate liveries, were 
 always a source of supreme contempt (min- 
 gled, perhaps, with envy) to Sir Ranald's 
 staunch henchman, and now he felt inclined 
 to sneer if he could at the well-appointed 
 groom, in his dark grey surtout, waistbelt, 
 cockade, and top-boots. 
 
 ' Braw leathers, thae o' yours,' said he, 
 regarding the latter with some interest. 
 
 ' Yaas,' drawled Gaskins. ' I flatter my- 
 self that few gents appear with better boot 
 tops than Cadbury and myself. I clean 
 them with a preparation quite a conserve, 
 Mr. Hackendore, peculiarly my own.' 
 
 ' And what may that be?' asked Archie. 
 
 ' Champagne and apricot jam/ replied 
 Gaskins, twirling his moustache and eyeing 
 the old man with intense superciliousness. 
 
 ' Set ye up, indeed, wi' your buits and 
 belts !' snapped Archie. 'Ye think yoursel 1 
 made for the siller; but a bawbee cat may 
 look at a king.'
 
 ELLON'S RING. 41 
 
 ' I don't understand the sense of your 
 remark,' drawled Gaskins, shortening his 
 reins. 
 
 ' Like enough like enough ; rnony com- 
 plain o' want o' siller, but few complain o' 
 want o' sense ; and a gowk at Yule will ne'er 
 be bricht at Beltane.' 
 
 ' What the devil is he talking about ?' 
 thought the bewildered groom, as he put 
 spurs to his horse and trotted away. 
 
 ' Wi' a' his bravery,' said Archie, with a 
 grimace, ' he's a loon that will loup the dyke 
 where it's laighest.' 
 
 Alison divided the bouquet into portions 
 for various vases to ornament her drawing- 
 room, and on the following day, after a 
 more than usually careful toilette, while her 
 father was occupied in worry and perplexity 
 over letters and accounts, seated herself in 
 the deep bay of a window that overlooked 
 the avenue, her heart beating quicker as the 
 noon wore on. 
 
 She had a novel in her hand, but we
 
 42 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 doubt if she knew even the title of it. 
 Pleasure, doubt, and anxiety were mingling 
 in the girl's mind pleasure, as she thought, 
 ' I shall see him again for a time, however 
 brief!' doubt of what might ensue if she 
 saw him under the keen watchful eyes of her 
 father, who could detect every expression of 
 her face, and a great anxiety lest she might 
 be requested to avoid all intimacy, even 
 acquaintanceship, with Bevil Goring in 
 future ; but little could she foresee the turn 
 matters were to take, or the events of the 
 next few days. 
 
 Luncheon was long past, and the after- 
 noon was drawing on, when Goring rode 
 down the avenue and gave the bridle of his 
 horse to Archie Auchindoir, who, with a 
 considerable appearance of being flustered, 
 had on the approach of a visitor hurried 
 from the garden, where he had been at 
 work, to don an old black claw-hammer coat, 
 the reversion of Sir Ranald's wardrobe. 
 
 He ran the bridle rein deftly through an
 
 ELLON'S KING. 43 
 
 iron ring in the ivy-covered porch, and pre- 
 ceded the young officer, whose card he 
 placed on a silver tray with as much 
 formality as if the little mansion of Chil- 
 cote had been a residence like Buckingham 
 Palace. 
 
 Sir Ranald bade him welcome with finish- 
 ed courtesy and old-fashioned grace, while 
 Alison, her cheek mantling with ill-con- 
 cealed pleasure for what young girl but 
 feels her pulses quicken in the presence of a 
 handsome and welcome admirer continued 
 to keep her back to the windows ; thus, dur- 
 ing the usual exchange of commonplaces and 
 inquiries, Sir Ranald, who watched both, 
 failed to detect anything in the manner of 
 either that could lead to the inference that 
 they had more interest in each other than 
 ordinary acquaintances, and began to feel 
 rather grateful to the young officer who had 
 come to do them a kindness. 
 
 ' So glad to see you again, Captain Gor- 
 ing, and to thank you for your care of Miss
 
 44 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 Cheyne when with the hounds,' he said, 
 motioning their visitor to a seat. 'The 
 cavalier to whom I entrusted her, Lord Cad- 
 bury, seems to have corne to grief at his 
 first fence,' added the old gentleman, laugh- 
 ing over the mishap of his friend, to whom 
 Goring would rather that no reference had 
 been made. 
 
 ' I promised to call, Sir Ranald, and in- 
 quire for Miss Cheyne, after our pretty 
 rough run, especially by Burnham Beeches, 
 where the pack hunted their game pretty 
 hard,' said Goring, ' and also to beg her ac- 
 ceptance of a relic of your son Ellon, of the 
 Hussars, of which I became possessed by the 
 merest chance in India.' 
 
 ' A thousand thanks. Most kind of you, 
 Captain Goring,' said Sir Ranald, his usually 
 pale cheek reddening for a moment. 
 
 ' I learned incidentally from Miss Cheyne, 
 as we rode towards Chilcote, that the poor 
 lad who was killed at Lahore was her 
 younger brother, and that the ring I possess
 
 ELLON'S RING. 45 
 
 had been his. It is here,' he added, open- 
 ing a tiny morocco box, in which he had 
 placed the ring. 
 
 It was a richly chased trinket, having 
 two clam-shells of gold, with a diamond in 
 the centre of each. 
 
 'Ellon's ring it is, indeed,' exclaimed Sir 
 Ranald, in a changed voice, while the mois- 
 ture clouded the glasses of his pince-nez. 
 
 ' My farewell gift to him on the morning 
 he marched from Maidstone you remem- 
 ber, papa,' exclaimed Alison, with tears in 
 her voice. 
 
 ' I am not likely to forget, God help me, 
 that both ray boys are gone, and now I 
 have ' 
 
 'Only me, papa.' 
 
 ' It is a source of supreme satisfaction that 
 I am the means of restoring this to his fam- 
 ily,' Goring added, judiciously, as he was on 
 the point of saying 'sister,' and he placed it 
 in her hand ; but that hand seemed so slim 
 and white and beautiful that he was tempted
 
 46 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 to do more, for lie slipped the ring rather 
 playfully and rather nervously on one of her 
 fingers, saying, ' It is a world too wide.' 
 
 ' Of course,' said Sir Ranald, 'it is a man's 
 ring.' 
 
 ' But, see !' exclaimed Alison, as she 
 pressed a spring, of the existence of which 
 Goring had been until that moment ignor- 
 ant, and the two clamshells unclosing 
 showed a minutely and beautifully coloured 
 little photo, no larger than a shilling, of her 
 own charming face. 
 
 ' Good heavens !' said Goring, with genuine 
 surprise and pleasure, ' I was all unaware of 
 this secret, thougli I have worn the ring for 
 two years and more.' 
 
 ' And all that time you have been wear- 
 ing my ring, my hair, my likeness,' muttered 
 Alison, in a low voice, while Sir Ranald was 
 ringing the bell. 
 
 ' Delicious fatality,' thought Goring, as he 
 looked on the sweet flushed face that was 
 upturned to his, and their eyes met in a
 
 ELLON'S RING. 47 
 
 mutual glance that expressed more than 
 their lips dared tell already, and which nei- 
 ther ever forgot. Luckily at that moment 
 the baronet, on hospitable thoughts intent, 
 was ordering Archie to bring wine, mention- 
 ing a rare brand from the small store which 
 yet remained of the wreck of better days 
 a store kept for visitors alone. 
 
 ' My brothers died within a month of each 
 other in India, Captain Goring,' said Alison. 
 ' Poor mamma never got over the double 
 shock, and and we have never been at 
 Essilmont since.' 
 
 ' Could not your presence, your existence, 
 console her?' asked Goring. 
 
 ' No ; her soul was centred in her boys.' 
 
 ' I shall never forget your kindness, Cap- 
 tain Goring, in bringing us this little relic of 
 Ellon,' said Sir Ranald ; ' and now after 
 your ride from the camp try a glass of this 
 white Clos Vougeot. But perhaps you would 
 prefer red. We have both, I think, 
 Archie ?'
 
 48 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 Though the last bottle of the red spark- 
 ling Burgundy had long since vanished, Ar- 
 chie vowed there was a binful, and fortun- 
 ately for his veracity Goring announced a 
 decided preference for the white ; and while 
 Alison played dreamily with her brother's 
 ring, and thought again and again how 
 strange it was that her hair and her likeness 
 should have been worn with it for so long 
 in far and distant lands by Bevil Goring, the 
 conversation turned to general subjects be- 
 tween the latter and her father, who came 
 secretly to the conclusion that he ' was a 
 very fine young fellow.' 
 
 He had seen the last on earth of Ellon, 
 had stood by his grave, had seen the smoke 
 of the death volleys curling over it, and seen 
 it covered up ; thus Alison thought he was 
 more to her than any mere stranger could 
 ever be, and already, in her heart, she had 
 begun to deem him more indeed. 
 
 And after he had taken his departure, 
 when she offered the ring to Sir Ranald, to
 
 ELLON'S KING. 49 
 
 her joy, he begged her to retain it, and, 
 much to her surprise, answered that he 
 meant to have a little dinner party. t 
 
 ' You quite take my heart away, papa a 
 dinner party !' exclaimed Alison. 
 
 ' Yes, we shall have this young fellow 
 Goring (he asked me to dine at his mess, 
 you know), and his brother officers Dalton 
 and Wilraot, Cadbury of course, and you 
 can have Mrs. Trelawney, who is always 
 charming company, to keep you in counte- 
 nance a nice little party.' 
 
 ' Oh, papa,' exclaimed Alison, in genuine 
 dismay, ' think of our poor menage.' 
 
 ' Tut consult Mrs. Prune on the subject.' 
 
 ' I thought you wished to have a rest from 
 dinner parties.' 
 
 ' I have been at so many, that some 
 return ' 
 
 ' Yes but but, papa ' 
 
 ' What next, child ?' 
 
 1 Our last quarter's bills were so large,' 
 urged Alison. 
 
 VOL. i. E
 
 50 MISS CHETNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 'Large for our exchequer, I have no 
 doubt.' 
 
 ' Let us call it luncheon, papa, and I 
 think I shall arrange it nicely,' she pleaded, 
 her heart quickening at the chance of meet- 
 ing Bevil (she already thought of him as 
 ' Bevil ') again. So that was decided on, 
 and the invitation notes were quickly de- 
 spatched. 
 
 Alison had watched from a window the 
 shadow of their visitor, as that of man and 
 horse lengthened out on the sunlisrhted 
 
 o i> 
 
 road, until shadow and form passed away ; 
 but Goring, as he rode homeward, was little 
 aware that he had not seen the last of Ellon 
 Cheyne's ring.
 
 51 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 LAURA TRELAWNEY. 
 
 fTIHE invited guests all responded, 
 
 accepted almost by return of post, and 
 a sigh of relief escaped Sir Ranald when he 
 found no missives came with them, as he 
 was generally well pleased when he saw the 
 village postman pass the avenue gate. 
 
 ' Captain Goring, I see, uses sealing wax 
 good custom good old style,' said he, 
 returning that officer's note to Alison, who 
 prized it rather more than he knew; 'uses 
 a shield too the chevron and annulets of 
 the Gorings of Sussex not a crest ; every 
 trumpery fellow sticks one on his notepaper 
 now the crest that never shone on a 
 helmet.' 
 
 So, from this circumstance, Bevil Goring 
 
 E 2
 
 52 MISS OHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 rose in the estimation of the baronet, who 
 knew all Burke's Armory by rote. 
 
 The luncheon lay heavy on poor Alison's 
 heart ; she thought of their cuisine, as it too 
 often was refined and dainty though her 
 father's tastes were meat roasted dubiously, 
 then made up into stews and lumpy minces, 
 with rice puddings, and she shivered with 
 dismay, and had long and deep consultations 
 with old Mrs. Rebecca Prune and her 
 daughter Daisy ; but when the day came 
 her fears were ended, and she began 'to see 
 her way,' as she said, and contemplated the 
 table with some complacency. 
 
 In her blue morning robe, trimmed with 
 white, which suited so well her complexion 
 and the character of her beauty, she was 
 cutting and placing in crystal vases the 
 monthly roses and few meagre flowers with 
 fern leaves fi*oni her tiny conservatory at the 
 sunny end of the house to decorate the table. 
 
 ' Don't they look pretty, papa ?' she 
 exclaimed, almost gleefully.
 
 LAURA TRELAWNEY. 53 
 
 ' Yes, but you, pet Alison, are the 
 sweetest flower of them all,' said Sir Ranald, 
 kissing the close white division of her rich 
 
 O 
 
 brown hair. 
 
 ' " Dawted dochters mak' daidling wives," 
 the}'' say,' muttered old Archie, who was 
 busy polishing a salver ; ' but our dear doo, 
 Miss Alison, will never be ane o' them, Sir 
 Ranald.' 
 
 For the honour of the house, Archie had 
 been most anxious to furnish his quota to 
 the feast, and said 
 
 ' Miss Alison, I am sure I would catch ye 
 some troots in the burn owre by, though the 
 weeds ha'e grown sae in the water, if you 
 would like them.' 
 
 'Thanks, Archie, you old dear,' replied 
 Alison, laughing, 'but we won't require 
 them.' 
 
 The cold salmon and fowls, the salads, 
 some game, the grapes, and other etceteras 
 of a well-appointed repast, to which delicate 
 cutlets were to be added, with some of Sir
 
 54 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 Eanald's irreproachable wines almost the 
 last remnants of a once well-stocked cellar 
 made the table complete, and Alison con- 
 tent ; nor must we forget the dainty china 
 and crested silver dishes, heirlooms for 
 generations back, which were brought from 
 their repositories, and were the pride of old 
 Auchindoir's heart and of his master's too. 
 
 The chief of these was a relic of consid- 
 erable antiquity, being nothing less than a 
 maizer, or goblet of silver, bequeathed by 
 Elizabeth, Queen Consort of Scotland, to 
 her master of the household, the Laird of 
 Essilmont. who, with Douglas, pursued 
 Edward of England from Bannockburn to 
 the gates of Dunbar, and which had em- 
 blazoned (in faded colours) and graven on 
 it the Cheyne arms, chequy or and azure, a 
 fess gules, fretty of the first, and crested 
 with a buck's head, erased. 
 
 Mrs. Trelawney and her little daughter 
 were the first to arrive. She swept up to 
 Alison, kissed her on both cheeks, with more
 
 LAURA TRELAWNEY. 55 
 
 genuine affection than effusiveness, and 
 apologised for the presence of her little 
 companion. 
 
 ' I knew you would pardon me bringing 
 the poor child. She has no one to love 
 but me, and mopes so much when left 
 alone.' 
 
 ' Netty, I hope, loves me too/ exclaimed 
 Alison, taking the girl a bright little thing 
 of some eight years or so, with a shower of 
 clustering curls in her arms and kissing her 
 fondly. ' I don't think papa would consider 
 his little entertainment complete without 
 Netty to prattle to him.' 
 
 Mrs. Trelawney, a brilliant blonde of 
 seven and twenty, though a widow, looked 
 almost girlish for her years ; her figure was 
 tall and eminently handsome; her white- 
 lidded and long-lashed hazel eves were full 
 
 
 
 of brilliant expression ; her manner was 
 vivacious, and every action of her hands and 
 head graceful in the extreme. She formed 
 an attractive and leading feature in every
 
 56 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 circle, and usually was the centre of a group 
 of gentlemen everywhere, and yet, singular 
 to say, she rather avoided than courted both 
 notice and society. 
 
 When she talked she seemed the art of 
 pleasing personified ; her words, her ges- 
 tures, her bright eyes, and beautiful lips were 
 all prepossessing. 
 
 She would invest petty trifles with inter- 
 est ; her accents were those of grace, and 
 she could polish the point of an epigram, 
 or say even a bold thing, better certainly 
 than any other woman Alison had ever met. 
 Her vivacity was said to approach folly ; but 
 even in her moments of folly, she was al- 
 ways interesting. 
 
 On the other hand she had times of de- 
 pression almost amounting to gloom, most 
 singular even to those who knew her best, 
 and it was averred that, though not very 
 rich, she had refused many eligible offers, and 
 preferred the perfect freedom of widowhood. 
 
 ' And now, dear,' she said, as she took an
 
 LAURA TRELAWNEY. 57 
 
 accustomed seat in the drawing-room, ' tell 
 me all who are coming.' 
 
 ' Well, there is Lord Cadbury.' 
 
 ' Of course.' 
 
 "And Captain Goring.' 
 
 1 Of course,' said the pretty widow, fan- 
 ning herself, though a crystal screen was 
 between her and the fire. 
 
 ' Why of course ?' asked Alison, colour- 
 ing ; ' and there is Jerry Wilmot your 
 devoted and Captain Dalton, who will be 
 sure to fall in love with you.' 
 
 At Dalton's name Mrs. Trelawney changed 
 colour ; indeed she grew so perceptibly 
 pale, while her lips quivered, that Alison 
 remarked it. 
 
 'Dearest, what agitates you so? Do you 
 know him ?' asked the girl. 
 
 ' No not at all !' 
 
 < What then ' 
 
 ' 1 knew one of the same name who did 
 me let me rather say my family a 
 great wrong.'
 
 58 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 * But he cannot be the same person.' 
 
 'Oh, no. Besides, this Captain Dalton 
 has just come from India with his regiment. 
 And so you think he will be sure to fall in 
 love with me ?' added Mrs. Trelawney, recov- 
 ering her colour and her smiles; 'and I 
 with him perhaps.' 
 
 ' That does not follow ; but he seems just 
 the kind of man I think a widow might fall 
 in love with handsome and manly, grave, 
 earnest, and sympathetic/ 
 
 ' But he may share in the aversion of 
 Mr. Weller, senior, and have his tendency 
 to beware of widows. I feel certain, 
 Alison dear, that your Captain Dalton will 
 never suit me.' 
 
 ' You have seen him, then ?' 
 
 ' Yes with the buckhounds the other 
 day.' 
 
 ' Wilrnot, who admires you so much, will 
 one day be very rich, they say.' 
 
 ' Don't talk thus, Alison, or I shall begin 
 to deem you what I know you are not
 
 LAURA TRELAWNEY. 59 
 
 mercenary ; but Jerry Wilmot has little 
 just now ; he has, however, a knowledge of 
 horseflesh and a great capability for spend- 
 ing money, and thinks a pack of hounds in 
 a hunting country is necessary to existence. 
 He is a detrimental of the first water, and 
 the special bete-noire of Belgravian and Ty- 
 burnian mammas.' 
 
 ' It is a pity you should ever seclude 
 yourself as you sometimes do, Laura/ said 
 Alison, looking at her beautiful friend with 
 genuine admiration; 'all men admire you 
 so much, and you have but to hold up your 
 little finger to make them kneel at your feet.' 
 
 ' How you flatter me ! But I never will 
 hold up my little finger, nor would I marry 
 again for the mines of Potosi and Peru. It 
 is as well that little Netty is so busy with 
 that photographic album, or she might 
 marvel at your anxiety to provide her with 
 a papa.' 
 
 ' It is not wealth you wait for ?' 
 
 'No.'
 
 60 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 ' What then, Laura ?' 
 
 ' Nothing.' 
 
 ' How I shall laugh if the handsome 
 Captain Dalton stirs that now unimpression- 
 able heart of yours.' 
 
 ' I shall be very glad to meet him,' said 
 Mrs. Trelawney, with a curious hardness in 
 her voice. 
 
 1 Why ?' 
 
 ' Because I may compel him to love me, 
 Alison,' and as Mrs. Trelawney spoke her 
 eyes flashed with a triumphant glow such as 
 Alison had never seen in them before. 
 
 ' Compel him ?' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' It would be easy to make him love you ; 
 but would you marry him ?' 
 
 ' How your little head runs on love and 
 marriage ! No, Alison, I shall never marry 
 again /' 
 
 'Poor soul,' thought Alison, admiringly, 
 ' how much she must have loved her first 
 husband !'
 
 LAURA TRELAWNEY. 61 
 
 And simultaneously with the entrance of 
 Sir Ranald, the three brother officers Bevil 
 Goring, Jerry Wilmot, and Captain Dalton 
 were announced, and all these were men 
 of the best style, in accurate morning cos- 
 tume, all more than usually good-looking, 
 set up by drill, easy in bearing, and looking 
 ruddy with their ride from the camp in a 
 chill October day. 
 
 ' I missed you early in the hunt, Miss 
 Cheyne,' said Jerry, after the introductions 
 were over. ' How you and Goring flew 
 over that first fence !' 
 
 ' I love to gallop over everything/ replied 
 Alison, ' but I must confess that ray sympa- 
 thies in the field are always with the flying 
 stag, or the poor little panting hare a 
 miserable, tiny creature, with a horde of 
 men, horses, and dogs after it, and making 
 the welkin ring when in at the death !' 
 
 ' Yes, though by the way I never know 
 precisely what the said welkin is, unless it 
 be the regions of the air.'
 
 62 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 All unaware that his name had been so 
 recently and so curiously on her lovely lips, 
 Captain, or Tony Dalton, as his comrades 
 called him, was saying some commonplaces 
 to Mrs. Trelawney, over whose chair he 
 was stooping. 
 
 He was not much her senior perhaps in 
 years, but he had seen much of service in 
 India. Tall and dark, with closely-shorn 
 brown hair, he had an air and face that 
 were commanding ; but with a simple grace 
 of bearing that belied any appearance of 
 self-assertion. 
 
 After India, where he had been long on 
 a station up country ; where all the Euro- 
 peans were males, and not a lady within 
 three hundred miles ; where a wet towel 
 and half a water-melon formed the morning 
 head-dress, and visits of the water-carrier 
 incessant; where books were scarce, serials 
 scarcer, flies and heat plentiful; and where 
 the little tawny women, with their nose- 
 rings and orange-coloured cheeks, were all
 
 LAURA TRELAWNEY. 63 
 
 alike hideous, to see such a woman as Mrs. 
 Trelawny, with her snowy skin, her shell- 
 like ears, and marvellous hands, was some- 
 thing indeed. 
 
 She was dressed in rich dark silk not 
 mourning ; she wore no widow's cap, but 
 had her fine hair simply braided in a heavy 
 and beautiful coil at the back of her 
 handsome head, and she looked as fair and 
 lovely as she must have done on her mar- 
 riage morning. 
 
 Bevil Goring had begun to address 
 Alison, whose sweet eyes were shyly up- 
 turned to his as she placed in the bosom of 
 her dress a rosebud he had taken from the 
 lapel of his coat, when the deep Doric 
 voice of Archie Auchindoir was heard an- 
 nouncing the Mte-noire of both. 
 
 ' Lord Cawdburv.'
 
 64 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ALISON'S LUNCHEON PARTY. 
 
 A MAN, between fifty and sixty years of 
 **" age, having a short, paunchy, and 
 ungainly figure, grizzled hair, ferret-like 
 eyes with a cunning unscrupulous expres- 
 sion, and a long heavy moustache which was 
 almost white, entered with a smiling face 
 and an easy and well-assured air that was 
 born, not of innate good breeding, but of 
 the supreme confidence given by position 
 and a well-stocked purse. 
 
 Coarse and large hands and ears, with an 
 over-display of jewellery, especially two or 
 three gold-digger-like rings, showed that, 
 though the second peer of his family, Lord
 
 ALISON'S LUNCHEON PARTY. 65 
 
 Cadbury was of very humble origin indeed. 
 
 His face wore its brightest smile as he 
 greeted his hostess, Alison, and under his 
 white moustache showed the remainder of 
 a set of teeth that, as Jerry Wilmot said 
 afterwards, were like the remnants of the 
 old Guard, ' few in number and very much 
 the worse for wear.' 
 
 He shook the slender hand of Sir Ranald 
 with considerable cordiality, yet not without 
 an air of patronage, bowed over Mrs. Tre- 
 lawney's gloved fingers, nodded slightly to 
 the three officers (Cadbury did not like mil- 
 itary men), and, seating himself by Alison's 
 side, banteringly accused her of running 
 away at Salthill and leaving him behind (he 
 did not say in the ditch), which was pre- 
 cisely what she did do; nor did she attempt 
 to excuse herself, but simply rose and took 
 his arm when Archie announced the lunch- 
 eon was ready, and, the moment he seat- 
 ed himself, the peer began to expatiate 
 upon the improvements he was making at 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 Cadbury Court, for behoof of the table 
 generally, though his remarks were made 
 especially to her ; but she heard with 
 indifference a description of the vineries, 
 pineries, and so forth, which he was erect- 
 ing at a vast cost. 
 
 Not so her father, who, with the pince- 
 nez balanced on his aristocratic nose, heard 
 of these things with a face which wore a 
 curiously mingled expression of satisfaction 
 and contempt ; for he failed not to recog- 
 nize a tone of vulgar ostentation that 
 seemed so well to suit, he thought, ' the 
 tradesman's coronet of yesterday,' and en- 
 deavoured to turn the conversation to hunt- 
 ing, though his days for it were passed. 
 
 'The world changes, and has changed in 
 many things, Captain Dalton,' said he ; ' but 
 true to his old instincts man will always be 
 a huntsman and a soldier.' 
 
 ' But to uncart a tame deer, or let a hare 
 out of a bag, and then pursue it with horse 
 and dog as if one's life depended upon the
 
 ALISON S LUNCHEON PARTY. 67 
 
 recapture, scarcely seems a sane proceeding,' 
 said Lord Cadbury, who still felt the effects 
 of his ' spill ' in the field, ' and all unsuited 
 to this age of refinement.' 
 
 ' 1 believe only in the refinement that is 
 produced by the education of generations,' 
 said Sir Ranald, a little irrelevantly, as he 
 tugged his white moustache and felt himself 
 unable to repress a covert sneer at the very 
 man for whom he had destined Alison, with 
 whom the peer was too much occupied to 
 hear what was said. 
 
 With all her regard and esteem for old 
 Archie Auchindoir, Alison was rather bored 
 by the bewilderment of Goring and others, 
 on whom he was in attendance, at his 
 quaint-ness, oddity, and unintelligible dia- 
 lect ; and sooth to say, all undeterred by 
 rank and wealth, he was very inattentive 
 and curt to Lord Cadbury, of whose views 
 he was no more ignorant than most servants 
 usually are of their superior's affairs. 
 
 Thus many a grimace stole over his wrin- 
 
 F2
 
 68 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 kled and saturnine visage as he watched the 
 pair, and muttered, as he carved game at 
 the sideboard 
 
 ' It is a braw thing to be lo'ed, nae doubt, 
 but wha wad mool wi' an auld moudiewart 
 like that ? No our Miss Alison, certes.' 
 
 On the strength of his wealth and rank, of 
 many a pretty present forced upon her un- 
 willingly, yet with her father's consent, and 
 curiously enough upon his great seniority to 
 her in years, which enabled him ' to do the 
 paternal,' as Mrs. Trelawney once said, Lord 
 Cadbury assumed a kind of right of propri- 
 etary in Alison Cheyne that was very galling 
 to the latter before her guests, and under 
 the sense of which Bevil Goring chafed in 
 secret as he drank his wine in silence and 
 gnawed his moustache in sheer anger, for 
 Alison was fast becoming to him more 
 than he might ever dare acknowledge to 
 herself. 
 
 ' You must have married when very 
 young, Mrs. Trelawney/ said Dalton, who
 
 ALISON'S LUNCHEON PARTY. 69 
 
 was plying her daughter with grapes and 
 crystallised fruits. 
 
 ' Yes I was just seventeen.' 
 
 ' It is so romantic to marry young.' 
 
 ' Too romantic perhaps to be either a sen- 
 sible or a practical proceeding,' said Mrs. 
 Trelawney. her slender fingers contrasting 
 in their whiteness with the deep crimson of 
 her claret glass ; ' but there is only one 
 thing else better than marrying young.' 
 
 ' And that is ' 
 
 ' To die young, Captain Dalton !' she said, 
 laughingly, yet with a curious flash in her 
 soft hazel eyes. 
 
 ' Like those whom the gods love ?' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 Dalton knew not what to make of these 
 strange speeches, but after a time he began 
 to see that she was rather given to indulging 
 in wild and even bitter' ones, yet all said 
 laughingly ; and he rapidly began to regard 
 her as a species of beautiful enigma. 
 
 To Alison it became apparent that a sud-
 
 70 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 den change had come over her friend Laura 
 at the first sight of Captain Dalton ; she had 
 grown pale and silent, and even distrait so 
 much so that Alison had whispered to 
 her, 
 
 ' Does he remind you of anyone ?' 
 
 ' Yes/ she had replied. 
 
 ' Of whom ?' 
 
 ' Pardon me.' 
 
 ' She is thinking of her dead husband, no 
 doubt. Dear me, if this should prove a 
 case !' thought the little match- maker, who 
 saw that as the luncheon proceeded Mrs. 
 Trelawney was all gaiety, smiles, and bril- 
 liance, and too evidently leaving nothing un- 
 done by sallies of wit to fascinate Dalton ; 
 and Alison felt grateful to her that by her 
 gaiety she had made the little luncheon 
 quite a success, as she felt it to have been 
 when all returned to the drawing-room to 
 have some music. 
 
 'Now, Laura dear,' said she, 'we all look 
 to you first,' and Dalton led the widow to
 
 ALISON'S LUNCHEON PARTY. 71 
 
 the piano, and she began to play readily 
 with great brilliancy, force, and execution 
 some very rare and difficult pieces of music, 
 while he stood by and turned over the 
 leaves ; and when pressed to sing she began 
 at once a little ballad the words of which 
 were curious, and went to a singularly slow, 
 sad, and wailing air : 
 
 ' Think not of me in summer's blush, 
 
 When flowers around thee spring, 
 And warbling birds on every bush 
 
 Their sweetest music sing. 
 Think not of me, when winter stern, 
 
 His icy throne uprears, 
 And long lost friends with joy return, 
 
 To tell of other years. 
 
 4 But when the sighing breezes own 
 
 Sad autumn's blighting sway, 
 And withered flowers and leaves are strewn, 
 
 In silence o'er thy way ; 
 Then think of me ! for withered lies 
 
 The dearest hope I nursed ; 
 And I have seen, with bitter sighs, 
 
 My brightest dream dispersed.' 
 
 Other verses of which these are a sample 
 followed, and her voice, tender, plaintive,
 
 72 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 half passionate, and somewhat piteous, gave 
 a powerful effect to the words, to which 
 Tony Dal ton seemed to listen like a man in 
 a dream as he hung over her. 
 
 ' Oh, Laura,' exclaimed Alison, hurrying 
 to her side, with a merry little laugh, ' that 
 melodramatic ditty is most unlike you. 
 Where, in the name of goodness, did you 
 pick it up ?' 
 
 ' I have heard that song long, long ago, 
 Mrs. Trelawney,' said Captain Dalton, trying 
 to pull himself together. 
 
 ' When ?' asked the singer, turning her 
 eyes upon him with one of their most 
 effective glances under lashes long and 
 dark. 
 
 ' I cannot say/ replied the officer ; ' but I 
 have heard these verses sung by a voice so 
 like yours that I am bewildered.' 
 
 ' Was it in a dream ?' she asked, softly. 
 
 * Perhaps.' 
 
 ' I found them in an old album, in which 
 they were written by a friend years ago.'
 
 ALISON'S LUNCHEON PARTY. 73 
 
 * What friend ?' asked Dalton, almost 
 mechanically. 
 
 ' That matters little now, nor could it 
 interest you.' 
 
 ' It does it does, because I knew that 
 song well years ago, as you say.' 
 
 Her eyelashes quivered, even her hands 
 trembled with some real or perhaps pre- 
 tended emotion, and she cut short the sub- 
 ject by dashing at once into a piece of 
 Verdi's music, and by her brilliancy and 
 sparkle she seemed to be absorbing Dalton 
 entirely now, greatly to the dismay of Jerry, 
 who was one of her bondsmen. 
 
 Mrs. Trelawney, who had undoubtedly 
 been studying the former, saw that he was 
 in many ways an interesting man, whose 
 face and bearing indicated that he had seen 
 much of the world, much of human life, and 
 done all that a soldier might do in it that 
 there was at times something of restless- 
 ness and impatience in his eyes and on 
 his lips, as of a man who had a secret, the
 
 74 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 clue to which she was curious to find. 
 
 When Alison took her place at the piano, 
 where Goring posted himself on duty to turn 
 the leaves (old Lord Cadbury knew not a 
 note of music luckily), Mrs. Trelawney drew 
 her daughter towards her, and said 
 
 'This is my little girl, Captain Dalton. 
 Give your hand, child.' 
 
