Alexander_Ralph_Wiltons_Weird.txt topic ['13', '324', '378', '393']
CHAPTER I.
THE yellow sunlight of a crisp October day was
lighting up I he faded though rich hangings, and
the abundant but somewhat blackened gilding, of a
large study or morning-room in one of the stately
mansions of Mayfair, nearly fourteen years ago.
Bookcases and escritoires, writing-tables and read-,
ing-tables more or less convenient, easy-chairs, print-
stands furnished with well-filled portfolios, pictures,
bronzes, all the signs and tokens of wealth, were
there, but nothing new. An impress of extinct vitality
was stamped upon the chamber and all it contained.
The very fire burned with a dull, continuous glow,
neither flaming nor crackling.
On one side of this fire, his back to the light, in a
high leathern chair, sat an old man. Originally slight
in frame, he now looked attenuated. His blue, brass-
buttoned coat, though evidently from the hands of an
artist, hung loosely upon him. His thin gray hair
2 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
was carelessly brushed back from a brow not high but
peculiarly wide, a straight, refined nose, a square-cut
chin, a thin-lipped, Slightly cruel mouth, a tint of the
deadliest pallor all these combined to make his coun-
tenance at once attractive and repellent. There was
a certain dignity in his attitude as he leaned against
the side of the large chair, in which he was almost
lost, one thin, small white hand resting on the arm of
his seat, the other playing, in a manner evidently
habitual, with a couple of seals hanging in by-gone
fashion from a black ribbon.
He was gazing at the fire, and listening to a meek
looking semi-genteel young man, who, seated at a
table with a neatly folded packet of papers before
him, was reading aloud from a letter. But the lecture
was interrupted.
The door was thrown open by an archdeaconal
butler, who announced, in a suppressed voice and im-
pressive manner, " Colonel Wilton, my lord."
Whereupon entered a soldierly looking man, above
middle height, his broad shoulders and compact waist,
duly displayed by an incomparably fitting frock-coat,
closely buttoned, and worn with the indescribable
carriage that life-long assured position and habitual
command only can bestow. A bold, sunburnt, and
somewhat aquiline face, a pair of eagle-like brown
eyes, and plenty of red-brown wavy hair, whisker, and
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, ' 3
moustache, entitled the possessor to be termed by par-
tial comrades "a good-looking fellow."
The old nobleman stood up, and, raising his cold,
steely, keen blue eyes, with an extension of his thin
lips intended for a smile, held out his slight, fine
hand.
" I am glad to see Colonel Wilton," he said, in a
low, sweet voice, which must have been peculiarly
charming before age had thinned its tones. " You
may leave us, Mr. Robbins," he added ; whereupon
the young man at the writing-table took up his papers
and departed. " I am obliged to you," continued
Lord St. George, " for obeying my summons so
promptly ; it was more than I expected, considering
how often you must have been in town without calling
upon your recluse kinsman."
" My dear lord," said Colonel Wilton, with a frank
smile, taking the chair placed for him, "I never
thought a visit from me would be acceptable. I sup-
posed that I must excite the natural aversion which
is generally felt for junior and unendowed relatives,
so I kept out of the way." Colonel Wilton's voice
was not unlike his host's, though deeper and richer.
*' Unendowed or not, you are almost the only rela-
tive who has never asked me a favor," returned the
old man.
" Had I wanted anything I suppose I should have
4 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
asked for it," said Colonel Wilton, good-humoredly ;
" but my ambition is professional, and fortune has
favored me beyond my deserts."
" You are a young colonel."
" Only brevet."
" Ay, I remember ; you got your first step after
that affair of the rifle-pits."
" Exactly ; then I volunteered for our second bat-
talion when the mutiny broke out, saw a good deal ot
very unpleasant service, was slightly hit, got fever,
more from fatigue than wounds, was ordered home on
sick leave, and found my brevet awaiting me. I have
just returned from the German baths and now, my
lord, I am at your service."
" You want to know why I sent for you ^you shall
hear presently ; " the old man paused abruptly.
