EVELINE'S SUITOR.
'Verily,' says a writer, 'we miss our opportunities, and live our
lives as if they were all to come twice over; not as if each passing
sunset brought us nearer that day when the pulse must cease to beat,
and the heart with all its emotions must be stilled for ever.'
Olive was now experiencing the truth of this to a certain extent.
She had been--in spite of herself--touched by Allan's earnestness,
and on retiring to her room her first act was to have his neglected
gift--the little silver idol--the bequest of the grateful
subadar--duly installed on a pretty Swiss bracket, and next morning
she determined to discover why his manner, after their return from
Dunsinane, had been so marked and disagreeable to her, even if she
should take the initiative, and have to recur to the conversation
which ended so abruptly on the preceding evening.
She entered the breakfast-room full of the subject, and dressed--so
far as lace and blue ribbons went--in a most attractive and
coquettish morning costume; but Allan was not there--he was at the
stables, no doubt, or at the kennel. How tiresome men were, she
thought.
'Good morning, Olive darling! how charming you look--I must
positively give you a kiss!' exclaimed the not usually effusive Lady
Aberfeldie, touching the girl's cheek with her lips.
The last to appear at the breakfast-table was her husband, who
entered with a note in his hand, and an expression of surprise on his
face.
'Here is a strange thing, Eveline,' said he to Lady Aberfeldie.
'Tappleton has just brought me this note from Allan----'
'From Allan!' exclaimed one or two voices.
'Stating that he would leave by dawn this morning to take the train
for the south, and might be absent some time, and this without
further explanation.'
'How odd--how unlike him!' exclaimed Lady Aberfeldie. 'Do you know
of any business engagement or invitation he had?'
'No--I know of nothing.'
'Or you, Olive--or you, Mr. Cameron?'
All professed ignorance, and the matter was canvassed by the family
circle in vain.
'It will be explained, of course. Allan never acts without reason,'
said his father, addressing himself to the morning meal.
'Allan gone--how odd--how unaccountable!' was the thought of Olive,
whose heart rather reproached her; and now, for a little time, she
missed the handsome cousin whom she had so teased, worried, and
mortified; and she began to dread that he had resigned his leave of
absence, and gone abruptly to rejoin his regiment.
'Olive,' said Lady Aberfeldie, 'do go on with your breakfast.'
'Oh, auntie, I have finished.'
'Finished!--child, you have taken nothing: Tappleton will get you a
little grouse-pie.'
'Oh, no--thanks,' replied Olive, and, rising from the table, she
quitted the room. The eyes of her aunt and Holcroft followed her, as
each had thoughts of their own.
The love the latter professed for her was destitute of jealousy, but
was not without fear; and his face just then would have been a
picture had anyone cared to study it.
There might have been read satisfaction that by Allan's unexpected
departure he had the field all to himself; annoyance, for the
Dundargue despatch-box often brought him, and on this morning had
done so, epistles in blue envelopes, which he cared not to receive;
greed, as he thought of the prize that might yet be his; and hot
impatience to find it in his grasp; and thus, while affecting to
listen to Lord Aberfeldie, who was describing to him and Sir Paget a
cover they were to shoot over that day, his mind was revolving how he
might succeed in entrapping Olive Raymond into some kind of Scotch
marriage (whatever that was) in fun, or jest, and then declare it was
a true and solemn ceremony. He thought he had heard of such things
being tried and done, but was not quite certain.
However, he took fresh courage now that he would have her all to
himself, and thought, with Bulwer, that 'thrones and bread man wins
by the aid of others. Fame and woman's heart he can only gain
through himself.'
Not that he cared much for fame or woman's heart either; but he could
mightily appreciate her fortune.
Whatever was the secret thought of Olive about the sudden and
unexpected departure of Allan, she felt some renewal of her pique,
but of a different kind, when told by Eveline of the magnificent
suite of Maltese ornaments he had brought home.
'For whom?' she asked.
'You, of course.'
'Then he has never offered them for my acceptance.'
'Think of your manner to him, Olive.'
'They are for Ruby Logan more likely. He has met Ruby before, we all
know.'
'I should not be surprised if they become a gift to Ruby now,'
replied Eveline, who was quietly provoked by Olive's treatment of her
brother; 'though, when he got these jewels at Malta, I question if he
knew of that yellow-haired damsel's existence.'
And now, greatly to the vexation of Eveline, and the amusement
perhaps of Olive, the latter's bangle remained on the wrist of the
enterprising Mr. Holcroft, though none of them knew the mischief that
the discovery of it had wrought in the mind of Allan Graham; but in
the latter's absence poor little Eveline was doomed to
have--unsupported by his presence and advice--some heavy trouble of
her own.
Lord and Lady Aberfeldie were in consultation in the latter's
boudoir, a little, old-fashioned room of octagonal shape, the
panelled walls of which were hung with rich silk--a sanctum long
sacred to the Chatelaines of Dundargue, and the whole appurtenances
of which had that combined air of ease, repose, and grandeur peculiar
to the furniture of an ancient and long-descended race.
