The Master of Aberfeldie, Volume 2 (of 3)Grant, James
General
The Master of Aberfeldie, Volume 2 (of 3)
Grant, James
Fiction
'By plucking it, leaf by leaf, saying each time "Lucky, Unlucky,"
till the last leaf comes.'
'Something _à la Marguerite_.'
'Yes.'
'No, decidedly no, dearest Evan.'
'You are superstitious. Well, so am I.'
'Thus an omen would only torment us, and surely we have
enough--enough----' Tears choked her voice, and she could only add,
'Trust, dearest Evan, trust.'
'In what, my darling?'
'The great goodness of God.'
The spell of a great love was on both. Their lips met in a long and
silent kiss, and the rose fell at their feet between them.
A sound roused them--nay, startled them. They had only time to
separate and affect a sudden interest in the artistic effects
produced by light and shadow on the landscape, when Lord and Lady
Aberfeldie entered the room together, a pretty palpable cloud of
annoyance resting on the brows of both as they politely, but far from
warmly, greeted the visitor.
The peer, who had evidently been out riding, appeared in a black
morning coat and white cords, whip in hand, and the lady, who had
been in the grounds, wore her garden hat and shawl. She had seen a
visitor ride up to the door from a distant part of the lawn, and had
hurried home, her heart foreboding truly who that visitor was.
And now, while their hearts were vibrating with tenderness, and with
their lips yet tremulously sensible of the sweetness of kisses--the
first kisses of a new and early love--they had to talk enforced
commonplace--or, at least, Evan did so, while Eveline remained
silent--of the news of the day, the expected plans of the ministry,
the probable despatch of a fleet to Egyptian waters, of the chances
of an army following it, of Arabi Pasha and the Khedive, the plot
formed by the Circassian officers, and so forth, till it was time for
the lingering Cameron to resume his hat and depart at last.
Cameron tried to ignore that which, under other and more prosperous
circumstances, would have galled and roused his haughty Highland
spirit--Lord Aberfeldie's coldness of manner when he spoke even of
the regiment, and how certainly it would go to the East, 'as the
Black Watch, thank God, was always in everything, and always with
honour,' while Evan's eyes irresistibly wandered to the face of
Eveline, and memory went back to the twilighted corridor at Dundargue.
But so did the memory of my Lord Aberfeldie.
The peer must have undergone a good deal of training or "drilling"
lately at the hands of Lady Aberfeldie before he could have brought
himself to behave so coldly to one he really liked so well as young
Stratherroch, and one of the Black Watch especially; but then,
perhaps, he was just a little soured by the sequel to the hospitality
and kindness accorded to "the son of his old friend," which son had
contrived by skilful lettering and figuring to add the sum of eighty
pounds to his cheque.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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