CHAPTER I.

THE CAMERONIANS.

A Novel.

BY

JAMES GRANT,

AUTHOR OF

'THE ROMANCE OF WAR,' 'OLD AND NEW EDINBURGH, ETC.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. II.

LONDON:

RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON,

Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen.

1881.

[_All Rights Reserved._]

CONTENTS OF VOL. II.

CHAPTER

I. 'A WEAK INVENTION OF THE ENEMY'

II. CECIL RECEIVES HIS CONGÉ

III. IN THE PRINCE'S STREET GARDENS

IV. A FRUITLESS TASK

V. THE REGIMENTAL BALL

VI. HEW'S TRIUMPH

VII. 'I HAVE COME FOR YOUR SWORD'

VIII. THE COURT-MARTIAL

IX. A PAGE OF LIFE TURNED OVER

X. GONE

XI. 'THE INITIALS'

XII. TURNING THE TABLES

XIII. BY THE MORAVA

XIV. A MYSTERY

XV. ON DUTY

XVI. THE CASTLE OF PALENKA

XVII. MARGARITA

XVIII. CAPTAIN GUEBHARD

XIX. THE BLACK MOUNTAINEERS

XX. CECIL COMES TO GRIEF

THE CAMERONIANS.

CHAPTER I.

'A WEAK INVENTION OF THE ENEMY.'

Hew resolved, as before, to lose no time in putting Sir Piers on his

guard; he would give him an 'eye-opener,' he thought; and, in his

ignorance of military discipline and etiquette, almost conceived that

the baronet, as full colonel of the regiment, might have power to

issue, perhaps, some very stringent and crushing order concerning the

culprit.

Hew, among other 'caddish' tastes and propensities, was fond of

'sherry-glass flirtations' at bars and buffets, where sham smiles are

bartered for button-hole flowers, amid bantered compliments and

honeyed small-talk, not always remarkable for its purity; and while

engaged in one of these little affairs, he made the casual

acquaintance of Herr Von Humstrumm, the regimental bandmaster, a

somewhat obese-looking German, with an enormous moustache and his

scrubby dark hair shorn remarkably short; and from the latter he

drew--or alleged to Sir Piers that he drew--some account of the

family and antecedents of Cecil Falconer; and with these he came home

highly elated; and whatever the conversation really was, the

communications did not suffer diminution in his relation of them; and

he broke the matter to Sir Piers in a cold, hard, and exultant way,

that could scarcely fail to strike the latter as being, at least,

ungenerous.

'I have discovered who and what our hero is!' said he.

'Our hero--who?'

'Our late visitor and guest, Mr. Falconer.'

'Captain Falconer. Well?'

'I met the bandmaster the other day, at a luncheon-bar, and he told

me all about him,' continued Hew, laughing immoderately.

'I know that in Scottish regiments, especially, every man's family is

usually known, his antecedents, and so forth.'

'And _who_ do you think this Falconer proves to be?' asked Hew, with

malignancy flashing brightly in his parti-coloured eyes. 'A pauper

with a long pedigree, you will say. No, by Jove! he has not even

_that_!'

'What _do_ you mean, Hew?' asked Sir Piers, looking up from his

chair, with knitted brow.

'I mean,' replied Hew, 'he may, like the street balladers, sing

'"I never had a father,

I never had a mother,

I never had a sister,

I never had a brother,

For indeed I'm nobody's child!"'

And adopting the tone and manners of a street-singer, Hew gave this

verse with extreme zest and almost fierce exultation, acting the part

with such broad vulgarity that his hearer winced; but well did Hew

know that he was bringing the strongest argument to bear upon the

weakest point in the character of Sir Piers--an inordinate pride of

birth and family.

'Good God! you don't say so, Hew?' exclaimed Sir Piers, more sorrow

than anger predominating in his mind for a time--but a time only.

'Fact, though,' replied Hew, carefully selecting a cigar from his

silver case, 'if a certain chain of deductions may be trusted, and I

know that the thought of his obscure birth is gall and wormwood to

him--have seen him blush for it more than once, at Eaglescraig.'

'His father----' began Sir Piers.

'Nobody knows who that illustrious individual was. I suppose he

doesn't know himself, though he must have had one.'

'And his mother?'

