A change was, however, quickly to take place in the situation--Randall,
the other lover, appeared on the scene, and his coming acted like a
flash of sunshine. He was a gay, handsome, debonair-looking young
fellow. He had good teeth, good eyes, a genial smile, a hearty manner.
His voice was musical, and he knew well how to use it. He nodded
carelessly to one or two acquaintances when he entered the room, and
then came straight to Miss Farnham's table.
She shook hands with him, and he nodded a cheerful good morning to
Carleton and me.
"That is right," he said, smiling brightly at the handsome girl; "you
promised to reserve a seat for me at this table, and I see you have
kept your word. Have you done breakfast, Carleton?"
"I had something an hour ago," replied Carleton.
Randall went to a sideboard to help himself to a generous portion of
a dish which was being kept hot with a spirit lamp. On his return our
conversation became gayer and more lively than ever.
I must confess that I saw nothing to object to in Miss Farnham's
manners. I could not imagine why Brabazon spoke of her as a dangerous
witch. She tried to be polite to both men--or rather, she was polite
without effort, but there was not a trace of the flippant in her manner
or bearing. Her beauty was undoubtedly of a remarkable order. Her eyes
were her most striking characteristic. There was a great deal of red
in their brown, which was further accentuated by the red brown of her
long eyelashes. The eyes were capable of every shade of expression, and
could be at times as eloquent and as full of meaning as those of that
bewitching creature, the collie. Her eyebrows were dark and delicately
pencilled. Her hair was tawny in shade--she had quantities of it, and
she wore it picturesquely round her stately, statuesque head. In some
lights that brilliantly coloured hair looked as if a sunbeam had been
imprisoned in it. Her complexion was of a warm, creamy whiteness. Her
figure was slight and graceful. But for her eyes she might have been
simply remarked as a handsome girl; but those eyes made her beautiful,
and lifted her completely out of the commonplace.
We had nearly finished breakfast, when I was startled by seeing Randall
suddenly press his hand to his eyes, and turn so white that I thought
he was going to lose consciousness. He recovered himself almost
immediately, however, and so completely, that no one else remarked the
circumstance. Miss Farnham rose from the breakfast-table.
"I am going to ride with you, Dr. Halifax," she said, nodding brightly
to me. "I shall come downstairs in my habit in half an hour."
She was crossing the room to speak to some of the other guests when
Carleton came up to her.
"I want to say something to you," he said--"can we go to some room
where we shall be quite undisturbed?"
His words were distinctly audible, not only to me, but to several other
people in the room.
Randall in particular heard them, and I could see that he was waiting
anxiously for the reply.
"I want to ride this morning. I have no time for private confidences,"
replied Miss Farnham, in a distinctly vexed tone.
"I won't keep you long," replied Carleton--"what I have to say is of
great importance, at least to me."
"I will give you ten minutes after lunch; will that suffice?"
"Five minutes now will do better. I am very much in earnest when I make
this request."
"Very well," said Miss Farnham, in a light tone; "importunate people
generally have their way. Come into the conservatory--there is a rose
there on which I have set my heart; it is too high for me to reach."
She left the room as she spoke, and Carleton quickly followed her. As
they disappeared, I noticed more than one guest looking significantly
after them. Carleton's pluck was distinctly approved of--I could see
that by the expression on some of the ladies' faces and one, as she
passed close to Randall's side, was heard to murmur, audibly:--
"Faint heart never won fair lady."
Randall came up to me and asked me to join him in a smoke on the
balcony. As we walked up and down, he talked cheerfully, and, whatever
anxiety he may inwardly have felt, was careful not to betray a trace of
it.
In less than half an hour Miss Farnham joined us. She was in a dark
brown riding-habit, which toned perfectly with her rich and peculiar
colouring. Her spirits were gay, not to say wild, and the warm, creamy
whiteness of her face seemed to glow now as if with hidden fire.
"Are you not ready for your ride?" she said, looking at me with a
certain reproach. "The horses will be round in less than ten minutes.
