THE GUEST.
If Colonel Banyon's visit was brief, it was merry: it was filled from
end to end with laughter, talk, and story. The Colonel had, naturally,
a thousand anecdotes to tell, and a still greater number of questions
to answer. Though a hero, he was neither a reticent nor a shamefaced
one. He enjoyed what he was heartily. He had lived a successful,
daring, reckless, honourable life, and was accustomed to look back
over the past and forward to the future with equal satisfaction and
cheerfulness. He gave a very vivid and entertaining picture of his
recent Indian experiences, and when, at length, he declared that it was
time for him to be off, Mrs. Chepstow could not conceal her chagrin:
her pretty under-lip trembled, and tears stood in her eyes.
'You will be back soon, cousin?' she said piteously.
'In ten days, if I live so long,' he declared.
'Live ten days! What do you mean?'
'Nothing, upon my soul!' laughed the Colonel. 'They say, though, that
when folks have been so merry as we have been this evening, calamity
is nigh. And since I have been the merriest, it would be fair to infer
that it's to me the calamity is nighest.'
'Don't talk so! you make me shudder!' exclaimed Mrs. Chepstow, hiding
her face in her hands. 'And last night I dreamt I saw you dead!'
'Well, if I die, it will be my own fault,' returned the Colonel, still
with the sparkle of laughter in his blue eyes.
'You ride armed, I trust,' put in Sir Norman. 'With such a treasure
beneath your jacket, you should make your account for a highwayman or
two.'
'I always keep one or two of these fellows about me,' said the other,
showing the butt of a small pistol. 'Not that I should think of
shooting a highwayman; poor devils, they have a hard enough time of it
without that! No, I keep my pistols in case of accidents; and accidents
are what never happen in civilised countries.'
'May none happen to you, at all events!' said Lady Kildhurm kindly.
'Thanks, noble lady,' replied the warrior, kissing her hand. 'Thanks
and farewell! Farewell, my dearest cousin. You shall have the jewels
back again as soon as the deftest of lapidaries can get them in order
for you. Farewell, Sir Norman: my best acknowledgments for your
hospitality.'
'Our parting shall not be yet,' said Sir Norman. 'I will saddle
my mare and ride beside you for a mile or two. The road you must
travel skirts the cliff, and in parts is dangerous to an unfamiliar
tread, especially at nightfall. After seeing you safely past those
treacherous spots, I can leave you with a better conscience.'
'I shall be heartily glad of your companionship, I need not say,' was
the Colonel's answer. 'As to cliffs, however, I am not unaccustomed to
them.'
He again took leave of the ladies, and followed Sir Norman down the
stairs, and across the courtyard to the stables, where each man led
out and saddled his own horse. The old gardener always made a point of
retiring to his quarters at sunset.
'That storm you spoke of still holds off,' remarked the Colonel.
'It will overtake us before daylight,' answered the Baronet.
'Sir Norman, did you ever see a man struck by lightning?'
'Never.'
'I saw it once at sea. I don't know why I happened to think of it at
this moment. There isn't lightning enough in all England, at this time
of year, to kill me. There I go again, hinting at my own death! That
sweet cousin of mine seems to have put foolish notions into my head.
However, if anything is to happen to me, I have taken care that she
shall lose nothing by it. My will is made, signed, and sealed, and both
the jewels and all other wealth that I have got go to her.'
'Let us hope that you may find a better way of endowing her with your
worldly goods than by bequeathing them to her,' said Sir Norman,
smiling.
'It lies with her, and I think she likes me,' returned the Colonel,
twisting his moustachios. 'But though I'm little enough afraid of most
things, and by no means as blind as a mole either, I'm blessed if I
dare to ask her whether she'll marry me, because I can't see quite
clearly enough into her heart. However, all in good time! Perhaps the
glitter of the gems may serve to throw some light upon the question.'
Sir Norman nodded, but he made no reply.
They were now riding along a narrow and rocky road, within sight of the
sea, and following the line of the coast southward. There was as yet no
wind, but the waves were breaking with a hollow, rhythmical sound along
the shore, telling of some tornado a hundred miles away. There was no
moon, and the sky was in great part overcast with clouds, so that the
darkness was considerable. The riders could see no more of each other
than their black outlines, as they rode along side by side. At the
distance of about a mile from Kildhurm Tower, the coast began to rise;
and the road, instead of skirting the inland base of this eminence,
climbed up with it, and, moreover, approached so near the verge that,
in some places, it actually infringed upon it. The Colonel's military
eye did not fail to take note of this peculiarity.
'I have a better opinion of the legs of the fellows who built this road
than of their brains,' he observed. 'Did they think it was shorter to
climb up a precipice than to go round it?'
'There were two reasons why the road was made in this way,' replied the
Baronet. 'First, there is a deep morass across the inland route, which
is beyond the skill of our local engineers either to bridge over or to
fill up. Secondly, there existed, at the time the road was planned, a
convent at the highest point of the cliff; and it was deemed advisable,
in that religious age, that the way of the world should run as near as
possible to the convent door. We shall come to the ruins of the convent
very soon: and there, or thereabouts, I shall take leave of you.'
The horses scrambled up the steep ascent, Sir Norman leading the way;
and it was not until they had reached the summit that he spoke again.
'Are you a religious man, Colonel Banyon?' he abruptly asked.
The Colonel turned a surprised glance at him. 'I believe in my Saviour,
and pray to Him when I get a chance and a prayer comes into my head,'
he replied.
'If a man were about to die, I have thought that no place could be more
fitting than this from which to take a last look at the world; and from
which to offer up a last prayer to heaven, if he were that way minded.'
'I will remember your suggestion when my final hour approaches; and if
I'm in this neighbourhood perhaps I may avail myself of it. The spot
has one recommendation--that if, after all, Death made his approach
too slowly, you would need to take not more than a single step to find
yourself in his arms.'
'Yes, it is two hundred feet to the bottom, and barely three feet to
the brink!' said the Baronet. 'Death hovers within arm's length of us
as we ride.'
'He has been nearer to me than that, and yet I have snapped my fingers
at him,' returned the Colonel, laughing. 'Well, I must be on my way
again.'
'Let me lead your horse over this dangerous pass,' said Sir Norman,
dismounting from his own horse and seizing the Colonel's bridle. 'And
then, farewell indeed!'
'Have a care! What are you about?' cried Colonel Banyon, after a moment.
'Farewell!' repeated the other; and with all his strength he forced
the Colonel's horse backwards to the edge of the cliff. The rider saw
and perhaps comprehended the danger. He had not time to dismount; he
drew his pistol, and at the same time drove his spurs into the horse's
sides. The horse reared and strove to plunge forward, but it was too
late. His hind hoofs trod upon the crumbling verge of the precipice.
There was a cry, a flash and a report, and a scent of burnt powder on
the night air, which Sir Norman breathed alone.