" You are like, and yet unlike, your father," he
resumed ; " you know, I suppose, that, although but
first'cousins, we might have been brothers, we hated
each other so well ? "
" I have heard something of it," returned Wilton,
coolly, though the smiling, frank expression passed
from his face ; " but I have lived so much among
strangers that I am lamentably ignorant of the family
hatreds."
Lord St. George looked up, and played more rap-
idly with his seals. " I have been a broken man for
RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD, 5
many years," he resumed, after a short pause, " and
latterly a complete recluse. Men are such knaves,
and life is such a round of folly, amusement, and
ambition, and * lofty aspirations,' as modern scribblers
have it, such dust and ashes, that I can with unusual
truth say I am weary ! I dare say you are wondering
why I inflict this Jeremiad upon you I hardly know
myself; however, it is finished. I suppose you are
aware that a very small portion of my property is
attached to the title of St. George ? "
Colonel Wilton bowed, and listened with increas-
ing- interest. " My Worzelshire estates and Welsh
mines/* continued the old lord, " came to me through
my mother, and are to dispose of as I choose. A
ruined tower and some worthless moorland is all that
will come by right to you. It is in my power to make
you that most wretched of failures a poor nobleman,
or to bequeath you means to ruffle it with the best"
" You must do as seems best in your eyes," said
Colonel Wilton, with the same good-humored, well-
bred independence which had characterized his man-
ner all through the interview, when the peer stopped,
as if for a reply.
" I am by no means inclined to separate my
property from my title but it is all in my own hands
I have no claims upon me no nearer relative than
yourself. All that I have heard of you is tolerably
6 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
creditable to the family name, and I am inclined to
give you the means to keep up the old title. There
is one point, however, on which I should like you to
understand and conform to my wishes. You are, of
course, aware of the circumstance which has blighted
my life the latter half of it ? "
Although it seemed impossible that any living
cheek could be paler than Lord St. George's, it grew
a shade more ghastly as he spoke.
*' Yes, yes," returned Colonel Wilton, with a sort
of quick sympathy. " Do not, if possible, distress
yourself by alluding to it.**
" I must, Ralph I must ! *' It was the first time
the viscount had called him by his name ; and he
continued, in a firm but low voice : " When my
daughter, my only child, flung herself into an abyss
of infamy by her disgraceful marriage, I at once and
forever renounced her. Now 1 only care that the in-
heritors of my name and property may at least be free
from the taint of inferior race : promise me you will
marry a gentlewoman, a girl of some unblemished
family, which, though they are few, can siill be found
promise me this, and I will leave you all I
possess."
" My dear lord, it is not necessary to promise.
Poor as I am, I should never dream of marrying a
plebeian; but I would rather not marr}'for some years
RALPfl WILTON'S WEIRD, j
to come. I am little more than thirty; you must
really leave me a longer spell of liberty."
" All young men are alike," returned Lord St.
George. " You put off the evil day until you are too
old to see your children grow up, or to guide them, or
be anything but a semi-living mummy, fit only to sign
checks for other people to expend. Be ruled by me ;
accept my conditions, quit the army, spend the com-
ing season among the best country-houses, pick out a
suitable wife as my heir, you can choose ^go into
Parliament, a Crimean man will be well received by
country constituencies, and you will be well before
the world by the time I make way for you. I say
nothing," added the old peer, with an air of courdy
humility, " of the gratitude such a course would enlist
from me personally. I have no claim of that descrip-
tion to urge upon you."
"Your present intentions constitute a tolerable
strong claim," replied Wilton, smiling. "At any rate
I should be very happy to please you, and I heartily
wish you could will away your title as your estates.
However, on the subject of marriage, I can make no
promise ; at present, the mere fact of being tied seems
to me to outweigh all other advantages. I hope my
bluntness does not offend you. I should be sorry to do
so. You see, there is a strong dash of the Bohemian,
in my nature, though I am not without ambition, and
8 KALPII WILTON'S WEIRD.
I am quite aware that a penniless peer is a most
unfortunate devil. Still I cannot make up my mind
to matrimony. Nevertheless, apart from promises, I
do not think any man can be more averse to the idea
of marrying out of his own class than I am."
There was a moment's pause, Lord St. George
looking keenly at his companion.
" I do not think you seem likely to commit so
egregious an error ; but it is impossible to rely on the
prudence or common sense of any man ; though you
are certainly past the age when men will sacrifice
much for women. So I must be content with prob-
abilities."