 The latter, a very little girl, indeed 
 quite a small lady gave her tiny hand to 
 Dalton, who looked into her shy eyes 
 earnestly, and then said, with a bright 
 smile 
 
 ' How singular that she is not like you !' 
 
 'No she is dark-complexioned,' 
 
 1 And you are almost blonde, though your 
 eyes are hazel. I presume she resembles 
 her father ?' 
 
 ' She does in many points in others I 
 hope she never will,' added Mrs. Trelawney, 
 in her heart. 
 
 ' Is it long since she lost him ?' asked 
 Dalton, softly.
 
 ALISON'S LUNCHEON PARTY. 75 
 
 * She never knew him.' 
 
 * How ?' 
 
 * Fate took him from me before she was 
 born.' 
 
 1 Poor child !' said Dalton, caressing the 
 girl's soft and silky hair, while her tiny 
 fingers toyed with a ring he wore ; l she is 
 quite a little beauty, but she could not fail 
 to be so.' 
 
 ' You are pleased to be complimentary, 
 Captain Dalton,' said Mrs. Trelawney, who 
 seemed more pleased with his admiration of 
 the child than of herself, and a little sigh 
 escaped her. 
 
 There was now, as when she sang, a 
 great tenderness in her voice, a kind of 
 plaintive ring in it that stirred Dalton's 
 heart curiously, and when she asked him 
 question upon question, with a considerable 
 depth of interest, as to the places he had 
 seen, the adventures that had befallen him, 
 the battles in which he had shared, and so 
 forth, he found himself gradually unfolding
 
 76 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 to her all his past interests, his present 
 plans, his future hopes if, indeed, he had 
 any ; while she listened with her inquiring 
 eyes, half veiled by their drooping lids, 
 fixed on his, her bosom heaving, and a 
 white hand swaying her feather fan mechan- 
 ically to and fro. 
 
 * And now tell me, Captain Dalton,' said 
 she suddenly, as he paused ; ' but you will 
 think me very curious in all these years of 
 military wandering, how you never thought 
 of marriage ?' 
 
 ' A strange question !' said he. 
 
 ' And a leading one, you may think,' she 
 resumed, laughing merrily ; ' but we widows 
 are privileged people well ?' 
 
 * Never !' said he, in a low, husky voice, 
 and, through the bronze the Indian sun had 
 cast upon his cheek, she could see the scarlet 
 blush that mantled there, and, rather shrink- 
 ing from the turn their conversation had 
 taken, he drew back, and his place was in- 
 stantly assumed by Jerry Wilmot, who
 
 ALISON'S LUNCHEON PARTY. 77 
 
 plunged at once into a conversation, which 
 he conducted in a low and confidential tone, 
 while playing with her fan, of which he had 
 possessed himself. 
 
 Jerry Wilmot was eminently a handsome 
 fellow. From his well set-up soldierly head 
 to his slender well-moulded feet no fault 
 could be found with him ; but though his 
 manner and conversation were full of that 
 subtle flattery and earnestness which, if it 
 does not make its way to a woman's heart, 
 at least appeals to her vanity, he made no 
 progress apparently with Mrs. Trelawne} 7 , 
 who on this occasion listened to him with less 
 patience than usual, and without even her 
 generally amused smile. 
 
 'Are all men precisely alike to you?' 
 whispered Jerry. 
 
 'In the main they are.' 
 
 'This evening too?' 
 
 'Yes decidedly so/ she replied, with a 
 side glance. ' Now please give me my fan, 
 Jerry, and don't break it, as you so often do/
 
 78 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 'THE OLD, OLD STORY.' 
 
 ON this afternoon Alison felt, with plea- 
 sant confidence, that she was ' looking 
 her best,' dressed to perfection, and had 
 been equal to the occasion. She wore a 
 closely-fitting costume of lustreless black 
 silk, edged everywhere with rare old white 
 lace that had been her mother's ; her hair 
 appeared more golden than brown in the 
 sunshine, while seeming to retain the latter 
 in its silky coils. 
 
 Round her slender neck was a collarette 
 of soft, filmy white lace, and in it was a 
 Provence rose, which Lord Cadbury had 
 not been slow to detect as one from his own 
 bouquet, and gathered some hope there-
 
 ' THE OLD, OLD STORY/ 79 
 
 from, as Bevil Goring did from her wearing 
 his rosebud. 
 
 As she stood in the deep bay of one of 
 the old windows, with the full flood of the 
 ruddy afternoon sun streaming upon her, 
 she made a charming picture, and there Gor- 
 ing joined her, while the rest were all en- 
 gaged in general conversation. He was al- 
 ready feeling that to be near her was happi- 
 ness, and that to see her, even across a table, 
 was a thousand degrees better than not see- 
 ing her at all. 
 
 And she brief though their acquaintance 
 was had become conscious of a quicker 
 beating of her pulse, an undefinable sense 
 of pleasure pervading her whole form, a 
 mantling of colour in her cheek when he 
 approached or spoke to her. Little had as 
 yet passed between them ; but the tell-tale 
 eyes had told much. 
 
 ' What a wonderful vista of old beech- 
 trees !' said Goring, referring to the view 
 from the windows.
 
 80 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 ' And the distant village spire closes it so 
 prettily,' she replied ; ' but you cannot see 
 it properly from this point but from that 
 little terrace.' 
 
 ' May we step out ?' 
 
 ' Oh, yes.' 
 
 She tried to open the window, a French 
 one, which opened to the floor within and 
 to a couple of stone steps without. 
 
 'Allow me,' murmured Goring, and as he 
 drew back the latch his fingers closed for a 
 moment over hers. 
 
 They were only friends he was only a 
 visitor why should she not show him the 
 view, or anything else that interested him ? 
 She took a Shetland shawl from a chair 
 close by, threw it over her head, and, 
 gathering the soft folds under her pretty 
 chin in a hand that was white as a rosebud, 
 passed out with him upon the little terrace 
 that overlooked her garden. 
 
 ' And so that is Chilcote Church ?' 
 
 * Yes, Captain Goring an old edifice
 
 'THE OLD, OLD STORY.' 81 
 
 old, they say, as the time of Edward the 
 Elder. It is covered with ivy, and is a 
 capital subject to sketch.' 
 
 ' And is this building here, with the 
 eaves, your stable ?' 
 
 ' Oh, no we have no stables ; but it is 
 the scene of my peculiar care,' replied 
 Alison, laughing. 
 
 ' Indeed !' 
 
 ' My hen-house.' 
 
 And, with all his growing admiration of 
 her, the fashionable young officer almost 
 laughed when his charming companion 
 showed him her hen-houses her beautiful 
 Hamburgs, Dorkings, and their chutches of 
 Cochin-China chickens. 
 
 ' Do you like bees ?' she asked. 
 
 * No they sting, you know ; but I don't 
 object to the honey.' 
 
 So she showed him her hives, as if Goring 
 had never seen such things before ; and so 
 on by the duck-pond, and round the old- 
 fashioned house, with its heavy eaves, dor- 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMOXT. 
 
 mer windows, and masses of ivy, and he could 
 only think what a picturesque background 
 it made to the central figure of his lovely 
 companion, who, sooth to say, in the 
 pleasure of his society, forgot all about her 
 other guests ; or, if she did think, she knew 
 that Mrs. Trelawney could amuse them all. 
 To Bevil Goring Alison was quite un- 
 like any other girl he had met, she seemed 
 so highly bred, and yet withal so natural. 
 There seemed to be an originality about her 
 that piqued his fancy, while her freshness of 
 heart was charming ; and she often showed 
 a depth of thought and consideration born 
 perhaps of her family troubles and surround- 
 ings that surprised and interested him. 
 More than all did her grace and beauty 
 bewilder him ; and after this, amid the 
 routine of duty at Aldershot, and during 
 many a dusty day of drill in the Long 
 Valley, he could only think of her image, 
 her soft laughter, and the sweet, varying 
 expression of her grey-blue eyes.
 
 ' THE OLD, OLD STORY/ 83 
 
 ' With what pathos Mrs. Trelawney sang !' 
 said Goring, as after their little promenade 
 they drew near the French window again. 
 
 ' Yes ; one might have thought she was 
 singing that queer song of herself. There 
 seemed somehow a kind of wail in it, as if 
 it came from the heart. But we must go in 
 now.' 
 
 ' One moment yet,' said he, pausing and 
 almost touching her hand ; ' I am so happy 
 to be alone with you that I grudge every 
 opportunity you give to others.' 
 
 ' It is very good of you to say so,' replied 
 Alison to this rather confused remark, as 
 their eyes met with a mutual glance neither 
 could mistake nor ever forget ; ' but the 
 evening has become very chilly.' 
 
 And with this commonplace remark, 
 while her heart was beating wildly with 
 new, delicious, and hitherto unknown emo- 
 tions that made her cheek glow and then 
 grow very pale, Alison entered the room as 
 
 G2
 
 84 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 Bevil Goring opened and reclosed the 
 French window. 
 
 From that moment she knew that Bevil 
 loved her ; his eyes had told her so, and 
 young as she was, Alison was able to read 
 his confession in them. 
 
 Now Sir Ranald had missed the pair 
 from the drawing-room during the few 
 minutes they had been absent, and drew his 
 own conclusions therefrom, but not so Lord 
 Cadbury, who had a yet no jealousy ; nor 
 could he dream that any commoner or 
 poorer person could enter into a competition 
 with him for anything, assured as he was, 
 in an absurd degree, of the overwhelming 
 
 t 1 
 
 influence of his own rank and his own 
 money, which hitherto had always procured 
 him whatever he had a fancy for. 
 
 When Mrs. Trelawney's carriage was 
 announced by Archie, and that lady was 
 being shawled previous to her departure, 
 she made Alison grow pale with annoyance 
 by whispering as she kissed her
 
 'THE OLD, OLD STORY.' 85 
 
 ' I hope, darling, you have not been 
 making a fool of yourself?' 
 
 'How?' 
 
 ' Young as you are, you are certainly old 
 enough to know what officers are !' 
 
 ' I do not understand you, Laura what 
 are they ?' 
 
 'The greatest flirts in the world.' 
 
 * Have you found them so ?' 
 
 " I have had more experience of them 
 than I ever care to have again,' said she, 
 bitterly. ' Good-bye, Captain Dalton,' she 
 exclaimed, presenting her hand to the tall, 
 dark officer who had been regarding her 
 attentively. 
 
 ' Rather let us say au revoirj said he 
 bowing. ' I have with me at the camp a 
 necklace of Champac beads which I 
 brought from India, and I have just prom- 
 ised them to your daughter; if you will 
 permit me to send or to call ' 
 
 ' We shall be so happy to see you but 
 you are too kind, and are you not depriv-
 
 86 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 ing some other little, or fairer friend ' 
 
 ' No, Mrs. Trelawney ; I have scarcely a 
 lady friend in the world now,' said he, 
 laughing, though his speech seemed a grave 
 one. 
 
 A few minutes after and the little party 
 had separated ; Lord Cadbury remained 
 behind, to the intense annoyance of Goring, 
 who, with his two companions, went back 
 to the camp at a canter to be in time for 
 mess; and while Sir Ranald Cadbury's 
 senior by some fifteen years dozed and 
 slept after dinner in his easy chair, Alison, 
 till she was weary and well-nigh desperate, 
 had to undergo the prolonged visit, the 
 society, and the unconcealed tenderness, or 
 would-be love-making, of her odious old 
 admirer. 
 
 When Alison retired that night, Bevil's 
 rosebud was carefully placed in a flower 
 glass upon her toilette table, while Cad- 
 bury's Provence rose was left to repose in 
 the coal-scuttle; and Bevil Goring, in his
 
 ' THE OLD, OLD STOKY.' 87 
 
 hut in the infantry lines a hut in which he 
 chummed with Jerry Wilmot lay awake 
 far into the hours of the morning, till the 
 cannon announcing dawn boomed from 
 Gun Hill over the sleeping camp, thinking 
 again and again of the little promenade 
 round the old house at Chileote, the eyes 
 that had looked so sweetly into his ; of the 
 little he had hinted still more of the vast 
 amount he had left unsaid, and marvelling 
 when again he should see Alison Cheyne. 
 
 The fact is that Bevil Goring was very 
 much in love certainly more than he had 
 ever been in his life before, and frankly 
 confessed to himself that he had been ' hit 
 at last, and hit very hard indeed.' 
 
 Thus it may be imagined how much he 
 felt stung when next day at breakfast, 
 while the trio were talking of the day be- 
 fore, Dalton said, quite unwittingly 
 
 ' Mrs. Trelawney assured me that it is al- 
 most completely arranged that Miss Cheyne 
 is to become the wife of Lord Cadbury,
 
 88 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 who can make a princely settlement upon 
 her; while her father is, we all know, so 
 poor.' 
 
 ' What selfishness what sacrilege !' ex- 
 claimed Jerry, slashing the top off an egg, 
 ' to sacrifice her to that old duffer !' 
 
 ' For her father's sake I have little doubt 
 the girl will comply she seems of a most 
 affectionate nature.' 
 
 Bevil Goring sat silent ; but these 
 remarks sank deeply into his heart. 
 
 ' Does Mrs. Trelawney approve of these 
 arrangements ?' asked Jerry, after a pause. 
 
 ' I cannot say but I should rather think 
 not/ 
 
 ' To me she seems to have been singularly 
 unhappy in her short married life.' 
 
 ' What makes you think so ?' 
 
 ' I scarcely know but feel certain that I 
 am right.' 
 
 'Now wouldn't you like very much to 
 console her, Jerry ?' 
 
 1 You are the last man, Tony, in whom I
 
 ' THE OLD, OLD STORY.' 89 
 
 would confide concerning the fair widow,' 
 said Jerry, angrily; 'but there goes the 
 bugle for parade, and, by Jove, our fellows 
 are falling in !' 
 
 ' When her hair is grey if it ever be- 
 comes grey and all her youth is gone, that 
 woman will still be beautiful,' exclaimed 
 Dalton, with enthusiasm. 
 
 Mrs. Trelawney was wont to drive over 
 every other day when the weather was fine 
 and take Alison she knew the lonely life 
 the girl led away with her to afternoon 
 tea, to lawn tennis at the Vicarage or else- 
 where, or drive by Farnborough and Alder- 
 shot Camp. And, with reference to future 
 points in our story, we may add that this 
 sprightly lady resided at Chilcote Grange, a 
 pretty modern villa about a mile distant 
 from the mansion of Sir Ranald, whither 
 she had recently come after a long sojourn 
 abroad, or in the Channel Islands, as some 
 said, for no one knew precisely about her 
 antecedents.
 
 90 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 Notwithstanding all her real, or pre- 
 tended, aversion to matrimony, and love of 
 that freedom which the demise of ' the late 
 lamented Trelawney ' seemed to have given 
 her, the handsome widow, by more than 
 one mutual invitation to her ' afternoon 
 teas,' &c., unknown to Sir Ranald and Lord 
 Cadbury, gave Bevil Goring an opportunity 
 of meeting Alison Cheyne which he might 
 not have otherwise enjoyed. 
 
 Alison had read of love and thought of it 
 (as what young girl does not ?), and Bevil 
 Goring seemed to her the beau-ideal of all 
 she had pictured in her imagination a lover 
 or a husband ought to be. True it is, this 
 idea might be born of his undoubted fancy 
 for herself, and the impulsive nature of Ali- 
 son forbade her to love or do anything else 
 by halves. 
 
 Already she thought of him and spoke of 
 him to herself as ' Bevil,' and then paused 
 and blushed at the conviction that she did
 
 'THE OLD, OLD STORY.' 91 
 
 so. But then was not the name a quaint 
 and strange one ? 
 
 Dalton had called at Chilcote Grange and 
 left his card ; the widow was from home, 
 and, as he did not leave the gift he had 
 promised her little daughter, she smiled, 
 as she well knew that he meant to call 
 again. 
 
 1 Laura,' said Alison, as she saw the card, 
 ' I am certain that Captain Dalton admires 
 you Nay, loves you, from what Bevil, I 
 mean Captain Goring, tells me. He talks 
 of you incessantly.' 
 
 ' Yet he has only seen me once or twice.' 
 
 ' Quite enough to achieve that end.' 
 
 'How, child?' 
 
 ' You are so very beautiful,' said Alison, 
 patting the widow's cheek playfully. 
 
 ' How strange that you should say so !' 
 
 * Why strange ?' 
 
 ' I mean that one woman should so much 
 admire another. Had you been a man it
 
 92 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 might be natural enough, and understand- 
 able too.' 
 
 'But why not a woman?' persisted 
 Alison. 
 
 'Women are often too petty too jealous 
 generally of each other ; but you are a dear 
 pet, Alison, and admire those whom you 
 love. As for Dalton, he has seen so little 
 of me here at least.' 
 
 ' What ! has he met you elsewhere T asked 
 Alison, quickly. 
 
 ' No ; I have not said so/ replied Mrs. 
 Trelawney, colouring deeply for a moment. 
 
 ' But your words seemed to imply this, 
 Laura.' 
 
 ' They implied nothing I scarcely know 
 what I said ; but as for praising me, Alison,' 
 said Mrs. Trelawney, to turn the conversa- 
 tion apparently, ' you can well afford to do 
 so ; but if 1 were to be denuded of my bor- 
 rowed plumes, my gay dresses, and general 
 make-up, I might cut a sorry figure perhaps, 
 while you in the bloom of your girlhood '
 
 ' THE OLD, OLD STORY.' 93 
 
 ' Require all that bloom, Laura ; if my 
 good looks, and the impression they may 
 make, depended on all the finery poor papa 
 can give me, I should cut but a sorry figure 
 too.' 
 
 Then both laughed as they turned to the 
 mirror above the mantelpiece, that re- 
 flected two faces, which, though different in 
 style, contour, and colour, were both lovely 
 indeed, and the owners thereof felt that 
 they were so, 
 
 From thenceforward no solicitation could 
 prevail upon Alison Cheyne to ride one of 
 Lord Cadbury's horses again, passionately as 
 she loved equestrian exercise ; and her per- 
 sistent refusal greatly puzzled the amorous 
 peer, and annoyed Sir Ranald. 
 
 Two longings grew strong in the girl's 
 heart one to be rich and independent of 
 all monetary considerations, as her family 
 once was ; the other, that her father would 
 moderate his ambition to their present cir- 
 cumstances, and cease repining; but pride
 
 94 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 made him revolt against them, as not being 
 the inevitable, while she had as he thought 
 a well-gilded coronet lying at her feet. 
 
 As to any secret fancies Alison might 
 have, or her ' chance-medley ' friend Captain 
 Goring either, he barely gave them a 
 minute's consideration, as being too prepos- 
 terous, if indeed he considered them at 
 all. 
 
 Goring had no one to consult or regard 
 father, nor mother, nor brother ; he was 
 alone in the world now, and the entire 
 master of his own means, if somewhat slen- 
 der, and he longed now indeed for some one 
 to love, and love him in return. 
 
 He brooded over the past, and it was a 
 strange coincidence that he should have 
 worn for so long a time, in that far away 
 land of the sun, Ellon's ring with her hair 
 and her likeness in it, all unknown to him- 
 self; and of that circumstance he was never 
 weary pondering, and drawing therefrom 
 much romantic and lover-like comfort.
 
 ' THE OLD, OLD STORY.' 95 
 
 It seemed to establish a link a tie 
 between them ! 
 
 But Bevil remembered what he had seen 
 of Cadbury at Chilcote ; this latter's presents 
 incidentally referred to ; his proffered 
 mounts, and, more than all, the observations 
 of Mrs. Trelawney and others; hence his 
 tongue was tied and his heart seemed to die 
 within him. What had he compared with 
 Cadbury to offer worthy the consideration 
 of a man like Sir Ranald Cheyne ? 
 
 He had not been slow to divine, to 
 detect, the footing on which the former 
 stood with the latter a proud, impover- 
 ished, and embittered man, and a lover's 
 active imagination, full of fears and doubts 
 and jealousies, did the rest. 
 
 He actually avoided Chilcote, for he 
 knew that any intercourse there would be 
 restricted and restrained. 
 
 ' To meet her again and again is only 
 playing with fire,' he thought. ' For her 
 own sake and mine it is a perilous game.'
 
 96 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 But the moth would go to the candle, and 
 while avoiding Chilcote he often rode over 
 to the Grange, where, however, he never 
 had yet an opportunity of seeing Alison 
 quite alone, for, if no one else was present, 
 she had always little Netty Trelawney 
 hovering about her or hanging on to her 
 skirts. 
 
 When he did fail, as sometimes happened, 
 to see Alison, he was almost glad and yet 
 sorry, for her pale and thoughtful face 
 haunted him and filled his heart with a great 
 longing to comfort her, for somehow he 
 thought she wanted comfort, and to tell her 
 of his love, though the matter should end 
 there, and she tell him to go go and 
 never address her again, as he too surely 
 feared that the story of his love was one she 
 dared not, must not, listen to. 
 
 One day he never forgot it he was 
 leaving the Grange, walking slowly, with 
 the bridle of his horse over his arm, when 
 he came suddenly upon her of whom his
 
 f THE OLD, OLD STORY.' 97 
 
 thoughts were full, about to enter the gate 
 from the roadway. 
 
 * Alison !' 
 
 The name, all softly uttered, and with 
 infinite tenderness, seemed to escape him 
 unconsciously as he lifted his hat. 
 
 ' Captain Goring,' said Alison, looking 
 up, her pleasure blending with alarm in her 
 face, ' you must not call me thus. What 
 would people think ?' 
 
 ' Pardon me/ said he, as he took her 
 hand, while colouring nearly as deep as 
 herself. To resist improving the unexpected 
 opportunity, however, was impossible, so 
 after a little pause, he said 
 
 ' It seems an age since I saw you last.' 
 
 ' Don't exaggerate, Captain Goring. We 
 met at Laura's only four days ago/ 
 
 ' Four centuries they have seemed to me. 
 I suppose you walk often in these beautiful 
 woods of Chilcote ?' 
 
 * Oh, yes, in summer especially ; but the 
 leaves are nearly gone now.' 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 1 And in autumn where ?' 
 
 ' In the woods too ; but in the broad walk 
 that leads towards the church.' 
 
 ' The walk with the stately old beeches ?' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 It was the vista she had shown him from 
 the little terrace. 
 
 * And when do you generally go there ?' 
 he asked, in lower voice, while his hand 
 closed over hers. 
 
 ' A little before noon,' she replied, in a 
 whispered voice. 
 
 'To-morrow, then,' said he, seeking for 
 the eyes that now avoided his, and with a 
 he^art beating lightly he galloped along the 
 road towards the camp. 
 
 Next day Alison sought her usual walk 
 with a strange palpitation in her bosom, as 
 if something was about to happen ; and she 
 had a timid fear of being seen of being 
 watched like one who was about to commit 
 a crime a great error perhaps ; and yet for 
 the life of her she could not fail to keep the
 
 1 THE OLD, OLD STORY.' 99 
 
 appointment, for such her poor little heart 
 told her it was. 
 
 The day was wonderfully bright and 
 beautiful for the season ; streaming through 
 the giant beeches the rays of the sunshine 
 quivered on the green grass and brown fern ; 
 there was a hum of insect life still, and the 
 twitter of sparrows, while an occasional 
 rabbit shot to and fro. 
 
 The time passed slowly, till Alison thought 
 she could hear the beating of her heart ; for 
 it seemed as if she and the rabbits, the 
 sparrows and the insects, were to have all 
 the glade to themselves; when suddenly 
 she heard the gallop of a horse, and jn 
 another moment Bevil Goring had sprung 
 from his saddle and taken her hand. 
 
 ' My darling, my darling, I knew you 
 would come,' he exclaimed, with tenderness 
 in his tone and passion in his eyes, ' may I 
 call you Alison now?' 
 
 She did not reply audibly, but the quick 
 rose-leaf tint one of her greatest beauties 
 
 H2
 
 100 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 swept over her soft cheek and delicate 
 neck, rising even to her little ears while he 
 repeated 
 
 'May I call you Alison now my own 
 Alison when I tell you that I love you ?' 
 
 He kissed her tenderly on the forehead, 
 the eyes, and lips again and again ; and, then 
 suddenly drawing a little way from him, 
 she covered her face with her white hands 
 and began to sob heavily. 
 
 ' You love me, don't you ?' he asked, im- 
 ploringly. 
 
 ' Yes, Bevil,' she replied, in a broken 
 voice ; and he, transported to hear his Chris- 
 tian name for the first time on her lips, 
 pressed her to his breast, while she submit- 
 ted unresistingly, but added, ' I must come 
 here no more now no more!' 
 
 ' Why, my love ?' 
 
 1 It is wrong to papa.' 
 
 ' Surely you will see me again, darling 
 surely you will not accept my love and give 
 me up at the same moment? I shall speak
 
 ' THE OLD, OLD STOKY.' 101 
 
 to Sir Ranald, if you will permit me.' 
 
 ' Useless useless ; you would but pre- 
 cipitate my fate.' 
 
 ' Your fate what is that ?' 
 
 ' I don't know I don't know,' moaned 
 the girl, in sore bewilderment, while the 
 thin aristocratic face of her father, with his 
 keen, blue, inquiring eyes, gold pince-nez 
 and all, seemed to rise before her. 
 
 ' I am not rich I know, Alison darling.' 
 
 ' And I have been used to the want of 
 riches nearly all my life, and now now 1 
 must go.' 
 
 * Already ! You will be here to- 
 morrow ?' 
 
 'Oh, no ; not to-morrow.' 
 
 ' When ?' 
 
 ' I cannot, dare not say.' 
 
 ' You are cruel to me, Alison,' he ex- 
 claimed, and with one long, clinging kiss 
 they separated she to run down the wood- 
 ed pathway like a hunted hare, and he to 
 ride slowly off in the opposite direction.
 
 102 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 He came to that trysting-place the next 
 day, however, and the next too, but no 
 Alison was there, and he eould only surmise 
 wildly, and perhaps wide of the truth, what 
 detained her. 
 
 Had she been watched ? Had their 
 meetings been overseen, overheard? 
 
 He knew not precisely how it was with 
 Alison, whom he regarded with a species of 
 adoration, but deep in his heart sank the 
 delightful consciousness that his love pleased 
 her, and that when they did meet again it 
 should have some firmer basis than that 
 brief and stolen meeting had given it. He 
 now understood much of the shyness and 
 timidity her manner had of late exhibited. 
 He hoped now that he also understood the 
 half veiled light that had filled her grey- 
 blue eyes at his approach, and the sweet 
 roseate flush that crossed her cheek, to 
 leave it paler than before. 
 
 She would soon learn to love him fully 
 and confidently, and he would be content
 
 ' THE OLD, OLD STORY.' 103 
 
 to wait for the coining joy of a regular en- 
 gagement. But how about Sir Ranald 
 Cheyne's views ; how about Cadbury's too 
 probable offers ; how about * the Fate ' 
 which, with a broken voice, she said the 
 knowledge of his love for her would but 
 anticipate ?
 
 ]04 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 JERRY ANT) THE WIDOW. 
 
 A LISON'S tears, agitation, and fears, to- 
 -" gether with her admission that he 
 was far from indifferent to her the mem- 
 ory of their mutual kisses, and all that had 
 passed so briefly, sank deeply into the heart 
 of Bevil Goring, who thought the secret 
 terms on which they now were, if they 
 were to meet again, as he could not doubt, 
 were ridiculous to himself and derogatory 
 to her. 
 
 His natural impulses of honour led him 
 to think he should at once address Sir Ran- 
 ald on the subject; but the girl's dread of 
 his doing so made him pause. He thought
 
 JERRY AND THE WIDOW. 105 
 
 he would consult Dalton or Wilmot on the 
 subject ; but the former was on duty, and 
 the latter was full of his own affairs ; for 
 Jerry, in fact, had made up his mind to 
 propose to Mrs. Trelawney ! 
 
 Jerry made a more than usually careful 
 toilette that forenoon, and was more than 
 ever irreproachable in the matters of boots, 
 gloves, studs, and collar, even to the 
 waxen flower at his button-hole all with 
 the aid of his soldier valet, Larry O'Farrel, 
 whom he had just found deep in the 
 columns of the Aiders/lot Military Gazette. 
 
 ' Any news, O'Farrel ?' asked Jerry, as he 
 rasped his thick hair with a pair of ivory- 
 handled brushes to adjust the parting of his 
 back hair. 
 
 * Only that the Sultan of Turkey is dead, 
 sir.' 
 
 'The deuce he is died of want of breath, 
 I suppose ?' 
 
 ' Yes, sir ; strangled or something of that 
 kind, sir.'
 
 106 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 Well, O'Farrel, would you like to be 
 Sultan of Turkey ? The berth would suit 
 you, for, like the Bradies, 
 
 " You'd make a most iligant Turk, 
 Being fond of tobacco and ladies." ' 
 
 ' Shouldn't mind, sir, if the pay and 
 allowances was good.' 
 
 ' Well/ said Jerry, who was in excellent 
 spirits with himself and the world at large, 
 ' send in your application in proper form 
 through me as the captain of your com- 
 pany, and in time I have not the slightest 
 doubt you will be O'Farrel the First.' 
 
 Jerry said all this so gravely and impres- 
 sively that, though used to his jokes, not a 
 smile spread over the face of Larry, who 
 raised his right hand in salute while stand- 
 ing erect as a pike. 
 
 He had heard about the Champac neck- 
 lace and the proposed second visit of Tony 
 Dalton, so he resolved to anticipate his 
 brother officer, to ' turn his flank,' if possi-
 
 JERRY AND THE WIDOW. 10? 
 
 ble, for Jerry was never more in love in his 
 life, or thought himself so. 
 
 He had been dazzled by the notice the 
 brilliant widow had taken of himself ever 
 since the last Divisional Steeple Chase meet- 
 ing, at which he first met her, and had lost 
 ' no end ' of gloves to her in bets on the 
 ' Infantry Hunt ;' her coquettish familiarity, 
 the rapidity with which she adopted him as 
 it were, and slid into making him do 
 errands for her, calling him by his Christian 
 name or the abbreviation thereof, ' Jerry ' 
 (which sounded so sweetly on her charming 
 scarlet lips), her ceillades and tricks with her 
 fan when she tapped his arm or cheek there- 
 with, were all things to think pleasantly of, 
 and served to encourage him. 
 
 * Hang it all,' thought Jerry ; ' why 
 shouldn't I open the trenches and make my 
 innings now ?' 
 
 So he got into his mail-phaeton, and drove 
 leisurely through the North Camp. Dalton 
 Avas on guard that day, and saw Jerry, of
 
 108 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 whose mission he had not then the least 
 idea, fortunately, as his own mind was full 
 of Mrs. Trelawney ; he gave Jerry a cigar 
 from his case, exchanged a word or two, 
 and saw him turn away into Aldershot 
 intent on his own destruction, as some of 
 the mess might have said. 
 
 ' I am awfully spooney,' thought Jerry, 
 as he tooled along the level highway, flick- 
 ing his high-stepper's ears with the lash of 
 his whip. ' She is certainly a lovely woman, 
 and would make a creditable wife to me, 
 and be quite a feature at all the garrison 
 balls and cricket matches ; but what the deuce 
 will the mess think of Netty of me having 
 a daughter nearly half as old as myself! 
 There's the rub ! She is a pretty little 
 thing just now, but will be awfully in the 
 way ten years hence, when all my aim in 
 life may be to marry her to some coal or 
 iron man, or any fellow that will have her.' 
 
 And Jerry was laughing softly to himself 
 at this idea as he drew up at the door of
 
 JERKY AND THE WIDOW. 109 
 
 Chilcote Grange, and threw the reins to his 
 tiny top-booted tiger. 
 
 Mrs. Trelawney was ' at home,' and in a 
 few minutes Jerry found himself face to 
 face with her, in all her bloom and radiance, 
 seated on a sofa in her charming little draw- 
 ing-room, the appurtenances of which were 
 all in excellent taste, so far as couches, 
 pretty chairs, fragile tables, curtains, lace, 
 and statuettes could make it, and pretty 
 landscapes hung on the walls with blue 
 ribbons in lieu of cords ; and then Mrs. 
 Trelawney's tightly-fighting costume of dark 
 blue, which showed the exquisite outline of 
 her bust and shoulders, was perfect, from 
 the ruche of soft tulle round her delicate 
 neck to the dainty slippers which encased 
 her handsome feet. 
 
 The brightness of her smile encouraged 
 Jerry, who, after a few well-turned expres- 
 sions of pleasure at seeing her looking so 
 well, lost no time in ' opening the trenches,' 
 for he was, though a young fellow, a re- 
 markably cool hand.
 
