WEDDED.
'And you will love me still, Flora, in spite of this bitter affront
to which you are subjected for my sake?' said Lennard.
'Yes,' said the girl passionately, 'I love you, Lennard--love you so
much,' she added, while her soft voice broke and her blossom-like
lips quivered, 'that were I to lose you I would die!'
'My darling, you cannot lose me now,' he responded, while tenderly
caressing her.
'Are we foolish to talk in this fashion, Lennard?'
'Foolish?'
'Yes--or rash. I have heard that it is not lucky for people to love
each other so much as we do.'
'Could we love each other less?'
'I don't think so,' said she simply and sweetly, as he laid her cheek
on his breast with her upturned eyes gazing into his.
The girl was slight and slender, yet perfect was every curve of her
shapely figure, which was destitute of any straight line; even her
nose was, in the slightest degree, aquiline. Her beautifully arched
mouth, the scarlet line of her upper lip, and the full round of the
nether one were parted in a tender smile, just enough to show her
teeth, defied all criticism; her complexion was pure and soft, and
her eyes were of the most liquid hazel, with almost black lashes.
Her hair was of the same tint, and Flora seemed a lady to perfection,
especially by the whiteness and delicacy of her beautifully shaped
little hands.
When she walked she did so gracefully, as all Highland women do, and
like them held her head poised on her slender neck so airily and
prettily that her nurse, Madelon, called her 'the swan.'
'How I trembled, Lennard,' said she, after a pause, 'as I thought of
the _mauvais quart d'heure_ you were undergoing at Craigengowan.'
'It was a _mauvais_ hour and more, darling.'
'And ever and anon I felt that strange chill, or shudder, which Nurse
Madelon says people feel when some one crosses the place where their
grave is to be. How can your parents be so cruel to you?'
'And to you, Flora!'
'Ah, that is different,' she replied, with her eyes full of unshed
tears, and in a pained voice. 'Doubtless they consider me a very
designing girl; but in spite of that, you will always care for me as
much as you do now?'
'Why such fears? Ever and always--ever and always, my darling,' said
Lennard Melfort, stopping her questioning lips most effectually for a
time.
'Oh, if you should ever come to regret, and with regret to love me
less!' said she, in a low voice, with her eyes for a moment fixed on
vacancy.
'Why that boding thought, Flora?'
'Because, surely, such great love never lasts.'
He kissed her again as the readiest response.
But the sequel proved that his great love outlasted her own life,
poor girl!
Then they sat long silent, hand locked in hand, while the gloaming
deepened round them, for words seem poor and feeble when the heart is
very full.
'How long will they continue to despise me?' said Flora suddenly,
while across her soft cheeks there rushed the hot blood of a long and
gallant line of Celtic ancestors.
An exclamation of bitterness--almost impatience, escaped Lennard.
'Let us forget them--father, mother, all!' said he.
The girl looked passionately into the face of her lover-husband--the
husband of a month; and never did her bright hazel eyes seem more
tender and soft than now, with all the fire of love and pride
sparkling in their depths, for her Highland spirit and nature
revolted at the affront to which she was subjected.
The bearing of Lennard Melfort and the poise of his close-shorn head
told that he was a soldier, and a well-drilled one; and the style of
his light grey suit showed how thoroughly he was a gentleman; and to
Flora's loving and partial eye he was every-way a model man.
They had been married just a month, we have said, a month that very
day, and Lennard had brought his bride to the little burgh town,
within a short distance of Craigengowan, and left her in their
apartments while he sought with his father and mother the bootless
interview just narrated.
For three days before he had the courage to bring it about, they had
spent the time together, full of hopeful thoughts, strolling along
the banks of the pretty Bervie, from the blue current of which ever
and anon the bull-trout and the salmon rise to the flies; or in the
deep and leafy recourses of the adjacent woods, and climbing the
rugged coast, against which the waves of the German Sea were rolling
in golden foam; or ascending Craig David, so called from David II. of
Scotland--a landmark from the sea for fifteen leagues--for both had a
true and warm appreciation and artistic love of Nature in all her
moods and aspects.
