MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT BY JAMES GRANT AUTHOR OF "THE ROMANCE OF WAR," "THE CAMERONIANS," "THE SCOTTISH CAVALIER," ETC., ETC. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1883. _All rights reserved._ Contents Chap. I. Out with the Royal Buckhounds II. At Chilcote III. Ellon's Ring IV. Laura Trelawney V. Alison's Luncheon Party VI. 'The Old, Old Story' VII. Jerry and the Widow VIII. 'For Ever and for Ever' IX. A Reprieve for a Time X. Captain Dalton XI. A Written Proposal XII. In St. Clement's Lane XIII. An Enigma XIV. 'Something as About to Happen!' XV. Evil Tidings XVI. Cadbury's Plan or Plot XVII. More Mystery XVIII. Wilmothurst XIX. Mr. Chevenix's Business XX. The _Firefly_ MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. CHAPTER I. OUT WITH THE ROYAL BUCKHOUNDS. 'And your name is Alison,' said the young man, looking tenderly in the girl's eyes of soft grey-blue, that long, dark lashes shaded. 'Yet I hear some of your friends call you Lisette.' 'It is, I believe, the same thing--an old Scoto-French name, long peculiar to our family--the Cheynes of Essilmont--as papa would say if he were here,' she added, with a soft smile. Then after a pause she asked, 'How did you learn, Captain Goring, that it was Alison?' 'By looking in Debrett after I first had the pleasure' (he had well-nigh said the joy) 'of meeting you at the General's garden-party in Aldershot.' This simple avowal of an interest in her (but it might only be curiosity) caused the girl to colour a little and nervously re-adjust her reins, though her horse, pretty well blown after a long run, was now going at an easy walk, pace by pace, with the larger and stronger bay hunter of her companion, and she glanced shyly at him as he rode by her side, for Bevil Goring, in his perfect hunting costume--his coat, buckskins, and boots, his splendid strength and engaging debonair expression of face, his soldierly set up, born of infantry service in India--was all that might please a woman's eye, however critical; and he in his turn felt that every pulse in his frame would long beat to the slight incidents of that day's glorious scamper together on horseback. Gathered into a tight coil under her smart riding hat and dark blue veil, Alison Cheyne's hair was of that bright and rare tint when the brown seems to blend with or melt into amber, and these into a warmer tint still in the sunshine, and with which there is generally a pure and dazzling complexion. 'It was so kind of you, Captain Goring,' said Miss Cheyne, after a pause, 'to invite down papa to dine at your mess at Aldershot.' 'Not at all. Dalton, Jerry Wilmot, and all the other fellows were most glad to see the old gentleman. I only fear that he thought us rather a noisy lot.' 'It delighted him--we live but a dull life at Chilcote.'