Reginald Trevor it was, for Vaga was not guessing. Something she saw
about the horseman, or his horse, had enabled her to identify him; as
she did so, that third and latest change coming over her countenance,
giving it also a serious cast.
But nothing compared with that which now showed on the face of her
sister. The varied expressions of hopeful anticipation, surprise,
delight, then doubt, rapidly succeeding one another, were all past, and
in their place a dark shadow sat cloud-like on her brow. In her eyes,
too, still scanning the distant horseman, was a look that betokened
pain, or at least uneasiness, with something of fear and anger. In
truth, the expression on their face, though differing from each other,
would have been unreadable to any one who was a stranger to them and
Reginald Trevor.
Some knowledge of this gentleman and his antecedents will throw light
upon the grave impression seemingly produced upon the two girls by the
sight of him.
As the name might indicate, he was kin to the young courtier, late
gentleman-usher at Whitehall--his cousin. Different, however, had been
their lots in the lottery of life; those of Eustace so far having all
come out prizes, while Reginald had been drawing blanks. A dissolute,
dissipated father had left the latter nought but a bad name, and the son
had little bettered it. Still was he a gallant Cavalier, as the word
went, and at least possessed the redeeming quality of courage. He had
given proofs of it as an officer in that army sent northward against the
Scots, where he had served as a lieutenant under Lunsford. _Per
contra_, as the father who begot him, he was given to dissipation, a
drinker, dicer, wencher, everything socially disreputable and
distasteful to the Parliamentarians,--far more the Puritans,--though
neither disgracing or lowering himself in the eyes of his own party--the
Cavaliers. If latitudinarianism in morals could be accounted Christian
charity, none were endowed with this virtue in a higher degree than
they.
Reginald Trevor had the full benefit of their tolerance in that respect:
passed among them as a rare good fellow; no harm in him, save what
affected himself. To use a common phrase, he was his own worst enemy.
Beginning life penniless, he was no better off at the commencement of
his military career; and his spendthrift habits had kept him the same
ever since. At that hour, when seen coming down the road--save his
sword, horse, clothing; and equipments--he could not call anything his
own. These, however, were all of the best; for he was a military dandy,
and, despite poverty, always contrived to rig himself out in grand
array. Just now he was well up in everything, though possibly nothing
had been paid for--horse, clothing, nor accoutrements. But he had got a
good post, which enabled him to get good credit, and that satisfied him
all the same. Thrown out of commission--as Lunsford and others after
their return from the North--he had lived for some months in London as
best he could; often at his wits' end. But swords were now once more in
demand, with men who could wield them; and Sir John Wintour, who had
commenced fortifying his mansion at Lydney to hold it for the King,
casting about for the right sort to defend it, chose Reginald Trevor as
one of them.
For some weeks antecedent to the time of his introduction to the reader,
he had been in Sir John's service; acting in a mixed capacity, military
and political, with some duties appertaining to the civil branch of
administration. These had taken him all over the Forest of Dean,
introducing him into many a house where he had hitherto been a stranger.
But of all honoured by his visit, there was only one he cared ever
returning to. It he could revisit again and again; had done so; and
would have been glad to stay by it for the rest of his life. A lone
house, too, though a mansion, standing remote from anything that could
be called city, or even town; remote from other houses of its class. It
may seem strange such a solitary habitation should have attractions for
a man of his character; but not when its name is given--for it was
Hollymead. This known, it needs no telling why Reginald Trevor was
attracted thither; only to specify which of the two girls was the
loadstone that drew him. Even this may be guessed--not likely Sabrina,
but very likely Vaga. And Vaga it was. He had fallen in love with her,
passionately, madly; and, stranger still, purely; for, in all
likelihood, it was the first honest love of his life. Honest it was,
however; and honestly he had been acting so far; his courtship
respectful, and free from the bold rude advances which, as a rule,
marked the conduct of the Cavaliers. For, despite all said to the
contrary, their behaviour to women was more "gallantry" than gallant,
and anything but chivalrous.
But, although behaving his best, Reginald Trevor had not prospered in
his suit; on the contrary received a check which brought it to an abrupt
ending for the time, and it might be for ever. This in the shape of a
hint that his visits to Hollymead House were neither welcome nor
desirable, rather the reverse. Not given him by the girl herself--she
did not even know of it,--but conveyed by her father privately and
quietly, yet firmly. Of course it was taken, and the visits
discontinued.
That was but a fortnight ago, and yet Reginald Trevor was once more on
his way to Hollymead! But very different the cause carrying him thither
now to that which had oft taken him before; different his feelings, too,
though not as regarded the young lady. For her they were the same--his
passion hot as ever. And yet was it a flame burning blindly, without a
word of encouragement to fan or keep it alive. Never once had she
spoken to tell him his love was reciprocated; never given him smile or
look that could be interpreted in that sense. For all this, he so
interpreted some she had bestowed on him. Successes, conquests many,
had made him vain, and he deemed himself irresistible--fancied he would
conquer her, too.
Nevertheless, he felt less confident now. That rupture of relations had
become a grievous obstacle. Nor was he on the way to Hollymead with any
hope of being able to bind up the broken threads; instead, his errand
thither had for object that which was sure further to sever them. It
was not of his own seeking, and he had entered upon it with reluctance.
Dark and gloomy was the shadow on his face as he rode under that of the
trees. At intervals it became a scowl, with resentment blazing up in
his eyes, as he thought of that dismissal, so wounding to his
self-esteem, so insulting. But he was armed with that which would give
him a _revanche_; make the master of Hollymead humble if not
hospitable--a document such as has humbled the master of many another
house, angering them at the same time. For it was a letter of request
for a loan, signed and stamped with the King's seal.