It is a splendid morning for a gallop. You are coming, too?" she added,
turning suddenly to Randall.
"I only waited for you to invite me," he said. "Of course I shall come,
with pleasure. But I thought," he added, in a low tone, coming close to
her side as he spoke, "that you arranged to ride with Ronald Carleton
this morning?"
"That is off," she replied, in a light tone. "Mr. Carleton has, I
believe, another engagement."
The balcony on which we were walking led round to one of the entrances
to the house; at this moment a groom was seen leading a smart mare up
to the door, and at the same instant Carleton ran down the steps, and
sprang lightly into the saddle.
"Where are you off to?" exclaimed Randall, bending out of the balcony
to speak to him. "Miss Farnham, Dr. Halifax, and I are all going out
immediately. Won't you join us?"
"Not this morning, I think," said Carleton, constraint in his tone. He
gathered up the reins, and the mare began to prance about.
"You are holding her too much on the curb," exclaimed Randall.
"Thanks, I think I know what I'm about," replied Carleton, with evident
temper. "Quiet, you brute, quiet," he continued, vainly endeavouring to
restrain the movements of the impatient animal.
"I tell you, that mare won't stand the curb," shouted Randall. "Give
her her head, and she'll do anything you ask her. I know, for I've
often ridden her."
"When I require a riding lesson from you, I'll inform you of the
fact," answered Carleton, in a sulky voice, which was rendered almost
ridiculous by the frantic movements of the mare, now thoroughly upset.
Miss Farnham, who had been standing in the background, came up at this
juncture, and took her place conspicuously by Randall's side.
"Mr. Randall is right and you are wrong," she exclaimed. "It is
absolutely cruel to ride that mare on the curb."
Carleton looked up with a scowl, which anything but improved him. He
would not even glance at Miss Farnham, but his eyes flashed an angry
fire at his more fortunate rival.
[Illustration: "CARLETON LOOKED UP WITH A SCOWL."]
"Of course, Randall is right," he exclaimed. "All the odds are in his
favour."
"Nonsense," retorted Randall, with heat.
"Come, come, gentlemen, pray don't quarrel on this lovely morning,"
said Miss Farnham. "Mr. Carleton, I wish you a pleasant ride."
She left the balcony as she spoke, and Randall and I immediately
followed her example.
We had a splendid ride over an extensive moorland country, and returned
to lunch in excellent spirits and in high good humour with each other.
Carleton had not yet come back, but his absence did not seem to depress
anyone, certainly not Miss Farnham, whose bright eyes and gay, animated
manner made her the life of the party. Randall was radiant in the
sunshine of her presence. She was confidential and almost affectionate
in her manner to him: and he undoubtedly looked, and was, at his best.
I could not help cordially liking him and thinking that the pair were
well matched. Notwithstanding Brabazon's words of the night before, I
had no doubt that Miss Farnham was sincerely attached to Randall, and
would tell him so presently.
I spent the greater part of the afternoon alone with my host, and did
not see the rest of the guests until we met at dinner. Carleton had
then returned. He sat between a red-haired girl and a very fat old
lady, and looked as _distrait_ and bored as man well could. Randall, on
the other hand, was in his best form. His clothes sat well on him. He
was, undoubtedly, a handsome, striking-looking man.
I cannot describe Miss Farnham's dress. It was ethereal in texture
and suited her well. She was not seated in the neighbourhood of
either Randall or Carleton, but once or twice I noticed that her eyes
wandered down to their part of the table. For some reason, she was not
in such high spirits as she had been in the early part of the day. My
neighbour, a quiet, middle-aged spinster, began suddenly to talk to me
about her.
"I see you are interested in Barbara Farnham," she began. "I am not the
least surprised--you but follow the example of all the other men who
know her."
"Miss Farnham is a very beautiful girl." I replied.
Miss Derrick gave a short sigh.
"Yes," she replied, "Barbara has a beautiful face. She is a fine
creature too, although of course terribly spoilt."
"Have you known her long?" I asked.
