'IDIOTS ONLY WILL BE COZENED TWICE.'
It was on an August evening--the sun had not set, but the sky was
cloudy and gloomy; the wind was high, and a heavy sea was on at
Spithead, and the conservatory in which Olive was lingering and
selecting a button-hole of violets and maiden-hair fern for Allan was
so dark already that the lamps were lighted in it. She was dressed
for a dinner-party, and was looking charming--her best and
brightest--as she sang softly to herself and wandered from one shelf
of potted flowers to another, when Allan suddenly joined her, with an
expression in his face that was full of mingled sadness and
excitement, and with a telegram in his hand.
'Allan, what has happened?' she asked, changing colour, and with dire
forebodings in her heart.
He caught her hands in his and tried to smile.
'Tell me, why are you so sad?' she asked again.
'Darling,' said he, as he drew her to his breast, 'compose yourself;
I have just had great news--bad news you will deem them--to tell you.'
From these few speeches it may be gathered that the cloud that
hovered between this pair of lovers had passed away, and that
sunshine had come again.
They were at Puddicombe House, a villa of Sir Paget's, which he had
lent to Lord Aberfeldie, and from the windows of which, as it
overlooked Stokes Bay and Spithead from the Clarence Parade at
Southsea, they could daily see the departure of great white
'troopers,' crowded with soldiers--Highlanders, Rifles, and
Marines--steaming past the long line of the sea-wall (with all its
naval trophies and monuments) _en route_ for the shores of Egypt.
There, too, were in view the three forts in the Channel, with
Puckpool Battery at Spring Yale, which, with the other in a line on
the mainland, would effectually bar an enemy's ship from reaching
Portsmouth Harbour. Ponderous indeed are these forts--one in
particular, a mass of circular masonry, girt by a black belt of iron
armour, pierced with port-holes, through which the great guns of 'the
period' may spit out shot and shell; and beyond lies the peaceful
Isle of Wight--a charming stretch of sloping land, wooded to the
water's edge, and studded with beautiful mansions.
'You have bad news to tell me?' said Olive, as the haunting terror
that was ever before her struck a pang to her heart.
'I must rejoin my regiment at once; it leaves the Castle of Edinburgh
to-morrow for Egypt, and I am to meet it at Woolwich, where the
transport awaits it. Oh, how hard it is to part with you--even for a
time,' he added, caressing her, as her head dropped upon his breast;
'to part thus, and unmarried yet, Olive--after all our past folly,
jealousies, and waste of time. Speak to me, darling!'
'What can I say, Allan?' replied Olive, piteously, as her tears fell
fast.
'We shall not go to this dinner-party at the Port Admiral's, of
course. Our last evening must be spent together.'
'Oh, Allan, Allan!'
'Take off those evil diamonds, darling--those stones of ill omen.
Why did the mater let you wear them? They are never produced without
something happening.'
'And the transport sails--when?'
'On Tuesday evening.'
'So soon--so very soon!'
'My darling--my own--don't weep so,' said he, pressing her closer to
his breast, and nestling her face in his neck, while he caressed and
tried to soothe her; but the impulsive Olive would neither be soothed
nor comforted for a time.
When, however, she became calmer, he said,
'I must leave you for a few minutes. I must telegraph to the
adjutant, see the mater, poor soul, and send apologies, as we shall
not go to the admiral's to-night.'
He left her; and, sinking into a sofa, she abandoned herself to a
stormy fit of weeping and to sad and bitter reflections, and to many
unavailing regrets--unavailing now, as they were to be parted so
soon; and one grim and harrowing fact stood darkly out amid them
all--her affianced lover was going to the seat of war and disease, to
face unnumbered perils in that fatal land of Egypt!
A slight sound roused her, and drew her attention to a glass-door of
the conservatory that opened to the garden.
A man's face seemed glued against it--a face white and ghastly,
apparently regarding her fixedly--the face of Hawke Holcroft,
emaciated by dissipation, want, or disease--probably by all
three--his shifty eyes bloodshot and wild in expression.
In another moment she would have screamed with terror; but he opened
the door, entered, and stood before her.
'I never thought--at least, I was in hope never to see you again,'
said Olive, starting up, and recoiling from him.
'Ha--indeed. But in this world are not those always meeting who are
better far apart?' was his mocking response.
'What brings you here--what do you want?' asked Olive, gathering
courage from desperation, and trembling in her soul lest Allan should
return and find this villainous intruder there.