 110 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 The widow's bright hazel eyes dilated 
 with surprise for a moment, and then their 
 white lids and long silky lashes drooped, as 
 if to veil the amusement that sparkled in 
 them, as she withdrew her hand, of which 
 Jerry had possessed himself, and said 
 
 ' Oh, Mr. Wilrnot, are you in earnest ?' 
 
 ' Could I dare to be anything else in 
 addressing you thus? Earnest can you 
 ask me ! always when with you, and you 
 know how much I love you. Will you 
 marry me ?' 
 
 'My dear Jerry, don't be foolish ! You 
 are but a boy compared with me, in my 
 experience as a woman of the world especi- 
 ally. It is too absurd !' 
 
 ' If you are older than me at all, it can 
 only be by a year or two,' said Jerry, who 
 thought it was not such a difficult matter to 
 propose as he had first deemed it ; ' and so, 
 dearest Laura ' 
 
 ' You must not address me thus.' 
 
 1 But don't you call me Jerry ?'
 
 JERRY AND THE WIDOW. Ill 
 
 ' There is a difference, and I may never 
 do so again.' 
 
 'Don't say so; besides you cannot help 
 me thinking of you as " Laura " ?' 
 
 ' Thought is free, but speech is not.' 
 
 ' You will ever be Laura in my thoughts 
 and in my heart, whatever you may be on 
 my lips.' 
 
 Jerry said this with so much emotion that 
 Mrs. Trelawney ceased to laugh at him, and 
 gave her hand, saying, 
 
 ' Jerry, let us be friends ; be assured we 
 can be nothing more, and, indeed, nothing 
 better.' 
 
 Jerry retained her soft hand lovingly, and, 
 taking heart of grace therefrom, said, 
 
 ' I shall speak of this matter again, Laura. 
 I see that I quite deserve your refusal.' 
 
 'Why?' 
 
 ' Because I spoke too soon too abruptly.' 
 
 ' Believe me, dear Jerry, my answer is a 
 final one. I could never bestow on you the 
 love a wife should feel for her husband.'
 
 112 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 ' That would come in time after mar- 
 riage, Laura.' 
 
 ' No, it cannot be ; leave me and forget 
 me.' 
 
 'That is impossible. I shall never, while 
 life lasts, forget you.' 
 
 Mrs. Trelawney felt an inclination to 
 laugh again, She controlled her lips, but 
 her half-closed eyes were sparkling with a 
 smile. 
 
 ' I am unworthy the regard I have won. 
 Thrust rne from your thoughts, Jerry, and 
 forget me, I pray you, forget me,' said she, 
 emphatically, as she again withdrew her 
 hand. 
 
 1 1 have been a fool !' exclaimed Jerry, 
 bitterly, as he twisted his dark moustache 
 and betrayed considerable emotion, at least 
 for him. 
 
 ' Oh, no,' said Mrs. Trelawney, patting his 
 shoulder with her fan. * You are no worse 
 than other men. You could not help it, if 
 I was silly enough to be shall I say it ?
 
 JERRY AND THE WIDOW. 113 
 
 amused, perhaps pleased, by all your tender 
 speeches, though I could not believe in 
 them.' 
 
 Jerry stared at her in doubt whether to 
 be indignant or not, but again her beauty 
 and espieglerie of manner triumphed. 
 
 1 Oh, Laura, once again,' he was resuming, 
 when she interrupted him 
 
 ' I know all you would say, but please 
 not to renew this subject, or I shall lose all 
 faith in you, Captain Wilmot.' 
 
 ' Say " Jerry," ' he urged. 
 
 'Well, then, Jerry, I like you very much,' 
 she said, coquettishly, .and with an infinite 
 sweetness of tone ; ' but I shall be sorry if 
 your persistence makes me view you differ- 
 ently.' 
 
 ' If you like me so very much, why can- 
 not you marry me ? You would like ine 
 ever so much more afterwards.' 
 
 * It is impossible,' said Mrs. Trelawney, 
 smiling openly now. 
 
 * Why are you so hard-hearted ?' 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 ' I am not hard-hearted. I am indiffer- 
 ent, that is all what I have been made by 
 others.' 
 
 * What others ?' 
 
 ' That is my secret. But here come 
 visitors/ said she, rising and presenting her 
 hand. 'And let us part, Jerry, as I hope 
 we shall meet again good friends.' 
 
 In a few minutes Jerry was tooling back 
 to the camp again. 
 
 ' Her manner is deuced mysterious,' 
 thought he, in great perplexity. ' What 
 can she mean ? She spoke of herself as 
 ; ' unworthy," too. Has she a husband some- 
 where, after all? Oh, the devil! That 
 can't be.' 
 
 ' Where have you been, Jerry ?' asked 
 Dalton, who was again loitering in front of 
 the guard-hut at the camp gate, with a cigar 
 between his lips, and saw his friend coining 
 slowly along, with the reins dropped on his 
 horse's neck.
 
 JERRY AND THE WIDOW. 115 
 
 ' I have been at Chilcote Grange,' said 
 Jerry, almost sulkily. 
 
 'The deuce you have,' said Dalton, with 
 surprise. 
 
 4 There is nothing new in that.' 
 
 1 Calling, were you ?' 
 
 ' Yes, and proposing to the widow la belle 
 Trelawney.' 
 
 ' Nonsense !' exclaimed Dalton. 
 
 ' A fact though.' 
 
 'And with what success?' asked Dalton, 
 his colour changing perceptibly. 
 
 'None at all, old fellow; bowled out; 
 thrown over I may trust to your silence, I 
 know fairly laughed at me, and won't have 
 me at any price, by Jove.' 
 
 ' Proposed, and was refused,' said Dalton, 
 as if speaking to himself. 
 
 ' Proposed right off the reel, whatever 
 that may mean, and was refused. But I 
 don't mean to break my heart over it,' added 
 Jerry, twirling and untwirling the long lash 
 of his whip. 
 
 I a
 
 116 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 ' And what do you mean to do ?' 
 
 * Make love to some one else get tight 
 at the mess to-night tight as a drum. So 
 you may go in and win at a canter, if you 
 choose.' 
 
 ' Thanks, Jerry ; but I don't mean to pro- 
 pose to the widow,' said Dalton, laughing. 
 ' She has some history of her own, I think.' 
 
 ' So do I,' said Jerry, angrily ; ' and it is 
 bad form for women to have histories or 
 mysteries either.' 
 
 ' Sour grapes, Jerry,' said Daltou, still 
 laughing. 
 
 ' I thought you were hit a little in that 
 quarter yourself, Tony ; but I am much 
 mistaken if there is not more in her life than 
 you know, or any of us is ever likely to 
 know.' 
 
 Dalton, though secretly pleased that 
 Jerry had not met with success, was also 
 secretly provoked at what he deemed the 
 young fellow's over-confidence. He had 
 felt himself he knew not why curiously
 
 JERRY AND THE WIDOW. 117 
 
 affected when in the presence of Laura Tre- 
 lawney ; there was a subtle influence in her 
 voice and smile that wakened old memories 
 and strangely bewildered him ; and especial- 
 ly when she sang, these stole over him and 
 seemed to take tangible form. 
 
 ' And now, I suppose/ said Jerry, as he 
 manipulated a cigar, 'I must just do as she 
 probably did when the " late lamented "took 
 himself off.' 
 
 ' What is that ?' 
 
 ' " Drop some natural tears and wipe them 
 soon," as Milton has it.' 
 
 ' I'll give you another quotation, Jerry 
 what does Abou Adhem say ?' 
 
 1 Don't know never heard of the fellow.' 
 
 ' " Your lost love is neither the beginning 
 nor ending of life. Several things remain 
 to _you. She is false, and you are the vic- 
 tim. Very good. Nature is not going into 
 bankruptcy; the sun will rise and set just 
 the same ; corn will grow, birds sing, and 
 the rain fall just as before, My experience
 
 118 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 is, that it's a toss up that you are not the 
 better without her, and she not better with- 
 out you" '' 
 
 'Likely enough, Tony; but, as " Ccelebs in 
 search of a wife," I need not go there any 
 more,' half grumbled Jerry, as he whipped 
 up his high-stepper and bowled away 
 through the long street of huts to his quar- 
 ters; while to Dalton's graver mind there 
 seemed to be something intensely comical 
 in the equanimity with which he took his 
 repulse.
 
 119 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ' FOR EVER AND FOR EVER.' 
 
 OF a very different nature in its depth 
 and passion was a love-scene which 
 was taking place not very far distant from 
 the Grange at about the same time. 
 
 Alison Cheyne, we have said, had ceased 
 to take her walk beside the beeches, though 
 her heart yearned for it, and she knew well 
 who was too probably loitering and watch- 
 ing there ; so Bevil Goring, at all risks, 
 wrote her a passionate and imploring letter 
 to meet him once again at the same place 
 and hour, with an alternation of days in 
 case of engagements or interruption ; and 
 this missive came to her when Alison, who
 
 120 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 loved him with, all her woman's heart, was 
 wondering hourly how she could get 
 through day after day without him. 
 
 'At last ! at last !' was the exclamation of 
 each as the tryst was kept, and they met 
 again. 
 
 Their hearts were beating fast, and in 
 unison, but in silence, and, if the meeting 
 was a secret and a stealthy one, it was all 
 the more thrilling to both. They were silent 
 for a time, we say, but the silence was not 
 without its eloquence, if the paradox may 
 be used. There was the mystic communion 
 of souls the touch of hand that closed on 
 hand, of lip that clung to lip lips that 
 knew not how to utter all that hovered 
 there unsaid. 
 
 'You got my letter, darling?' said Bevil, 
 after a time. 
 
 ' I could not have been here else ; but, 
 for heaven's sake, do not write to me again/ 
 said Alison, imploringly. 
 
 'Why?'
 
 ' FOR EVER AND FOK EVER/ 121 
 
 ' For fear of papa ; ray correspondents 
 are so few, his suspicions might be excited.' 
 
 ' How hard is this ! surely we might 
 write to each other occasionally,' urged 
 Bevil, caressing her. 
 
 ' No, my dearest ; I dislike the idea of a 
 correspondence that is clandestine, however 
 romantic it may be ; and if papa discovered 
 it he would deem it so dishonourable in me 
 so dishonourable to himself.' 
 
 1 But you will meet me ?' 
 
 ' I shall try, Bevil I shall try ; oh, I 
 cannot help coming to meet you now.' 
 
 ' Allow me, darling, till I can place 
 another there !' exclaimed Bevil, as he 
 slipped a ring on her engagement finger. 
 
 ' Oh, Bevil,' but whatever she was about 
 to say he stopped in a very effectual manner. 
 
 'You will wear this for my sake,' he 
 whispered. 
 
 ' I will, darling.' 
 
 ' Say always.' 
 
 ' Always, Bevil for ever and for ever
 
 122 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 and and,' she added, smiling shyly through 
 her tears that mingled love, joy, and some- 
 thing of terror caused to well up in her 
 beautiful eyes, c you will take this from me 
 (I brought it on purpose), poor Ellon's ring 
 the ring you wore so long without know- 
 ing whose face and hair were hidden in it.' 
 
 ' It was an omen of what was to come, 
 love Alison an omen that we were to 
 meet, and that you should be mine mine 
 only !' he replied, embracing her with 
 ardour. 
 
 They had now become a little more com- 
 posed and a little more coherent. 
 
 ' I have expectations, of course every 
 fellow has,' said Bevil Goring, as they wan- 
 dered on slowly hand in hand ; ' but mine 
 are perhaps too remote to suit the views, 
 and may be opposed to the ambition, of Sir 
 Ranald ; yet I love you so dearly, so des- 
 perately, darling, that if you will wait for 
 me only a year I ask no more I shall 
 hope to claim you publicly or set you free.
 
 ' FOR EVEK AND FOR EVER.' 1 23 
 
 A captain with only a hundred or two be- 
 sides his pay could scarcely hope to wed 
 your father's daughter, Alison. Let our 
 engagement be a secret one, as you dread 
 an open one. It is not honourable in me 
 to tie you thus, but what can I do ? Sepa- 
 ration now would be a kind of death to 
 me ; and oh, Alison, I love you so !' 
 
 ' And I you, Bevil ;' then she added, in a 
 broken voice, ' We have had great sorrow, 
 great trouble, we Cheynes, and they have 
 made papa what he is ; but I can remember 
 when things were very different, when we 
 were not so poor as we are now, and when 
 he poor old darling ! had much more of 
 life and spirit in him.' 
 
 And so, while replying to Bevil's down- 
 ward glances of love and tenderness, she 
 pressed closely to his side, with her fingers 
 interlaced upon his arm, in the assured con- 
 fidence of their mutual relations to each 
 other, as they sauntered towards a more 
 sequestered part of the coppice.
 
 124 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 Let the dark future hold what it might 
 of severance, tears, and futile longings, for 
 that fleeting time Bevil was hers and she 
 was his his own ! 
 
 And so they parted an engaged pair, he 
 not at all foreseeing, and she only fearing, 
 the gathering cloud that overhung them 
 both. Her elderly admirer was in London 
 then. Parliament was sitting, and she, freed 
 from his visits, abandoned herself to the full 
 enjoyment of the present. 
 
 She now wore a new ring, a handsome 
 diamond hoop with a guard, upon the third 
 finger of her left hand ; but this was un- 
 noticed by Sir Ranald, though it did not 
 escape the sharper eyes of Mrs. Trelawney, 
 who more than once caught her young 
 friend toying with the trinket turning it 
 to and fro round her slender finger, while 
 regarding it with a sweet, loving, and 
 dreamy expression of face which told its 
 own tale. 
 
 But, if Mrs. Tfelawney was reticent on
 
 ' FOR EVER AND FOR EVER.' 125 
 
 the subject of her suspicion, Alison was 
 still more so, and locked her secret in her 
 own breast. 
 
 With all the joy of the new position, 
 however, there was more than one element 
 in it from which her sensitive nature shrank. 
 
 First, a secret understanding had been 
 established between her and a gentleman 
 friend as yet deemed only a visitor at 
 Chilcote unknown to her father and to 
 others. Second, it had not been discovered 
 as yet, but might not always remain so, and 
 thus eventually cause an esclandre ; and to 
 her it seemed that to make and keep suc- 
 cessive appointments sweet and delicious 
 though they were that must be kept secret 
 was in itself something wrong and unlady- 
 like; but she was the victim circumstances 
 had made her. 
 
 At times it seemed very ' bad form,' as 
 the phrase went a want perhaps of self- 
 respect ; and yet Bevil Goring was so tender, 
 so loving, so unlike, she thought, every
 
 126 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 other man in the world that she must risk 
 it all, he was so dear to her. 
 
 And then she would dream of the happi- 
 ness it would be if he were openly accepted 
 by Sir Ranald as her fiance the joy of see- 
 ing him freely come and freely go a wel- 
 come guest at Chilcote, the future member 
 of her own family, the future prop of her 
 lather's declining years, taking the place of 
 Ranald and of Ellon ; but would such ever 
 ever be ? 
 
 On the other hand, Bevil Goring, who 
 was not without a moderate show of proper 
 pride, was not without some similar thoughts, 
 and rather resented the position in which 
 they were placed, giving their solemn en- 
 gagement the aspect of a rustic flirtation 
 with its furtive meetings ; and, after all he 
 had seen of the world, he thought it absurd 
 for him and perilous for the girl he loved 
 so tenderly. 
 
 He called at studied or stated intervals at 
 Chilcote, but for Sir Ranald ostensibly; and
 
 ' FOE EVER AND FOB EVEK.' 127 
 
 when in the presence of the latter he and 
 Alison had to act a part and talk the merest 
 commonplaces, with the memory in their 
 hearts and on their lips of passionate and 
 burning kisses exchanged but an hour per- 
 haps before. 
 
 They seemed thus to lead two lives one 
 to the world and another to themselves ; 
 but a time was rapidly approaching when a 
 rough end would be put to all their little* 
 secrets. 
 
 ' Captain Goring seems to send you bou- 
 quets and music pretty often, I think ?' 
 said Sir Ranald, rather suspiciously, one 
 day. 
 
 ' Yes, papa,' said she, feeling herself 
 grow pale under the glance he gave through 
 his inevitable pince-nez ; ' our garden yields 
 so little in the way of flowers, at this 
 season especially. I can't afford, you know, 
 
 to buy much music, cheap as it is, and 
 and ' 
 
 ' There you go ! reminding me of our
 
 128 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT, 
 
 poverty again/ said he, in a snappish tone ; 
 4 but flowers and music have both meanings 
 at least, they had in my time,' he added, 
 turning away and thinking, ' I cannot per- 
 mit her, for a mere girl's fancy if a fancy 
 she has to throw away Cadbury Court and 
 thirty thousand a year egad, no !' 
 
 Of the City man's coronet he thought 
 little the Cheynes of Essilmont required 
 mo coronets to enhance their old heraldic 
 glories; but the City man's bank-book and 
 acquired acres were a very different matter 
 for consideration now !
 
 129 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A REPRIEVE FOR A TIME. 
 
 ' TTTE dine with Cadbury at the Court 
 to-morrow no party, just our- 
 selves sharp six an early dinner,' said Sir 
 Ranald to Alison, just as she returned from 
 a meeting with Bevil Goring at the beeches. 
 
 'Very well, papa/ replied the girl, though 
 she felt herself shiver with anticipation of 
 the annoyance to which she might be sub- 
 jected ; ' has he returned so soon ?' 
 
 ' He who ?' 
 
 ' Lord Cadbury.' 
 
 ' Yes ; Parliament has been suddenly pro- 
 rogued.' 
 
 In her heart she was sorry to hear it. 
 
 VOL. I. K 

 
 130 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 'The carriage will come for us punctually,' 
 he added, regarding her earnestly, as he 
 thought regretfully when did he ever 
 cease to do so ? of his own family carriage, 
 with its hammercloth and heraldic insignia, 
 and his dismay when Lady Cheyne Alison's 
 ailing mother was first compelled to walk 
 afoot or take a common cab. 
 
 And old Archie Auchindoir groaned at 
 the recollection thereof too, when he came 
 to announce, with a snort, that ' the Cawd- 
 burry machine was at the porch.' 
 
 Alison sighed as she entered it ; an invi- 
 tation to dinner was a small affair, but she 
 felt as if the links of a chain were beginning 
 to close around her while the easily-hung 
 carriage rolled on between the hedgerows 
 in the starlight. 
 
 ' If his lordship makes any proposition to 
 you to-night, I trust that for my sake, if not 
 for your own, you will not, at least, insult 
 him,' said Sir Ranald, breaking the silence 
 suddenly.
 
 A REPRIEVE FOR A TIME. 131 
 
 ' Papa insult him !' exclaimed Alison, in 
 a breathless voice, knowing but too well 
 that the term ' proposition ' meant a pro- 
 posal, and her heart seemed to die within 
 her as she pressed to her lips, in the dark, 
 Bevil's engagement ring. 
 
 ' For your sake and mine consider well 
 and favourably his lordship's views,' said 
 her father again. 
 
 She remained silent, fearing that the note 
 her father had received must have contained 
 something more than the mere invitation to 
 dinner. 
 
 ' I shall lose the half of my life, Alison, 
 when I lose you, but I must make up my 
 mind for it one of these days.' 
 
 Still she made no response, for her heart 
 was away in a most unromantic-looking hut 
 in the infantry lines at Aldershot, where, 
 in fancy, she saw a handsome young fellow, 
 his dark hair cropped close, his skin almost 
 olive in tint, and smooth as a girl's, dark 
 eyes and straight black eyebrows with thick 
 
 K2
 
 132 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 lashes, a heavy moustache, and altogether 
 with a dark manly beauty about him that 
 would have become the costume of Titian 
 or Velasquez, like the cavalier brothers in 
 the portraits at Chilcote. 
 
 Through the large square entrance-hall 
 of Cadbury Court, which was panelled with 
 oak, and hung round above the panelling 
 with the old family portraits of former pro- 
 prietors, and had tall jars of curiously paint- 
 ed china standing in the deep old window 
 bays, with a great lantern of stained glass 
 shining overhead, they were ushered into 
 the magnificent drawing-room, where Lord 
 Cadbury, in evening costume, hobbled from 
 an easy chair to receive them with no small 
 empressement, for, though his age of ardour 
 was past, he had not survived that of covet- 
 ousness ; and among other things now covet- 
 ed was Alison, whom vanity prompted him 
 to seek that he might exhibit her to society 
 as a conquest.
 
 A REPRIEVE FOR A TIME. 133 
 
 Alison's drapery seemed to have a soft 
 sweep in it ; she held her fair head high ; a 
 scornful curl hovered on her lip, and yet 
 she seemed a fragile thing to have so haughty 
 a spirit. 
 
 She wore again for, poor girl, her ward- 
 robe was most limited the lustreless silk 
 with its rare old lace, and, though harassed, 
 she looked charming in her pale beauty, 
 while almost destitute of ornaments, save a 
 few silver bangles on her slender wrists, for 
 the family jewels especially the Essilmont 
 diamonds were all things of the past, and 
 had long since found their way to shop win- 
 dows in Bond Street ; but she wore at her 
 neck a little circular brooch of snow-white 
 pearls from the Ythan, near Ellon. 
 
 The grandeur and luxury which surround- 
 ed the parvenu lord at times irritated Sir 
 Ranald curiously, though from sheer des- 
 peration and selfishness he longed for the 
 hour when his daughter should share them ;
 
 134 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 thus he was sometimes prompted to say 
 sharp almost sneering things to his pros- 
 pective son-in-law. 
 
 ' My old and infernal foe (pardon me, 
 Miss Cheyne) is with me again,' said Cad- 
 bury, as he hobbled back to his seat. 
 
 < Who what?' asked Sir Ranald. 
 
 * The gout they say it comes with ease 
 and money.' 
 
 ' With years too, Cadbury one can't have 
 everything as they would wish it,' replied 
 Sir Ranald, with a gush of ill-humour ; ' all 
 men, we are told, " are on the road which 
 begins with the cradle and ends with the 
 grave; and, in some instances, the world 
 would be better were the distance between 
 the two shorter." ' 
 
 f Pon my soul, Cheyne, you are unpleas- 
 ant,' replied the peer, not precisely knowing 
 whatto make of this aphorism; 'but there goes 
 the gong for dinner,' and, drawing Alison's 
 hand over his arm, he led the way to the 
 dining-room; 'and so you have quite de-
 
 A KEPRIEVE FOR A TIME. 135 
 
 clined all my offers of a mount, Miss 
 Cheyne ?' said he, in a voice of would-be 
 reproachful tenderness, * though I have put 
 my entire stables at your disposal.' 
 
 ' Yes a thousand thanks.' 
 
 * Your taste has changed ; or are you 
 weary of the spins round Twesildon Hill and 
 Aldershot way ! Some of them are pretty 
 stiff, I believe.' 
 
 Alison coloured at the, perhaps chance, 
 reference to Aldershot, but seated herself 
 on her host's right hand, and made no reply. 
 
 The slow elaboration of the dinner, with 
 its many entrees and courses, though it was 
 perfect from the maraschino to the coffee ; 
 the two tall solemn servants in resplendant 
 liveries (like theatrical properties) in attend- 
 ance upon them, and the silent butler in the 
 background, all oppressed Alison. 
 
 ' Fine old place this of yours, Cad bury 
 dates from Charles II., I believe,' said Sir 
 Ranald, looking approvingly round the state- 
 ly dining-room, and then glancing at his si-
 
 136 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 lent daughter's face ; ' it exhibits all the 
 chastened grandeur that only conies by long 
 inheritance, and was not built in a day like 
 the palace of Aladdin/ 
 
 ' It matters little when built,' replied Cad- 
 bury, bluntly, who felt a taunt in the remark, 
 and knew precisely how Sir Ranald viewed 
 his recent title. ' It comes to me out of 
 Cornhill and Threadneedle Street ; and I 
 believe that Miss Cheyne will agree with me 
 that it is better to have industrious than ex- 
 pensive forefathers hewers of wood and 
 drawers of water, though some may deem 
 them. Bosh ! Sir Ranald all men come 
 from Adam,' added Cadbury, who, though a 
 peer, was somewhat of a Radical in his 
 proclivities. 
 
 ' In these points you and I differ,' said Sir 
 Ranald, stiffly, as he sipped his glass of dry 
 Moselle. 
 
 1 In this age of the world, a fellow with a 
 pedigree is exactly like a potato/ said Lord 
 Cadbury, laughing.
 
 A REPRIEVE FOR A TIME. 137 
 
 'How do you mean?' 
 
 ' That the best part of the plant is under- 
 ground.' 
 
 Sir Ranald coloured with annoyance up to 
 his pale temples, and said 
 
 ' I am astonished that you should indulge 
 in such bad form as proverbs; and, as for 
 pedigrees, I never knew any man under- 
 value them if he ever had one real or 
 pretended- ' 
 
 Alison, fearing the conversation was tak- 
 ing an unpleasant turn, looked at her father 
 imploringly, and said, with her brightest 
 smile, 
 
 ' You know, papa, that in this work-a-day 
 age, merit is better than birth.' 
 
 'And what is the best test of merit?' 
 asked their host. 
 
 ' Success,' said Alison. 
 
 1 Precisely.' 
 
 ' Xot always,' said Sir Ranald ; ' some- 
 times a defeat may be as glorious as a 
 victory. Was it not said of the clans at
 
 138 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 Culloden that in great attempts it is glorious 
 even to fail ?' 
 
 And now, as dinner proceeded, Alison, 
 surprised by the peevish pride of her father, 
 after his warnings in the carriage notwith- 
 standing the fears with which these warn- 
 ings had inspired her with all a woman's 
 tact, exerted herself to turn the conversa- 
 tion to other subjects, and addressed herself 
 so much to her old host that he gathered 
 hope and courage, and his face beamed 
 with smiles; though his supposed love for 
 Alison was not much more than a strong 
 fancy crossed, which enhanced her value 
 and gave a piquancy to his pursuit of her 
 a fancy that ere long was to be curiously 
 combined with irritation and revenge. 
 
 Over the sideboard, which was loaded 
 with massive plate, hung a great portrait of 
 Sir Timothy Titcomb, the City Knight and 
 first peer, in all his bravery of robe and 
 chain, and aldermanic obeseness of habit; 
 and Alison, as she looked at it, thought of
 
 A REPRIEVE FOR A TIME. 139 
 
 some of the stately portraits at Chilcote 
 of the Cheynes of other days, and of the 
 manly beauty of the two Cavalier bro- 
 thers who fell in battle for the king pale, 
 proud, and scornful, with their lovelocks 
 and plumed beavers, and the moment des- 
 sert was over, she stole away to the solitude 
 of the drawing-room. 
 
 She had felt rather lonely during the 
 protracted meal. There was no other lady 
 present. 'Why?' she asked herself; did 
 not ladies affect the society of the wealthy 
 and titled bachelor? It almost seemed 
 so. 
 
 During the meal and dessert, Alison, 
 though her sweet face wore forced smiles, 
 had a bitter and humiliating sense of how 
 her father, when his peevishness subsided 
 under the influence of good wines, changed 
 in manner, and, with all his inborn and 
 inordinate pride of race and utter contempt 
 for parvenus and nouveaux riches, seemed to 
 make himself subservient to Lord Cadbury,
 
 140 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 assenting in the end to his views on every- 
 thing. 
 
 She seated herself at the piano, but did 
 not play, lest, though she had begun a 
 melody of Schumann's, the ' Nachtstiick,' 
 Lord Cadbury might deem the sound a 
 hint that she wished him by her side, and, 
 giving way to thought, she sank into reverie. 
 
 As she looked on the splendour and 
 luxury with which she was then surrounded, 
 it was impossible for the young and im- 
 pulsive girl not to think how pleasant it 
 would be to see no more of duns, and 
 debts, and genteel poverty ; to be the mis- 
 tress of Cadbury Court ; to own such a glori- 
 ous double drawing-room wherein to receive 
 her visitors ; to wear wonderful toilettes ; 
 to be always surrounded by so many curi- 
 ous and beautiful pictures, cabinets, and 
 statuettes ; to have an assured position be- 
 yond her own the position that money 
 alone can give ; to be the mistress of these 
 magnificent park lands, preserves, and pas-
 
 A REPRIEVE FOR A TIME. 141 
 
 tures; the hot-houses and stable-court; the 
 terraces, with their peacocks and rosaries, 
 all whilom part of the heritage of a proud 
 old race that, like the Cheynes of Essil- 
 mont, had come down in the world ; ta 
 shine in society, and have always a full 
 purse to buy whatever she fancied ; but ta 
 have all these with Lord Cadbury not 
 Bevil Goring, as her husband ! 
 
 No no ! she shivered, and thrust aside 
 the thoughts a momentary emotion of self- 
 ishness was suggesting, as treason to him 
 whose ring was on her finger, and ex- 
 claimed, as she pressed it to her lips: 
 
 ' Oh, that but a tithe of these things were 
 my poor Bevil's !' 
 
 She had been too deeply sunk in thought 
 to hear the opening and closing of the 
 drawing-room door, when Lord Cadbury 
 entered alone, having left Sir Ranald 
 dropping into his after-dinner doze in the 
 smoking-room. 
 
 There was a listless droop an uncon-
 
 142 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 scious pathos in the attitude of the girl that 
 struck even Lord Cadbury, and though a 
 kind of child, as he deemed her, she was a 
 stately one a stately girl, indeed, when she 
 chose. 
 
 The proposal he had come to make was 
 hovering on his lips ; but a consciousness of 
 his years on one hand, and the girl's youth 
 on the other, rendered him suddenly diffi- 
 dent. 
 
 ' It is coming now, I suppose coming at 
 last this odious, absurd, and insulting pro- 
 posal! Of course papa and he have 
 arranged all that over their wine and nuts !' 
 thought Alison, with annoyance and anger 
 at her host, and no small dread of her 
 father, who, finding her silent during the 
 first courses of dinner, had rallied her on 
 her abstraction. 
 
 Whatever he had come to say, something 
 in the expression of her half-averted face 
 crushed all the hope that wine had raised 
 in Cadbury's heart, and, seating himself by
 
 A REPRIEVE FOR A TIME. 143 
 
 her side, he could only make some little 
 apology for leaving her so long alone, and 
 regret that he had not time to invite some 
 other lady friend. 
 
 He then drew a little nearer her, and, 
 noting that she had a couple of tea rose- 
 buds in her collarette, said insinuatingly 
 
 ' I saw that your papa is wearing one of 
 your favourite flowers at his button-hole 
 may I have one also ?' 
 
 ' You are not papa,' she replied, curtly, 
 to her half-century Romeo ; ' such little 
 decorations seem suitable only for young 
 folks,' she added, * but I shall give you a 
 bud with pleasure.' 
 
 And quickly her little hands put a rose- 
 bud into the peer's lapel, but in a mechani- 
 cal and task-work manner, while there was 
 an expression on her lips and full, delicate, 
 and emotional lips they were and in her 
 small, pale face, with its decided little chin, 
 that prevented him from greatly appreciating 
 the gift as a younger man would have
 
 144 MISS CHEYNB OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 done ; so the attempt even at flirtation fell 
 flat. 
 
 1 Papa does so love tea-roses ; we used to 
 have such lovely ones at Essilmont/ said 
 Alison. 
 
 ' Your poor papa !' said Cadbury, softly, 
 ' when you marry, how lonely he will be !' 
 
 Alison shrank back uneasily, as she 
 thought of Bevil Goring, and replied 
 
 ' I don't mean ever to marry/ 
 
 ' Indeed ! why so cruel to some one in 
 particular ? and why in any sense ?' 
 
 ' I could never leave dear old papa in 
 our our changed circumstances ; we are so 
 much to each other.' 
 
 'But, in marrying, you need not lose 
 him.' 
 
 ' I don't think he would care to share me 
 with another.' 
 
 ' How absurd, Miss Cheyne !' 
 
 ' I mean to devote myself to him always. 
 He is the only old man I shall ever care for ; 
 the only old man worth giving up my life
 
 A REPRIEVE FOR A TIME. 145 
 
 to. Well,' added Alison, mentally, 'that is 
 pretty pointed surely ; if he does not take 
 that hint, he will never take any.' 
 
 ' But your papa cannot live for ever/ said 
 Cadbury, not unwilling to inflict a thrust in 
 return. 
 
 ' How cruel of you to remind me of that !' 
 exclaimed the girl, her fine eyes suffusing 
 for a moment. ' I know that he is some 
 years older than yourself; but I hope he 
 may live to the age of Old Parr!' 
 