"Yes; since she was a child. Of course you must notice, Dr. Halifax,
the state of matters. Barbara's conduct is more or less the talk of
the whole house. I presume from his manner that poor Mr. Carleton's
chances of success are quite over, and for my part I am sorry. He is
not rich, but he is a good fellow--he is devotedly attached to Barbara,
and his abilities are quite above the average. Yes, I am sorry for Mr.
Carleton. Barbara might have done worse than return his affection."
I did not feel inclined to pursue the subject any further with this
somewhat garrulous lady. After a pause, I remarked:--
"Miss Farnham looks tired, and does not seem in her usual spirits."
Miss Derrick shrugged her thin shoulders.
"What else can you expect?" she answered. "Barbara is a creature
of moods. She was quite _exaltée_ all the morning; now she will be
correspondingly dull, until a fresh wave of excitement raises her
spirits."
At this moment the signal for the ladies to withdraw was given. After
their departure, Carleton and Randall found themselves sitting close
together. I noticed that neither man spoke to the other, and also
observed that after a time Carleton deliberately changed his seat for
one at a distant part of the table.
[Illustration: "CARLETON DELIBERATELY CHANGED HIS SEAT."]
We did not sit long over wine, and when we came into the drawing-room
a lady was playing some classical music with precision and sufficient
brilliancy to attract several musical men to the vicinity of the
piano. Her place was quickly taken by the droll man of the party, who
entertained the company with comic songs. The evening dragged on in the
usual manner. For some unaccountable reason no one seemed quite in good
spirits. As for me, I found myself constantly looking in the direction
of the door. I heartily wished that either Carleton or Randall would
come in--I acknowledged to myself that the presence of one at least of
these gentlemen in the room would give me relief.
An hour and more passed away, however, and neither of them appeared.
I glanced towards Miss Farnham. She was standing near the piano, idly
playing with a large feather fan. I thought I read both solicitude and
expectation in her eyes.
The funny man was trolling out a sea-song to which a lively chorus was
attached. Brabazon came up and touched my arm.
"When that is over," he said, in a low voice, "I will ask Barbara
Farnham to sing."
"Can she sing?" I asked.
"Can she!" he reiterated. "Yes, she sings," he replied, emphatically.
"Wait--you will hear her in a moment. Her voice is the most absolutely
sympathetic I have ever listened to."
Soon afterwards Miss Farnham went to the piano. She played her own
accompaniment. One grand sweep her hands seemed to take of the
instrument, as if they meant to embrace it, and then a voice, high,
full, sweet, magnificent in its volume of melody, rose on the air and
seemed to fill the room.
Brabazon was right, Barbara Farnham could sing. As the words fell from
her lips, there was no other sound in the listening room.
I jotted those words down afterwards from memory--they seemed to me to
be a fit prelude to the scene which was immediately to follow:--
Thou hast filled me a golden cup
With a drink divine that glows,
With the bloom that is flowing up
From the heart of the folded rose.
The grapes in their amber glow,
And the strength of the blood-red wine,
All mingle and change and flow
In this golden cup of thine
With the scent of the curling wine,
With the balm of the rose's breath--
For the voice of love is thine,
And thine is the Song of Death!
The voice of the singer sank low as she approached the end of her song.
The final words were in a minor key. I looked full at Miss Farnham,
and her dark eyes met mine. They were full of apprehension. A kind of
premonition of coming sorrow might well have filled her breast from the
look in their depths.
There was a noise and sense of confusion in the outer drawing-room.
People stood back to make way for someone, and hurrying steps came
quickly towards the piano.
Miss Farnham sprang to her feet, the last notes of the song arrested on
her lips.
Carleton, an overcoat covering his evening dress, his hair dishevelled,
his eyes wild, had come hastily to her side.
"You will think that I have killed him, Barbara; but, before God, it is
not true!" he said in a hoarse whisper--then he grasped my arm.
"Come, I want you," he said, and he dragged me, as if he were a young
fury, out of the room.
"What, in the name of Heaven, is the matter?" I asked of him when we
found ourselves in the hall.
"Randall has fallen over the cliff down by Porran's field," he gasped.