'What do I want! Money. I am, and have been for days, starving.'
'Money I shall not be weak enough to give you again, under any threat
or any pressure. The last I gave you cost me dearly,' said Olive,
firmly, though terrified to find herself face to face with this
would-be assassin again.
'You will not?'
'No.'
'Then give me these jewels--these diamonds,' he said, hoarsely; and,
ere she could move or speak, he snatched up the necklace and pendants
from a pedestal on which she had placed them, and thrust them into
his breast-pocket. 'For a time, now, the work of art I possess shall
be withheld from the British public--but for a time only--and in the
memory of the time when you loved me, or led me to believe that you
did.'
'Insolent--how dare you say so?' she exclaimed.
'You tried to win my heart, and won it, too--you played with me fast
and loose, as you did with your cousin, for whom you did not care one
doit, then at least, and for whom I believe you care nothing now.'
Olive glanced round her in dismay, for should such words as these,
and others that followed them, reach listening ears, she might be
lost, and she was powerless to stay the impetuous current of his
studiously mischievous speech. Moreover, she did not see what Hawke
Holcroft saw behind some towering ferns and other plants--a form,
with firm-set teeth and flashing eye, transported by fury, while his
feet were rooted to the spot--the face of Allan Graham, who saw and
overheard, yet failed to comprehend the situation!
A vindictive desire to separate the lovers if he could, and to
humiliate the man he hated, took possession of the diabolical mind of
Holcroft, who said,
'Let me kiss your hand, Olive, but once again, ere I leave you--I,
whom you loved once so well!'
'Insolent!' exclaimed the girl, impetuously.
But, ere she could resist him or escape, he threw his arms round her,
pressed her to his breast, kissed her many times, and then--as Allan
sprang forward--he quitted the conservatory, and vanished into the
gloom outside, while, with a low wail of horror and distress at the
shameful affront put upon her, Olive covered her face with her
tremulous hands, and murmured,
'Oh, this is too much to endure!'
'Too much, indeed,' said a voice, as a heavy hand grasped her
shoulder, and she was swung round with a force that was almost rude,
to meet the white face and flaming eyes of Allan.
'Allan,' she exclaimed, piteously, and held out her hands.
'Stand off and touch me not,' he cried. 'Idiots only will be cozened
twice,' he added, unconsciously quoting Dryden.
He gave her an awful and withering glance, and, snatching up a heavy
stick, he dashed into the garden after the intruder, whom he saw in
the act of escaping by a gate that opened upon the common, across
which he fled like a hare, pursued closely by Allan Graham, whom, as
an active mountaineer and trained soldier, he was not likely to
escape.
The sun had set amid dim and lurid clouds; the evening was gloomy,
close, and stormy; the bellowing of the ocean could be heard along
the whole line of the sea-wall, from the Spur Redoubt to Southsea
Castle. A heavy gale from the offing was rolling the waves in their
force and fury upon the shore, where, in anticipation thereof, the
boats and bathing machines were all drawn up high and dry upon the
shelving shingle. The shipping at anchor were straining on their
cables, and sheet lightning, red and fiery, threw forward in black
outline from time to time the undulating curves of the Isle of Wight.
But Allan Graham saw none of these things; he only saw the fugitive
Holcroft, who ran madly towards the sea-shore, and disappeared round
the angle of the East Battery that overhangs the sea, closely
followed by his infuriated pursuer.
'What has happened, Olive--speak?' said Lady Aberfeldie, who was
completely bewildered by the condition in which she found Olive, and
bitterly regretting the absence of her husband, who was then in
London; and Olive, feeling now the unwisdom and futility of further
concealment, told her all about the power Holcroft had wielded over
her by working on her pride, shame, and fear, and how, by direct
acting, he had too probably achieved the very end which the evil
prompting of a moment had doubtless suggested--the placing of herself
in a false position with Allan, and causing a hopeless quarrel and
separation between them.
'And now that he has left me thus, auntie, I shall never see him
again!' cried Olive, while, burying her face in her hands, she wept
bitterly. 'I shall never forget how pallid his poor face became, and
how his eyes glared with fury through their unshed tears; and never
shall I forget the gaze of tenderness, astonishment, and reproach
that came into them as he turned from me in bitter silence.'
'It is very unfortunate,' said Lady Aberfeldie, with difficulty
restraining her own tears, though buoyed up by indignation at the
daring and insolence of Holcroft; 'but Allan will return in a few
minutes, and I shall undertake to explain the whole affair.'