Kelpie--a currish-looking terrier, but her ladyship's pet--had got
his morning repast of cream and macaroons from her own white hands,
and, this important duty over, she and her husband began to converse
on family matters.
Lady Aberfeldie amid these, indulged in some angry surmises as to how
long they were 'to have the society of Mr. Holcroft.'
'I cannot say that I care much personally for Hawke Holcroft,'
replied her husband; 'but his father, as you know, saved my life at
Alma, and won therefore the V.C. I have told you, Eveline, I think,
that when Colin Campbell's Highland brigade advanced in _echelon_ of
regiments along the Kourgané Hill, the Black Watch, of course, led
the way, and, just about the time the Russian Kazan column broke, no
particular sound had followed our firing but the yells of their
wounded ringing through the smoke. With the next volley we heard a
rattling sound, as our bullets fell like hail upon the tin-kettles
they carried outside their knapsacks, as all the great grey-coated
blocks of infantry were _right about face_ now, in full retreat. It
was just then, as our calvary and guns swept after them in pursuit,
that I fell wounded, and would have been bayoneted on the spot by
four Russians, who lay among some caper bushes shamming death, had
not old Major Holcroft cut them down like ninepins, and protected me
till some of our fellows returned. I cannot forget all that, you
know.'
Lady Aberfeldie, who had heard all this fifty times at least before,
sighed with impatience, and said,
'His son certainly appears to have some attraction for Olive; and
what would you think if Allan, repelled by her, was actually to fall
in love with Ruby Logan and her amber locks? What a complication
that might be.'
'Don't suggest such a thing for a moment. I hope he will prove
himself every way worthy of one who has so long occupied, like
Eveline, the place of a daughter in our hearts.'
'Talking of Eveline, it is high time she was informed of Sir Paget's
views and wishes; and while on the subject may I ask,' she added,
with some asperity of tone, 'how long Mr. Cameron is to be here?'
'A week yet, and then he must report himself at head-quarters.'
'A whole week?' muttered lady Aberfeldie, who was far from
inhospitable when she approved of the objects to whom she thought
hospitality should be extended.
'I do like Stratherroch. He is like his father, old Angus of the
Cameron Highlanders, yet not so lively; for Angus was the king of
good fellows, and used to keep the mess-table in a roar.'
'Yet I would his son were with the regiment again, or anywhere else
but here.'
'I think he admires Eveline.'
'I am certain of it, and the sooner their intimacy terminates the
better. Eveline and Strath--good heavens!' exclaimed Lady
Aberfeldie, with her white jewelled hands uplifted, 'never again must
their names be mingled, even in our family circle, especially under
pending circumstances.'
'They do seem intimate,' said the peer, moodily; 'but have not at
least progressed so far as the use of Christian names.'
'That would be intolerable:' and, ringing the bell, Lady Aberfeldie
desired a servant to summon her daughter, who appeared in a very
coquettish and becoming lawn-tennis costume, for a game on the lawn,
where the courts were already set and some friends awaited.
She entered with a bright smile, which soon died away, for she read
an expression in the faces of her parents, especially that of her
mother, which seemed to her sensitive heart prophetic of evil.
If it be true, as Madame be Stael asserts, that 'love occupies the
whole life of a woman,' it need not be a matter of surprise that the
sex can discover each other's love secrets with ease; thus, though
Lady Aberfeldie fully suspected what filled the heart of her
daughter--so closely had she watched her--she was somewhat pitiless
now.
With all her queenly manner and soft grace, her unexceptional
toilettes and suavity of manner, Lady Aberfeldie had a will of iron,
yea, of adamant in some things, and her daughter's marriage with Sir
Paget was one of them.
She was told plainly and bluntly that he had proposed for her hand;
had asked permission to address her on the subject; had offered
magnificent--yea, princely settlements; and it was expected the
marriage would take place, when the family returned to London, next
season.
The long dreaded cloud had burst upon her at last!
She grew white as a lily on hearing this sentence, clung to a console
table for support, and then burst into a torrent of tears, while her
father drew her tenderly towards him.
'Be calm, child,' said he, 'we shall give you plenty of time to think
about it; marriage is a serious thing at all times.'
Eveline thought it was doubly serious with such a bridegroom, but
could only sob, while her mother eyed her gloomily, as she thought
this excessive grief and repugnance augured worse for her scheme than
indignation or defiance would have done; but poor Eveline was all
softness and gentleness.
'What folly is this?' she asked.
'I am your only daughter, mamma,' urged Eveline.
'Hence it is your first duty to your family, to yourself, and the
world to make an early, eligible, and wealthy marriage. Every season
brings many such to pass in our own circle.'
'Are we so poor, mamma?'
'We are not rich, and know not what may happen.'