'Was a singer, or actress, or something of that kind. Folks in the

musical world, like folks on the turf, all know something of each

other, and so this fellow, Von Humstrumm, assured me that--that it is

all as I say; and thus his excellence as a singer and pianist is

accounted for at once. The Herr told me that he had performed at her

private concerts given in the house of a noble lady in Belgravia,

when the inner drawing-room was turned into quite a beautiful _bijou

salon de concert_, and even royalty was present. Pretty

circumstantial that!'

'Extraordinary!'

'Not at all; there is nothing extraordinary in this world. Thus I

should not wonder if the fellow once figured before the footlights!

Gad, if the Cameronians only knew of this, they'd put him in

Coventry--force him to quit!'

'Then how the devil does this band-master come to know, if they

don't?' said Sir Piers, pacing the room in great annoyance of spirit.

'I don't understand all this! Was he not a Sandhurst cadet?'

'I don't know, and don't care,' responded Hew, with an access of

sullenness.

'He certainly seems a finished gentleman!'

'I have heard you admire his hands as being white and shapely,' said

Hew, with a sneer.

'Yes; but what of that?'

'Did you ever observe his mode of gesticulating with them?'

'No.'

'Well, _I_ have, and to me it seemed to indicate foreign blood and

player-like proclivities.'

Hew's hands were neither white nor shapely, and certainly bore no

indication of that refinement of race on which his listener set such

store.

'We have not heard the last of this fellow,' he resumed, after a

pause.

'The last! What do you mean?'

'His interference in our family affairs. A card-playing

fortune-hunter, as I denounced him to be before; he was here no

longer ago than yesterday afternoon, pursuing his designs upon our

soft-hearted, and I must say, remarkably soft-headed, Mary! I felt

inclined to chuck him through the window. Must not this matter be

stopped, sir, and with the strong hand?'

'Stopped; I should think so. Should he attempt to cross me, he'd

better touch the fuse of a live shell!' replied the old man sharply,

while memory went back to the bitter times when his young Piers, so

loved, petted, and prized, forgot the high traditions of his family,

and daringly linked his fate with a humble girl, whom the proud

baronet declined to receive or recognise, most unwisely, as he

thought at times now.

'We are an old family, Hew,' he resumed, after a pause; 'and you will

be the inheritor of my title in an untarnished condition; but you

must not rest upon it alone, and, with Mary's money added to what I

have to leave you--Eaglescraig, wood and wold, tower and

manor-place--great things may be achieved. You will cherish Mary

when I am gone, even as I have cherished her; for I have nothing else

now,' he added, as he thought of his dead son and the

never-to-be-forgotten night of the dread and shadowy vision.

'I cannot persuade her to enter even into a preliminary and formal

engagement with me,' said Hew, after another pause.

'But,' urged the general, polishing his bald head with fidgety

irritation, 'surely, by this time, something is understood?'

'That--that she will one day be my wife?'

'Yes, of course.'

'But when?'

'When I issue _the order_!' said Sir Piers, as he stood with his back

to the fire and his feet planted on the hearthrug in orderly-room

fashion.

Hew smiled feebly, as if he feared Mary would care little for such a

ukase.

'Devil take this forthcoming ball!' he exclaimed suddenly. 'That

fellow will be there, of course.'

'In his regimentals, too--a good old phrase that!' said Sir Piers.

'But the ball is somewhat of a nuisance, especially as Mary is not

yet _disillusionné_. Yet she is not a child, that I may prevent her

going to where she has set her heart upon. But one thing is certain;

she must neither speak to, nor dance with him on that occasion.'

'I should think not!' said Hew, savagely.

'It is very unfortunate for you, my dear lad, if she has conceived

any absurd fancy for this young man.'

'Oh, I don't care much for that, or whether or not the bloom is quite

wiped off the plum,' was the nonchalant reply of Hew, at whose remark

the general elevated his eyebrows.

When Mary heard of this alleged conversation, of which Hew lost no

time in acquainting her, though ignorant as to whether the matter in

regard to poor Falconer was a deliberate fabrication of his rival or

a coarse exaggeration, she only smiled scornfully at it, as 'a weak

invention of the enemy;' but her conviction was, that whether

invention or not, it was calculated to have a most fatal influence

upon the already sweet relations between herself and Cecil; and we

can but hope that its truth or falsity will be discovered in the

sequel.