 References to his years, even when he 
 drew them on himself, always stung her 
 elderly adorer, who felt his own inborn 
 coarseness too, as compared with her serene 
 air of distinction ; for Alison Cheyne, even 
 when provoked to say that which for her 
 was a sharp thing, always looked pur sang 
 from her bright brown hair to her tiny 
 feet. 
 
 The absence of even one lady to meet her 
 had surprised the girl ; but she knew not, 
 and neither did Sir Ranald, owing to the 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 isolated life he led at Chilcote, that, though 
 fair ones from London were not unfrequent 
 visitors at Cadbury Court, they were of a 
 style that the ladies of the county declined 
 to meet on any terms, which may give our 
 readers a new insight to the general 
 character of this hereditary legislator. 
 
 Quiet though his tone and bearing, in his 
 past life the man had been nay, was still 
 secretly a coarse libertine and a roue', who 
 indulged in all the vicious propensities which 
 his ample wealth enabled him to do. 
 
 Alison Cheyne was his last fancy, and he 
 was determined, by fair means or foul, by 
 marriage or trepan, that his she should be. 
 Her father's poverty and pride, his age and 
 growing infirmities, could all be utilised to 
 this end, and nothing now gave him doubts 
 of easy success but his own years, his grey 
 hairs, and perhaps her love for another. 
 
 'You do not wear many rings, Miss 
 Cheyne ; but such a hand as yours requires 
 no ornament.'
 
 A EEPRIEVE FOE A TIME. 147 
 
 He took her little white hand in his as 
 he spoke it was her left one and re- 
 garded it admiringly ; and Alison, thougli 
 trembling for what might now ensue, did 
 not withdraw it. She thought, was not the 
 man quite old enough to be her father ? 
 
 'I believe greatly in pretty hands,' said 
 he, caressing and patting with his right hand 
 the little white one that lay in his left. 
 
 ' So does papa. It is a hobby of his that 
 they indicate race or culture,' replied Alison, 
 smiling now. 
 
 Certainly the short, thick digits of Lord 
 Cadbury showed neither, and, poor man, he 
 thought so, for he winced at the girl's reply, 
 it was so like one of Sir Ranald's remarks ; 
 and the gentle Alison blushed that she had 
 made it. To do so was altogether unlike 
 herself, but she was irritated by the whole 
 situation. 
 
 ' That is a charming ring !' said her host, 
 touching Bevil Goring's gift the gift she 
 prized beyond her own life. 
 
 L2
 
 148 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 She drew her hand away now. 
 
 1 1 have in that casket a diamond hoop 
 with opals alternately one of remarkable 
 size and value and if you would permit 
 me to offer it ' 
 
 'Oh, no, never thanks!' she exclaimed, 
 growing quite pale. 
 
 'Why?' he asked, with annoyance and 
 surprise. 
 
 ' Opals are unlucky.' 
 
 ' Unlucky ? This is some Scotch super- 
 stition, I suppose ?' 
 
 ' It is Oriental, I believe. Moreover, I 
 have no wish for more rings, and never 
 accept gifts of that kind,' she added, with 
 some hauteur of manner. 
 
 ' I think I startled you by my entrance/ 
 said he, trying to recapture her hand again; 
 but she kept them both resolutely folded 
 before her. 
 
 ' I was in a reverie, certainly.' 
 
 ' And, posed as you were, made a most 
 fairy-like picture,' said he, with his head on
 
 A EEPIUEVE FOR A TIME. 149 
 
 one side, his long white moustache almost 
 touching her, and more decided tenderness 
 in his tone than he had ever before adopted. 
 
 ' A fairy would I were one !' said Ali- 
 son, a little impatiently, with a flash in her 
 dark blue eyes, for she was in great dread 
 of what might follow now. 
 
 ' And what would you do if you were 
 one in reality ?' said he, passing a hand 
 caressingly round her soft arm. 
 
 'Do? As Robin Goodfellow, "the 
 knavish sprite," did.' 
 
 ' How ?' 
 
 'By one wave of my wand I should 
 punish you for disturbing me.' 
 
 'In what way?' He had interlaced his 
 pudgy fingers on her arm now. 
 
 ' By garnishing you, as he did, with Bot- 
 tom's ears,' she replied, with something be- 
 tween a laugh and an angry sigh, ' though 
 I should decline to take the part of either 
 Titania or Peasblossom.' 
 
 Cadbury released her arm and drew
 
 150 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 back ; he knew not precisely what she 
 meant, but tugged his white moustache and 
 thought 
 
 ' What the deuce does she mean by 
 Bottom's ears?' 
 
 It sounded like a rebuff, anyway, and as 
 such he accepted it or rather resented it. 
 
 ' Do compliments displease you ?' said he, 
 becoming insinuating again ; ' they are but a 
 form of kindness.' 
 
 ' I take them from you as I would from 
 papa ; they pass thus, although a younger 
 man might offend.' 
 
 Cadbury, whose head was stooped to- 
 wards her, erected it, lest her glance might 
 be falling on the little bald patch which he 
 was so terribly conscious of being apparent 
 now, and he shivered with annoyance, and 
 felt wrathful at the girl he was so desirous 
 of pleasing. 
 
 ' Will you sing for me ?' said he, after a 
 pause, ' I am so fond of music.' 
 
 ' What shall I sing ?' asked Alison, seat-
 
 A REPRIEVE FOR A TIME. 151 
 
 ing herself at the piano, and glad to change 
 the tenor of a conversation in which she 
 felt herself ungracious. 
 
 ' One of your Scottish one of your na- 
 tional songs.' 
 
 '"Auld Robin Gray?" 'she asked, mis- 
 chievously. 
 
 'No, anything but that. I am sick of 
 it.' 
 
 She thought for a moment, and then 
 dashed into another, of which one verse will 
 suffice, and which was quite as objectionable 
 to his lordship, though he did not under- 
 stand it all. 
 
 ' There's auld Robin Morris that dwells in yonder glen, 
 He's the king o' a' guid fellows and choice o' auld men, 
 He has gold in his coffers, he has oxen and kine, 
 And one bonnie lassie his darling and mine.' 
 
 ' It is a man's song/ said Alison, when she 
 had concluded the five verses, and contin- 
 ued to idle over the keys. 
 
 ' And I suppose auld Robin Morris might 
 be twin brother to the other Robin,' said
 
 152 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 Cadbury, with ill-concealed annoyance, as 
 he conceived there was more in the song 
 than his ear detected. 
 
 ' It only tells the old story, ray lord the 
 hopeless love of a handsome young fellow 
 for a rich and lovely girl an old man's 
 pride and avarice standing in the way ' 
 said Alison, with a soft smile playing about 
 her lips, and thankful that her father's 
 entrance put an end to a most obnoxious 
 tete-a-tete. 
 
 A few minutes later and Lord Cadbury's 
 carriage was conveying them home, but even 
 then Alison's annoyances did not cease. 
 
 1 Did Cadbury say anything particular to 
 you, Alison, dear when I was having a nap 
 to-night ?' asked Sir Ranald, suddenly break- 
 ing a silence that was rather oppressive. 
 
 1 No, papa.' 
 
 1 No! Nothing?' 
 
 ' Nothing of consequence.' 
 
 ' Did he not propose ?' 
 
 'Papa, how can you think of such a
 
 A REPRIEVE FOR A TIME. 153 
 
 thing? He is a veritable Grandfather 
 Whitehead.' 
 
 'Think of happiness,' said her father, 
 sharply. 
 
 ' Has wealth aught to do with that?' 
 
 ' A good deal if not all. Think of liv- 
 ing in a house like that we have just left! 
 Think of presentation days, collar days, at 
 Buckingham Palace, the Park, the Row, the 
 Four-in-Hand Club by the Serpentine 
 luncheons at Muswell Hill, and so forth !' 
 
 Alison was silent, but full of sad and 
 bitter thoughts. 
 
 Around her or within her reach she 
 knew were gaieties in which she could have 
 no part the opem, the Row, the Queen's 
 drawing-room, to which, notwithstanding 
 her real social position, she could no more 
 have access (without the aid of a most trust- 
 ful milliner, than the daughter of a clown. 
 But she did not repine, as her father did, 
 that she should be debarred from all these 
 sights and circles, so she replied,
 
 154 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 ' Papa, as I have often said, one can live 
 without these accessories and surroundings. 
 I have before urged you to quit even Chil- 
 cote, and let us go home home to Essil- 
 mont or what remains of it,' she added, in 
 a broken voice, as she thought of Bevil Gor- 
 ing, and how a new light, bright as summer 
 sunshine, had fallen on her life at Chilcote 
 now. 
 
 ' Home !' exclaimed her father, bitterly, 
 ' home to the crumbling mansion amid the 
 bleak braes where the Ythan flows, to be a 
 source of local marvel and pity in our im- 
 poverished state. No no ! better our 
 obscurity in Hampshire ; who cares about us 
 here, or thinks about us at all, unless it's 
 Cadbury, who who ' 
 
 ' What, papa ?' asked the girl, passion- 
 ately. 
 
 ' Would gladly make you his wife, my 
 darling, and render my old age easy, with 
 some of the luxuries we possessed in other 
 times.'
 
 A EEPRIEVE FOR A TIME. 155 
 
 Alison shuddered at the suggestion, and 
 again pressed her engagement ring to her 
 lips, as if its presence were a charm, an 
 amulet, a protection to her. 
 
 ' It is his dearest hope that you may yet 
 journey together through life/ urged Sir 
 Ranald. 
 
 Alison thought that a good part of 
 the peer's journey had been performed 
 already. 
 
 But no more passed. They had reached 
 home, and, slipping his last crown piece into 
 the palm of the servant who opened the 
 carriage door and threw down the steps, 
 Sir Ranald led his daughter into their 
 home, which looked strangely small and 
 gloomy after the mansion they had just 
 quitted. 
 
 Alison felt that she had achieved a species 
 of escape or reprieve, but it was only for a 
 time. She felt certain that from first to 
 last the dinner had been a concerted 
 scheme, and that somehow, thanks perhaps
 
 156 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 to her own Irusquerie, her elderly adorer, 
 natheless his rank and wealth, had lost 
 courage for the time.
 
 157 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 CAPTAIN DALTON. 
 
 TTTE have said that Tony Dalton tall, 
 dark, and handsome Tony, the 
 pattern officer of his corps had promised 
 little Netty Trelawney an Indian necklet. 
 He had duly called with it, and clasped 
 round the neck of the slender girl a gold 
 Champac necklace from Delhi, and it is 
 difficult for those even acquainted with the 
 chef-d'ceuvres of the first European jewellers, 
 to imagine the beautiful nature of these 
 necklaces, so called from the flowers whose 
 petals they resemble. 
 
 ' I know not how to thank you, Captain 
 Dalton, for your kindness to Netty,' said
 
 158 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 the beautiful widow, with her brightest 
 smile, ' it is much too valuable a present for 
 a child.' 
 
 ' She will not always be a child, and in 
 the years to come ' 
 
 ' The years to come ; she is barely nine, 
 and at twenty it is difficult to think of what 
 life may be at thirty still more at fifty,' said 
 she, with a curious emphasis, as her eyelids 
 drooped. 
 
 ' But, like myself, you are not yet thirty,' 
 said Dalton, ' hence we are both a long way 
 off fifty.' 
 
 After this he rode over occasionally from 
 the camp it was rather an idle time with 
 him then, before the spring drills of the 
 next year commenced and he seemed 
 rapidly to establish himself at the Grange as 
 a friend, and on a better basis than the 
 younger man, poor Jerry Wilmot, had done, 
 for the latter name was off even the lady's 
 visitors' list now. 
 
 In life and history passages seem to re-
 
 CAPTAIN D ALTON. 159 
 
 peat themselves ; thus, just as Dalton arrived 
 one evening, he heard, through the open 
 window, the voice of Laura Trelawney sing- 
 ing the old song before referred to, and 
 with the strain there came many a memory 
 he had been striving to forget. 
 
 ' Strange !' he muttered ; ' that song 
 again !' 
 
 Sweet, clear, and sad, as if it was meant 
 for him, and him alone, her voice seemed 
 to come floating to him in liquid melody, in 
 pain and pathos. 
 
 Then he heard some merry voice, with 
 which he was familiar ; and as he was 
 ushered into the pretty drawing-room, 
 wherein Jerry met his doom, for a man who 
 was evidently fast conceiving a tendresse for 
 the brilliant Mrs. Trelawney, it was curious 
 that he should feel a kind of relief a kind 
 of protection for himself, or from commit- 
 ting himself too far in the casual presence 
 of Alison Cheyne and Bevil Goring. 
 
 The former smiled brightly, and gave
 
 160 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 Bevil a glance of intelligence as Dalton was 
 ushered in. It was evidently, both thought, 
 becoming a case, and Alison was already 
 beginning to see herself a prospective brides- 
 maid and Bevil groomsman. 
 
 ' How curious you should all three visit me 
 just at the same time,' said Mrs. Trelawney. 
 
 'I was visiting my poor/ said Alison. 
 
 ' And came to comfort the widow and 
 orphan on the way.' 
 
 * Have you many recipients of your boun- 
 ty, Miss Cheyne ?' said Dalton, for lack of 
 something else to say. 
 
 ' I have little in my power ; but they are 
 all so grateful and so good.' 
 
 ' Ah !' said Mrs. Trelawney, ' I don't take 
 so charitable a view of human nature as you 
 do, child ; if the poor are generally virtuous, 
 it is because they have not the guineas to be 
 wicked with.' 
 
 4 One of your wild speeches, Mrs. Trelaw- 
 ney, I hope,' said Goring ; ' my guineas are 
 few thus I have a fellow-feeling.'
 
 CAPTAIN D ALTON. 161 
 
 And, leaving the last visitor and their host- 
 ess to discuss the point tete-a-tete, the lovers 
 strolled into the now somewhat desolate 
 garden, where the fallen leaves lay thick ; 
 but their own emotions seemed to brighten 
 it with all the flowers that ever grew in 
 Eden, and with the walks they were pretty 
 familiar with now. 
 
 ' And so you were dining en famille at old 
 Gadbury's place ?' said Goring, as he drew 
 her hand over his arm and retained it there. 
 ' Was it a slow affair, darling ?' 
 
 ' Utterly slow,' said Alison, with a sigh, 
 while looking into his face with smiling 
 eyes. 
 
 'Tell me all about it?' 
 
 'There is nothing to tell/ replied Alison, 
 feeling the while terribly conscious that 
 there was far too much if inferences were to 
 be drawn ; but she shrank from giving pain 
 to her lover by relating her father's desires 
 and bluntly-expressed wishes, though she 
 feared that Bevil was quite sharp enough to 
 
 VOL. i. M
 
 162 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 suspect more than he or she admitted, else 
 whence his questions. 
 
 And now, lover-like, their conversation, 
 interesting only to themselves, drifted rapid- 
 ly into the never-ending topic of their own 
 passionate regard for each other, their fu- 
 ture hopes, and certainly most vague plans, 
 while dusk was closing round them the 
 soft semi-darkness of an autumnal night ; 
 yet it was full of distant sounds, and not a 
 few sweet scents that mingled with the 
 heavy odour of the fallen leaves. 
 
 Alison had tied a little laced handker- 
 chief over her hair, and her eyes were 
 beaming upward, sweetly and coquettishly, 
 as they met the glances of her lover, who 
 thought she looked like the sweetest picture 
 ever painted, especially when her long 
 lashes rested on the paleness of her cheek 
 when she cast them down. 
 
 ' May I see you home when the time 
 comes?' he asked. 
 
 ' Not for worlds, Bevil darling.'
 
 CAPTAIN D ALTON. 163 
 
 ' It is so dark.' 
 
 1 But Daisy Prune is to call for me, and 
 we know all the roads and lanes hereabout 
 as well as if we had made them.' 
 
 They were very, very happy just then, 
 these two happy in the security of each 
 other's love, and could little foresee the 
 turmoil and misery a little time was to 
 bring forth for both. 
 
 By the light of a softly-shaded lamp the 
 other pair were tete-a-tete in the drawing- 
 room, maintaining a curious and disjointed 
 conversation, as if some unuttered or unut- 
 terable secret loaded the tongue of each ; 
 and, truth to tell, the officer, who had led 
 his men to the storming of more than one 
 hill-fort on the vast slopes of the Hindoo 
 Koosh who had been wont to pot his tiger 
 and stick his furious pig in the jungle who 
 had been all over India, from the Sand 
 Heads of the Hooghly to the gates of Cabul 
 if he had now come on a love-making er- 
 rand, was the less self-possessed of the two. 
 
 M2
 
 164 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 Mrs. Trelawney possessed the rare art of 
 dressing in such dainty perfection as never 
 woman did before, he thought ; and all her 
 toilettes seemed to harmonise so much with 
 the time and place in which he saw them, 
 and with his own taste. 
 
 As they conversed on indifferent subjects, 
 a strange and subtle magnetism drew their 
 eyes to meet from time to time in a manner 
 that expressed or admitted much, and yet 
 no particular word of regard still less of 
 love escaped Dalton ; but little Netty by 
 her remarks sometimes made both feel 
 very awkward, and wish that she was rele- 
 gated to the region of the nursery. 
 
 The child, encouraged by his tender man- 
 ner to herself more than all, her beautiful 
 necklet often hung with confidence and 
 familiarity about him, and with pretty per- 
 tinacity questioned him about his past ad- 
 ventures, where he had been and what he 
 had seen, if he ever had a wife, and much 
 more to the same effect, as if his past life
 
 CAPTAIN D ALTON. ] 65 
 
 were of interest to her, as it was no doubt 
 beginning to be to her mamma ; and on this 
 occasion, by a simple remark, she made both 
 feel quite uncomfortable. 
 
 Resting her elbows on his knee, and 
 planting her little face between her hands, 
 she looked up in his eyes and said, 
 
 ' Captain Dalton, do you come to see me 
 or mamma ?' 
 
 ' I come to see both,' replied Dalton, 
 smiling as he stroked her bright hair. 
 
 ' But you talk so much more to mamma 
 than to me.' 
 
 ' You are a little girl, Netty ; well ?' 
 
 ' That I think I think ' 
 
 ' What ? A penny for your thoughts.' 
 
 'That you are in love with mamma. Is 
 it so ?' 
 
 Strange to say, at this remark Dalton 
 grew very pale, while Mrs. Trelawney, 
 though she coloured considerably, laughed 
 excessively at the situation thus created, but 
 was rather surprised that Dalton failed to
 
 166 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 take advantage of it, even to pay her, as he 
 could easily have done, a well-turned com- 
 pliment. 
 
 * Netty seems to have quite a matrimonial 
 interest in you, Captain Dalton,' said she, 
 still laughing. 
 
 ' Yes ; she has more than once asked me 
 if I ever had a wife.' 
 
 Mrs. Trelawney, while her own bright 
 eyes were partly hidden by the shade on 
 the globe of the lamp, was keenly scru- 
 tinizing the half-averted face of her admirer. 
 
 'Y.ou have not been always a woman- 
 hater?' she asked. 
 
 ' I never was far from it the reverse/ 
 said he, hastily. 
 
 'And yet in all those years you have 
 never fallen in love ?' 
 
 ' I never thought of it till I came back to 
 England. One does not think of marriage 
 up country in the land of brown squaws.' 
 
 ' And so you never thought of it ?' 
 
 1 Never.'
 
 CAPTAIN D ALTON. 167 
 
 Dalton was colouring deeply now, and she 
 extracted his answers from him ' as if she 
 had been extracting his teeth,' as she after- 
 wards told Alison. 
 
 ' Now, however, under better auspices, 
 and at home, I may wish to change,' he 
 began. 
 
 'Change what?' interrupted Mrs. Trelaw- 
 ney, with a curious sharpness of tone ; ' to 
 reform ? I have read that we often hear 
 of a woman marrying a man to reform him, 
 but that no one ever heard of a man marry- 
 ing a woman to reform her. 1 
 
 Dalton felt that his love-making, if love- 
 in aking it was, took a strange turn now, and 
 that she was infusing banter or rebuke into 
 the conversation. 
 
 ' I cannot comprehend, Mrs. Trelawney, 
 how it is that when I am with you,' said 
 Dalton, gravely, with a soft and half-broken 
 voice, ' there comes back upon me much of 
 my past life, or rather a portion of it, that 
 I would fain forget.'
 
 168 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMOXT. 
 
 < How is this ?' 
 
 ' Because you have some strange and 
 magnetic influence over me, to which I 
 have not as yet the key. I have sought to 
 bury, to forget that past I refer to to live 
 it down ' 
 
 ' I have no wish to pry into your secrets, 
 Captain Dalton, nor to act the part of a 
 Father Confessor, so pray don't confide in 
 me/ said Mrs. Trelawney, with a for her 
 curious hardness in her usually sweet voice. 
 1 1 have read somewhere that life itself, from 
 the cradle to the grave, is but a kind of 
 gloaming hour, wherein mortals grope dimly 
 after happiness, and find it not.' 
 
 ' I would that the happiness of my future 
 life lay in your hands, Mrs. Trelawney/ said 
 Dalton, with an expression of eye and tone 
 of voice there was no mistaking. 
 
 Mrs. Trelawney did not reply, but she 
 smiled with a curiously mingled expression 
 of triumph, pleasure, and, strange to say, 
 disdain, rippling over her bright face emo-
 
 CAPTAIN DALTON. 169 
 
 tions to which we shall ere long have the 
 key. 
 
 Her cheeks flushed, her lips curved with 
 her smile, and for a moment her whole 
 mien was that of a young girl delighted 
 with flattery. Dalton was about to say 
 something more, when the sudden disdain 
 that replaced the first expression prevented 
 him, and she said, laughingly, 
 
 1 1 can give the ladies a capital addition 
 to the creed, Captain Dalton.' 
 
 'What is it?' 
 
 'Never to love any man, but make all 
 men love you ; as the song has it, " Love 
 not the thing you love may change ;" but 
 here come Miss Cheyne and Captain Goring.' 
 
 ' A strange woman an enigma, indeed,' 
 thought Dalton, who had an unpleasant sus- 
 picion that she was secretly deriding the 
 avowal he had, perhaps, been on the point 
 of making. 
 
 ' Oh, Alison,' she said, suddenly, ' you 
 remember Bella Chevenix, the handsome,
 
 170 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 dashing girl, who always wears rich dresses, 
 but of green or grey tints, a muslin fichu, 
 with a yellow rose in it, and so forth. You 
 have heard what has happened, I suppose?' 
 
 'That she was engaged, or nearly so, to 
 Colonel Graves ?' 
 
 1 Yes- but he has behaved disgracefully.' 
 
 'How?' 
 
 'What do you think her family found 
 out ?' she asked, addressing Dalton, to his 
 surprise. 
 
 ' That he was no colonel at all, perhaps,' 
 said he. 
 
 ' Oh, worse than that.' 
 
 ' Worse ! what could be worse ?' 
 
 ' I do not care to think, Mrs. Trelawney 
 not knowing the parties that he was a 
 criminal, perhaps.' 
 
 ' Worse still.' 
 
 * Good heavens, Laura !' exclaimed Alison. 
 
 ' And he proposed for her ?' 
 
 ' Yes ; was it not horrible, Captain 
 Dalton ?'
 
 CAPTAIN DALTON. 171 
 
 ' Don't appeal to me,' he replied, abruptly. 
 
 ' Bella was at a ball in Willis's Rooms, 
 dancing with Wilmot, of Captain Dalton's 
 regiment, while the colonel was there vis-a- 
 vis with some one else, and Jerry, in the 
 most casual way, asked her if she knew Mrs. 
 Graves. Bella thought he was talking non- 
 sense, but it turned out to be truth, as there 
 25 a Mrs. Graves ; but, as Bella is a profes- 
 sional beauty, luckily, her affections were 
 not too deeply engaged. However, such 
 affairs are a warning to us all in society. 
 Don't you think so, Captain Dalton ?' 
 
 But for the shaded lamp, the sudden 
 paleness that overspread the handsome face 
 of Dalton would have been apparent to all 
 at this anecdote of Mrs. Trelawney, who 
 saw that his eyes drooped, and that not 
 even his heavy moustache concealed the 
 quiver of his lip as he took his hat and 
 prepared to retire. 
 
 'How strange Captain Dalton looks!' whis- 
 pered Alison to Goring, as they were parting.
 
 172 MISS CHETNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 ' Yes ; poor Tony has become a changed 
 man, moody and irritable, since he has 
 known your friend, Mrs. Trelawney. He 
 is no longer the quiet, gentle, and easy- 
 going fellow he used to be. And now, 
 once again, good-bye, my darling.' 
 
 And with a pressure of the hand, a kiss 
 snatched, all the sweeter for being so, they 
 parted, knowing when and where they were 
 to meet again. 
 
 Whatever was the secret, unrevealed yet, 
 that hung on Dalton's heart, he left the 
 house of Mrs. Trelawney with a heaviness 
 of soul and gloom of manner that were but 
 too apparent to Bevil Goring. There was 
 a baffled and dismayed expression in his 
 face that made him all unlike his old sol- 
 dierly self, and on his lips there was an un- 
 uttered vow that he would go near Chilcote 
 Grange no more a vow, however, that he 
 found himself unable to keep.
 
 173 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A WRITTEN PROPOSAL. 
 
 ' T\EVILLED kidneys, actually,' said Sir 
 *-' Ranald, in high good-humour, next 
 morning at breakfast. ' I thought the 
 anatomy of our butcher's shop seemed 
 never to include kidneys.' 
 
 Alison was officiating at the tea-board in 
 her plain but pretty morning-dress, and was 
 thinking smilingly of the tete-a-tete in the 
 twilighted garden the evening before, when 
 Archie laid some letters before her father, 
 who glanced at them nervously. All that 
 were in blue envelopes he knew instinc- 
 tively to be duns, and thrust aside un- 
 opened. One in a square cover, that had
 
 174 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 thereon the initial C. surmounted by a 
 coronet, he knew to be from Lord Cad- 
 bury, and opened, and read more than 
 once, with a pleased, yet perplexed face, 
 his brows knitted, yet his lips and eyes 
 smiling. 
 
 ' From Lord Cadbury, is it, papa ?' asked 
 Alison, after a pause. 
 
 ' Yes, and concerns you.' 
 
 'Me?' 
 
 ' Intimately.' 
 
 ' In what way how ?' she asked, with a 
 heart that sank with apprehension. 
 
 * By making a formal proposal through 
 me.' 
 
 ' For what ?' 
 
 * Can you ask, child ? Your hand.' 
 
 * Oh, papa, nonsense ?' exclaimed Alison, 
 growing very pale nevertheless, but in the 
 desperation of her heart resolved to treat 
 the matter with a certain degree of levity, 
 as if too ridiculous for consideration. 
 
 The truth was that, with all the confi-
 
 A WRITTEN PROPOSAL. 175 
 
 dence given him by his wealth and position, 
 and all the coolness acquired by many past 
 but coarse intrigues, he had not the cour- 
 age to propose personally to a girl like 
 Alison Cheyne, but did so thus, through 
 her father, whose selfishness and impecuni- 
 osity made him, as he was well aware, an 
 ally. 
 
 'He writes very humbly and modestly 
 for a man of such wealth and weight in 
 the country,' said Sir Ranald. 'Do you 
 wish to see his letter?' 
 
 'No, papa, I have no interest in the 
 matter,' replied Alison, faintly. 
 
 '"She has always permitted me to take 
 the place of a friend better than I 
 merited," he writes, "but that has been 
 from the innate goodness of her heart, 
 on which I know that I have no right to 
 found the expectations that have drawn 
 forth this letter." Very well expressed 
 indeed,' added Sir Ranald, eyeing the mis- 
 sive through his pince-nez, ( and he winds
 
 176 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 up so nicely about your beauty and the 
 wealth he can lay at your feet, and so forth.' 
 
 ' And so, papa, I am to deem my face 
 ray fortune ?' said Alison, still endeavouring 
 to make light of the matter. 
 
 ' Not alone/ 
 
 ' What more is there, then ?' 
 
 ' You are a Cheyne of Essilmont.' 
 
 ' How ridiculous of this man, who is old 
 
 % 
 
 enough to be my father ! And so, papa, 
 this is ray first proposal ?' 
 
 ' Your first, how many do you expect 
 you a penniless lass ?' 
 
 1 With a long pedigree.' 
 
 ' Yes,' replied her father, with growing 
 irritation, l how many do you expect of any 
 kind, as society goes now-a-days ? Con- 
 sider this well or why consider at all ? 
 but accept his offer for your own sake and 
 mine.' 
 
 ' But without love, papa ?' said the girl, 
 softly. 
 
 ' You can't live on that, like the assthetic
 
 A WRITTEN PROPOSAL. 177 
 
 bride in Punch, on her teapot,' exclaimed 
 Sir Ranald. ' In asking you to marry him, 
 I rather ask you to marry his house in 
 Belgravia, his place here in Hampshire, 
 his equipages, and family jewels, as I 
 suppose he calls them.' 
 
 ' Oh, papa" said Alison, proudly and 
 reproachfully, 'is it you, Cheyne of Essil- 
 mont, who suggest this to me ?' 
 
 'Yes I, Cheyne of Essilmont and that 
 ilk the bankrupt and the beggar,' he re- 
 plied, with a burst of impressible bitterness. 
 
 'Papa, how can you, so proud of race, 
 go in for vulgar mammon worship so 
 unblushingly ?' 
 
 ' My poverty, but not my will, consents.' 
 
 ' I thought daughters were sold only in 
 Circassia.' 
 
 'Not at all, they sell too in Tyburnia 
 and Belgravia to the highest bidder, and 
 surely with all he can give you, all that he 
 can surround us with, you might be able to 
 tolerate him as a husband.' 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 But Alison could only think of Bevil 
 Goring, and interlaced her fingers tightly 
 beneath the tablecloth. 
 
 'There is nothing in this world like 
 riches,' exclaimed Sir Eanald, glancing at 
 the unopened blue envelopes, and tightening 
 the silk cords of his sorely frayed dressing- 
 gown. ' What riches give us let us first 
 inquire.' 
 
 'Meat, fire, and clothes. What more? 
 Meat, clothes, and fire,' said Alison, with a 
 sickly smile. 
 
 ' Alison Miss Cheyne,' said her father, 
 with increasing asperity. * This offer of 
 marriage is a serious matter, and not to be 
 dismissed thus, by a quip or apt quotation.' 
 
 'You admit that it is apt?' 
 
 *I admit nothing save that Cadbury has 
 talked this matter over with me before.' 
 
 'I suspected as much,' said Alison, bitterly. 
 
 ' Thus, if you marry him, I know that 
 besides making noble settlements upon you 
 he will by a scrape of his pen clear off
 
 A WRITTEN PROPOSAL. 179 
 
 nearly all the fatal encumbrances on our 
 Scottish property ; and I shall die, in old 
 age as I lived till ruin overtook me 
 Cheyne of Essilmont and that ilk.' 
 
 'And when you die, papa ' Alison 
 began, in a broken voice. 
 
 ' The estate becomes yours and his it is 
 all one.' 
 
 (' And I have promised to wait for Bevil !' 
 thought the girl in her heart.) 
 
 ' In the hope that you might yet learn to 
 love him indeed upon the faith that you 
 would do so yet ' said Sir Ranald, after a 
 pause, 'he has made me, kindly and gener- 
 ously, heavy advances, which I have lost 
 unwisely, and am totally unable to repay. 
 How then am I to act ? I can but look to 
 you to listen to him patiently and, with some 
 consideration for me, if he speaks of his love 
 to you again, Alison.' 
 
 To the latter it seemed that it was always 
 himself, not her, that he considered in this 
 proposed matrimonial bargain. 
 
 N2
 
 180 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 The old man was very white ; his thin 
 lips were tremulous with earnestness ; his 
 china-blue eyes lowered beneath the glance 
 of his daughter, and his naturally proud 
 heart was wrung with pain at the admissions 
 he was making. 
 
 She remained silent. 
 
 'You can have no previous no secret 
 attachment, Alison?' said Sir Ranald, after 
 another pause. 
 
 The existence of one dearer to her than 
 her own life was ignored in this question. 
 
 What was she to reply ? but reply she 
 must, as he was eyeing her keenly, and even 
 suspiciously. 
 
 ' Do not be angry with me, dearest papa, 
 but Lord Cadbury I never, never could 
 learn to love,' she urged. 
 
 ' And what about this fellow Goring ?' he 
 exclaimed, sternly, as he thought suddenly 
 of many presents of flowers and music, with 
 Punch's and Graphics, &c.
 
 A WRITTEN PROPOSAL. 181 
 
 'Goring/ she repeated, growing deadly 
 pale, even to the lips. 
 