Did Lady Aberfeldie speak prophetically? If so, it was an utterance
made unawares.
'Eveline darling,' said her father, 'you were content enough with the
attentions of Sir Paget, and to accept even his presents in London, a
season or two ago.'
'I was but a girl then fresh from school, and--and joined other girls
in laughing at my having an old lover. I--I knew no better,' she
continued, sobbing.
'And had not met Cameron of Stratherroch!' said her mother through
her set teeth, and quite forgetting the _rôle_ she had so recently
suggested.
'No,' thought Eveline, 'and had not learned to love him.' She
shivered as if she had been struck when her mother spoke, and then
said, with all the firmness she could assume.
'You must mistake us in some way, mamma. Mr. Cameron has never
addressed a word to me that he might not have addressed to yourself.'
'I am glad of it--then I shall taunt you with his name no more,' said
her mother, kissing her forehead. 'People generally, but young
ladies especially, should never indulge in strong emotions.'
'Perhaps, mamma; but why?'
'They age the face so much by lining it.'
Eveline covered with her handkerchief her whole sweet face, which was
quivering with emotion now. She felt that the romance of her young
girl's life was quite passing from her, and that, even if she escaped
a marriage with Sir Paget, she must think of Evan Cameron and his
silent love no more!
'Think of Sir Paget's princely settlements,' said Lord Aberfeldie.
'But how difficult it is,' he added, as if to himself, 'to imbue a
woman--a pretty girl more than all--with any idea of the seriousness
of pounds, shillings, and pence! To her they are as the sands upon
the seashore, unless she has known want.'
'Do reflect on all this, Eveline,' urged her mother.
'I cannot; and why should I do so?'
'Because most of the great evils of life might be avoided if we would
only take time to reflect.'
'In a matter like this, mamma,' said Eveline, taking courage from her
desperation, and hoping by temporising to gain, at least, time,
'reflection might lead to madness. Can wealth or princely
settlements make up for that disparity of years which will excite
ridicule in all the girls who know me, and cover me with contempt as
a mean, sordid, and covetous creature in marrying a man I do not and
can never love, and who cannot really care for me, whatever he may
think or say? So, so, I am to be taken to market, as it were, and
sold to the best advantage. That is the plain English of it!'
'Eveline, how can you adopt a tone so little like you?' said her
mother, reproachfully. 'Sir Paget will be sure to address you on
this subject, as he has your papa's permission, and, when he does so,
be sure that you comport yourself as becomes my daughter,' she added,
rather haughtily, and rather ignoring her husband in the matter.
'But go; I hear Olive and Miss Logan calling for you.'
Eveline hurried away, bathed her eyes, and then, hat in hand,
descended from the terrace to the sunny lawn, where Olive, Ruby, and
other girls were flitting about, radiant with smiles and in
gaily-coloured costumes, with saucy and bewitching hats, talking and
laughing merrily; but the girl felt as one in a dream, a nightmare.
A dark cloud seemed to envelop her, amid which she heard the voices
of her friends, and it may be imagined with what emotions in her
breast she saw in the tennis-court opposite her, Cameron, looking so
handsome in a kind of athlete's flannel dress, and the rotund figure
of Sir Paget in a tight morning coat, out of the neck of which his
round, shining head was jerked ever and anon in the turtle fashion we
have described.
Never while she lived, Eveline thought, should she forget the horror
she had of that game of lawn-tennis; the part she had to act in it
under a glorious sunshine, and the desire she had for the seclusion
of her own room, for by contrast with the chaos in her own heart the
whole bright scene became a species of grim phantasmagoria.
Her heart seemed full of tears; her naturally buoyant and happy
spirit was crushed. She dared hardly trust herself to address even
Cameron, who saw, with a lover's instinct, that something, he knew
not what (unless with reference to Sir Paget), had gone decidedly
wrong.
We have already adverted to the strong passion an elderly swain like
Sir Paget may conceive for a young girl; and, encouraged by her
parents' permission, he was now giving full swing to it, as he
watched her slender, lithe, and willowy figure in the various
postures incident to the game, which tested his powers of action
severely, and during a pause in it he approached her with a smile
rippling on his rubicund old face, and displaying a set of teeth that
were first-rate as to cost and quality.
'My dear Miss Graham,' he said, with a most insinuating jerk of his
head, 'why do you avoid me?'
'I am not aware that I avoid you; I hope I don't do so,' replied
Eveline, colouring with annoyance, and at the conviction that she
certainly had done so. Then, as a kind of hunted feeling came over
her, she added; 'but I do not think, Sir Paget, that I am bound to
account to you for all I do.'
'Of course not,' said he, with a bow, and Eveline coloured more
deeply at the ungraciousness of her own speech; 'of course not, my
dear young lady--_as yet_,' he added, under his breath.
At last she pleaded illness, fatigue, and headache, threw down her
hat, and fairly fled to her own room.