MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT BY JAMES GRANT AUTHOR OF "THE ROMANCE OF WAR," "THE CAMERONIANS," "THE SCOTTISH CAVALIER," ETC., ETC. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. II. LONDON: HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1883. _All rights reserved._ Contents Chap. I. Tom Llanyard II. A Disastrous Night III. The Ball IV. The Visit V. Doubting VI. At Aldershot VII. Jerry's Last Appeal VIII. The Games that Two can Play IX. 'The Route!' X. The Secret of Dalton's Life XI. The Old Love and the New XII. Bevil Goring's Resolution XIII. The Journey XIV. A Snare XV. The Hôtel St. Antoine XVI. In the Rue des Beguines XVII. Ennui and Weariness XVIII. Le Redoute Monstre XIX. The Cafe au Progres XX. Cross Purposes XXI. The Challenge XXII. In the Lunette St. Laurent XXIII. On the March to Prah MISS CHEYNE OF ESSILMONT. CHAPTER I. TOM LLANYARD. 'Is it it love itself,' asks a writer, 'or the lover that a young girl thinks most of, when she becomes conscious of this dual existence in her heart? I am inclined to think it is the former. The novelty of her own sensations occupies her more than the person to whom she owes their birth and existence.' It may be thus with some, but it was not so with Alison Cheyne, for she thought of Bevil--Bevil Goring only--as the embodiment of her love and of all she could love. All idea of going to Madeira had been abandoned, and Cadbury suggested that, after cruising a little in the Channel, they should land in France and visit Paris, Brussels, or some other place, when the change of scene might cause some favourable change in Alison's mind; and when--he was not without the secret and evil hope of contriving to lose or drop Sir Ranald by the way! Thus, next morning saw the _Firefly_ still hugging the coast of France, and in sight of the Hôtel de Ville of Boulogne, and the hill to the westward thereof, surmounted by the stately column of Napoleon. Attended by pretty Daisy Prune, who could not make out the situation in any way, so far as her mistress was concerned (and who was the object of much nautical admiration among the yachtsmen forward), Alison came on deck attired in her warm sealskin jacket, with her little hands deep in her muff, and a thick veil tied tightly over her face, and Tom Llanyard hastened aft to give her his hand to a comfortable seat, to place a hassock under her feet, and wrap a couple of railway rugs around her--all of which he did deftly and ere Lord Cadbury could reach her. Cadbury and her father were below in the cabin writing letters to be posted on shore; thus, for a time, Alison was left to her own reflections.