Another short pause, during which Colonel Wilton
took up his hat, which he had laid on the carpet
beside him.
" Stay," said the old peer. "It is long since I
have endured to see any of my own people, and the
effort cost me something. Now you are here, tell me
where are your sisters, your brother ? "
" My brother, poor fellow 1 he died of fever before
he left college. My sisters are both married, the
eldest to General Ogilvie ^he is in command at Mon-
treal and Gertrude to the Dean of ."
" I remember hearing of the first marriage," re-
turned Lord St. George. " I was then in Greece."
He continued to ask for various persons, respect-
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, q
ing very few of whom Colonel Wilton could give
any information. Meantime the light was fading,
and Lord St. George's visitor growing somewhat
impatient.
" You must forgive me, my lord, if I bid you good-
morning. But when I received your message I had
arranged to run down to Scotland to-night for some
grouse-shooting, and I am to dine early with on old
brother-officer before starting."
" Then I must not detain you," replied Lord St.
George, reluctantly. " I am glad I have seen you.
I feel a little more satisfied about the future of my
name and possessions. I wish you could meet my
wishes completely. I am singularly without near rela-
tives singularly free from claims of any kind."
Colonel Wilton had stood up as if in the act to
go j he hesitated an instant, as his kinsman paused,
and said, in a lower tone :
" I presume, then, my cousin your daughter left
no children ? "
** Do not dare to name her, sir ! " cried the old
man, fiercely, and grasping the arms of his chair with
nervous, twitching fingers. " She has long ceased to
live for me ! She the first woman in a long, un-
broken line that ever brought disgrace upon her
name ! Living or dead, I refuse all intelligence con-
cerning her. Her children may exist, or not; the
I*
I
lO RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
poorest beggar that crawls in the street is more to
me ! "
" You have, certainly, a cruel disappointment to
complain of, ray lord," said Wilton, gravely and firmly.
" But the children would be sinless. You would not,
I am sure, leave them to suffer poverty and "
" I would I would ! I would stamp out the
spawn of such a viper I There there, leave me. I
believe you are an honest gentleman ; but this sub-
ject you must never touch again. Good-morning,
Ralph ! Let me see you on your return from the
north."
Colonel Wilton promised that he would call, and
pressing the thin, wan hand extended to him, left the
room.
About two hours later, a couple of gentlemen sat
at dinner in a private room in Morley's Hotel. The
cheese period had been reached, and the sharp edge
of appetite blunted. One, who seemed the host, was
Ralph Wilton ; the guest was a tall, rugged-looking,
bony man, with shaggy eye-brows and a large hooked
nose, slightly bent to one side, small, sharp, dark-gray
eyes, grizzled black hair, and a wide mouth, with a
strong projecting under-jaw. This does not sound like
the perfection of manly beauty, yet Major Moncrief
was not a bad-looking man.
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, u
" And when do you intend to join me, Moncrief ?"
said Colonel Wilton.
" Not later than this day week."
'' I hope not. For I have no fancy for being alone
in my glory.'*
The conversation flowed somewhat intermittently
until the waiter, placing wine and olives on the table,
left the friends alone.
" Help yourself," said Colonel Wilton, pushing the
claret toward Major Moncrief. " Do you know, I
have had an interview with that curious old hermit,
Lord St. George, today ? "
" Indeed I How did that come about ? "
" I found a note from him at the club this morning,
inviting me, very politely, to call any day after three.
So, as I hope not to see London again for some
months, I went at once."
" You are his heir, are you not ? "
" To his barren title ^yes ; but he can will away
his wealth as he likes. Poor old fellow ! He had
an only child, a lovely girl, I believe, and, after refusing
some of the best matches in England, she ran off with
an artist fellow who played the fiddle, or sang divinely,
and the viscount never forgave her. I only know the
general gossip, but I have been told she died in fright-
ful poverty. I ventured to say a word in favor of the
possible and probable children, and was soon pulled
12 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
up for my pains. How idiotic women are, and yet
how keen and hard at times ! This cousin of mine
was not so very young either ; she must have been four-
and-twenty."