 ' It cannot be that you are capable of such 
 infernal folly and tomfoolery as to be wast- 
 ing a thought on him T 
 
 ' He is different indeed/ said Alison, 
 almost with anger, but added, ' believe 
 me, papa, the man I love most in the 
 world is yourself;' and she nestled her 
 sweet face in his neck as she spoke. 
 
 ' I have had my suspicions of Captain 
 Goring for some time past ; an empty-head- 
 ed military dandy handsome, I admit, but 
 too handsome to have much in him/ resum- 
 ed Sir Ranald, angrily ' a dangler, a detri- 
 mental, who, I have no doubt, in weak 
 recommendation of himself could say, like 
 the man in the play, " I have not much 
 money, but what I have I spend upon 
 myself." ' 
 
 ' Oh, papa !' exclaimed Alison, who was 
 blushing deeply now.
 
 182 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 ' Pardon me if I wrong you, child,' said 
 Sir Ranald ; ' but in this most serious matter 
 of your whole future life I cannot, and 
 must not, be crossed.' 
 
 Alison felt her heart sinking, for, after 
 this pointed and sharp allusion to Bevil 
 Goring, it was pretty plain that his visits to 
 Chilcote, though supposed to be casual ones 
 at stated intervals, would have to cease. 
 
 Sir Ranald had waited for change of for- 
 tune, for something to turn up, year after 
 year, as old Indian officers used to wait for 
 the Deccan prize money, as a means of 
 liquidating accumulated debt means that 
 never came ; and now Cadbury's offer had 
 come to hand like a trump card in the game 
 with Fortune ! 
 
 'I cannot live for 'ever, Alison, think of 
 that,' said he, after a long silence. 
 
 Alison had thought of it, and loving, yea, 
 adoring her father as she did, the fear that 
 she should' one day surely lose him made
 
 A WRITTEN PROPOSAL. 183 
 
 her heart shrink up and seem to die within 
 her. 
 
 She would be alone most terribly alone 
 in this bleak world when that event came 
 to pass ; and she recalled the cruel words of 
 "'Lord Cadbury, that ' h.e could not live for 
 ever,' with peculiar bitterness now. To 
 whom, then, could she cling if not to Bevil 
 Goring ? 
 
 ' Shall I writ'e to Cadbury that you say 
 " Yes," Alison ?' 
 
 There were great, hopeless tears standing 
 in her dark' blue eyes, her quivering lips 
 were tightly pressed together,' and her slen- 
 der white fingers were tightly interlaced, as 
 she replied 
 
 ' Papa, I would rather die first !' 
 
 ' And this is your irrevocable answer?' 
 
 1 It is.' 
 
 Two days passed now days of unspeak- 
 able misery to Alison, before whom her 
 father again and again set all his monetary
 
 1 84 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 troubles, his present misery, and too proba- 
 ble future ruin, till her heart was wrung 
 and her soul tortured within her by a con- 
 viction of her own selfishness in not making 
 a sacrifice of herself and Bevil Goring ; but 
 her love of the latter on the one hand, and 
 her horror and repugnance of Lord Cad- 
 bury on the other, prevailed, and Sir Ran- 
 ald found that he could neither lure nor 
 bend her to their purpose. 
 
 After this he wrote a letter to Cadbury 
 full of expressions of gratitude for the hon- 
 our done himself and his daughter (he 
 snorted when he wrote the word ' honour'), 
 and with hopes' that the latter would yet see 
 the folly of delay (it was, he felt assured, 
 only a little delay, she would no doubt give 
 her acceptance). He felt himself too deeply 
 in Cadbury's debt even to hint that she had 
 refused to consider his proposal of marriage 
 in any way but one with dismay and 
 aversion. 
 
 Lord Cadbury, however, saw precisely
 
 A WRITTEN PROPOSAL. 185 
 
 how the matter stood, for rumours of the 
 meetings at the beeches had reached him, 
 and he viciously tugged his long, white, 
 horse-shoe-like mustaches. 
 
 Then he tore Sir Ranald's letter into 
 minute fragments, and with an expression 
 of anger even of malignancy -in his cun- 
 ning eyes, prepared to take the first train to 
 town, muttering the while 
 
 ' We shall see, my pretty Alison we 
 shall see !'
 
 186 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 IN ST. CLEMENT'S LANE. 
 
 TT was the early dusk of a dull November 
 -*- day a day in which there had not 
 been even twilight in London such days as 
 are only to be seen there and in Archangel 
 when one of those awful black fogs pre- 
 vail, when gas is lighted everywhere, when 
 all wheel traffic is suspended, when cabs, 
 'buses, and drays cease to run, and sounds 
 become curiously deadened or muffled. 
 
 Lord Cadbury, from narrow Lombard 
 Street, turned into that narrower alley which 
 lies between it and King William Street 
 called St. Clement's Lane, from the ancient 
 church dedicated to that saint some time
 
 IN ST. CLEMENT'S LANE. 187 
 
 prior to 1309, and for the rebuilding of 
 which, after the great fire, the parish be- 
 stowed upon Sir Christopher Wren the 
 curious fee of ' one-third of a hogshead of 
 wine/ 
 
 Here now are the close, narrow, and in 
 many instances mean and sordid-looking 
 offices of merchants, insurance agents, bill- 
 brokers, and others, who, however, turn 
 over vast sums of money in their humble- 
 looking premises. 
 
 To this curious quarter of the City Lord 
 Cadbury had come, with his thoughts intent 
 strange to say upon Alison Cheyne ! 
 
 The girl's great loveliness and purity had 
 fired his passion pure love it was not, nor 
 could it be and a sentiment of jealousy, 
 pique, and more than either something of 
 revenge made him resolve, through her 
 father's means, to bend, to bow, to crush 
 her to the end he wished ! 
 
 At his years he was more than ever 
 exasperated by the thought of having a
 
 188 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 young and handsome rival like Bevil Goring 
 to contend with ; and much jealousy had 
 thus made the elderly lover mad with spite 
 and reckless of consequences ; and as he 
 knew that poverty and shame made Sir 
 Ranald desperate he resolved to take his 
 measures accordingly. 
 
 The longing to break her pride and to 
 triumph over Goring made Cadbury meanly 
 revengeful, and thus it was that on the day 
 in question he went groping towards the 
 office of Mr. Solomon Slagg, a bill discounter 
 in this gloomy locality. 
 
 A narrow passage, closed by a green 
 baize-covered swing door, led to a room, or 
 rather den, in which a couple of clerks sat 
 all day long, and often far into the night, 
 perched on two high stools, writing in the 
 same dreary ledgers by gaslight, for the 
 blessed rays of the sun never found entrance 
 there all the year round ; and in a smaller 
 den beyond, usually lighted, but dimly, by 
 a curious arrangement of reflectors, sat Mr.
 
 IN ST. CLEMENT'S LANE. . 189 
 
 Solomon Slagg, writing by the light of a 
 single gas jet, minus shade or glass, but en- 
 circled by a wire guard. 
 
 The dingy room the walls, ceiling, and 
 bare floor were all of the same neutral kind 
 of grey tint had a little fire-place, wherein 
 stood a meagre gas-stove. Above it on 
 shelves were numerous mysterious-looking 
 bottles containing samples of wine, and 
 against the wall were numerous oil-paint- 
 ings, placed there, not for ornament, but 
 with reference to Mr. Slagg's multifarious 
 modes of doing business and ' doing ' the 
 public. 
 
 His rather rotund but misshapen figure 
 was wedged deep in a black leathern easy- 
 chair at an ink-spotted desk, whereon lay 
 piles of battered and greasy-looking ledgers 
 and day-books. His bald head was sunk 
 between his heavily-rounded shoulders ; he 
 had large, coarse ears, a nose like an invert- 
 ed pear, pendulous cheeks, to which strag- 
 gling grey whiskers were attached, and he
 
 190 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 had cunning little eyes that twinkled in 
 deep and cavernous sockets. 
 
 Altogether Mr. Solomon Slagg was not a 
 pleasant person to look upon, but his face, 
 such as it was, lighted up when he saw his 
 visitor, to whom he bowed low, without 
 rising, and to whom he indicated a chair by 
 a wave of his pen, with which he made a 
 mark or sum total on a page, and, closing a 
 small ledger, turned to Lord Cadbury. 
 
 * Stifling den this of yours,' grumbled the 
 latter, as he lighted a cigar ; ' no objections 
 to smoking, I suppose?' 
 
 ' None, my lord.' 
 
 'A vile day of fog utter black fog. 
 Had the devil's own trouble in making you 
 out on foot from Moorgate Street Station ; 
 but, you got my letter, of course ?' 
 
 ' Yes, my lord.' 
 
 'And acted upon it?' 
 
 4 Yes, my lord,' said Slagg, slowly, ' I 
 was just about to write-- ' 
 
 'That you had got up all Cheyne's blue 
 paper.'
 
 IN ST. CLEMENT'S LANE. 191 
 
 * Yes, in obedience to your directions, I 
 took up all the acceptances I could trace, 
 and, as he has been more than once in the 
 Black List, I wonder that he has been 'able 
 to draw bills without some one to back 
 them. There is some of his paper,' added 
 Slagg, pointing to some very crumpled-look- 
 ing slips. 
 
 ' Renewed more than once apparently.' 
 
 4 Oh ! yes again and again, in some 
 instances.' 
 
 1 Poor old devil !' said my Lord Cadbury, 
 with reference to his prospective father-in- 
 law ; ' what is the " demmed total," as Mr. 
 Mantilini would say ?' 
 
 'About a couple of thousand.' 
 
 Cadbury smiled the sum was a trifle to 
 him ; but its demand meant utter ruin to 
 the impecunious Sir Ranald, who could no 
 more meet his acceptances than fly. 
 
 ' My pretty Alison will find that at Chil- 
 cote she has been living in a kind of fool's 
 paradise,' thought he, as he tugged his long
 
 192 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 white moustache with very great compla- 
 cency. 
 
 'You will put all the pressure you can 
 upon Sir Ranald when these bills fall due 
 no more renewals at any risk ; at the same 
 time it must all appear as your affair, not 
 mine my name must not appear in the 
 matter.' 
 
 ' Of course not, my lord ; if it did ' 
 
 ' Don't even think of it, for in that case 
 it would prove my ruin in a quarter where 
 I wish to be well thought of.' 
 
 ' Sir Ranald Cheyne seems to have been 
 anticipating his income.' 
 
 ' Till, I suppose, there is nothing more to 
 anticipate.' 
 
 ' Exactly.' 
 
 1 Good good !' exclaimed Cadbury, as 
 he struck his gloved hands together ; ' then 
 you'll put the screw on him the moment 
 you can do so.' 
 
 ' Before this week is out, my lord. There 
 is one acceptance there for 300 on which
 
 IN ST. CLEMENT'S LANE. 193 
 
 the three days of grace are yet to run, and 
 then I shall act upon the whole. Your 
 lordship gave me carte blanche to acquire all 
 these documents, and, having done so, your 
 money must be repaid to you through me.' 
 
 ' Precisely so.' 
 
 The two shook hands, and again Cadbury 
 dived into the choking fog, to make his way 
 westward to his club as best he might, feel- 
 ing assured that an unexpected pressure 
 would now be put upon the luckless Alison, 
 by means of her father's mental misery and 
 inordinate pride. 
 
 He knew how intense was the girl's de- 
 votion to the old man ; he knew also that 
 the latter, with all his love for his daugh- 
 ter, was not without a considerable spice of 
 gross selfishness in his nature ; that he loved 
 the good things of this life very much, all 
 the more that many were gone, and more 
 might go, utterly beyond his reach, unless 
 some one interposed to save him ; and so 
 Cadbury chuckled as he thought of the fatal 
 
 VOL. i. o
 
 194 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 ball he had set in motion with the aid of 
 Mr. Solomon Slagg. 
 
 And that evening, when in the brilliantly 
 lighted dining-rooin of his magnificent and 
 luxurious club in Pall Mall, after a sybarite 
 repast, with many curious and elaborate en- 
 trees, he drank his Clicquot Veuve and Schloss 
 Johannisberg, not an atom of compunction 
 occurred to him for the misery he was 
 working the poor but proud old baronet, 
 and the sweet girl, whom, bon gre mal gre, 
 he had resolved to make his wife.
 
 195 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 AN ENIGMA. 
 
 TPvESPITE the silent vow he had made, 
 **' Captain Dalton could not keep away 
 from Laura Trelawney, the only woman the 
 world seemed to hold for him, and yet 
 whom he had no hope of winning. 
 
 His was no lovesick boy's fancy, yet it 
 made him sallow, pale, and worn-looking, 
 restless in solitude, and taciturn in society, 
 always seeking for action, not for any tangi- 
 ble result that action gave, but as a means 
 of present distraction. 
 
 The baffled Jerry Wilmot was not slow, 
 at mess and elsewhere, to note the change 
 in the generally quiet and even tenor of his 
 
 o2
 
 196 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 brother officer's general mood, and drew his 
 own conclusions therefrom, and these were 
 that he was not progressing favourably in 
 his suit with the brilliant young widow. 
 
 ' If a widow she really is,' said Jerry one 
 day after evening parade, when Dalton's 
 groom brought his horse round to the mess 
 hut, and he was about to ride over to Chil- 
 cote Grange. 
 
 ' How what the devil do you mean, 
 Jerry?' asked Dalton, greatly ruffled. 
 
 ' Only that a rumour is abroad that has 
 in it a deuced unpleasant sound.' 
 
 ' To what effect ?' 
 
 ' That her husband is not dead that she 
 is not a widow at all that he ran away 
 from her, or something of that kind. Have 
 you not remarked how she sneers at matri- 
 mony ? Egad, I hope she is not divorcee /' 
 
 ' Nonsense, Jerry ; how dare you let 
 your tongue run on thus !' 
 
 4 Little birds sing strange songs some- 
 times.'
 
 AN ENIGMA. 197 
 
 ' Sour grapes, Jerry, that is all,' replied 
 Dalton, laughing, but only from the teeth 
 outwards, as he rode off to what Wilmot 
 said was ' his doom.' 
 
 The rumour real or alleged so casu- 
 ally mentioned by Jerry, rankled deeply in 
 Dalton's mind for a time, but it passed away 
 when he found himself in the presence of 
 Mrs. Trelawney, and he saw again her soft 
 hazel eyes, so delicately lidded, their long 
 lashes and eyebrows darker than her rich 
 chestnut hair ; her dress that hung in cling- 
 ing folds around her and showed her beauti- 
 ful form, grandly outlined as that of a classi- 
 cal statue ; and when Antoinette or Netty, 
 as he called her now stole her hand, white 
 as a snowflake and tiny as a fairy's, into his, 
 and, looking at him with eyes blue as 
 forget-me-nots, said, ' I love you !' he 
 stroked the shower of golden tresses 
 that were held back from the child's brow 
 by a blue silk riband, and replied, while he 
 kissed her,
 
 198 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 ' And I love you, Netty, so much !' 
 
 Her tiny mouth was all a-tremble with 
 fun and pleasure as she asked 
 
 1 And don't you love mamma too ?' 
 
 He made no answer, but Mrs. Trelawney, 
 whose eyes had been suffused with tender 
 pleasure at his kind manner with Netty, 
 now laughed and said 
 
 ' What do you mean, you enfant terrible T 
 
 ' I heard you and Alison Cheyne talking 
 of Captain Dalton the other day, and I 
 thought I should so like him for a papa.' 
 
 ' Why ?' asked Mrs. Trelawney. 
 
 ' Because I never had one.' 
 
 1 Never had one ?' she repeated, laugh- 
 ing. 
 
 ' No ; I am the only little girl that never 
 had.' 
 
 ' You don't remember him then ?' said 
 Dalton, recalling the remarks of Jerry. 
 
 * How can one remember what one 
 never, never had?' said little Netty, 
 sententiously.
 
 AN ENIGMA. 199 
 
 'Go to your nurse, Netty,' said her 
 mamma, ' I hear her calling for you.' 
 
 So Netty was summarily dismissed, and 
 not a moment too soon, as both her listeners 
 thought, and an awkward pause was about 
 to ensue, when Mrs. Trelawney said, sud- 
 denly, 
 
 'Your friend Goring seems desperately 
 smitten with my sweet little friend Alison 
 Cheyne.' 
 
 ' If so, I wish him all success/ replied 
 Dalton. ' Goring is the king of good 
 fellows, and the girl is quite beautiful.' 
 
 ' The French have a curious saying that 
 it is not necessary to be beautiful in order 
 to be a beauty ; but Alison Cheyne is indeed 
 lovely, and has, in a high degree, a lady- 
 like dignity about her ; and, with it, is so 
 charmingly simple and piquante. I hope 
 Goring is rich ; her father, I am pretty sure, 
 looks forward to a wealthy alliance for 
 her.' 
 
 ' Then, in that case, I fear poor Bevil
 
 200 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 will be out of the running,' said Dalton ; 
 ' he has some expectations, I know, but 
 they are very remote, I fear. We cannot, 
 however, control our hearts, nor, when in 
 love, do we care about calculating eventual- 
 ities,' he added, very pointedly, while taking 
 Mrs. Trelawney's delicate and shapely little 
 hand between his two, but she withdrew it, 
 and, while discharging a whole volley of 
 expression by one flashing ceillade of her 
 hazel eyes, she exclaimed, laughingly, 
 
 'Take care, Captain Dalton, or I shall 
 be led to infer that you are falling in love 
 with me.' 
 
 ' You know that I have done so that I 
 have loved you since the first moment we 
 met.' 
 
 She was laughing excessively now, and 
 Dalton felt that a lover laughed at had 
 little hope of success, so he said, gravely, 
 
 'I hope you are not playing fast and 
 loose with me and my friend Wilmot.'
 
 AN ENIGMA. 201 
 
 'Have you no better opinion of me, 
 Captain Dalton ?' 
 
 ' He gave me to understand that you 
 declined his addresses.' 
 
 ' Whatever they may be yes,' replied 
 the smiling widow, ' but I would not have 
 mentioned the matter, as he seems to have 
 done poor Jerry !' 
 
 ' Why mock my earnestness ?' asked 
 Dalton, in a pointed tone of voice. 
 
 ' Because you cannot love me as I would 
 wish to be loved.' 
 
 ' You do not know me, Mrs. Trelawney.' 
 
 ' I know you better than you know your- 
 self!' she exclaimed, looking him full in 
 the face with a peculiar expression that 
 puzzled him, while her smiles vanished. 
 
 1 Perhaps you do,' said he, ' but I think 
 that, if you once loved a man, that love 
 would end only with your life.' 
 
 She regarded him for a moment with an 
 almost disdainful smile, and said,
 
 202 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 ' And you, Captain Dalton if you loved 
 a woman, how long would your love last? 
 Only while it suited your fancy or con- 
 venience.' 
 
 'You are very severe with me,' he ob- 
 served, with some surprise at her taunting 
 manner. 
 
 ' Not more than you know you deserve.' 
 
 At these words Dalton visibly changed 
 colour, and became confused. To what 
 secret of his past life was she referring, 
 he thought; to what long-buried thoughts 
 was she finding a clue ? 
 
 ' You have become very silent/ said she. 
 
 He sighed deeply, and rose as if to 
 depart. 
 
 'Pardon me, if my words pain you, 
 Captain Dalton,' said she, all her spirit 
 of raillery gone ; ' but you have grown 
 pale, as if the shadow of death were on you.' 
 
 ' It is not that,' said he, with a sickly smile. 
 
 'What then?' 
 
 ' The shadow of a life rather.'
 
 AN ENIGMA. 203 
 
 'Whose?' she asked, lightly touching his 
 hand. 
 
 ' My own !' 
 
 ' He Ms a secret that shall one day be 
 mine !' thought Mrs. Trelawney, while at 
 the same moment Dalton was thinking of 
 the rumour mentioned by Jerry Wilmot, 
 and -marvelled if her occasional peculiarity 
 of manner arose from that rumour being 
 founded on truth ! 
 
 But Dalton felt his heart too much in- 
 volved, and himself too deeply committed 
 to let the matter end here. 
 
 'Your treatment of me is most strange, 
 Mrs. Trelawney, even cruel, I think, Laura 
 permit me to call you so even for once/ 
 he said. ' My society has always seemed 
 to give you pleasure, and you have always 
 seemed glad when I caressed your little 
 daughter and gave her little presents ; and, 
 truth to tell, dearest Laura, my heart has 
 somehow gone out to that child as if she 
 were my own.'
 
 I 
 204 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 ' Your own yours !' exclaimed Mrs. Tre- 
 lawney, as she pressed a hand upon her 
 heart, and lowered her eyelids, as if to 
 hide the expression of joy, exultation, and, 
 odd to say, irritation that mingled in her 
 face. 
 
 He trembled violently, as if struggling 
 with his love of her, and something mental 
 seemed for a minute to load or fetter his 
 tongue till he said, in a low voice, 
 
 * If I can prove that I have the right to 
 ask you, will you marry me will you be 
 ray wife, Laura ?' 
 
 'Do not ask me,' she replied, trembling 
 in turn. 
 
 'Why why?' he asked, impetuously. 
 
 'Are you aware how strangely you pre- 
 lude your proposal by referring to some 
 eventuality, Captain Dalton ?' said she, with 
 some hauteur ; ' but be assured that I can 
 never be more to you than I am now, were 
 I to live a hundred years.' 
 
 'And so you are but a cruel coquette
 
 AN ENIGMA. 205 
 
 after all,' said Dalton, recovering himself; 
 ' one who has fooled me a man of the 
 world, as I deemed myself to the top 
 of my bent, only to throw me over at 
 last. Well, perhaps I am rightly served,' 
 he added, bitterly. 
 
 1 You are rightly served, Captain Dalton/ 
 said she, laughing once more. 
 
 ' What do you know what do you 
 mean?' 
 
 ' What your own heart tells you ; but 
 here is a visitor, Bella Chevenix ; let us at 
 least part friends.' 
 
 1 Mere friends we can never be,' said he, 
 sadly. 
 
 ' As you please, Captain Dalton ; but be 
 assured we have not seen the last of each 
 other yet,' she replied, with one of her most 
 brilliant and coquettish smiles, as he bowed 
 himself out ; and so ended an interview 
 which both felt had included the most sin- 
 gular bit of love-making they had ever been 
 involved in.
 
 206 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 'By Jove, she is an enigma,' muttered 
 Dalton ; but she had no such thought of 
 him.
 
 207 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ' SOMETHING IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN !' 
 
 < p<APTAIN GOPJNG, let it be distinctly 
 ^-^ understood that from this day for- 
 ward your visits to Chilcote cease, and let 
 all this be forgotten,' were the words with 
 which Sir Ranald accosted Goring one 
 forenoon. 
 
 ' Forgotten !' exclaimed the latter, rising 
 from his seat, hat in hand. 
 
 Sir Ranald had suddenly come in and 
 found him seated with Alison, paying one 
 of his usual visits, as Goring wished them to 
 be thought, and the old man was greatly 
 ruffled, even exasperated. 
 
 ' As for my daughter, sir, I forbid her to
 
 208 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 speak to you again, to recognise you any- 
 where, to mention your name, or even think 
 of you !' he continued, with increasing vehe- 
 mence, lashing himself to fresh anger with 
 the sound of his own words. ' D n it, sir, 
 in my younger days the pistol would have 
 put an effectual stop to your uncalled-for 
 interloping.' 
 
 ' Or yours, and your coldness of heart,' 
 replied Goring, who was so confounded by 
 this sudden outburst of wrath as scarcely to 
 know what he said. 
 
 He was naturally a proud-spirited young 
 fellow, and rather prompt to ire. He 
 blushed scarlet to the temples at these most 
 affronting speeches ; but they gave him 
 double pain when he saw the wan, blanched, 
 and imploring face of poor Alison, whose 
 heart was wrung by the words and bearing 
 of her father a bearing all so unlike his 
 own usually cold, stately, and aristocratic 
 self. 
 
 At that moment she felt a sort of sicken-
 
 SOMETHING IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN. 209 
 
 ing conviction that all was over between 
 her and Bevil, as if she was being torn from 
 him for ever; and, indeed, separation now 
 was nearer than either of them suspected, 
 for cruel events were fated to follow each 
 other fast. 
 
 Goring bowed to father and daughter, 
 just touching the hand of the latter as he 
 withdrew. Sir Ranald turned his back upon 
 him and looked through a window ; thus 
 Alison had an opportunity to whisper, ' The 
 beeches at eight this evening,' and Bevil 
 left Chilcote with his heart swelling with 
 anger, and smarting under a keen sense of 
 insult and regret. 
 
 'Oh, papa, can you forget that he saw 
 Ellon laid in his grave?' she was on the 
 point of saying, while choked with tears, 
 when she suddenly remembered that Ellon's 
 ring was now on Goring's finger, and that 
 
 CJ v_y < . 
 
 the latter's engagement ring was on the 
 
 third finger of her left hand, where her 
 
 father, in his abstraction, selfishness, and 
 VOL. i. P
 
 210 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 pre-occupation with monetary affairs, had 
 never even once detected it. 
 
 And now, truth to tell, though desperate 
 with poverty, the struggle to keep up ap- 
 pearances, and anger to find his purposes 
 crossed, the old man blushed for himself in 
 having so far forgot what was due to a visi- 
 tor, a guest, and one gentleman to another, 
 but that emotion was not unmixed with one 
 of satisfaction that l the affair,' as he thought 
 it, ' between Alison and that fellow was over 
 now and for ever.' 
 
 On this day Alison could not dissemble ; 
 she cared not to hide her emotion from him, 
 and let the tears of shame and sorrow pour 
 hotly and bitterly down her cheeks, while 
 he looked grimly on, thinking it would ' be 
 all right by-and-by.' 
 
 If she were to see Bevil no more, was the 
 girl's constant thought what would become 
 of her? 
 
 The hours in which he had no part lagged 
 fearfully with Alison, and to Bevil, when
 
 SOMETHING IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN. 211 
 
 they met, the minutes seemed to be literally 
 winged. Her whole life had lately been 
 divided into two portions, one when she 
 was briefly with Bevil, and the other when 
 she was not. Their meetings had become 
 necessary, as it would seem, to their very 
 existence, and, were these ended, both 
 would find their ' occupation gone.' 
 
 They knew not how they got through 
 their days before they loved each other, and 
 had those delicious stolen meetings to look 
 forward to and look back to, as something 
 sweet, new, and beloved, to con and dream 
 over. 
 
 Till the advent of Bevil Goring, how 
 drearily dull her life seemed to have been at 
 Chilcote ! It was all very well to cull and 
 arrange bouquets with all an artist's eye to 
 colour and form, to warble the old songs 
 her mother had taught in brighter days at 
 Essilmont and elsewhere, with all that 
 sweetness which she inherited from her, 
 and vary these occupations by atten- 
 
 p2
 
 212 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 dance on her fowls and other pets, hunting 
 with old Archie for the eggs when the hens 
 had taken to laying under the hedges ; turn- 
 ing dresses, cleaning her own gloves, and, 
 while longing for the purse of Fortunatus, 
 striving to make sixpence go as far as a shil- 
 ling, feeling that darning and mending were 
 her purgatory, and economy the bane of 
 her existence ; but into that existence, with 
 the love of Bevil Goring, there had come a 
 ray of brightest sunshine, with a new and 
 hitherto unknown sense of happiness. But, 
 alas! it would seem they were now to be 
 followed by sorrow, and the gloom of a 
 hopeless night which would have no end . 
 
 As the afternoon and evening stole on, 
 Alison's heart beat wildly and anxiously for 
 the time of her meeting too probably 
 the last one with Bevil, and after a frugal 
 dinner of cold mutton and boiled rice (a 
 menu at which her father made more than 
 one grimace), with old Archie Auchindoir 
 in attendance, solemnly and respectfully, as
 
 SOMETHING IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN. 213 
 
 if it had been some banquet suited to Lu- 
 cullus, when Sir Ranald began to doze over 
 his bottle of carefully-aired St. Peray ' Her- 
 mitage' most probably the last he pos- 
 sessed Alison rose softly from the table 
 and stole into the entrance hall, where the 
 hands on the clock dial indicated that the 
 hour was nearly eight. 
 
 She assumed the hat and shawl she usual- 
 ly wore when in the garden, and passing 
 though the latter, in her resolution to meet 
 Bevil, almost heedless if her father missed 
 her, she was about to open the gate that led 
 to the beech avenue, when she was startled 
 rooted to the spot for a moment by see- 
 ing, or fancying she saw, before her, amid 
 the dark and uncertain shadows of the No- 
 vember evening, the blacker outline of a 
 dog of a hound before her. 
 
 At this conviction a gasping cry escaped 
 her, and a sense of suffocation came into her 
 slender throat ; inspired by a courage 
 beyond what she deemed she possessed, she
 
 214 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 darted forward, but the outline seemed to 
 melt away before her or elude her eyes. 
 No dog was there, nor could there have 
 been, for no dog of mortal mould could 
 have cleared that lofty wall, and no sound 
 followed the disappearance. 
 
 All was still save the drip of the dew as 
 it fell from the overladen leaf of an ever- 
 green. 
 
 Alison felt her heart beating painfully, 
 while a deadly chill seemed to settle upon 
 it. Had the family boding of evil been be- 
 fore her ? Oh, no, no impossible. And 
 yet it was said that when Ellon and her 
 
 mother died She tried to thrust the 
 
 thought away. 
 
 It must have been, she said to herself, 
 some peculiar arrangement of light and 
 shadow some shadow formed in the star- 
 light and thrown on the grass ; for often as 
 she heard of that Dog of Doom the Spectre 
 Hound of Essilmont she always shrank 
 from believing in its existence, but her heart
 
 SOMETHING IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN. 215 
 
 was filled with vague and undefinable 
 apprehension nevertheless. 
 
 There was a step on the gravel, a figure 
 appeared in the shade of the star-lighted 
 avenue, and in another moment she was 
 sobbing heavily in Bevil's arms. 
 
 Her excessive agitation he attributed, 
 naturally, to the very unpleasant scene of 
 the forenoon, especially when she said, 
 
 '' Oh ! Bevil, how, or in what terms, am I 
 to apologise to you for the mode in which 
 papa treated you to-day ?' 
 
 ' Poor old gentleman, I can pardon all 
 his petulance, but it fills me with a fear that 
 he designs you to be the wife of another. 
 Curse upon this poverty of mine, which 
 mars as yet the life of us both, Alison. I 
 have done wrong in loving you and win- 
 ning you without your father's permission ; 
 but he never would have accorded it.' 
 
 ' Oh !' moaned Alison, with her cheek on 
 his breast ; ' something is about to happen 
 something terrible about to befall us !'
 
 216 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 1 Something, darling what ?' 
 
 'Death, or a calamity little short of it, 
 perhaps.' 
 
 ' I do not understand you/ said Bevil, 
 caressing her with great tenderness, and 
 becoming very anxious on finding how faint 
 her voice was, and how excessively she was 
 trembling. ' Dearest Alison, the night air 
 is chill, T am selfish and barbarous in keep- 
 ing you here.' 
 
 1 Don't say so, my love,' murmured the 
 girl, as she nestled close to him, ' for some- 
 thing is about to happen, and heaven knows 
 only when I may meet you again.' 
 
 * What fills you so with apprehension ?' 
 
 And now, with pale and trembling lips, 
 while reclining in Goring's arms, she told 
 him the family legend, at which he a man 
 of the period a young officer within a mile 
 or so of his lines at Aldershot, felt inclined 
 to laugh very heartily, but for Alison's in- 
 tense dejection, and the doubts and fears 
 incident to their mutual position.
 
 SOMETHING IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN. 217 
 
 'Dearest Alison/ said he, smiling, 'you 
 have one bete noire assuredly old Cadbury 
 don't, for heaven's sake, manufacture and 
 adopt another.' 
 
 ' Bevil, don't jest with me/ she said, 
 imploringly. 
 
 'I do not jest with you, sweet one; but 
 tell me all about this devilish hound for 
 such it must be, of course.' 
 
 It would seem that it first appeared on 
 the night of a dreadful storm, centuries 
 ago a night when the wind howled and 
 roared round Essilmont, and the Ythan, 
 white and foaming, tore in full flood through 
 the dreary heather glens towards the sea, 
 and when the thunder peals seemed to rend 
 heaven ; yet amid all this elemental din the 
 gate-ward at Essilmont heard the baying of 
 a, dog at the gate, and, opening it, a large 
 black hound came in, and was permitted to 
 crouch by the hall fire, and when the em- 
 bers of the latter began to sink and fade 
 away, it was remarked by those who were
 
 218 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 there that the eyes of the great shaggy 
 hound, as it lay with its long sharp nose 
 resting on its outstretched paws, had in 
 them a strangely diabolical and malicious 
 glitter as they roved from face to face. 
 
