"When you read these lines you will know that it is my last wish and command that you should marry Angus Carson, to whom you have been engaged since your birth. Marry him, I implore you--not so much for the money, as, because if you do not become his wife, evil, terrible evil, will come of your refusal. If you ever loved me, if my memory is dear to you, fulfil my dying wish, and marry Angus Carson within a month of your twenty-first birthday. If you refuse, God help you! "Your loving father, "Mark Bellairs." As white as ashes Olive let the paper flutter to the floor. "What does it mean?" she murmured faintly. "My God, what can it mean?" CHAPTER III. AT THE MANOR HOUSE. "What about to-day, Mallow?" asked Aldean, as with his friend and mentor he enjoyed a morning pipe, pacing the terrace of Kingsholme. "The day is right enough," replied Laurence, morosely; and he looked with a jaundiced eye on the green country stretching beyond a fringe of trees towards the blue and distant hills. "I don't think you are," retorted his lordship; "you have not spoken two words the whole of breakfast." "I'm never fit for rational conversation till noon, Aldean. I should be tied up this morning." "Liver!" grunted Aldean, with a fond look at his pipe. "Let's get out the 'gees,' and shake ourselves into good humour." Mallow placed his hands on the young man's shoulders and swayed him to and fro. "That is all the shaking you need, Jim," said he, in a more amiable tone. "If I were as good-humoured as you I should be content--all the same, I wish you would confine yourself to the Queen's English." "Your speech is like a hornet, the sting's in the tail. Have you read the papers this morning?" "No," replied Mallow, listlessly. "What's in them?" "The usual nothing. France is abusing us, Germany is envying us, Russia is warning us, and the U.S.A. are beginning to see that blood is thicker than foreign ditch-water." "And what are we doing?" "Holding our tongues and picking up unconsidered geographical trifles. Silence is ever golden annexation with us." "Upon my word, Jim," said Mallow, with good-humoured astonishment, "you are getting beyond words of one syllable. You can actually construct a sentence with a visible idea in it." "I am growing up, Mallow; age is coming upon me." "Well, Jim, suppose we take a walk." Aldean laughed, and pointed with the stem of his pipe towards the red roofs of the distant manor house, "Over there, I suppose?" "Jim, you have no tact. If our steps do tend in that direction, wandering in devious ways, I--I--well, I have not forgotten that Miss Ostergaard is paying a visit to--to--Miss Slarge." "True enough," replied Jim, winking. "Let us pay a visit to--to--Miss Slarge." "We might do worse," said Mallow; and sighed. "I expect we'll do better," was Aldean's response.