Lady Estelle received me with a welcome smile, for at that time all
around her were strangers; and I hoped--nay, felt almost certain--that
pleasure to see me inspired it, for on my approach she immediately
rose from her seat, joined me, and as if by tacit and silent consent,
we walked onward together. Pottersleigh's presence at Craigaderyn
Court, and the rumours it revived; something cool and patronising in
his manner towards me, for he had not forgotten _that_ night in
Park-lane; Lady Naseby's influence against me; the chances that some
sudden military or political contingency might cut short my leave of
absence; the certainty that ere long I should have to "go where glory
waited" me, and perhaps something less pleasant in the shape of
mutilation--the wooden leg which Dora referred to--a coffinless grave
in a ghastly battle trench--all rendered my anxiety to come to an
understanding with Lady Estelle irrepressible. My secret was already
known to Phil Caradoc, fully occupied though he was with his own
passion for Winifred Lloyd; and I felt piqued by the idea of being
less successful than I honestly hoped he was, for Phil was the king of
good fellows, and one of my best friends.
"You have seemed very _triste_ to-day--looking quite as if you lived
in some thoughtful world of your own," said Lady Estelle, when she
left her seat; "neither laughing nor dancing, scarcely even
conversing, and certainly not with me. Why is this?"
"You have declined all dancing, hence the music has lost its zest for
me."
"It is not brilliant; besides, it is somewhat of a maypole or
harvest-home accomplishment, dancing on the grass; pretty laborious
too! And then, as Welsh airs predominate, one could scarcely waltz to
the Noble Race of Shenkin."
"You reserve yourself for the evening, probably?"
"Exactly. I infinitely prefer a well-waxed floor to a lawn,
however well mown and rolled. But concerning your--what shall I term
it--sadness!"
"Why ask me when you may divine the cause, though I dare not
explain--here at least?"
After a little pause she disengaged two flowers from her bouquet, and
presenting them to me with an arch and enchanting smile--for when
beyond her mother's ken, she could at times be perfectly natural--she
said,
"At this floral _fête champêtre_, I cannot permit you to be the only
undecorated man."
"Being in uniform, I never thought of such an ornament."
"Wear these, then," said she, placing them in a button-hole.
"As your gift and for your sake?"
"If you choose, do so."
"Ah, who would not but choose?" said I, rendered quite bright and gay
even by such a trifle as this. "But Lady Estelle, do you know what
these are emblematic of?"
"In the language of the flowers, do you mean?"
"Of course; what else could he mean?" said a merry voice; and the
bright face of Dora, nestled amid her golden hair, appeared, as she
joined us, flushed with her dancing, and her breast palpitating with
pleasure, at a time when I most cordially wished her elsewhere. "Yes,"
she continued, "there is a pansy; that's for thought, as Ophelia
says--and a rosebud; that is for affection."
"But I don't believe in such symbolism, Dora; do you. Mr. Hardinge?"
"At this moment I do, from my soul."
She laughed, or affected to laugh, at my earnestness; but it was not
displeasing to her, and we walked slowly on. Among the multitude of
strangers--to us they were so, at least--to isolate ourselves was
comparatively easy now. Besides, it is extremely probable that under
the eyes of so many girls she had been rather bored by the senile
assiduity of her old admirer; so, avoiding the throng around the
dancers, the band, and the luncheon marquee, we walked along the
terraces towards the chase, accompanied by Dora, who opened a wicket
in a hedge, and led us by a narrow path suddenly to the cliffs that
overhung the sea. Here we were quite isolated. Even the music of the
band failed to reach us; we heard only the monotonous chafing of the
waves below, and the sad cry of an occasional sea-bird, as it swooped
up or down from its eyrie. The change from the glitter and brilliance
of the crowded lawn to this utter solitude was as sudden as it was
pleasing. In the distance towered up Great Orme's Head, seven hundred
and fifty feet in height; its enormous masses of limestone rock
abutting against the foam, and the ruins of Pen-y-Dinas cutting the
sky-line. The vast expanse of the Irish Sea rolled away to the
north-westward, dotted by many a distant sail; and some eighty feet
below us the surf was rolling white against the rocky base of the
headland on which we stood.
"We are just over the Bôd Mynach, or 'monk's dwelling,'" said Dora.
"Have you not yet seen it, Estelle?"
"No; I am not curious in such matters."
"It is deemed one of the most interesting things in North Wales, quite
as much so as St. Tudno's Cradle, or the rocking-stone on yonder
promontory. Papa is intensely vain of being its proprietor. Gruffyd ap
Madoc hid here, when he fled from the Welsh after his desertion of
Henry III.; so it was not made yesterday. Let us go down and rest
ourselves in it."
"Down the cliffs?' exclaimed Lady Estelle, with astonishment.
"Yes--why not? There is an excellent path, with steps hewn in the
rock. Harry Hardinge knows the way, I am sure."
"As a boy I have gone there often, in search of puffins' nests; but
remember that Lady Estelle--"
"Is not a Welsh girl of course," said Dora.
"Nor a goat, like Carneydd Llewellyn," added her friend. "But with Mr.
Hardinge's hand to assist you," urged Dora. "Well, let us make the
essay at once, nor lose time, ere we be missed," said the other, her
mind no doubt reverting to mamma and Lord Pottersleigh.
I began to descend the path first, accepting with pleasure the office
of leading Lady Estelle, who for greater security drew off a glove and
placed her hand in mine, firmly and reliantly, though the path, a
ladder of steps cut in the living rock, almost overhung the sea, and
the descent was not without its perils. The headland was cleft in two
by some throe of nature, and down this chasm poured a little stream,
at the mouth of which, as in a diminutive bay, a gaily-painted
pleasure-boat of Sir Madoc's, named the "Winifred," was moored, and it
seemed to be dancing on the waves almost beneath us.
We had barely proceeded some twenty feet down the cliff when Dora,
instead of following us, exclaimed that she had dropped a bracelet on
the path near the wicket, but we were to go on, and she would soon
rejoin us. As she said this she disappeared, and we were thus left
alone. To linger where we stood, almost in mid-air, was not pleasant;
to return to the edge of the cliff and await her there, seemed a
useless task. Why should we not continue to descend, as she must soon
overtake us? I could read in the proud face of Lady Estelle, as we
paused on that ladder of rock, with her soft and beautiful hand in
mine, that she felt in a little dilemma. So did I, but my heart beat
happily; to have her so entirely to myself, even for ten minutes, was
a source of joy.
While lingering thus, I gradually led our conversation up to the point
I wished, by talking of my too probable speedy departure for another
land; of the happy days like the present, which I should never forget;
of herself. My lips trembled as my heart seemed to rise to them; and
forgetting the perilous place in which we stood, and remembering only
that her hand was clasped in mine, I began to look into her face with
an expression of love and tenderness which she could not mistake; for
her gaze soon became averted, her bosom heaved, and her colour came
and went; and so, as the minutes fled, we were all unaware that Dora
had not yet returned; that the sultry afternoon had begun to darken as
heavy dun clouds rolled up from the seaward, and the air become filled
with electricity; and that a sound alleged to be distant thunder had
been heard at Craigaderyn Court, causing some of the guests to
prepare, for departure, despite Sir Madoc's assurances that no rain
would fall, as the glass had been rising.
Dora was long in returning; so long that, instead of waiting or
retracing our steps, proceeding hand in hand, and more than once Lady
Estelle having to lean on my shoulder for support, we continued to
descend the path in the face of the cliff--a path that ultimately led
us into a terrible catastrophe.