THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE 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. 1884. _All rights reserved._ Contents Chapter I. Mystery II. A Modern Use for a Mediæval Institution III. Holcroft Departs IV. Suspense V. The Oubliette VI. Cead Mille Maloch! VII. Lovers VIII. At Maviswood IX. 'Alice!' X. 'The Mysteries of Udolpho.' XI. 'Gup,' and What Came of It XII. Olive's Visitor XIII. Wedded XIV. Mistrust XV. The Black Watch XVI. In the Belvidere XVII. The Route XVIII. 'Idiots only will be Cozened Twice.' XIX. In the Land of the Pharaohs XX. The March through Goshen THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. CHAPTER I. MYSTERY. So all the guests had quitted Dundargue now but Hawke Holcroft. In two days he was to depart for what he called 'his chambers in town;' thus Allan was compelled to continue his polite dissimulation, and be on suave and apparently easy terms with him as a guest, though the latter felt that there was an undefinable change in his manner towards him. Indeed, it was only by a great effort of self-control that the Master of Aberfeldie, a man with the highest and keenest sense of honour, and knowing all he did, continued to treat Holcroft with politeness; but he writhed and shivered when he heard him, in the drawing-room or elsewhere, address Olive or Eveline. All the forenoon after Cameron's departure, when poor little Eveline was most triste and miserable, our other pair of lovers were very happy. They had what they were pleased to call 'a picnic' on the tower-head of Dundargue. Allan's portion thereof was cigars, and Olive's a little basket of purple grapes and luscious strawberries (though the season was autumn) from the hothouses. So with these two, the hours passed sweetly and swiftly, with the blue sky overhead, while far away in the distance, and steeped in sunny haze, stretched the lovely Carse of Gowrie; and talking of themselves, their past folly, their present joy, and the brilliant future that was to come, they billed and cooed after the fashion of all lovers since flowers grew in Eden. Allan lolled at length on the stone bartizan of the tower whence molten lead and arrows had more than once been launched on a foe beneath, Olive with her fair head reclined against his shoulder toying with her fruit, while he did so with her silky hair, or kissed her lips and hands, and called her all manner of funny and endearing names that would look rather odd in print; and yet amid their present happiness it was strange that each wondered more than once, if coldness or estrangement would ever come between them again. Never--oh, never.