"I have found the--the body. Oh! no, no, what am I saying? Not the body
yet--not a body when I left it--it breathed--it just breathed when I
left. I tried to drag it up here, but it was too heavy. Come at once,
for the love of Heaven."
Other people had followed us out of the drawing-room. I encountered a
glance of fire from Miss Farnham's dark eyes--her face was like death
itself. Brabazon, in a tone full of authority, as befitted the host,
began to speak.
"Come!" he said. "Accident or no, there is not a moment to be lost in
trying to help the poor fellow. You will lead us to the spot at once,
Carleton. Come, Halifax; what a blessing that you happen to be on the
spot!"
"Get some brandy and something which we can improvise into a litter
or shutter," I exclaimed. "I am going to my room to fetch my surgical
case."
[Illustration: "I FELT FOR THE PULSE IN THE LIMP AND POWERLESS WRIST."]
I ran upstairs. A moment or two later we were on our way to the scene
of the accident. Every man of the party accompanied us, and several of
the ladies. The foremost of the group was Miss Farnham herself. She had
hastily flung a shawl over her head, and the train of her rich dinner
dress was slung across her arm. She looked at Carleton, and with a
peremptory gesture seemed to invite him to come to her side. He did so,
and they rushed on--too quickly for many of the rest of the party to
keep up with them.
It was a bright, moonlight night, and we had scarcely any need of the
lantern which Brabazon was thoughtful enough to bring with him. We had
to go some distance to reach the spot where poor Randall was lying, but
by-and-by we found him stretched partly on his back, partly rolled over
on his left side, on a little strip of sand which gleamed cold in the
moonlight.
"Yes, it was here I left him," exclaimed Carleton. He fell on his knees
as he spoke and looked intently into the poor lad's face.
"Thank God!" he exclaimed, looking up at me, "he can't be dead. I
dragged him as far as this, and then left him lying on his back. See,
he has moved--he is partly on his side now!"
I motioned to Carleton to make way for me to approach. I felt for
the pulse in the limp and powerless wrist. I laid my hand on the
heart--then I gently raised the head, and felt along the region of the
skull.
"You will give him a little brandy," exclaimed Brabazon; "here is the
flask."
Miss Farnham took it out of Brabazon's hands, unscrewed it, and began
to pour some into the cup. As she did so, she knelt also on the sand. I
looked at her and felt that she would probably need the stimulant which
could avail nothing now to the dead.
"It is all over," I said; "he is dead, poor fellow!"
As I spoke, I stretched out my hand and took the brandy flask from
Miss Farnham. She looked wildly round, glanced at Carleton, gave a
piercing cry, and fell forward over Randall's body. She had completely
lost consciousness. I laid her flat on the sand, and, applying some
restoratives, she quickly came to her senses.
The body of the dead man was lifted up and laid on some boards which we
had brought with us, and we returned slowly to the house. Brabazon gave
his arm to Miss Farnham, who truly needed it, for she staggered as she
walked. I looked round for Carleton. There was a wild expression in his
eyes, which made me anxious about him. I saw, too, that he wished to
linger behind the others.
"Come," I said, going up to him, "this has given you a terrible shock;
why, you are just as much overcome as Miss Farnham."
I dragged his hand through my arm, and we followed in the rear of the
sad procession. All the way up to the house he did not speak, nor did
I trouble him with questions. I saw that his misery had made him dumb
for the time being--in short, he was in a stunned condition. I dreaded,
however, the return tide of strong emotion which must inevitably
follow this apparent calm. I guessed that Carleton was a man of strong
sensibilities. I could read character well--most men in my profession
have much practice in this art. The human eye tells a doctor a good
deal. The lips may falter out certain utterances, which the eyes will
belie. I read truth and sincerity in the honest eyes of this young man.
He was intensely reserved--he was jealous to a morbid degree--he in all
probability possessed anything but a good temper; nevertheless, his
eyes were honest, and I felt certain that he had nothing whatever to do
with poor Randall's death. Nevertheless, I knew well that appearances
were strongly against him.