EAGLESCRAIG ONCE MORE.
Mary, in the general's snug and well-appointed old family carriage,
with a stately hammer-cloth and heraldically bedecked panels, awaited
Annabelle at the railway station; and though expecting Leslie
Fotheringhame at the same time, and quite prepared to welcome him
warmly as Cecil's friend and whilom brother officer, and though not
surprised to see him arrive, she was certainly surprised to find that
he and Annabelle had come _together_, and clapped her little ungloved
hands merrily, as she received them, in a childlike way that almost
provoked the latter, who was a proud and rather reserved girl.
She coloured deeply and with positive vexation, even under the eye of
her dearest friend, for thus arriving at the same time, by the same
train, and in the same carriage, with Leslie Fotheringhame; and this
emotion made her more shy, more resentful to him apparently, and more
resolved to keep as much as possible aloof from him.
And he, piqued by this, of which he was speedily conscious, conceived
a vague and direful jealousy of some person as yet unknown, and it
coloured his manner accordingly.
For the first time, on this occasion, he saw fully the soft fair face
of Annabelle, as she raised her veil, and her velvet-like lips met
those of Mary. Would they ever touch his again?
The weather was duly discussed, and the advent of Snarley gave them
something to talk of, as that much-petted cur was nestling cosily
under the skin of a man-eater that would have gobbled him up at a
mouthful; and he now welcomed both with much yelping and effusiveness.
Mary felt the situation of her friends to be an awkward one, and
exerted herself to make both feel at ease, as they drove under the
evening sunshine to Eaglescraig, where both were welcomed by Sir
Piers in the grand old dining-hall, the oak panels of which were
nearly hidden by ancestral portraits, and from the tall windows of
which there was a noble view of mountain and coppice, of rocky cliffs
and the far-stretching Firth of the dark blue Clyde; and at the elbow
of the host stood old Tunley, with a silver salver of decanters and
glasses.
'Too late for tiffin and too early for dinner, Fotheringhame,' said
the general; 'just a nip to keep the cold out, and then the
dressing-bell will ring, and Tunley will see that you are attended
to.'
Tunley, like most of the old servants, many of whom had been born on
the estate, had but one creed--the welfare of the family of
Eaglescraig. Their sorrow had been sincere when 'Master Piers come
to evil,' with his father; and it had been renewed now by the strange
story of Cecil, which had, of course, taken a powerful hold of their
fancies; thus he and they all viewed the advent of Fotheringhame with
the deepest interest, believing that he was in some mysterious way to
restore the wanderer to his home, and was, indeed, but the forerunner
of that event.
One word more about Tunley. The poor man felt ashamed of one feature
in his past blameless life, and daily intercourse with the general
and Mrs. Garth made him feel it keenly; for this most respectable of
British butlers had never served, even for an hour, in the
Cameronians, and this he deemed somewhat of a blot upon his scutcheon.
'Mrs. Captain Garth, of course, you remember,' said the general to
Fotheringhame (who was imbibing a liqueur glass of mountain-dew),
indicating the old lady, who was seated in an easy-chair, holding a
hand-screen to shield her face from the glow of the fire; 'widow of
my old friend Garth of Ours--and now, I think, we all know each
other.'
Sir Piers had some vague idea that there had been a flirtation--a
lovers' quarrel, or some such folly--between Leslie Fotheringhame and
Annabelle Errol; but that was nothing to the old man--they would
square it, no doubt, if they were so disposed. And he thought only
of making welcome his guest--a Cameronian too!--friend of his
grandson, who had been so horribly used; and as for Annabelle, Mary
would look after her.
Dinner duly came, and passed with the usual commonplace conversation;
the presence of the servants precluding all from talking freely, and
conversing on the matter nearest their hearts--the volunteer in
Servia. But Fotheringhame, from his place by Mary's side, had but
one thought--how surpassing fair looked Annabelle! Her dress was a
plain and simple muslin one; a blue flower of some kind was amid the
masses of her golden hair, and the brother of it nestled amid the
soft lace in the swell of her bosom.
After the ladies had returned to the drawing-room, the object which
had brought him to Eaglescraig seemed half forgotten for a time, and
his thoughts had followed her; but now the hospitable general was
pushing the decanters to and fro; Tunley had withdrawn; and anon
Fotheringhame roused himself, for he was full of joyous enthusiasm at
distinction won by his friend in a foreign service, though he
cordially wished that he had never been driven to seek it there--a
service in which he had been driven by desperation to seek a new
home; and Fotheringhame quite won the heart of the general, who
now--in all that Cecil had done and achieved--was assured that he saw
but the reflection and reproduction of his own character, vaguely
known as 'a chip of the old block,' and that it was from him that
Cecil inherited all this fire and spirit. He became quite jovial,
and ere the evening was over began to sing, in a very quavering
treble, snatches of 'the old Subadahr.'