The sounds of autumn were about them now; the hum of insects and the
song of the few birds that yet sang; the fragrance of the golden
broom and the sweet briar, with a score of other sweet and
indefinable scents and balmy breaths. All around them was scenic
beauty and peace, and yet with all their great love for each other,
their hearts were heavy at the prospect of their future, which must
be a life of banishment in India, and to the heaviness of Lennard was
added indignation and sorrow. But he could scarcely accuse himself
of having acted rashly in the matter of his marriage, for to that his
family would never have consented; and he often thought could his
mother but see Flora in her beauty and brightness, looking so
charming in her smart sealskin and bewitching cap and feather, and
long skirt of golden-brown silk that matched her hair and eyes--every
way a most piquante-looking girl!
Young though he was, and though a second son, Lennard Melfort had
been a favourite with more than one Belgravian belle and her mamma,
and there were few who had not something pleasant or complimentary to
say of him since his return from India. At balls, fêtes, garden and
water parties, girls had given him the preference to many who seemed
more eligible, had reserved for him dances on their programmes, sang
for him, made unmistakable _œillades_, and so forth; for his
handsome figure and his position made him very acceptable, though he
had not the prospects of his elder brother, the Hon. Cosmo.
Lady Fettercairn knew how Lennard was regarded and valued well, and
nourished great hopes therefrom; but this was all over and done with
now.
To her it seemed as if he had thrown his very life away, and that
when his marriage with a needy governess--however beautiful and well
born she might be--became known, all that charmed and charming circle
in Belgravia and Tyburnia would regard him as a black sheep indeed;
would shake their aristocratic heads, and pity poor Lord and Lady
Fettercairn for having such a renegade son.
Flora's chief attendant--a Highland woman who had nursed her in
infancy--was comically vituperative and indignant at the affront put
by these titled folks upon 'her child' as she called her.
Madelon Galbraith was strong, healthy, active, and only in her
fortieth year, with black eyes and hair, a rich ruddy complexion, a
set of magnificent white teeth, and her manner was full of emphatic,
almost violent, gesticulation peculiar to many Highlanders, who seem
to talk with their hands and arms quite as much as the tongue.
Sometimes Madelon spoke in her native Gaelic, but generally in the
dialect of the Lowlands.
'Set them up indeed,' she muttered; 'wha are the Melforts o'
Fettercairn, that they should slight you--_laoghe mo chri_?' she
added, softly (calf of my heart). 'What a pity it is ye canna fling
at their heads the gold they love, for even a Lowland dog winna yowl
gin ye pelt him wi' banes. But you've begun wi' love and marriage,
and a gude beginning mak's a gude ending.'
'But we shall be so poor, Nursie Madelon, and I have ruined my poor
Lennard,' urged Flora, as the kind woman caressed her.
'They say a kiss and a cup of water mak' but a wersh breakfast,'
laughed Madelon; 'but you're no sae puir as that comes to, my
darling.'
'Not quite' said Flora, laughing faintly, in turn. 'Yet I have
sorely injured my husband's prospects.'
'Tut, tut, my bairn. Ony man can woo, but he weds only whar his
weird lies; and so Captain Melfort wedded you, and wha better? Then
what is a Lord that we should _lippen_ to _him_? As long as ye serve
a tod ye maun carry his tail? And your father's daughter may carry
her head wi' the highest.'
Lennard Melfort now resolved neither verbally nor by letter to have
further intercourse with his family at Craigengowan or elsewhere, but
before he could make up his mind what to do or could betake him
south, as he meant to quit Scotland without delay, on the day
subsequent to the stormy interview Madelon announced a visitor, and
on a salver brought in a card inscribed--'MR. KENNETH KIPPILAW, W.S.'