 ' I dislike the aspect of this brute,' said 
 the Laird to the Lady of Essilmont, and as 
 he spoke the hound, began to lash the floor 
 with his tail. * Let him be driven forth.' 
 
 ' I pray you not,' said she. ' The poor 
 animal may have lost its master.' 
 
 On this the hound, as if grateful to her, 
 licked her white hand with his red tongue, 
 and she stroked him tenderly. She was An- 
 not Udney, a daughter of the Laird of 
 Auchterellon, and reputed as a witch, and 
 the possessor of a remarkable magic crystal 
 ball, with which she could work good or 
 evil, but the latter most frequently. 
 
 'Annot, its aspect chills me,' said the 
 laird again. 
 
 ' Chills you, Ranald ?' exclaimed the lady.
 
 SOMETHING IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN. 219 
 
 ' You whose spear was foremost in the fray 
 last week at the Red Harlaw.' 
 
 ' Yes I shudder, and know not why,' he 
 replied, and signed himself with the cross, 
 on which the hound instantly snarled, and 
 showed all his white glistening teeth, while 
 his eyes glared like red and fiery carbuncles. 
 
 No more was wanting now to prove to 
 Ranald Cheyne that the animal was a thing 
 of evil, so snatching up a halbert he was 
 about to cleave his head when the lady 
 interposed with outstretched arms and a cry 
 of dismay. She was a woman of rare 
 beauty and great sweetness of manner, not- 
 withstanding her evil repute ; so she stayed 
 her husband's arm, and said, 
 
 'Let me put forth the hound.' 
 
 ' You, Annot ?' 
 
 ' Yes I,' she replied ; and patting the 
 dog's rough head it rose and followed her 
 to the outer gate, and now the wild storm 
 which shook the walls some time before was
 
 220 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 over ; it seemed to have spent its fury and 
 passed away. 
 
 A little time elapsed ; Annot Cheyne did 
 not return : the laird became anxious and 
 impatient, and as all the household were 
 now abed he followed her. 
 
 The sky was cloudless now, and the white 
 moonlight fell aslant in silvery sheets over 
 the barbican wall, and in the flood of it 
 that streamed through the outer archway 
 he saw his wife caressing the gigantic hound. 
 
 1 Annot !' cried he, impatiently. She 
 made no answer, but stooped and again 
 caressed the dog. 
 
 At that moment a dark cloud passed sud- 
 denly and quickly over the face of the 
 moon, involving the archway in blackness 
 and obscurity ; and the baying of the hound 
 was heard, but, as it seemed, at a vast dis- 
 tance. 
 
 When, a minute after, the moon emerged 
 from its shadow, the radiance streamed 
 through the archway as before ; but
 
 SOMETHING IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN. 221 
 
 there was no one visible the lady and the 
 hound had disappeared ! 
 
 ' She was never seen again/ said Alison 
 in conclusion ; ' but as for the hound, that 
 came and went with the tempest, it has ap- 
 peared, or has been said to have done so, 
 when when evil was near the Cheynes of 
 Essilmont ; and, whether the story of its ap- 
 pearance was fable or fancy, the evil cer- 
 tainly came in some fashion or other.' 
 
 ' It is the offspring of vulgar superstition 
 or fevered fancy. How can you think of 
 old-world Scotch nonsense in this age, 
 Alison ?^ said Bevil Goring. 
 
 1 If a boding of evil it is, I hope it 
 menaces me, and not poor papa/ said Alison, 
 down whose cheeks the unseen tears were 
 streaming in the dark, 'and as for Lord 
 Cadbury ' 
 
 ' Don't speak about him don't think 
 about him !' interrupted Bevil, impatiently. 
 ' And yet/ he added, ' if this old fellow 
 loves you, I do not wonder at it/
 
 222 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 'Why?' 
 
 ' Because all men who know you must 
 love you, though I hope it is to be your 
 destiny, your strength, to love but one. 
 Yet, Alison, what agony it must be to love 
 you as I do, and only to lose you after all.' 
 
 This unfortunate speech, though meant to 
 be a loving compliment by Goring, seemed 
 but the echo of the forebodings that were in 
 the heart of Alison, and she wept heavily 
 while he strained her to his breast and kiss- 
 ed her, not once but many times, and she 
 hung or lay passive in his embrace like a 
 dead weight, while the hearts of both were 
 
 o ' 
 
 full of a kind of passionate despair their 
 future seemed so much without hope their 
 present menaced by so much turmoil and 
 opposition. 
 
 ' My darling, my darling,' exclaimed Go- 
 ring, when at last he released her, 'whatever 
 happens I shall never, never give you up.' 
 
 So they parted at last, to meet at their 
 trysting place on the second day ensuing, and
 
 SOMETHING IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN. 223 
 
 Alison, as she hurried homeward, and pass- 
 ed amid the dark shadows of the star-lighted 
 garden, looked fearfully round her with 
 dilated eyes, while her spirit quailed in 
 dread of seeing denned through the gloom 
 what she saw, or thought she saw, before, 
 and hastened into the house, closing the 
 door softly, yet swiftly behind her, as if 
 pursued by something unseen. 
 
 Duty detained Goring at the camp during 
 the intervening day, but on the following, 
 full of more lover-like anxiety than ever, 
 with a hundred things to say, to ask, and 
 to hear, hopes to suggest, and comforting 
 speeches to make, he sought the beeches, 
 and waited there till all hope died out. 
 
 Alison did not come ; the day was cold ; 
 the wind bleak and keen as the very last 
 of the damp brown leaves were swept away 
 with it, and at last he turned aside with a 
 heavy heart. 
 
 The next day and the next brought the 
 same result. She failed to meet him, and
 
 224 MISS CHEYNE OP ESSILMONT. 
 
 dismay filled his heart lest she might be 
 ill. She was delicate and fragile, and the 
 last night they met she was terribly shaken 
 and excited by the untoward episode of 
 the morning and her superstitious terror 
 of the evening. 
 
 From the moment Bevil Goring met and 
 knew Alison Cheyne, his heart had gone 
 out of his own keeping, and never returned 
 to it again. His love for her had become 
 deep and intense, but, strange to say, did not 
 seem a hopeful one, unless fortune changed 
 suddenly with him. It was useless to ex- 
 pect it would do so with her family now. 
 
 His position was good ; his family name 
 unimpeachable. He bore a high reputation 
 in his regiment as a brave and well-trained 
 officer, and one well used to command ; 
 but his means were certainly not what he 
 should ask a wife of Alison's culture to 
 share, nor in any way were they equal to the 
 ambition and dire necessities of the bank- 
 rupt baronet of Essilmont.
 
 SOMETHING IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN. 225 
 
 After some more days of Agonising delay 
 and anxiety, Goring resolved to proceed to 
 Chilcote House, and endeavour to discover 
 if aught ailed Alison, or how it was that 
 she had ceased to come to their meeting- 
 place as usual. 
 
 From the clustered and ivy-clad chim- 
 neys no smoke ascended against the grey 
 November sky. Every window was shut- 
 tered and closed. There was an absence 
 of all stir an oppressive silence everywhere 
 in and around the house even from the 
 little court where the clucking of Alison's 
 hens was wont to be heard. A spade yet 
 remained stuck in a plot of the garden, as 
 if old silver-haired Archie Auchindoir had 
 suddenly quitted his work there and re- 
 turned no more. 
 
 Either by the result of mischief, or recent 
 neglect, a large mass of the ivy and clematis 
 that overhung the pretty little oaken porch 
 had fallen down, and, if further evidence 
 of total desertion were necessary, a large 
 
 VOL. i. Q
 
 226 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 white ticket on. a pole announced in black 
 letters that the ' commodious villa of Chil- 
 cote was to let, furnished or unfurnished. 
 Communications to be made in writing to 
 Mr. Solomon Slagg, St. Clement's Lane, 
 City.' 
 
 On taking in all these details of a sudden, 
 hasty, and perhaps disastrous departure, the 
 heart of Bevil seemed to stand still for 
 some seconds. 
 
 Where had the little household gone, and 
 why ? And why did not Alison write to 
 him of her movements? though he could 
 not have replied without compromising her. 
 Was Sir Ranald dead? Was she? Oh, 
 no ! no ! He must have heard it friends 
 in camp must have heard through the public 
 prints of any catastrophe. 
 
 She was gone carried off; he could not 
 doubt it but whither and to what end he 
 could not even surmise ; his bower of roses 
 his fool's paradise, was levelled in the 
 dust at last, and he could but linger, and
 
 SOMETHING IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN. 227 
 
 look hopelessly and questioningly at the 
 ticket of Mr. Solomon Slagg, and at the 
 darkened windows through which Alison 
 must often have looked, perhaps watching 
 for his own approach. 
 
 He wrote to Mr. Slagg for information 
 and Sir Ranald's address, but received no 
 answer (doubtless Mr. Slagg was acting 
 under the orders of Lord Cadbury), save 
 printed circulars, from which it appeared 
 that Mr. Slagg was ready to advance 
 ' money confidentially to young ofiicers 
 and others on easy terms, borrowers' own 
 security, repayments at convenience, &c., &c.' 
 
 It was terrible for Bevil Goring to sur- 
 render those hopes he had been cherishing 
 in the depths of his heart hopes that, 
 though of recent growth, were strong, and 
 dear, and precious, and the realisation of 
 which had become his daily prayer. 
 
 A darkness as sudden seemed to have 
 fallen upon him ! 
 
 He remembered now all the poor girl's 
 
 Q2
 
 228 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 painful forebodings on that last eventful 
 night that something was about to happen 
 the surely absurd story about the spectre 
 dog, which he had so affectionately derided; 
 but now 'something' certainly had come to 
 pass ! And what was it ?
 
 229 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 EVIL TIDINGS. 
 
 * T'M glad to see you back, Miss Cheyne,' 
 said Archie, as she met him in the 
 passage or entrance-hall ; ' Sir Ranald has 
 missed you sairly/ 
 
 'Missed me? I left him asleep, Archie,' 
 exclaimed Alison. 
 
 ' Something wakened him wi' a start, just 
 as ye gaed into the garden.' 
 
 ' Something what ?' 
 
 'A sound, I watna what,' replied Archie, 
 unwillingly, smoothing his silver hair with 
 his hand, and looking round him stealthily. 
 
 'What sound? I heard nothing in the 
 garden.'
 
 230 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 'Weel, something like the baying o' a 
 hound.' 
 
 1 A hound /' said Alison, faintly. 
 
 ' I dinna quite say sae ; but say naething to 
 Sir Ranald aboot it. Gang to him at aince ; 
 he's got some unco news, I fear, by the 
 evening post.' 
 
 Walking like an automaton, though very 
 pale, and tremulous in heart and limb, 
 Alison entered the dining-room, where she 
 found her father walking up and down its 
 entire length, with a letter crushed and 
 crumpled in his thin white hand, which was 
 nervously clenched upon it. His face was 
 very pale ; his lips were twitching, and 
 drops of perspiration stood upon his brow. 
 
 1 Papa !' exclaimed Alison, winding her 
 soft arms round him ; ' what is the matter 
 with you ?' 
 
 ' It has come at last, child.' 
 
 ' What has come ?' 
 
 ' The long-impending and utter ruin, un- 
 less unless '
 
 EVIL TIDINGS. 231 
 
 'What?' 
 
 ' You will save me ; end my sorrows, and 
 your own, by accepting Cadbury. You can 
 lift from my heart and our family the 
 shadow that has darkened them so long 
 the cold shadow of grinding poverty.' 
 
 Her lips became white and parched so 
 parched that she had to moisten them with 
 her tongue, and even then she could not 
 speak for a time. Bevil Goring's kisses 
 were fresh upon them, and now she had to 
 listen to a death sentence like this ! 
 
 Her first dread had been a reference to 
 her absence at such a time, but, by the 
 business in question, it was evident her 
 ramble in the dusk was forgotten, or a very 
 subordinate matter indeed. 
 
 'A man named Slagg has written me,' 
 said Sir Ranald, in a low and faint voice, 
 while leaning with one hand on the table 
 and the other pressed on the region of the 
 heart, ' written me to the effect that all my 
 recent and too often renewed acceptances
 
 232 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 and promissory notes have come how, I 
 know not into his possession, and that if I 
 do not liquidate them forthwith everything 
 we have even to the chairs we sit on 
 will be seized, and myself too probably 
 arrested, while you, Alison you, my loved 
 Ailie,' he continued, with sudden pathos in 
 his voice ' will have neither house nor 
 home !' 
 
 He was a proud man Sir Ranald Cheyne, 
 and apart from the selfishness peculiar to 
 many of his class especially in Scotland 
 an honourable man. Thus it is but fair to 
 infer that had he known or been aware in 
 the least degree of the game Lord Cadbury 
 was playing, and that the letter of Solomon 
 Slagg was his trump card, he would rather 
 have faced ruin and beggary than urged this 
 odious marriage on his daughter. 
 
 The latter clasped her hands in silence 
 and looked and felt like a hunted creature. 
 Prior to this she had often thought over the 
 means of escape, of working for her bread
 
 EVIL TIDINGS. 233 
 
 a mode of work of which she had very 
 vague ideas indeed but now she felt stunned 
 and stupefied. 
 
 After all after the dawn and noon of 
 the sweet day that had stolen upon her 
 could she do nothing, if she was to serve 
 her father, but to marry this vulgar lord ? 
 
 * I have refused Lord Cadbury's written 
 proposal, papa,' said she, in a voice so low 
 that it sounded like a whisper. 
 
 ' He will renew it, and it is a brilliant 
 offer, Alison. He will be kind to you so 
 kind, Alison and you you will not be so 
 mad as to refuse him now. Think of his 
 proffered settlements and of what we what 
 I owe him.' 
 
 ' Think of every one, of all all but my- 
 self and my future !' said Alison, with her 
 slender fingers interlaced above her head 
 and her eyes cast despairingly upward. 
 
 ' She is yielding,' thought Sir Ranald ; 
 ' but I see how it is this fellow Goring is 
 in our way.'
 
 234 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 Then he put his arm round her caressing- 
 ly and said, 
 
 ' The sooner you become sensible, Alison, 
 and forget your foolish your most unwise 
 fancy for that young fellow at Aldershot, 
 the better for yourself and for me.' 
 
 He never forgot himself with all his love 
 for his daughter. 
 
 ' But, papa,' she said, with pallid lips, ' I 
 love Bevil.' 
 
 ' It has come to this an engagement ?' 
 
 ' Yes, papa, I cannot deceive you.' 
 
 ' An engagement a secret one without 
 my knowledge ; how dared you?' 
 
 ' I promised to wait for a year he asked 
 me only a year and he loves me so much !' 
 
 1 No doubt,' snarled Sir Ranald, through 
 his set teeth. ' People cannot live on love, 
 however, and your friend " Bevil," as you 
 call him, cannot pay my debts.' 
 
 ' Oh, would that he could do so !' 
 
 'Till recently you have always been ac- 
 customed to luxury and ease. These Cad-
 
 EVIL TIDINGS. 235 
 
 bury lays at your feet, offering you who 
 by position and education are unfit to be a 
 poor man's wife absolute splendour.' 
 
 ' But Bevil is not so poor as you think, 
 and, moreover, maybe richer in time,' urged 
 Alison, piteously ; ' he has prospects, ex- 
 pectations ' ' 
 
 ' Of course what sharper is without 
 them ? and for the realization of these 
 visions you would be waiting to the sacri- 
 fice of your youth, your beauty, and your 
 poor old father's few remaining years.' 
 
 She wrung her white hands. She had 
 often thought before of the tradesmen's un- 
 paid bills of her dresses made to do duty 
 for a second season she had never thought 
 at all ; but now the letter of Slagg had 
 filled her with vague and undefinable 
 terror. 
 
 She could not, poor girl, understand the 
 tenor of it altogether, but she knew it meant 
 ruin, for she could read that in her father's 
 anxious face ; yet why should fate compel
 
 236 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 her to marry Lord Cadbury? she could 
 work work or die ! 
 
 'Loving Bevil as I do, papa, it would be 
 very base of me to accept Lord Cadbury 
 without even an atom of respect or grati- 
 tude,' said she, gathering courage from her 
 very despair, while her eyes streamed with 
 tears. 
 
 ' I do not see that love has much to do 
 with marriage, but know that money has a 
 great deal/ said her father, smoothing out 
 the letter of Solomon Slagg for re-perusal. 
 ' Love is a luxury the poor can't afford, 
 and it is better to marry on a little of it, 
 and find that little increase by residence to- 
 gether and force of habit, than marry on 
 much, and find that much dwindling away 
 into mutual toleration and cold indifference.' 
 
 Sir Ranald had not an atom of sympathy 
 with or toleration for this love fancy, so he 
 deemed it, of his daughter. His own lover- 
 days and his marriage seemed to have come 
 to pass so long ago as to have belonged to
 
 EVIL TIDINGS. 237 
 
 some state of pre- existence. He could 
 scarcely realise them now; yet he knew 
 they must have been ; Burke and Debrett 
 told him so ; and Alison was there as a 
 living proof of both; but his love if love it 
 was had been a well-ordered arrangement 
 with a lady of good position and ample 
 means, not with an obscure nobody. 
 
 ' Papa,' said Alison, after a silence that 
 had been broken only by her sighs and his 
 own, 'when urging me to do what you 
 wish, have you no thought of the long line 
 of the Cheynes of Essilmont, who lived there 
 for so many centuries who so often lost 
 their lives in battle, but never honour, who 
 never stained their name by any base or 
 ignoble transaction, who lived and died so 
 spotlessly ?' 
 
 This little outburst was something pre- 
 cisely after his own heart ; he patted Ali- 
 son's head of rich brown hair, and said, 
 with a kindling in his eyes, 
 
 ' It is precisely because I do think of them
 
 238 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 that I wish to see you wealthy and en- 
 nobled, raised out of this now sordid life of 
 ours.' 
 
 ' Ennobled by wedding the son of Timo- 
 thy Titcomb, of Threadneedle Street !' 
 
 ' If you will not save me by doing so, we 
 have nothing left for it now but a disgrace- 
 ful flight.' 
 
 I Flight ?' 
 
 ' Yes ; I must quit this place ere I am 
 arrested.' 
 
 ' For where ?' 
 
 ' God alone knows.' 
 
 Alison interlaced her fingers again in 
 mute misery. 
 
 'You look worn and weary, Alison,' said 
 Sir Ranald, observing the pinched expression 
 of her little white face. 
 
 I 1 am both, indeed !' 
 
 ' Then go to bed, child ; think over all I 
 have urged, think of what is before us, 
 think well, and give me a final answer in 
 the morning.'
 
 EVIL TIDINGS. 239 
 
 She kissed him with lips that were cold 
 and quivering, and retired to her room, 
 while he threw open his bureau, drew the 
 lamp towards him, spread a sheet of paper 
 with a vague idea that he was about to 
 make some monetary calculations, and me- 
 chanically dipped a pen in the ink-bottle. 
 
 Then he threw it down, and, resting his 
 aching head upon his delicate and wrinkled 
 hands, sank into a kind of stupor of thought. 
 
 From this he was roused by a hand being 
 laid gently on his shoulder, and by the 
 voice of old Archie Auchindoir saying, 
 while he shook his white head, 
 
 ' Puir Sir Ranald oh ! my dear raaister ; 
 eild and poortith are sair burdens for ae 
 back.' 
 
 'What do you want, Archie?' he asked, 
 peevishly. 
 
 ' Sir Ranald, sir, I've a sma' matter o' 
 three hunder pound and mair saved up in 
 your service, and at your service it is now, 
 every bodle o'd tak' it and welcome ; it
 
 240 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 may help ye at this pinch tak' it, for God's 
 sake, if it will tak' the tears frae Miss 
 Alison's een.' 
 
 'Poor Archie, I thank you,' said Sir 
 Ranald, shaking the hand of this faithful 
 old man, whose eyes were inflamed with the 
 tears he was, perhaps, too aged to shed ; ' it 
 is very generous of you, this offer, but is 
 pardon me saying so simply absurd !' 
 
 Again and again Archie pressed the little 
 sum in vain upon the acceptance of his 
 master, till the pride of the latter turn- 
 ed his gratitude into something of his 
 usual hauteur, on which Archie with- 
 drew sorrowfully, muttering under his 
 breath, 
 
 ' Troth, he's weel boden there ben, that 
 will neither borrow nor lend.' 
 
 Meaning that Sir Ranald must surely be 
 well enough off, if he could afford to dis- 
 pense with all assistance. 
 
 With her gorgeous brown hair unrolled 
 and floating over her shoulders, Alison,
 
 EVIL TIDINGS. 241 
 
 with her hands lying listlessly in her lap, sat 
 lost in her own terrible thoughts, with her 
 tear-inflamed eyes gazing into her bed-room 
 fire, which had just attained that clear, red 
 light, without flickering flame, in which one 
 may fancy strange scenes without end deep 
 valleys, caverns, rocks, castles perched on 
 cliffs, faces, and profiles ; and therein had 
 she seen, more than once, Essilmont with its 
 Scoto-French turrets with their conical roofs 
 and vanes, its crow-stepped gables and 
 massive chimneys, that she now might never 
 see in reality again ! 
 
 A victim on the double altar of gold and 
 filial piety. 
 
 How often had she read in novels and 
 romances, and how often had she seen on 
 the stage, the story of a heroine a wretched 
 girl placed in precisely the cruel predica- 
 ment in which she now found herself, and 
 deemed that such dramatic and doleful 
 situations could only exist in the fancies of 
 the author or of the playwright ! 
 
 VOL. i. R
 
 242 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 Without, the cold and wintry wind had 
 torn away the last leaves from every tree 
 long since ; the last flowers were also long 
 dead ; the chill night rain pattered, with 
 sleet and hail, upon the windows ; and, like 
 the heart of Alison, all nature seemed deso- 
 late and sad. 
 
 She shuddered when she heard the 
 moaning of the wind, and thought of the 
 Spectre Hound. 
 
 Could it be that she had indeed seen 
 it?
 
 243 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 CADBURY'S PLAN OR PLOT. 
 
 A ND now to relate what more came to 
 -**- pass at Chilcote, and where Alison 
 had vanished to. 
 
 The morning came to her after a sleepless 
 night, and she was incapable of giving the 
 answer to which Sir Ranald had hopefully 
 looked forward. She was in a species of 
 mental fever. So passed the day the day 
 she knew that she could not meet Bevil 
 and the short winter evening was passing 
 into another night, when the ringing of the 
 door bell gave her a kind of electric shock, 
 so thoroughly was her whole nervous 
 system shaken. 
 
 B2
 
 244 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 The hour was a dark and gloomy one ; 
 snow flakes were falling athwart the dreary 
 landscape of leafless trees, and the north 
 wind moaned sadly round old Chilcote and 
 its giant beeches, with a wail that seemed 
 consonant with disasters impending there, 
 when Lord Cadbury arrived, by chance as 
 it seemed, but in reality to see the effect 
 of the bomb he had fired from the office 
 of Mr. Solomon Slagg, in St. Clement's 
 Lane. 
 
 The curtains had been drawn over the 
 windows by the tiny little hands of Daisy 
 Prune ; a coal fire blazed pleasantly in the 
 grate, and threw a ruddy glow over all the 
 panelled room and the family portraits, 
 particularly on those of the two Cavalier 
 brothers, looking so proud and defiant in 
 their gorgeous costume, that ere long would 
 be finding their way to the brokers in 
 Wardour Street or elsewhere. 
 
 Sir Ranald and Alison sat alone alone 
 in their misery when the peer came
 
 CADBURY'S PLAN OR PLOT. 245 
 
 jauntily in, and took in the whole situation 
 at a glance the poor girl, with all her rare 
 beauty, looking utterly disconsolate ; the 
 bankrupt father, with all his pride, looking 
 utterly desperate ! 
 
 Alison was seated, or rather crouching, 
 on a black bearskin rug by Sir Ranald's side 
 one arm caressingly thrown over his 
 knees, and she was in the act of touching 
 his wrinkled hand with hers with a fondness 
 pretty to see, and then he stooped to take 
 her face between them both and looked into 
 her blue-grey eyes wistfully.. 
 
 They formed a lovely picture, but it 
 touched not the heart of my Lord Cadbury 
 of Cadbury Court. 
 
 The bezique cards lay on the table 
 close by, where old Archie had placed 
 them as usual ; but they were unnoticed 
 now. Father and daughter were quite past 
 playing their quiet game together. 
 
 Alison, as if the visitor's presence was to 
 her insupportable, arose, and muttering some
 
 246 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 excuse, she knew not what, withdrew to 
 her own room. 
 
 In Sir Ranald's eyes there was a passion- 
 ate and despairing expression of pain that 
 wrung the very soul of Alison ; but still, she 
 thought, why should the love of her youth, 
 and why should her whole future life be 
 sacrificed for one who had enjoyed his long 
 life to the full, and all because her grand- 
 father had been, like her father, a spend- 
 thrift ! 
 
 Cadbury took in the whole situation ; all 
 that he anticipated had come to pass; 
 the result was exactly what he had fore- 
 seen, and he now hoped that he would be 
 able to triumph over Alison, whose repug- 
 nance for him piqued his pride and excited 
 his revenge. 
 
 ' What is the matter, Cheyne you look 
 seriously unwell ?' said he, with well-feigned 
 interest. 
 
 ' You find me a sorely broken man,' re- 
 plied Sir Ranald, in a hollow voice, as he
 
 CADBURY'S PLAN OR PLOT. 247 
 
 took the hand of his visitor and begged 
 him to be seated. ' Ruin has overtaken me 
 at last, Cadbury.' 
 
 ' 1 think I can guess/ said the latter, tug- 
 ging at his long white moustaches ; ' but tell 
 me in what form.' 
 
 In a few words, but with intense shame 
 and mortification of spirit, Sir Ranald told of 
 Slagg's threatening letter, and of all that his 
 listener had been aware of days before. 
 
 ' And these acceptances must be met ?' 
 
 ' But how, Cadbury how ? I might as 
 well attempt to make a river run up a hill.' 
 
 ' What is before you ?' asked the peer, a 
 cunning smile twinkling in his eyes, unseen 
 by his visitor. 
 
 ' Death or disgrace !' 
 
 ' Disgrace in what fashion ?' 
 
 ' Arrest or flight.' 
 
 Cadbury continued to pull each of his 
 moustaches in a kind of nervous way, and 
 after a minute's silence he said, with a 
 kind of laugh,
 
 248 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 ' I think I can help you.' 
 
 1 1 am not a man who has been used to 
 seek help from others,' said Sir Ranald, 
 with a little of his old pride of bearing. 
 
 Lord Cadbury coughed and smiled as he 
 thought of more than one cheque given to 
 the speaker, and by the latter apparently 
 forgotten. 
 
 ' Under this terrible pressure, have you 
 spoken of my proposal to to Miss Cheyne ?' 
 he asked, bluntly. 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 * And with what result for she knows 
 what I can do, if I choose ?' 
 
 ' None none !' 
 
 'Even to save you, she will not marry 
 me ?' 
 
 'No/ 
 
 'No!' 
 
 ' At least, I have totally failed to extract 
 an answer from her.' 
 
 Lord Cadbury's ferret-like eyes flashed ;
 
 CADBUKY'S PLAN OR PLOT. 249 
 
 he actually ground his teeth and clenched 
 his coarse, vulgar hands. 
 
 1 Look here, Cheyne if I take up your 
 paper and pay Slagg, could you not force 
 her I say, force ' 
 
 ' Hush she might fall ill and die, as her 
 mother died, of a decline/ groaned Sir 
 Ranald. 
 
 ' Oh ! not a bit, not a bit,' said Cadbury; 
 1 but change of air will do her good. Let 
 us get her out of this place, anyway.' 
 
 ' The fact is, she has a fancy for that 
 infantry fellow, Bevil Goring, at Aldershot,' 
 said Sir Ranald, who carefully omitted to 
 state that Alison had admitted her engage- 
 ment. 
 
 'The devil but I don't need to be told 
 that,' exclaimed Cadbury, angrily; 'yet we 
 must eradicate that fancy, and sharply 
 too.' 
 
 1 But how ?' 
 
 'Take her over to the Continent. Let
 
 250 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 us get her on board my yacht, with you as 
 her protector, and all will come right in the 
 end, and I'll leave you ashore somewhere 
 when you least suspect it,' was Cadbury's 
 concluding thought. 
 
 ' But these bills that Slagg holds ' 
 
 ' Are not in his possession now.' 
 
 ' In whose, then ?' asked Sir Ranald, with 
 fresh alarm. 
 
 * In mine.' 
 
 'Yours?' 
 
 'Yes look here.' 
 
 Cadbury opened his pocket-book and laid 
 before the startled eyes of Sir Ranald eight 
 or nine bills and promissory notes, all of 
 which he knew but too well. 
 
 ' How comes this pass ?' he asked, with a 
 bewildered air, as he passed a hand across 
 his forehead. 
 
 ' I know Solomon Slagg. I knew him 
 to my cost ere I came to the title. You 
 mentioned that lie had acceptances of yours. 
 I got them all up, and trust that in quietude
 
 CADBURY'S PLAN OR PLOT. 251 
 
 Alison will end this nonsense and become 
 Lady Cadbury.' 
 
 Sir Ranald shook his head and sank back 
 in his chair. 
 
 1 If I put these papers in the fire, will you 
 stick to my plan of getting her on board 
 my yacht, and leaving the rest to time and 
 to me?' asked Cadbury, in a voice that 
 intensity rendered husky. 
 
 ' Yes,' replied Sir Ranald, in a faint voice, 
 while eyeing the fatal documents as if they 
 had serpent-like fascination for him. 
 
 ' Your hand upon it.' 
 
 Sir Ranald put his cold, thin hand in the 
 peer's rough and pudgy one, and in another 
 moment the documents were vanishing in 
 the fire. 
 
 Sir Ranald seemed as one in a dream ; 
 he could scarcely believe his senses, and 
 that he was thus freed from those encum- 
 brances, the sudden destruction of which 
 had not been a part of Cadbury's plan on 
 the day he visited Slagg, but was an after-
 
 252 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 thought to produce a species of dramatic 
 situation, and win, perhaps, through fear or 
 gratitude, what Alison would never accord 
 him from love. 
 
 He had now, he thought for he well 
 knew his man secured the livelong grati- 
 tude and trust of her father ; and through 
 her filial love of the latter, and the peril 
 which she would still be led to suppose was 
 menacing him, he would attain the means 
 of getting her away and controlling her 
 movements. 
 
 It is an old aphorism which says with 
 truth that a man is usually more inclined to 
 feel kindly towards one on whom he has 
 conferred favours than to one from whom 
 he has received them ; thus, barely had Sir 
 Ranald seen the last of his blue paper 
 shrivel up in the flames, and thus felt a 
 load lifted off his mind, when his natural 
 sense of gratitude jarred with his equally 
 natural constitutional pride, which revolted
 
 CADBURY'S PLAN OR PLOT. 253 
 
 at the idea of being favoured or protected 
 by any man. 
 
 However, they mutually resolved, after 
 Sir Ranald had poured forth his expressions 
 of gratitude, with promises to refund when- 
 ever it was in his power to do so, that Ali- 
 son should be kept in ignorance of what 
 had been done with the bills till they had 
 her on board the yacht, when they both 
 hoped to count upon her gratitude ; and 
 now, when the pressure of the present dan- 
 ger had passed away, Sir Ranald felt more 
 than ever annoyance, even rage, at his 
 daughter's folly and obstinacy folly in 
 permitting herself to be swayed by a regard 
 for Goring, and obstinacy in declining the 
 proposal of Cadbury. 
 
 'And now that is arranged/ said the 
 latter, ' I'll telegraph to Tom Llanyard to 
 get the Firefly into Southampton Water. 
 We can take the train at Basingstoke and 
 be off to-morrow, bag and baggage. Pen-
 
 254 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT, 
 
 sion off or pay off that old Scotch fellow, 
 Auchindoir he is not worth his salt, and 
 would only be in the way on board the 
 Firefly ; ditto with old Prune your house- 
 keeper. We'll take Daisy with us, however, 
 as Alison must have a maid ; and, until we 
 are at sea, watch well that she has no means 
 of posting letters.' 
 