'At the mess, we knew not what to think of his disappearance,' said
Fotheringhame, playing with his walnuts; 'some hinted of California
and the Rocky Mountains, others of Ballarat, the Diamond Fields of
Natal, the Cape war and the Zulus, and everywhere else that the
desperate and the broken----'
'The desperate and the broken!' sighed the general, setting down an
untasted glass.
'Yes, Sir Piers--go to mend their fortunes, to seek excitement,
oblivion, and too often to end their lives; but certainly no man
among us ever thought of Servia!'
'It was most kind of you to volunteer this visit, Fotheringhame, to
assist me with your advice and knowledge of a European world that is
somewhat new to me now,' said Sir Piers, grasping his hand.
'Not at all, Sir Piers; I would do anything to serve Cecil. I
thought two heads might be better than one; I am younger and more
active than you--
'But, egad, I have seen the day!'
'And so, I thought, we must talk the matter over at leisure, yet
without delay.'
'All right--the decanters stand with you. And now, Fotheringhame,
you are aware of how he was a victim of a vile scheme--how his wine
was drugged by a scoundrel whose attested confession I possess?'
Aware of how deep had once been the general's interest in Mr. Hew
Caddish Montgomerie, Fotheringhame merely bowed an assent; and, after
a few minutes' silence, inquired where he was now?
'None know, and none care,' replied the general, hotly; 'he has
disappeared altogether--let us hope for ever. But if life lasts me,
by the Heaven that hears me, I shall set the honour of my boy right
and clear before the regiment, the Horse Guards, and the world, or
lay my commission at the foot of the throne!'
'In an affair of jealousy----'
'Jealousy!' exclaimed the general, with a fierce grimace; 'we settled
these, and other affairs, differently in my time, before the service
went to the dogs. Egad! I knew a fellow, when I was a sub at
Vellore, who was shot for declining to dine at a certain mess-table.
Did you ever hear the story?'
'No, general!'
'Well, you see, it happened in this way,' began Sir Piers, who,
having obtained an audience, fell back at once into his old Indian
train of thought. 'We were cantonned at Nussirabad, in the wild
black province of Ajmir, with the 76th Bengal Native Infantry, when
there came from England, to join that corps, a Captain Evelyn, a
quiet and gentlemanly young fellow, whom all liked, save some of the
76th, who, sooth to say, were nearly all fiery rackety Irishmen, and
by no means good examples of the Emerald Isle; for cards,
brandy-pawnee, and incessant uproar were the order of the day, and of
the night too, in every bungalow in their lines, generally finishing
at a very late hour by breaking each other's heads with the
billiard-cues, and shying the balls out of the windows; while they
were born-devils at pig-sticking, horse-racing, and not a pretty ayah
was safe within ten coss of them. Such were the officers of the
_Moriartie-ka-Pultan_, for the corps had been raised by an Irishman,
and bore his name.
'Evelyn declined to join their mess, not on that account, but because
he wished to live economically, being engaged to a young lady who was
coming up country, chaperoned by Mrs. Erroll, the mother of Mary's
friend, then a young and lovely matron--a mere girl in fact, and
travelling _dawk_, as we all did in those days; and with the utmost
politeness he explained all this to the president of the mess
committee. That personage, a certain Captain Darby O'Dowd, swore
that this was a distinct affront to the whole corps, and that Evelyn
must be paraded about gunfire. The mess consisted of sixteen, and as
he could not fight them all, they leisurely cast lots, and the task
fell to O'Dowd, who challenged Evelyn, with the intimation that if
he--the valiant Darby--fell, the next in seniority would take his
place.
'Evelyn was too high-spirited to decline this outrageous challenge,
and they met at gunfire, in the open plain, while the sun was as yet
below the hills of Ajmir. I remember it all as if it were yesterday,
for I had the mainguard.
'Evelyn, thinking, no doubt, of the girl who was far away, and whom
he might never see again, standing with his second, worthy John Garth
of Ours, pale and sad, yet resolute in aspect, on one hand; on the
other, O'Dowd, with his second, a Captain O'Spudd, and all the mess
of the 76th, anxious to have their turn in the shooting, grouped
close by, and pale and bloated enough they looked in the cold, half
light of the unrisen sun as it stole across the plain, and all shaky
enough with their over-night potations.
'"Having no personal injury to redress, gentlemen, I decline to
fire," exclaimed Evelyn, in a loud, firm voice.
'"Plaze yourself, me boy," replied the relentless O'Dowd as he fired;
and, shot through the heart, poor Evelyn fell dead on his face!
'Even in those days there was a devil of a row about this remarkable
duel, and it was a close shave with O'Dowd escaping being hung for
it; but a verdict of "Not guilty" was returned, and he was killed
soon after in action by a grape-shot; and O'Spudd died of a sunstroke
in the jungle, and was buried there in his blanket.'
The general followed up this by many other stories, all more or less
bloodthirsty, till his guest became somewhat silent--bored by them,
no doubt; and then he said:
'Fotheringhame, the sherry stands with you--just "a white washer,"
and then we shall join the ladies.'