But the time passed on; hour succeeded hour, till midnight struck,
and aunt and niece sat watching each other with pale and anxious
faces, for there was no appearance of Allan.
They supposed that in his first gust of anger he had gone to some
club or hotel, and would, when in a calmer frame of mind, return on
the morrow; but the morrow had passed into evening, and he returned
no more!
Olive felt that he and she were roughly rent asunder, and likely to
drift further and further apart on the stormy sea of life.
And now to account for his non-appearance.
Aware that he had no mercy to expect between the hands of Allan on
one side, and those of the police on the other, Hawke Holcroft
thought only of escape, and, dreading flight towards the town, in the
blindness of his terror or confusion he turned towards the sea, and
ran along the summit of the steep, rocky, and abruptly shelving bank
that is overlooked by the low earthen-works and square, squat tower
of Southsea Castle.
Finding Allan close upon him, so close that he could almost hear his
footsteps, amid the bellowing of the wind and booming of the sea that
rolled in white foam against the stone parapet wall which was
bordered by the narrow pathway he was compelled to pursue, he
suddenly turned in blind desperation and levelled a revolver at
Allan's head, while a tiger-like fury filled his sallow visage.
It snapped, hung fire, and was struck from his hand by Allan, on
which he turned again and fled into the grey obscurity, whither Allan
could not follow him now, as the sea with a succession of angry roars
was lashing the steep stony bank and hurling its spray over the
parapet wall, while wave after wave boiled over all the path the
fugitive had to pursue.
Again and again he saw the miserable wretch lose his footing, while
the waves tried to suck him down, and again and again, clinging with
despairing energy to the edge of the stony path, he strove to recover
it.
A low wailing cry of despair escaped him as one wave towering higher
than all the rest--perhaps a tenth wave, if there be such a
thing--enveloped him in its foamy flood and sucked him furiously
downward in its back-wash, amid which he seemed to struggle feebly as
a fly might have done.
Once or twice Allan saw his head bobbing amid the white foam and his
upthrown hands, that had nothing to clutch at, till the waves dashed
him again and again, as if in wild sport, among a row of great wooden
dolphins which are placed in the shingle there to break the fury of
the incoming sea, and stand up like a line of gigantic teeth, and in
less than a minute Hawke Holcroft vanished from sight!
Then a long breath escaped Allan.
'The sea has done it not I, though richly did he merit at my hands
the fate he has met,' thought he, as he hurried away to alarm the
sentinels and castle guard; but all too late to succour Holcroft in
any way or even to search for his body.
Darkness had set in now, the fury of the sea was increasing, and if
Hawke Holcroft was found at all, it would be as a drowned man, with
the fatal diamonds in his possession, when the tide ebbed and the
long stretch of seaweed and shingle was left dry.
But he might never be found at all, and lie, as the skeletons are
still lying there, among the timbers of the _Royal George_.
Allan knew that he was due with his regiment at Woolwich on the
morrow, and, being full of rage and bitter disappointment with
disgust at the whole of this recent event--too full to have
explanations with his mother, or hear aught that Olive Raymond might,
as he naturally thought, be artful enough to advance, perhaps to
brazen out--intent only on quitting the scene and, if possible, of
forgetting a situation so degrading and repugnant to his pride--he
resolved to write to his father renouncing his cousin for ever; and,
throwing himself into a cab, drove straight to the railway station
and took the first train to London.
Hence it was that he returned to Puddicombe House no more.
And as the train swept clanking along the line, amid the monotony of
its sound the words of Olive's song, with what he deemed her accursed
raillery underlying them, came gallingly back to his memory, with
painful reiteration,
'I know a maiden fair to see,
Take care!
She can both false and friendly be,
Beware, beware!
Trust her not. She is fooling thee.'
'And for what a wretched creature she has dared to fool me!' he
thought, while a bitter malediction hovered on his lips.
In due time, with all his comrades of the Black Watch, he found
himself on board the _Nepaul_, and, after she had steamed out of the
Albert Dock, amid the deafening cheers of thousands, even amid all
the bustle and high military enthusiasm that surrounded him, he felt
half mad with grief, mortification, and fury.
Night and day his mind was full of angry and bitter dreams; a
conviction of Olive's guilt and the shame of her discovery were ever
before him.
Brave young Allan Graham was stricken to the heart; yet he bore
himself graciously and gallantly, though a conviction grew strong in
his mind that he would find his grave in the land he was going to.