 Now that the keen and aching sense of 
 immediate danger had passed away, or been 
 replaced by gratitude and thankfulness, Sir 
 Ranald's spirit, in addition to his annoyance 
 with Alison, writhed under the part he 
 found himself compelled to act, in silently 
 permitting Lord Cadbury to direct his 
 daughter's movements and to arrange their 
 household matters. 
 
 But now the packing and preparations for 
 departure began that very night, and were 
 resumed with fresh energy on the following 
 day, Alison toiling with a will in the selec- 
 tion of her father's wardrobe and her own. 
 Alas ! there was but little in either to make
 
 CADBURY'S PLAN OR PLOT. 255 
 
 the selection difficult, sorrow for the sudden 
 separation from Goring on one hand being 
 tempered on the other by a belief that im- 
 mediate departure alone could save Sir 
 Ranald from the peril that menaced him 
 but yesterday ; and so closely was she 
 watched, and so much were her movements 
 hampered, that she was totally without an 
 opportunity for writing or dispatching even 
 the smallest note to Aldershot. 
 
 ' And sae you're gaun awa', and without 
 me?' said Archie, rather reproachfully, to 
 Sir Ranald. 
 
 ' Yes ; from here, certainly.' 
 
 ' Where to ?' 
 
 ' God knows where to,' was the absent 
 response. 
 
 ' Back to Essilmont, maybe ?' 
 
 'In time, perhaps, Archie; in time, but 
 not now,' said Sir Ranald, with a bitter 
 sigh. 
 
 ' Tak' tent, Sir Ranald ; for gudesake 
 gang hooly. Dinna wade if ye canna see
 
 256 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 the bottom/ resumed Archie, in a low and 
 confidential voice ; ' and beware ye o' that 
 Lord Cadbury. I ken a spune frae a stot's 
 horn as weel as maist men, and I distrust 
 him sairly.' 
 
 ' That I do not. He has just been a good 
 friend to me, Archie ; and now a word in 
 your ear when I want advice from you 
 concerning my friends or my affairs, I shall 
 condescend to ask it.' 
 
 The old servitor looked abashed and 
 crushed. He bowed very low, and with- 
 drew in silence. 
 
 At last the hour of departure came, and 
 Lord Cadbury 's carriage and a light luggage- 
 van were at the door ; and, ere Alison was 
 assisted into the former, she shook old 
 Archie's hand, and then with a sudden im- 
 pulse kissed his cheek, for she had known 
 Archie from her infancy. Thus he seemed 
 to her as a part and parcel of Essilmont ; 
 and, when the carriage rolled away with her 
 in it, the old man lifted up his hands and
 
 CADBURY'S PLAN OR PLOT. 257 
 
 voice and wept as only the aged and the 
 hopeless weep. 
 
 ' Poor girl !' thought Cadbury, with a 
 grimace, when after a time there came a 
 distant view of Aldershot, with its camp of 
 huts, its church spire, and Twesildown Hill, 
 ' she'll hold, I suppose, for a time, to her 
 little rag of fidelity her promise to that 
 fellow Goring in the infantry lines ; but, 
 faute de mieux, we shall cure her of that. 
 We shall see what we shall see, when an 
 hour on board the Firefly' 
 
 Well did Alison know where Aldershot 
 lay, but, conscious that her tormentor's keen 
 eyes were upon her, she turned hers away 
 and gazed steadily in the opposite direction. 
 
 ' I thought I had bidden good-bye to the 
 world, Cadbury,' said Sir Ranald, with the 
 nearest approach to a smile .Alison had 
 seen on his thin, worn face for some time 
 past ; ' and here I am about to see it again 
 in your yacht. Alison will require some 
 additions to her wardrobe, I fear, but we 
 
 VOL. i. s
 
 258 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 have no time for that ; and though she has 
 Daisy for her attendant, I should like her 
 also to have the society of some lady friend 
 do you know of one?' 
 
 Cadbury looked perplexed. 
 
 ' What need of a lady friend or chaperon 
 when you, her own father, are with her? 
 Besides, we are close run for time, and 
 Llanyard awaits us at Southampton,' he 
 replied, almost with irritation. 
 
 ' I have been engaged in many little 
 affairs/ he grumbled in thought, as he re- 
 called the burned bills and the enormous 
 cost, 'but never in a "love chase" so ex- 
 pensive as this ! I am in for it now, how- 
 ever, and may as well go through with it ; 
 and what will the clubs say when they hear- 
 that I am off to see the Continent with old 
 Cheyne's pretty daughter?' 
 
 The veteran lover chuckled in his vanity 
 at this, and, ideas of marriage apart, he 
 actually began to scheme how he might 
 ' drop ' Sir Ranald somewhere on the Con-
 
 CADBURT'S PLAN OR PLOT. 259 
 
 tinent, compromise the girl in some way, 
 and thus revenge himself on her and Goring 
 too. 
 
 He had scarcely made up his mind yet 
 in what direction to sail at that inclement 
 season, but, wherever it was, another route 
 would be announced in the papers, to throw 
 adventurous lovers off the scent. 
 
 s2
 
 260 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 MORE MYSTERY. 
 
 "OEVIL GORING was greatly perplexed 
 --^ and bewildered by the sudden dis- 
 appearance of the household at Chilcote, 
 and in quest of information rode over to 
 Mrs. Trelawney at the Grange, and she ex- 
 pressed herself as much surprised as himself 
 at their abrupt departure, but she knew 
 only a little more on the subject than he did. 
 
 The baronet and his daughter had left 
 England in Lord Cadbury's yacht the Fire- 
 fly several days ago. 
 
 1 Gone ! sailed thus suddenly without a 
 letter of explanation, of farewell, or the 
 time of her return being even hinted to me,' 
 were Goring's natural thoughts.
 
 MORE MYSTERY. 261 
 
 'And what about Lord Cadbury?' he 
 asked. 
 
 ' Oh ! he has gone too ; the Court is shut 
 up,' replied Mrs. Trelawney, with a faint 
 approach to a smile. 
 
 ' Gone too !' replied Goring, more mysti- 
 fied than ever. 
 
 Was she yielding to the pressure put 
 upon her by Sir Ranald yielding after all ? 
 
 1 And for where has the party sailed ?' he 
 asked. 
 
 ' There is no party, on board, I under- 
 stand, but only Lord Cadbury, Alison, and 
 her father ; and whither they have gone no 
 one knows they decamped so hurriedly. 
 But you, at least, will certainly hear in 
 time/ said Mrs. Trelawney, with a soft 
 smile, as she knew well how deep was the 
 interest Goring and Miss Cheyne had in 
 each other. 
 
 * I am indeed surprised that that Alison 
 did not write about the whole affair to me.' 
 
 ' Perhaps she did not know in time, or
 
 262 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 her letter may not have been may have 
 from some cause miscarried. So whether 
 they are seeking the fiords of Norway or 
 the source of the Nile we cannot know.' 
 
 ' And who was your informant so far, Mrs. 
 Trelawney?' 
 
 ' Old Mrs. Rebecca Prune, who came with 
 a farewell message from Alison to me a 
 circumstance which I thought strange, as 
 courtesy required that she should have call 
 ed, or at least written.' 
 
 ' And there was none for me ?' 
 
 ' None. I assure you, Captain Goring, I 
 miss Alison very much, and so does my 
 child here, little Netty.' 
 
 ' Ah little Netty, whose " flower-like 
 beauty," as he calls it, Dalton is never 
 weary praising.' 
 
 Mrsi Trelawney's colour heightened for a 
 moment, her long lashes flickered, but she 
 merely said, 
 
 ' How is Captain Dalton ? I have not 
 seen him for some time.'
 
 MORE MYSTERY. 263 
 
 1 Very well but low-spirited apparently/ 
 replied Goring, who thought that ' she 
 seemed interested in poor Tony after all.' 
 
 After a pause 
 
 \Dalton is my dearest friend, Mrs. Tre- 
 lawney, and, as the confidant of his secrets, 
 he has not concealed from me his deep 
 admiration and love of yourself.' 
 
 Mrs. Trelawney's bright hazel eyes 
 sparkled, and her bosom heaved, while an 
 undoubtedly joyous expression spread over 
 all her animated face. 
 
 ' You will pardon me for saying this, 
 when I know that you are the friend of 
 Alison Cheyne, whom I love with my whole 
 life, and shall follow over the world if I 
 can trace her !' said Goring, whose voice 
 trembled with emotion that sprang from 
 love and anger. 
 
 ' I do love sweet Alison very dearly.' 
 
 1 And poor Dalton,' said Goring, anxious 
 to plead his friend's cause ; ' can you not 
 love him as he deserves to be ?'
 
 264 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 ' I have not said so/ replied Mrs. Tre- 
 lawney, now laughing excessively, and add- 
 ed, c what an odd question for a gentleman 
 visitor !' 
 
 ' Do pardon me ; but will you give him 
 time to hope through me ?' 
 
 'Please not to suggest this, Captain 
 Goring.' 
 
 'Why?' 
 
 ' There is I know a secret in his life 
 he knows it too a secret that in some mea- 
 sure fetters alike his words and his actions.' 
 
 ' Good heavens ! and this secret ?' 
 
 * Is mine also I have the key to it.' 
 
 ' Yours !' 
 
 1 Yes you look perplexed even dis- 
 tressed ; nevertheless it is so,' she rejoined, 
 tapping the floor, as if impatient, with a 
 slim and pretty foot. 
 
 ' Will it ever be unravelled ?' 
 
 ' Yes very soon now, perhaps.' 
 
 ' But when ?' 
 
 'When the proper time comes. Till
 
 MORE MYSTERY. 265 
 
 then, Captain Goring, I shall trust to your 
 friendship for myself and Captain Dalton 
 not to attempt to probe it, or act the 
 umpire or match-maker between us.' 
 
 She said this emphatically, and with one 
 of her sweetest smiles, while her soft white 
 hand was placed confidently in that of 
 Goring. 
 
 1 1 shall be silent as the grave,' said he. 
 1 1 have suspected something of this kind. 
 At times a great gloom comes over poor 
 Tony; there has been some mystery about 
 his early life ; what, I cannot divine ; but it 
 drove him into the ranks, and made him for 
 years loathe England and English society, 
 which he avoided as much as possible. He 
 seems to have got over that whim now, and 
 to you I look forward as the means of 
 effecting a perfect cure.' 
 
 She gave Goring one of her soft and in- 
 explicable smiles, and then, drooping her 
 eyelids said, with a sigh, but apparently 
 one of pleasure,
 
 266 MISS CHBYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 ' You expect too much from me, Captain 
 Goring.' 
 
 Mrs. Trelawney promised him, the mo- 
 ment she could obtain, through any source, 
 some tidings of Alison's whereabouts, to let 
 him know, and he bade her adieu with his 
 mind full of doubt and anxiety not doubt 
 of Alison's faith, but of their mutual future ; 
 and anxiety for the annoyances to which 
 she might be subjected, and the pressure 
 that might in many ways be put upon her. 
 
 That Cadbury was in her society was an 
 irritating circumstance ; but a peer of the 
 realm was some one of consequence, and 
 his movements would ere long most prob- 
 ably be a clue to hers. 
 
 Mrs. Trelawney's mysterious hints about 
 her knowledge of Dalton's past life gave 
 Goring some food for reflection, and he 
 knew not what to think of them. 
 
 1 So she seems to have refused Tony, as 
 she did Jerry Wilmot ; by Jove, she must 
 be difficult to please !' thought he, as he
 
 MOKE MYSTERY. 267 
 
 turned his horse in the direction of Alder- 
 shot, often giving a long, earnest, and hope- 
 less farewell glance at the old try sting-place 
 beside the beeches. 
 
 But Jerry by this time had quite got 
 over his fancy for Mrs. Trelawney, and 
 found a new divinity in the person of her 
 friend, Miss Bella Chevenix, whom he had 
 known from her girlhood, but who.now be- 
 came invested with new and sudden interest 
 to him. 
 
 Days passed slowly in succession now, 
 but to Goring there came no tidings of the 
 absent one. Thus life in the winter camp 
 at Aldershot became an intolerable bore to 
 him, and he longed for action of any kind ; 
 but now rumours went abroad that troubles 
 were in store at the Cape, and the regiment 
 would be one of the first dispatched to 
 Africa.
 
 268 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 WILMOTHURST. 
 
 TTIS changed mood of mind did not 
 -^ *~ escape the attention of his friend 
 Jerry Wilmot, who said to him one day, 
 
 ' My people at Wilmothurst are getting 
 up a spread, or a dinner, or both, in honour 
 of my august appearance in this world some 
 five-and-twenty years ago. Get leave with 
 me from the Colonel, and we'll start by 
 train from Farnborough. Tell your man to 
 throw your things together; O'Farrel is 
 packing mine, and I am just going to the 
 orderly-room about it.' 
 
 Goring agreed to this. The colonel 
 readily granted a few weeks' leave to both, 
 as the spring drills were a long way off, or
 
 WILMOTHURST. 269 
 
 the alternate mud and dust of the Long 
 Valley were not sufficiently deep for mili- 
 tary manoeuvres ; and they started for Wil- 
 mothurst, which was situated in one of the 
 prettiest and most wooded parts of Hamp- 
 shire, Goring being glad of anything that 
 drew him from his own thoughts and aided 
 him to kill the harassing time. 
 
 Jerry's man secured their seats and saw 
 their luggage duly placed in the van. 
 
 'Now, O'Farrel,' said he, as the latter 
 saluted and retired, ' don't get drunk at the 
 " Tumble-down-Dick," or you'll never be the 
 Sultan of Turkey.' 
 
 Farnborough Station was soon left far 
 behind; Fleet, with its pond and moor- 
 lands; Winchfield, Basingstoke, with its 
 market and town-hall. The carriage from 
 "Wilmothurst met them at a station some 
 miles eastward of Salisbury, and the short 
 winter evening saw them deposited at the 
 porte-cochere of the stately modern mansion, 
 which occupied the site of an ancient one,.
 
 270 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 and of which Jerry was the lord and 
 owner. 
 
 ' A fine place this, Jerry,' exclaimed 
 Goring as they alighted ; ' the grounds are 
 beautiful.' 
 
 ' Yes, but the devil of it is that the lands 
 are mortgaged, I believe, to an awful 
 extent ; my father was a man of expensive 
 habits and tastes. The old lady ma mere 
 hopes, nay, never doubts, that I shall, with 
 my handsome figure and rare accomplish- 
 ments, pick up an heiress, as if such prizes 
 were to be found like pips on every hedge ; 
 but I have my own fancy to consult in the 
 matter of marriage.' 
 
 And Jerry laughed softly as he looked 
 at his watch and added, 
 
 'Now to dress for dinner, and then I 
 shall introduce you to the ladies in the 
 drawing-room.' 
 
 Jerry had, during the last few weeks, 
 especially since his fancy for Mrs. Trelawney 
 had been cooled by her laughing repulse of
 
 WILMOTHURST. 271 
 
 his suit, gone much after Bella Chevenix, a 
 former flame, wherever he had met her a 
 young lady of whom we shall have much to 
 tell anon but, as yet, he had given no 
 token of his actual feelings towards her, 
 save a rather marked attention, which she 
 knowing the views, the necessities, and, 
 more than all, the general bearing of Lady 
 Julia Wilmot towards herself had never in 
 any way encouraged. 
 
 Goring followed up the stately, richly- 
 carpeted, and warmly-lighted staircase the 
 valet, who conducted him to his room, 
 where he found his clothes already unpack- 
 ed, his evening costume placed on a clothes- 
 rail before a blazing fire, and, as he turned 
 to the great mirror and magnificent toilette 
 table, he thought, with a repining sigh, if 
 something like these luxurious surroundings 
 of which Jerry made so light were his, how 
 different might be the fate or fortune of his 
 engagement with Alison Cheyne. 
 
 With soldier-like rapidity he and Jerry
 
 272 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 made the necessary changes in their cos- 
 tume; the latter tapped at his door, and 
 together they descended to the spacious 
 drawing-room, before the blazing fire in 
 which, at the end of a long vista, apparently 
 of pictures, pilasters, and window-draperies, 
 two ladies were seated. 
 
 Lady Julia Wilmot (she was an Earl's 
 daughter) received them with a stately grace 
 peculiar to herself, but she was too well- 
 bred to display the least warmth of manner ; 
 and Jerry kissed her cheek, then her firm, 
 white hand, and, after introducing ' Goring 
 of Ours,' saluted his pretty cousin. 
 
 Lady Julia was a fine-looking woman 
 past her fortieth year, but still very hand-- 
 some, her complexion brilliantly pure, her 
 face and forehead without a line, for thought 
 and care had been alike unknown to her 
 since she left her cradle. Her delicately 
 pencilled black eyebrows and general outline 
 of features were decidedly what are deemed 
 aristocratic, and she gave her hand to
 
 WILMOTHURST. 273 
 
 Goring, while receiving somewhat frigidly 
 Jerry's kiss upon her white cheek. 
 
 She was not emotional evidently, and 
 deemed that any exhibition of pleasure on 
 seeing her only son after an absence of a 
 few months would be 'bad form.' 
 
 Emily Wilmot was decidedly a pretty 
 girl, with blond hair, light blue eyes, a 
 rather retrousse nose, a cherub -like mouth 
 and dazzling skin. 
 
 'My cousin Emily,' said Jerry, 'Goring 
 of Ours. I hope you will be great friends, 
 but be careful, Emmy. Bevil is our regi- 
 mental lady-killer has passed the Guards' 
 School of Instruction in the science of flirt- 
 ation.' 
 
 ' Absurd as ever, Jerry,' said his pretty 
 cousin, tapping his hand with her feather 
 fan, but beginning a conversation at once 
 with Goring. 
 
 Aware that Jerry would arrive that day 
 about dinner time, Cousin Emily had made 
 her toilette with unusual care. She wore a 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 rich black silk trimmed with amber satin ; 
 ruffles of rich old lace fell around her 
 tapered arms that were white as a lily, and 
 made the delicate lace seem quite yellow. 
 Bracelets of topazes clasped her slender 
 wrists. The colours chosen became the 
 blond character of her beauty for she was 
 more than pretty and yet the whole cos- 
 tume, though rather extreme, was not too 
 much for a family dinner. 
 
 During the progress of the latter, which 
 was protracted by an infinity of entrees and 
 courses, yet was perfect in all its details, 
 the quartette, on whom the butler and two 
 tall valets were in attendance, found plenty 
 to talk of. The expected departure of the 
 regiment and other troops to the scene of a 
 coming war in Africa ; the last run with the 
 Royal Buckhounds ; the county news ; the 
 coming ball ; who were invited and who 
 were not, as ineligible ; and some of the 
 conversation on this mooted point reminded 
 Bevil Goring of the proclivities of Sir Ranald
 
 WILMOTHURST. 275 
 
 Cheyne, as also did the amount of heraldry 
 displayed on plate, the china, and every- 
 thing, from the great silver epergne to the 
 fruit knives, but it was precisely the same 
 with my Lord Cadbur} 7 , the man of yesterday. 
 
 Here, however, it was, ' the genuine 
 article ;' on a fesse three eagles' heads and 
 as many escalop shells, gules, crested with 
 the eagle's head of Wilmot, given to the 
 first of the name, Wyliamot, who, according 
 to Dugdale, was settled antecedent to the 
 Conquest in Nottinghamshire, though, unfor- 
 tunately for Dugdale's veracity, the science 
 of heraldy was unknown in England till 
 long after that event. 
 
 'Mr. Chevenix wishes to see you on 
 some important business to-morrow, Jerry/ 
 said Lady Wilmot, when the dessert was 
 over and the servants had withdrawn. 
 
 'All right, mater; I'll ride over to-mor- 
 row probably nay, certainly. Try the 
 burgundy, Goring ; there are Romanee, 
 Conti, and Chablis before you.' 
 
 T2
 
 276 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 ' The latter thanks, Jerry.' 
 
 ' Miss Chevenix is at home just now/ 
 observed Lady Wilniot, with a furtive 
 glance at her son. 
 
 'I know; she returned, or was to return, 
 yesterday.' 
 
 4 You seem well aware of her move- 
 ments ; but of what interest are they to you, 
 Jerry ?' 
 
 ' Every pretty girl's movements are of 
 interest to me,' replied Jerry, laughing. 
 
 There was a mischievous pout on Cousin 
 Emily's pouting lips, that were like two 
 rose-buds ; but his mother's curled slightly 
 with disdain. 
 
 4 She is handsome, certainly,' said Jerry, 
 emphatically; M appeal to Goring that she is.' 
 
 4 And rather good style, considering her 
 origin,' added Lady Wilmot. 
 
 ' Well, it is better surely to be all that 
 than plain.' 
 
 4 Cela depend,' laughed Cousin Emily ; 4 it 
 makes no difference to nie.'
 
 WILMOTHUEST. 277 
 
 But Jerry knew that it did make a differ- 
 ence ; however, he said 
 
 'You, Emily, may well afford to hear 
 any woman praised.' 
 
 ' But what can Mr. Chevenix want with 
 you, Jerry ?' asked Lady Julia. 
 
 ' Can't say. mater dear business or some 
 
 / 
 
 such bother, of course.' 
 
 ' People of his class should wait till they 
 are sent for.' 
 
 1 His class ?' 
 
 ' Well ; he is only a village attorney.' 
 
 ' A very fine old man, who has had many 
 business transactions with the governor 
 before my time.' 
 
 1 Slang again, Jerry ! Does he pick up 
 all that kind of thing in barracks, Captain 
 Goring ?' 
 
 1 Very probably ; it is the style of the day,' 
 replied Goring, laughing. 
 
 'It is a very bad style, Jerry dear,' said 
 Emily, gently. 
 
 ' Yes, I repeat,' said the hostess, haughtily,
 
 278 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 ' that persons like Chevenix should not send 
 for their superiors, but wait till they are 
 sent for.' 
 
 1 Like Chevenix ; how you run on, mother. 
 One would think that the old days of sitting 
 below the salt had come again!' exclaimed 
 Jerry, with a somewhat ruffled air. ' As 
 the world goes now, how long do you think 
 this vast distinction of class and class will 
 last? Why, nobility itself will one day 
 pass away nay, respect for it is nearly a 
 thing of the past already.' 
 
 ' Nobility pass away !' exclaimed Lady 
 Julia, the descendant of twenty earls and 
 more, her pale face growing paler at such 
 unheard-of opinion. ' Where have you 
 picked up such horrid Radical and Com- 
 munistic ideas, Jerry? Not in the army 
 surely !' 
 
 ' I pick them up from the public prints, 
 yet don't endorse them. But to me it 
 seems that all will go in time, and quietly 
 now, as no one will care to make a row
 
 WILMOTHURST. 279 
 
 about it. Don't you see the terrible 
 tendency of the times ? I call them terrible 
 from your point of view, mother. Even the 
 dignity of the Crown is slighted in almost 
 every debate in the Lower House now by 
 some fellow or other ; and to me all this 
 seems to foreshadow the coming time when 
 the Crown itself may fall into the dust with- 
 out defenders, for there will be no Cavaliers 
 in England to send their plate to the 
 melting pot and mount their serving men, 
 and no loyal clans in the North to descend 
 again under a Montrose or Dundee.' 
 
 ' And all this is to come to pass because 
 I don't approve of old Mr. Chevenix,' said 
 Lady Julia, rather scornfully, as she fanned 
 herself; and, then bowing to Goring, she 
 nodded to Miss Wilmot, and both rising 
 sailed away to the drawing-room. 
 
 Goring read a peculiar expression in the 
 fine face of the elder lady as she withdrew, 
 and it gave him a clue to some of Jerry's 
 movements lately ; but he made no reference
 
 280 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 to it, nor would it have been courteous to 
 do so, familiar as he and Jerry were. 
 
 Jerry twirled his moustaches with a 
 momentary air of annoyance. It was evi- 
 dent that there existed some secret bone of 
 contention between mother and son a 
 skeleton in the cupboard at Wilmothurst ; 
 but who could have supposed that this 
 ghastly personage was in reality the brilliant 
 and blooming Bella Chevenix ! 
 
 And when, after having a few glasses of 
 wine together, and a cigar in the smoking- 
 room, they rejoined the ladies in the draw- 
 ing-room, the obnoxious subject was again 
 resumed by Jerry and his mother, some- 
 what apart from Bevil Goring, who drew a 
 seat near the piano, over the keys of which 
 Miss Wilmot was gracefully idling, or affect- 
 ing an andante of Beethoven. 
 
 1 The invitations for the ball in your honour, 
 my dear boy, are all issued/ said Lady Julia ; 
 * and every one has accepted only think of 
 that ! Every one, and here is the list.'
 
 WILMOTHURST. 281 
 
 He scanned it, and saw many familiar 
 names that stood high in the county, and 
 said, with a twirl of his moustache, 
 
 ' I don't see the name of Chevenix here.' 
 
 '* Chevenix again !' said his mother, with 
 a cloudy eye and curling lip ; ' the lawyer 
 man ?' 
 
 ' Who else, mother dear ? Now, don't 
 be absurd. There is no other Chevenix in 
 all Hampshire. They must be asked he 
 and his daughter.' 
 
 1 The girl is said to look well in a draw- 
 ing-room.' 
 
 ' She looks lovely !' exclaimed Jerry, in- 
 cautiously. 
 
 ' She was a mere hobbledehoy when you 
 and she used to play at battledore and 
 croquet together.' 
 
 ' She is, I repeat, a very lovely woman 
 now, mother,' continued Jerry, with enthu- 
 siasm. 
 
 ' You have seen her lately ?' asked the 
 elderly lady, in a casual tone.
 
 282 MISS CHETNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 'Yes; often at a hop in Willis's Rooms, 
 at the camp balls, with the buckhounds, and 
 at Mrs. Trelawney's.' 
 
 'Who is Mrs. Trelawney?' asked Lady 
 Julia, languidly, while elevating her deli- 
 cately pencilled eyebrows. 
 
 ' A widow who lives near Aldershot, at a 
 place called Chilcote Grange.' 
 
 'Ah!' 
 
 Jerry laughed softly, as he thought how 
 familiar his lady-mother might have been 
 with the fair widow's name had she not 
 rejected his attention, and laughed him off 
 cavalierly as he thought at the time. 
 
 ' There is every reason in the world why 
 we must have Miss Chevenix, mother/ per- 
 sisted Jerry, colouring with vexation as he 
 returned to the charge ; ' she is highly 
 accomplished, and sings well.' 
 
 ' Taught well, no doubt people of that 
 kind send their children to the best schools 
 now.' 
 
 ' I should like you to hear her voice.'
 
 WILMOTHURST. 283 
 
 ' Thanks not here, at all events/ said 
 Lady Julia, shrugging her shoulders, 'the 
 girl must be forward enough rides with 
 the buckhounds, you say ?' 
 
 1 Every one does.' 
 
 1 The reason, perhaps, she goes there.' 
 
 ' I can assure you, mother, that Bel 
 Miss Chevenix is a very proud girl.' 
 
 ' Likely enough many vulgarians are ; 
 but, if she is so proud as you say, we must 
 teach her what her real position is the 
 daughter of a village attorney of our local 
 agent the granddaughter of a farmer.' 
 
 ' One of the oldest families on the 
 estate.' 
 
 'Enough she will make the hundred 
 and fourth person invited/ 
 
 ' If she accepts,' said Jerry. 
 
 ' // she accepts !' repeated his mother, 
 with elevated brows, as she added the girl's 
 name to her list, and tossed the golden pen 
 from her white jewelled fingers. 
 
 ' At the last meet at Salthill, she came
 
 284 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 with Miss Cheyne of Essilmont,' said Jerry. 
 
 ' I have heard of that girl the daughter 
 of a broken-down Scottish baronet. But all 
 kinds of horrid people go, with the highest 
 in rank, to these rough gatherings.' 
 
 ' Glad Goring did not hear you,' said 
 Jerry, glancing nervously towards the pair 
 at the piano. 
 
 'Why?' 
 
 ' He is rather spooney in that quarter.' 
 
 1 Don't use camp slang, Jerry which 
 quarter the Chevenix girl ?' 
 
 1 No, Miss Cheyne,' replied her son, in a 
 low voice. 
 
 ' Emily,' said Lady Julia, * I have added 
 that girl's name to our list you will see 
 that an invitation is sent to her and her 
 father to-morrow.' 
 
 ' Yes, aunt,' replied Emily, with a slight 
 shade of annoyance on her naturally sweet 
 face. ' Was it not she who behaved so 
 shockingly to Colonel Graves, of the Ar- 
 tillery?'
 
 WILMOTHURST. 285 
 
 ' It was Graves the utter cad who be- 
 haved shockingly to her, poor girl/ ex- 
 claimed Jerry, with warmth. 
 
 'Really, Jerry, you must keep your tem- 
 per. See how you have made Emily blush.' 
 
 'Mother !' 
 
 ' You are quite pugnacious in defence of 
 this young woman ; but please now let us 
 drop the subject.' 
 
 ' My dear mother,' said Jerry, good- 
 hurnouredly, and kissing her cheek, as he 
 had now gained his point, ' the male public 
 generally, and particularly that portion of 
 it who wear the red rag, are rather subject 
 to the blandishments of the fair sex, and are 
 not all able to resist them, like St. Anthony 
 the Abbot in his wood at Coma.' 
 
 ' You make a jest of everything, Jerry,' 
 said Lady Julia ; ' but/ she added, under 
 cover of Emily's musical performance, ' it- 
 has been said that no one knows how people 
 pick up " a knowledge of others' anteced- 
 ents from their own careless talk /' thus,
 
 286 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 ray dear boy, I am glad you did not become 
 entangled by that dreadful Trelawney 
 woman.' 
 
 Jerry, the rogue, thought so now himself, 
 but he coloured deeply at this abrupt re- 
 mark, as it showed him that his mother 
 knew much more of his movements than he 
 in the least suspected. 
 
 His pretty cousin Emily, the orphan 
 daughter of his father's younger brother, 
 evidently had a. penchant for him ; her jea- 
 lousy of any rival was easily excited ; and 
 thus she shared to the full all his mother's 
 overstrained prejudices against Bella Cheve- 
 nix, and, finding that he was still somewhat 
 indifferent to her charms, she might doubt- 
 less have had no objection to get up a little 
 affair with Bevil Goring. But the latter 
 was too preoccupied to relish her vivacity 
 or respond to it, and, though companionable 
 enough, she found him full of his own 
 thoughts, and at times indifferent to a 
 provoking degree.
 
 WTLMOTHURST. 287 
 
 When the ladies retired for the night, 
 and Jerry joined Goring in the smoking- 
 room to have a last whiff, with some seltzer 
 and brandy, he found the latter deep in 
 studying the geography of the Mediter- 
 ranean, a map of which he had pulled out 
 from a stand of maps on rollers. 
 
 ' What is up, old fellow ?' said Jerry ; 
 ' going in for cramming again ? Thought 
 you were surely done with that beastly 
 work.' 
 
 ' Thank heaven, yes ; but look here !' 
 
 Goring had first seen the papers that had 
 come by the evening post, and been cut and 
 laid out by the butler. He had, as usual, 
 turned to the shipping and fashionable in- 
 telligence, and to all the paragraphed news, 
 in search of tidings of the lost one, and had 
 alighted at last on an announcement in the 
 Times that Lord Cadbury's yacht, the Fire- 
 fly, ' with Sir Ranald Cheyne and a small 
 but select party on board,' had sailed for 
 the Mediterranean.
 
 288 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 Now this was not the case, as the notice 
 had been inserted by Slagg, in obedience to 
 the peer, as a blind to Goring in particular, 
 while the ' small arid select party ' consisted 
 only of poor Alison herself. 
 
 ' The Mediterranean,' said Jerry, as he 
 lit a Havanna ; * that is a wide word you 
 can't make much of that in the hope of 
 overhauling the yacht.' 
 
 Bevil acquiesced in the fact, and that it 
 would be almost impossible as yet to trace 
 its route or whereabouts. He had but one 
 comfort, though somewhat a negative one, 
 that her father was with her; yet he knew 
 not the real character of Lord Cadbury, nor 
 the plans he was capable of contriving, en- 
 couraged by his own great wealth on the 
 one hand, and the poverty and age of Sir 
 Ranald on the other, with the girl's utter 
 helplessness if she were, by any means, de- 
 prived of the latters protection, now that 
 the stings of jealousy and revenge against 
 himself, Goring, were added to Alison's re-
 
 WILMOTIIUKST. 289 
 
 jection of Ms hand, with all the brilliant 
 settlements attached to it. 
 
 Then there would come into Bevil's heart 
 fears that without his love to support her, 
 and his occasional presence to sway her 
 gentle spirit, it might be gradually bent, if 
 not broken, under the united influence of 
 Cadbury with his wealth, and her father 
 with his pride and poverty ; and he drew 
 many a harrowing picture of promises being 
 perhaps wrung from her, by which she 
 might eventually be lost to him for ever. 
 
