As Lennard read, his sad mind went to the scene where that death must have happened, under mighty Ben-y-gloe, where the kestrel builds his nest and the great mountain eagle has his eyry, and the Tilt comes thundering down over its precipices of grey rock. Never again would his eyes rest on such glorious scenes as these. Cosmo had left a little daughter, Finella, who took up her abode with her grandparents at Craigengowan, but no son, and Lennard knew that by this tragedy he was now the heir to the peerage, but he only gave a bitter sigh as he thought of Flora in her grave and made no sign. 'Poor Cosmo,' he muttered, and forgetting for a time much that had occurred, and how completely Cosmo had leagued with father and mother against him, his memory went back to the pleasant days of their happy boyhood, when they rode, fished, and shot together, shared the same bedroom in Craigengowan, and conned their tasks from the same books. 'Well, well,' he added, 'all that is over and done with long, long ago.' He made no sign, we say, but let time pass by, not foreseeing the complications that were eventually to arise by his doing so. Florian, born two years after the adoption of Shafto Gyle in his infancy, always regarded and looked up to the latter as a species of elder brother and undoubted senior. In his twentieth year Florian was really a handsome fellow, and if, without absurdity, the term 'beautiful' could be applied to a young man, he was so, in his perfect manliness. Tall in figure, hard and well developed in muscle, regular in features, he had clear, dark, honest eyes, with lashes like a girl's, and a dark, silky moustache. Shafto's face was in some respects handsome too, but an evil one to look at, in one way. His fair eyebrows were heavy, and had a way of meeting in a dark frown when he was thinking. His pale grey eyes were shifty, and were given him, like his tongue, to conceal rather than express his thoughts, for they were sharp and cunning. His nostrils were delicate, and, like his thin lips, suggestive of cruelty, while his massive jaw and thick neck were equally so--we must say almost to brutality. They were rather a contrast, these two young men--a contrast no less great in their dispositions and minds than in their outward appearance. They were so dissimilar--one being dark and the other fair--that no one would have taken them for brothers, as they were generally supposed to be, so affectionate was the Major to both, and both bearing his name in the locality. As a schoolboy Shafto had won an unpleasant reputation for jockeying his companions, 'doing' them out of toys, sweetmeats, marbles, and money, and for skilfully shifting punishments on the wrong shoulders when opportunity offered, and not unfrequently on those of the unsuspecting Florian.