Hence it was that Roland Ruthven, whose family had served with it for three or four generations, looked forward with extreme reluctance and regret to the coming time when, by exchange or otherwise, he would be compelled to serve in the ranks of another; and that the time was not a distant one was rendered fully evident by letters which he had received from his legal agents, Messrs. Hook and Crook, W.S., Edinburgh. These assured him that they had obtained some certain knowledge of the movements and marriage of his uncle Philip, and of his having left heirs. They had traced him to Jamaica, and would ere long send proofs of the said marriage, and of there being an heir to Ardgowrie. "An heir to Ardgowrie!" muttered Roland, through his clenched teeth. Half expected though the tidings were, they sounded like a species of death-knell to him now. "You look disturbed, old fellow," said Hector Logan, as Roland crushed up and then tore the letter to pieces. "I am disturbed!" said he. "What are these--lawyer's letters?" "Yes, Hector." "Hah--a lawyer I always look upon as a species of rook with a devil of a long bill. You'll get over it, I hope," he added, rolling the leaf of his cigar round his finger. "I have got over it already," replied Roland; but his looks belied his words; "but it is hard to have one's first and dearest hopes blighted," he continued, thinking of Aurelia Darnel; "disappointments, however, I suppose we get used to, like the eels to the skinning." "Can I help you, Ruthven? Logan Braes are not exactly like the Bank of England; but if a few hundreds----" "You cannot help me, old fellow--thanks." "Why?" "I cannot, and may not, tell you; it is a family trouble--a secret, and a sore one." Some days elapsed before--under the alteration of his circumstances--he could summon up courage to visit the Darnels; but he felt the imperative necessity of doing so, after all the hospitality he had received; and then, he would gradually cease to go near them, whatever view might be taken of his changed conduct; but after all that had passed between himself and Aurelia one visit was necessary, and then--what next? He shivered as he thought of it with sorrow and shame. CHAPTER V. AURELIA DARNEL. At the usual hour for an afternoon visit Roland Ruthven, in his blue undress uniform, with the handsome gilt shoulder scales then worn (mufti was forbidden), left his sword in the entrance hall, and was duly ushered into the handsome and spacious drawing-room of the Chateau de St. Eustache, as Mrs., or rather Madame, Darnel's abode was named, for she was a French Canadian, a widow and the heiress of one of those seigneuries which are in so many instances in possession of the families endowed with them by the kings of France.