 As it seemed now, she had been spirited 
 away, taken out of his life suddenly had 
 passed, as it were, out of the scheme of his 
 existence. 
 
 They had been parted roughly, without 
 their hearts resting on the joy of that future 
 which lovers alone look forward to. 
 
 Day and night he thought of her, his lost 
 Alison. Gathering hoarding, as it were, in 
 his inner heart, ' as a miser hoards his gold 
 memories of passion-laden eyes seeking 
 
 VOL. i. u
 
 290 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 his, and then often long looks of fondness 
 turned aside ' lest others saw their glories, 
 and of stolen kisses, stolen from lips that 
 quivered and trembled for their own 
 temerity and ardour. 
 
 He could but think again, alas for the 
 time that has been ! 
 
 ' But the tender grace of a day that is dead 
 Will never come "back to me.'
 
 291 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 MR. CHEVENIX'S BUSINESS. 
 
 YTTITH all his erratic habits and general 
 thoughtlessness, Jerry Wilmot was 
 not without a capacity for business ; thus on 
 the evening after his return home he rode 
 over to the village of Wilmothurst to visit 
 Mr. Chevenix ostensibly as to matters con- 
 nected with the estate, and with the decided 
 desire, no doubt, of seeing the brilliant 
 Bella. 
 
 The village consisted of a few houses, an 
 ancient church of Norman times, with a 
 squat square tower, covered with ivy, a 
 spacious green, overlooked by an old 
 thatched inn with a swinging signboard ; and 
 
 u2
 
 292 MISS CHEYNE OF KSSILMONT. 
 
 opposite stood the comfortable, two-storeyed 
 mansion of Mr. Chevenix, who acted as 
 legal adviser in small matters, as factor, and 
 land agent for the Wilmots and other county 
 families. 
 
 A kindly-mannered and benign-looking 
 old man, he received Jerry in his cosy din- 
 ing-room with considerable warmth, and 
 the handsome Bella fairly blushed with 
 pleasure on seeing her acknowledged ad- 
 mirer; and Jerry, when he saw the rare 
 beauty of the girl, thought how thankful he 
 should be that the widow had not accepted 
 him ! 
 
 At Wilmothurst Bella enjoyed the repu- 
 tation of being the best organiser of plea- 
 sant picnics in the sunny summer-time, the 
 great designer of games and charades at 
 Christmastide, the most tasteful decorator 
 of the village church for festivals, a kind 
 friend to the poor and all the little ones of 
 the hamlet. 
 
 Yet none shone brighter or better at the
 
 MR. CHEVENIX'S BUSINESS. 293 
 
 balls in Brighton or elsewhere out of her 
 narrow home circle ; she was a dashing 
 horsewoman in the field ; but seemed always 
 most in her element when seated over some 
 piece of feminine work by her old father's 
 side, as Jerry now found her, in the flower- 
 scented and lamp-lit little dining-room 
 surrounded by all the home influences her 
 presence caused. 
 
 Jerry knew now precisely how Bella was 
 viewed by his mother and cousin, and this 
 repressed if not his ardour the scope of 
 his attentions. 
 
 The haughty Bella also knew from a 
 thousand petty instances how Lady Julia 
 Wilmot viewed her position in society, and 
 resented it accordingly, for she was one of 
 the many in and about Wilmothurst who 
 had felt the sting of that lady's ' snub,' and 
 were against her in consequence. Thus her 
 first thought had been to decline the invi- 
 tation to the ball, which had reached her 
 that forenoon. Then on consideration came
 
 294 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMOXT. 
 
 the knowledge that to do so would cause 
 much local speculation, that many might 
 infer she had not been invited at all, and 
 that by her absence she would lose the 
 society of Jerry for a whole night ; and the 
 girl's natural desire to outshine as she 
 knew she would do so many there, if not 
 all who would be present, led her to write 
 an acceptance. 
 
 She had done so, and at once began the 
 serious consideration of her costume serious 
 only as to the variety to select from, for her 
 father was a rich man richer than Lady 
 Julia Wilmot had the least idea of. 
 
 ' You are coming to our ball, of course, 
 Miss Chevenix?' said Jerry. 
 
 'The invitation just reached me to-day, 
 and I have not yet posted an acceptance.' 
 
 ' But you will come, of course,' urged 
 Jerry, looking admiringly into her bright 
 laughing eyes. 
 
 1 1 am not quite certain,' faltered Bella, 
 and paused.
 
 MR. CHEVENIX'S BUSINESS. 295 
 
 ' Oh, nonsense, she will be there readily 
 enough,' said her father ; adding ' I think I 
 may be pardoned for saying it, Mr. Wilmot, 
 but ray Bella will be the belle of the ball. 
 However, leave us just now, dear. Mr. 
 "Wilmot has come to see me on business, I 
 doubt not, and that won't be interesting to 
 you.' 
 
 She at once took up her work-basket, 
 and withdrew, with a bow and a smile, and 
 Jerry, as his gaze followed her, and he saw 
 what a perfect creature she was, so slim 
 and graceful with the pure complexion 
 that comes of health and country air, soft 
 and sparkling brown eyes and rich hair 
 coiled round a shapely head, thought how 
 unworthy it was of his mother to view the 
 girl as she did, and to treat her as she had 
 hitherto done. 
 
 He knew exactly from what her indeci- 
 sion about the ball sprang. Never before 
 had she or her father been invited to the 
 Manor House when other guests were
 
 296 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 there, at dinner or garden parties, and 
 when they had dined with her and Miss 
 Wiltuot, in solitary state, she always resent- 
 ed bitterly the airs of patronage which Lady 
 Julia adopted. 
 
 ' She's going to the ball, never fear, Mr. 
 Jerry, and there is her reply on the mantel- 
 piece,' said her father. 
 
 ' Permit me to be the bearer of it/ said 
 Jerry, transferring it at once to his pocket. 
 
 * And, now through the medium of some 
 brandy and water, we shall turn to business 
 matters.' 
 
 ' Glad to hear you say so/ replied Jerry ; 
 ' I have wished much to see you, Chevenix, 
 about money matters.' 
 
 Mr. Chevenix smiled faintly, and coughed 
 slightly behind his hand. 
 
 ' How has it been that of late so little has 
 been paid into my bank account/ said 
 Jerry, * and that I have had such difficulty 
 in squaring matters at Aldershot; even in 
 meeting my losses on the last Divisional
 
 MR. CHEVENIX'S BUSINESS. 297 
 
 Steeplechase, and in many other things ; 
 that in fact both the mater and myself are 
 often short of the " ready " ?' 
 
 1 The estate, you are aware, was heavily 
 mortgaged by your late worthy father.' 
 
 4 1 have heard that a hundred times, and 
 know it to my cost,' replied Jerry, impatiently. 
 
 ' And since you joined the army you 
 must also be aware that, to meet the many 
 requirements of yourself and Lady Julia, I 
 have had to effect other mortgages, for in- 
 stance, on Langley Park ('which my fore- 
 fathers farmed under yours for more than 
 two centuries), on the forty acres of Upton 
 Stoke, and on Hazelwood ; that, in short, all 
 these may never be yours again, as I see no 
 way of your removing these encumbrances, 
 save by a wealthy marriage ; and that the 
 good lady, your mother, has not the slight- 
 est idea of the extent of the evil and all 
 your liabilities.' 
 
 'The devil !' exclaimed Jerry, 'these are 
 pleasent things to listen to.'
 
 298 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 There was a silence between them for a 
 time, and Jerry took a long sip at his 
 brandy and seltzer. With all his admira- 
 tion and certainly growing love for the 
 handsome Bella, she seemed to be receding 
 from him in the distance now. 
 
 'I am deeply sorry to tell you these 
 things, Mr. Wilmot/ said Chevenix, who had 
 genuine respect and love for the listener, 
 and really had the well-being of the old 
 family at heart ; ' it is a serious thing for a 
 young man like you, the inheritor of a good 
 old name, bred with expensive tastes and 
 so forth, to find yourself hampered and 
 trammelled thus at your very outset of life, 
 but so it is.' 
 
 ' We live and learn, Mr. Chevenix,' said 
 Jerry, with unusual bitterness for him. 
 
 ' True,' added his old agent. 
 
 * We live and learn, but not the wiser 
 grow, says John Pomfret.' 
 
 'And who the devil is he ?' asked Jerry, 
 testily.
 
 MR. CHEVEXIX'S BUSINESS. 299 
 
 'A poet and divine of the seventeenth 
 century.' 
 
 Jerry sat staring into the fire as if bewil- 
 dered by the sudden revelation this new 
 state of things. 
 
 ' And who holds all the infernal mort- 
 gages ?' asked Jerry, abruptly. 
 
 ' I do they are in the iron safe on 
 yonder shelf.' 
 
 * You ; and who advanced all this money 
 to my father, and to myself latterly ?' 
 
 ' I did every shilling to the old squire 
 and to you, Mr. Jerry; but do not be 
 alarmed do not be alarmed I have no 
 intention of foreclosing.' 
 
 Jerry was more thunderstruck than ever. 
 Here was another startling revelation. He 
 found that more than half of his paternal 
 estate was in the hands of the very man 
 whose daughter he had been learning to 
 love in secret, and whom his proud mother 
 so heartily disliked and publicly slighted. 
 
 He had hinted, as related, of mortgages
 
 300 MISS CHETNE OP ESSILMONT. 
 
 on the evening of his arrival with Bevil 
 Goring, but this state of matters he was 
 altogether unprepared for. In short, it 
 would seem as if but a moiety of his pro- 
 perty remained to him, and that the heiress 
 of it all was Bella Chevenix ! 
 
 Bella, the daughter of the village attor- 
 ney, ' the lawyer man,' as Lady Julia called 
 him, whose forefathers did yeoman service 
 to his, and farmed old Langley Park. 
 
 ' Take courage you have yet time to 
 look about you, and money, if it can be 
 procured from some other source, may repair 
 these evils,' said Mr. Chevenix, kindly ; but 
 he knew not what was then in Jerry's mind. 
 That in reality a love for Bella had been 
 fast becoming the ruling thought of his life ; 
 that on learning she had returned to Wil- 
 mothurst he had arranged to return home 
 also, and had made up his mind, despite his 
 mother's pride and opposition, to propose 
 for the girl ; but dared he do so now ? 
 
 Their positions were completely reversed,
 
 MR. CHEVENIX'S BUSINESS. 301 
 
 and were he to do so she would never be- 
 lieve in his love or view him as other than 
 a pretender, who offered it in barter for the 
 mortgages her father held on his estate. 
 
 The latter was eyeing Jerry, and, having 
 no idea of what his secret thoughts were, 
 failed to see why, if even a half of his estate 
 remained, he should seem so suddenly over- 
 come, for he had grown very pale, and he 
 respired like one in pain. 
 
 To thrust all love for Bella out of his 
 heart was now the bitter task to which he 
 must set himself, and perhaps to replace 
 her image by one of the many heiresses to 
 whom his mother so often drew his atten- 
 tion ; but that could not be. Jolly, good- 
 hearted Jerry would never condescend to 
 be mercenary ; he felt that he would rather 
 a thousand times share poverty with a loving 
 little girl like Bella than wealth with an- 
 other. Matters had not yet come to poverty 
 far from it ; but now, and after all that 
 had transpired, and he had learned who the
 
 302 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 holder of these fatal mortgages was, how- 
 could he speak to her or her father of love 
 or marriage without being most cruelly and 
 degradingly misunderstood, and having his 
 object utterly misconstrued ? 
 
 ' And the interest on the mortgages ?' he 
 asked, in a hard, dry tone. 
 
 ' Has been unpaid for several years/ 
 
 ' Making matters worse and worse. It 
 was six per cent, on Langley Park, Mr. Che- 
 venix, and that is stiff interest as things go.' 
 
 ' Yes, it was' 
 
 1 You speak of it in the past tense.' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 'Worse and worse/ assented Mr. Chevenix, 
 shaking his white head. ' But bear up, my 
 dear boy. I may call you so?' added the 
 old man, kindly patting Jerry's shoulder. 
 ' Money will pull you through. A hand- 
 some young fellow like you, with your family 
 prestige, will easily find a rich wife, and an 
 officer has a hundred chances of success 
 when other fellows have none.'
 
 MR. CHEVENIX'S BUSINESS. 303 
 
 Jerry had not the heart to ask what the 
 total sum of his liabilities amounted to, and 
 rose to depart. 
 
 ' Bid Miss Chevenix good-bye for me,' 
 said he, as he departed in haste, having just 
 then no desire to add to the intense morti- 
 fication that crushed him by looking ag;ain 
 
 / O O 
 
 on the bright face of the unconscious Bella 
 for unconscious she was of what their 
 mutual monetary relations were till her 
 father some time after informed her, when 
 the news came to her perhaps too late. 
 
 Sunk in thoughts too bitter for words, 
 Jerry rode slowly home through the dusk 
 of the gloomy winter evening. .The barriers 
 raised by evil fortune, and added to by a 
 sense of honour and propriety, enhanced in 
 his eyes the value of the girl he felt that 
 he had lost, and rendered dearer to him 
 the hopes he had been cherishing of late, 
 and which had become so precious to him. 
 
 He longed for the society and advice of 
 Goring over a ' quiet weed ' to talk about
 
 304 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 these things ere he confided the state of 
 matters to his mother, who, with all her 
 great love of him, he feared could not be 
 brought to see how matters stood with regard 
 to the estate and the encumbrances thereon. 
 
 When he joined her in the drawing-room 
 before dinner, the careworn expression of 
 his face an expression all unusual to him 
 certainly struck her, but for a time only. 
 
 'You have been with Mr. Chevenix?' she 
 asked. 
 
 'Yes, mother.' 
 
 ' And he has worried you with business.' 
 
 ' Yes ; his daughter is coming to the ball. 
 Here is her reply ; I brought it with me/ 
 said he, with an irrepressible sigh. 
 
 ' Of course she will come; who ever 
 doubted it?' responded Lady Julia, as she 
 somewhat contemptuously tossed Bella's un- 
 opened note into the fire ; and Jerry turned 
 away to join Goring and his cousin Emily, 
 who were looking over a portfolio of prints 
 upon a stand of gilded wood.
 
 MR. CHEVENIX'S BUSINESS. 305 
 
 To Jerry at this precise time the familiar 
 yet gorgeous drawing-room, with all its in- 
 laid cabinets and brackets, bearing treasures 
 of art and bric-a-brac, as seen under the 
 soft light of wax candles in sconces and the 
 glittering crystal chandelier, gave a sense 
 of worry by its apparent incongruity, as did 
 the very attire of his mother and cousin by 
 the richness of its materials, the laces, the 
 jewelry ; and he absolutely shivered when 
 he thought of the coming birthday ball, with 
 its hundred and four guests on one hand, 
 and the mortgages of Chevenix with their 
 unpaid interest on the other. 
 
 To Jerry it seemed that ere long his 
 mother might have to betake herself to 
 Bruges or Boulogne to retrench, while he 
 might have to exchange for India if the 
 route came not speedily for Africa. 
 
 Bevil Goring, when they were alone, 
 heard with genuine concern the state of 
 affairs as Jerry set them before him, and 
 agreed with him that to continue his 
 
 VOL. i. x
 
 306 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 attentions to Miss Chevenix would lead to 
 an entire misconstruction on the part of 
 herself and her father as to the true state of 
 his heart, and lead them to infer that he 
 was only a fortune-hunter ; and honest Jerry 
 blushed scarlet at the name, and twirled and 
 gnawed his moustache with intense irritation. 
 
 Though she failed to take in the whole 
 situation which Jerry knew would be the 
 case Lady Julia heard his tidings with 
 considerable alarm, and felt her wrath in- 
 creased against Mr. Chevenix, which was 
 utterly unreasonable. 
 
 'The state of our or rather your 
 affairs, as this man has set them before you, 
 Jerry/ said Lady Julia, ' now renders it 
 absolutely necessary that you should marry 
 for money, and that at once.' 
 
 'Or cut the service and emigrate,' groaned 
 Jerry. 
 
 ' Emigrate !' 
 
 ' Invest in a pickaxe and spade, and try 
 Ballarat or the Diamond Fields.'
 
 MR. CHEVENIX'S BUSINESS. 307 
 
 ' How can you jest thus ?' said his mother, 
 loftily. 
 
 'To roe the nearest heiress seems to be 
 Bella Chevenix,' said Jerry, not unwilling 
 to revenge her for the slighting remarks his 
 mother daily made. 
 
 ' She has a fortune certainly a fortune 
 won by advances made upon our lands 
 but of what use can it be to her, brought 
 up, as she has been, ignorant of the habits, 
 the tastes, and requirements of our class ?' 
 
 ' She is ignorant of none, and enjoys them 
 all,' replied Jerry, with some asperity. 
 
 ' You inherited the estate encumbered, 
 and have, in no small degree, added to its 
 burdens, and, if you do not make a rich 
 marriage, may be my poor, dear Jerry 
 a ruined man.' 
 
 ' We are going to fight King Koffee, they 
 say. I'll get taken prisoner, and marry his 
 youngest daughter !' cried Jeny, with a 
 gleam of his old recklessness. 
 
 For some days now he did not go near 
 
 x2
 
 308 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 Bella Chevenix, who began to feel a little 
 wroth at him in consequence, as she had 
 no key as yet to what influenced Jerry. 
 
 ' Their ball !' exclaimed the proud girl r 
 petulantly ' I am not sure that I should go, 
 papa, to be patronised and slighted perhaps.' 
 
 ' Patronised or slighted who dare do 
 either to you ?' asked her father, with sur- 
 prise. 
 
 * I shall be bored to death. I fear.' 
 
 But the desire to appear where she knew 
 she would shine prevailed over all her 
 doubts, and she devoted all her energies to 
 have a costume that should be second to 
 none. 
 
 Meanwhile Jerry found the impossibility 
 of abstaining entirely from visiting the house 
 of Mr. Chevenix, and so days of meetings 
 in various ways passed meetings in which 
 their lives seemed to be mutually merged in 
 that sweet occupation which was not quite 
 love-making, but yet was far, far in advance
 
 MR. CHEVENIX'S BUSINESS. 309 
 
 of that perilous frivolity that so often leads 
 to it called flirtation. 
 
 Yet Jerry was further now from disclos- 
 ing himself than ever, and Bella seemed in 
 no hurry for him to do so, for she was 
 young enough even after all she had seen 
 of society to shrink from a declaration, for 
 to a girl there is something so seductive, 
 so sweet in hovering on the brink, when 
 she, as Bella did in her secret heart, loves 
 the man. 
 
 Cousin Emily was not slow in discover- 
 ing the direction in which Jerry so often 
 turned his horse's head, and hinted thereof 
 to Lady Julia. 
 
 * But for the dangers my poor boy will 
 have to encounter,' said the latter, ' I would 
 hail with pleasure his departure to the coast 
 of Africa, as a useful means of separating 
 him from this most artful creature.' 
 
 Meanwhile an influx of visitors and 
 guests preluded the ball, as many came
 
 310 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 from a considerable distance. Like Goring, 
 Jerry was in no mood for all this gaiety just 
 then, and the latter resented that his duties 
 as host enforced his presence at Wilmot- 
 hurst, and consequent absence from Bella 
 Chevenix.
 
 311 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE FIREFLY. 
 
 red sun of a clear winter day was 
 -*- shining on the two chalky eminences 
 at the embouchure of the Arques, or Beth- 
 une, and on the low tongue of land 
 between them, whereon is situated the sea- 
 port of Dieppe in Normandy, from the 
 church of which the coast of England can 
 be distinctly seen, when the Firefly, which 
 really was a beautiful yacht, crept slowly 
 along on a wind under the lee of the shore, 
 from which she was rather more than a 
 mile distant. 
 
 She was a taut-rigged craft of about two 
 hundred tons, and whether one regarded 
 the crew, the fitting of the rigging, or the
 
 312 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 cut of the sails, it was evident that in skil- 
 ful hands she could do anything. For a 
 Cowes yacht she was curiously rigged, 
 being a hermaphrodite brig forward and 
 schooner aft. Her foremast, like her bow- 
 sprit, was strong and heavy, her main- 
 mast long and tapering. Her upper spars 
 were slender and light, with topmast, top- 
 gallant mast, and royal mast, all like slen- 
 der wands, yet capable of carrying a great 
 amount of canvas. Her flush deck was 
 white as the driven snow, and she had eight 
 six pounders, all brass, and polished like 
 gold bright as the copper with which she 
 was sheathed to the bends. 
 
 Such was the craft on board of which 
 Alison Cheyne found herself a species of 
 prisoner, and compelled to take a part in an 
 erratic and apparently a purposeless cruise. 
 
 To sail for Madeira had been the first 
 intention of Lord Cadbury, when Slagg, by 
 his direction, inserted in the newspapers a 
 paragraph to the effect that he had gone to
 
 THE FIREFLY. 313 
 
 the Mediterranean a paragraph expressly 
 designed to mislead Bevil Goring; but heavy 
 head-winds had prevailed, and after hang- 
 ing about in * the Chops of the Channel ' 
 for a week and more, the Firefly was stand- 
 ing northward along the coast of France. 
 
 Tom Llanyard, Cadbury's captain, a 
 bluff-looking, curly-haired man, about forty 
 years of age, had been for a brief space a 
 warrant officer in the Royal Navy. He 
 was a good-hearted fellow not very pol- 
 ished, but a thorough seaman. He had 
 a secret contempt for the character of his 
 employer, who did not care much for yacht- 
 ing, but thought it sounded well to have 
 such an appendage as the Firefly at Cowes. 
 Tom found the pay good ; the lodging 
 ditto ; and the duty was easy. Tom was a 
 sailor or nothing ; and thus being compelled 
 to work, ' the yacht service,' as he used to 
 say, ' suited him to a hair.' 
 
 He certainly thought the season a strange 
 one for a cruise; and as for Mr. Gaskins,
 
 314 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 Cadbury's groom and chief valet, he utterly 
 loathed the whole expedition, and, connect- 
 ing it shrewdly in some way with Miss 
 Cheyne, he hated her with a most unholy 
 hatred. 
 
 To Tom Llanyard she was a new experi- 
 ence; she was so totally unlike any other of 
 her sex he had seen on board the Firefly ; 
 and he had we are sorry to say seen 
 many that were rather remarkable. 
 
 The weather had been rough, and the 
 poor girl, who had suffered much from sea 
 sickness, of a necessity remained below ; 
 while her luckless attendant, Daisy Prune, 
 was utterly prostrated by the same ailment, 
 and the order of things was now reversed, 
 for Alison had to attend upon her. The 
 presence of Daisy, however, was a source of 
 protection to the former, as it saved her 
 from much of the attention of Cadbury, 
 who had hoped that great events might be 
 developed or achieved by the sea voyage. 
 
 Alison's freshness was delightful to the
 
 THE FIREFLY. 315 
 
 coarse, jaded man of the world, who, tired 
 at last of extravagant and congenial dissi- 
 pation (that would have horrified his 
 worthy father the Alderman of Thread- 
 needle Street), thought now of trying 
 domestic felicity, pour se desennuyer; and 
 truly Alison was so unlike most of the 
 other women he had known, or whose 
 acquaintance he had chosen to cultivate, 
 that the present opportunity gave him great 
 expectations of the future. 
 
 He actually reckoned upon a safe con- 
 quest, now that he had her all to himself; 
 and so far as Sir Ranald was concerned, 
 while piling kindnesses upon him, and press- 
 ing upon him also the best wines that the 
 cellar of Cadbury Court offered, he would 
 not have been sorry had a gale of wind 
 blown the pompous old baronet overboard, 
 and left Alison alone in the world alone, 
 and at his mercy ! 
 
 Leaving Sir Ranald busy with a telescope 
 on deck scanning the churches of St.
 
 316 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSTLMONT. 
 
 Jacques and St. Remy, with Le Follet and 
 the fisher town of Dieppe, Cadbury descend- 
 ed to the luxurious and beautiful little 
 cabin of the yacht, the gilded and mahog- 
 any fittings of which were exquisite, and 
 there found Alison alone, as he expected. 
 
 How sad and fair, young and pure, she 
 looked in all the brightness of her beauty, 
 as her head rested against the crimson back 
 of the cushioned locker or sofa on which 
 she was seated in an attitude expressive of 
 utter weariness of heart. 
 
 'Alison,' said he, attempting to take her 
 hand. 
 
 Her eyes flashed now, and her proud 
 little lip curled, as she said, ' Lord Cadbury, 
 when did I give you permission to call me 
 as papa does by my Christian name ?' 
 
 'Why do you Lord me?' he asked; ' I 
 would you called me Timothy/ he added, 
 rather faintly ; and at this absurd name a 
 little smile flickered on Alison's pale face, 
 and a gesture of impatience. escaped her, as
 
 THE FIREFLY. 317 
 
 she knew that she was about to be subjected 
 to some more of his odious arid weary 
 love-making. 
 
 ' My passion for you made me so modest 
 and diffident,' said he (though in reality it 
 was his years), ' that I addressed myself 
 first to your father, though you were well 
 aware of the sweet hopes I fostered in my 
 heart, Alison.' 
 
 * It is impossible for me to listen to more 
 of this sort of thing, Lord Cadbury.' 
 
 ' I can scarcely believe that your decision 
 is final that you are in earnest with me.' 
 
 'Earnest! Do you imagine, sir, that I 
 would jest in this matter, and and with 
 you?' she exclaimed, becoming with all 
 her native gentleness tremulous with sup- 
 pressed passion. 
 
 ' When once I ventured to hint of a 
 deeper interest in you than mere friendship, 
 you did not discourage me,' urged Cadbury, 
 who by use and wont could make love in 
 his own way pretty fluently now.
 
 318 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 ' Perhaps I misunderstood you, or 
 deemed it deemed it ' 
 
 'What, Alison?' 
 
 ' A fatherly interest/ 
 
 Cadbury winced a little at this remark. 
 
 ' In anything beyond that,' continued 
 Alison, ' you perhaps do me honour, but in 
 any instance I can never love where I do 
 not respect and esteem.' 
 
 ' And have I forfeited your esteem ?' 
 
 * Yes.' 
 
 ' In what way ?' 
 
 ' By trepanning me on board this yacht 
 away from home and my friends !' 
 
 * Friends at Aldershot,' thought Cadbury, 
 as he laughed to himself and said, 
 
 ' But why so severe a term as trepanning ?' 
 
 * You led me to believe when we quitted 
 Chilcote in such hot haste that instant flight 
 alone in this vessel would save papa from 
 arrest through certain bills which he says 
 he saw you destroy. So you and he lie] 
 she added, with a heavy sob ' have both
 
 THE FIREFLY. 319 
 
 deceived me, and now I believe neither of 
 you. It was a vile trick on the part of you 
 both to separate rne from Captain Goring.' 
 
 Cadbury had reckoned at least upon her 
 gratitude for taking up the bills of Slagg, 
 as he had to some extent won that of her 
 father; but even this plan failed to serve 
 him, and so far as Alison was concerned he 
 might as well have thrown his money into 
 the sea. The name of his rival on her lips 
 infuriated him, and he tugged at his long, 
 white horse-shoe moustache viciously, as he 
 thought that he had played what he deemed 
 his trump card, and yet lost after all ! 
 
 He gave her a glance of a rather mingled 
 nature and retreated to the deck, where his 
 discomposure of face and manner was so 
 apparent to Sir Ranald that, after a few 
 words of explanation, the latter sought the 
 cabin to remonstrate with the unfortunate 
 and weary Alison. 
 
 As was before hinted, Sir Ranald's emo- 
 tions were of a curiously mingled nature.
 
 320 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 He felt that he certainly owed a debt of 
 gratitude to Lord Cadbury for relieving him 
 of terrible monetary pressure, and he was 
 anxious, for various reasons, that Alison 
 should accept him. He had no romance in 
 his nature never had any, and did not 
 believe that disparity of years and tastes 
 still less a secret or previous fancy were 
 to be valued or consulted at all ! 
 
 He felt that he acted wisely to his daugh- 
 ter in leaguing with the wealthy peer 
 against her; yet, over and above all, he 
 loved her dearly and tenderly ; and amid 
 all this was an undying hostility to Bevil 
 Goring, whom he deemed the real cause of 
 all this opposition to their wishes, and con- 
 sequently the present trouble, turmoil, and 
 unnecessary voyaging in rough and wintry 
 weather. 
 
 Though it was a relief, without doubt, to 
 be away now beyond the reach or ken of 
 the hook-nosed or vulture-eyed money- 
 lenders, who, like Slagg, had long possessed,
 
 THE FIREFLY. 321 
 
 among their ofttimes hopelessly-regarded 
 assets, his bills and acceptances. 
 
 He saw she looked pale, very pale 
 indeed ; but that, of course, he attributed to 
 the mat de mer ; but as for love, no one, he 
 believed, ever sickened or died of that. A 
 long separation was the surest and best cure. 
 
 ' Foolish girl !' he began at once ; ' still 
 mooning, and actually talking, as Cadbury 
 told me, of that utterly ineligible and most 
 detrimental fellow at Aldershot; I am cer- 
 tain you.could forget him if you tried, Alison. 
 In these days of ours, ninety-nine girls out 
 of a hundred would leap with exultation at 
 such offers as those of Lord Cadbury.' 
 
 'Then, I suppose, I must be the hun- 
 dredth girl, papa,' said Alison, steadily and 
 gravely; for a consciousness that her father, 
 whom she had deemed the mirror of hon- 
 our, had leagued with this parvenu to 
 deceive her, had caused a change in her 
 manner towards him. 
 
 ' And I repeat that in these days of ours/ 
 
 VOL. I. Y
 
 322 MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 he continued, ' it is, or ought to be, the ob- 
 ject of both men and women to marry well.' 
 
 ' That is, to marry for money,' said Alison. 
 
 ' Yes ; if a girl has beauty and birth, but 
 not money, she should look for some one 
 who has that more than necessary element 
 towards our very existence. If she has 
 money with both these attributes, she 
 should look for something more.' 
 
 ' More, papa ?' 
 
 ' Yes, she should look for that which a 
 poor girl seldom or never has offered her.' 
 
 ' And what is that.' 
 
 ' A title.' 
 
 ' In fact, in any way or every way to sell 
 herself to the highest bidder. Oh, what a 
 selfish code !' exclaimed the girl, with great 
 bitterness of heart. ' Did the Cheynes of 
 Essilmont always do this ?' 
 
 'They of old were not as we are now.' 
 
 ' What ?' 
 
 ' Beggars !' replied her father, with equal 
 bitterness of heart, for his was naturally a
 
 THE FIREFLY. 323 
 
 proud one ; ' but, as Lever says, " the world 
 makes us many things we never meant to be.'" 
 
 ' Do you forget, papa, that marriage is a 
 sacrament, and that without a full and 
 perfect consent it is in reality no marriage 
 at all, and should not be binding, even 
 though the blessing were given by the 
 Archbishop of Canterbury.' 
 
 ' What do you mean, Alison ?' asked her 
 father, surprised alike by her tone and this 
 theory. 
 
 1 Simply what I say.' 
 
 ' How dare you, a mere girl, talk thus ?' 
 
 ' Take care, .papa. If driven desperate, 
 there is no knowing what I may not say 
 but do !' 
 
 Sir Ranald became silent. He had never 
 seen her in this mood before ; and he, of 
 course, ascribed it to 'the fatal influence that 
 fellow Goring had obtained over her mind.' 
 
 So this conversation ended ; but the 
 interview with her father and that with 
 Cadbury are but examples of many with
 
 324 MISS CHFA r NE OF ESSILMONT. 
 
 which she was tormented daily ad nauseam. 
 Alison ere long had fresh food for 
 sorrow given to her, when a pilot boat 
 brought off to the Firefly some London 
 papers, and in these she was informed as 
 if by chance there were rumours of the 
 fast approaching war in Africa, and she 
 saw the glances, most meaning glances, of 
 satisfaction that were exchanged by her 
 father and Lord Cadburv, on its being 
 
 * 7 
 
 announced that among the troops detailed 
 for service in the field under Sir Garnet 
 Wolseley was the regiment of Bevil Goring ; 
 and so a double and more terrible separa- 
 tion perhaps a final and fatal one was 
 before them, and the heart of the poor girl 
 seemed to fill with tears as she read and 
 re-read the startling paragraph. 
 
 END Ob 1 THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON : PRINTED BY DUNCAN MACDONALD, BLENHEIM HOOSJi.
 
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