"Women are quite incomprehensible," ejaculated
Moncrief.
Colonel Wilton laughed.
** Well, old St. George, it seems, sent for me to
induce me to marry some * Clara Vere de Vere/ in
order to secure the sacred title and acres from falling
into the hands of a half-breed inheritor. However,
though I would not acknowledge his suzerainty by
giving him the promise he wanted, he may be toler-
ably sure I would never marry a second-rate woman.
I do not mean to say I care for rank^ but good blood
is essential."
" I do not fancy you are much of a marrying
man."
" No ! not at present. I shall come to it some
day. I have been too busy to have had an attack of
the love- fever for a long time."
**You were badly hit in that affair with Lady
Mary," observed Moncrief.
" Well yes ! But I made a rapid recovery. Then,
matrimony would be a different matter. In short, if
Lord St. George will just give me a year or two more
of liberty, I dare say I shall be ready to present him
k
RALPH WILTON'S WELRD, 13
with a bride of the desired pattern. I really have no
democratic proclivities."
" Ah ha, lad !" said Moncrief, in his unmistakable
Scotch tones, "you must just *dree your weird.'"
*^ So must every one," returned Wilton, rising to
fill his cigar-case from a box that stood upon the side-
board. "But I think I have survived the spooney
period, and have sown my wild oats not that I have
had more than a mere handful to dispose of. On the
whole, I have been a pattern man eh, old fellow .'* "
" Hum ! There have been more extensive crops,"
returned the major, doubtfully. " Still, do not be too
sure of yourself."
" Oh, I am safe enough. And, besides," he con-
tinued, returning to the table and filling his glass,
" I am very particularly anxious that Lord St. George
should leave me something wherewith to regild the
faded honors of his ancient peerage. I confess to a
mortal dread of being a poor peer. If my old kins-
man does not leave me his property, I will never
adopt the title, but be plain * Ralph Wilton ' to the
end of the chapter."
" You might do worse," said Moncrief, dryly.
" As I said before, you must 'dree your weird.' "
" Halloa ! " cried Wilton, suddenly ; " half-past
seven, by Jove ! I shall have a close shave to catch
the train 1 " He rang the bell, ordered a cab ; hastily
14
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
donning his overcoat and thrusting his cigar-case into
the breast-pocket, he shook hands heartily with his
friend. " Good-by, old fellow ; come as soon as you
can, and let the moorland breeze sweep the cobwebs
from your brain. You are too solemn by half for so
good a comrade good-by ! "
It was a very close shave ; but Ralph Wilton was
just in time. The bell had rung before he had taken
his ticket, after seeing a favorite pointer properly dis-
posed of. " Here you are, sir," cried a porter, open-
ing the door of a carriage. Wilton jumped in, and the
door was slammed. " Stop ! I say, porter," he shouted,
as he glanced at the only other occupant, thinking to
himself, " An unprotected female I this is too formid-
able I " But his voice was drowned in the loud pant-
ing of the engine, and they were off. " It cannot be
helped," he thought, and set about arranging himself
as comfortably as he could.
His companion was a young lady, he perceived, as
his eyes became accustomed to the lamp-light. She
was in black, and rather thinly clad for a night-journey.
Her bonnet lay in the netting overhead. And a blue
scarf was loosely tied over her head and ears. She
seemed already asleep, though Wilton was dimly aware
that she had opened a pair of large dark eyes to look
at him. She was a serious drawback to the comfort
of his journey. But for her he could make a bed of
\
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD. 15
the cushions, and stretch himself at full length ; but
for her he could solace himself with unlimited cigars,
and enjoy the freedom of loneliness. Thinking thus,
he stooped forward to take up an evening paper he
had snatched at the last moment, and his cigar-case
fell from his pocket. His obnoxious fellow-traveller
opened her eyes. *' If you smoke," she said, " do not
mind me ; it may help me to sleep." With a slight
shiver she closed her eyes again, apparently without
hearing Wilton's thanks, while his unspoken male-
dictions on the ill chance that placed her in the same
carriage were, in some mysterious way, silenced and
arrested by the charm of a soft, sweet voice, delicate
yet full, with a certain sadness in its tones, and an
accent not quite English. " A gentlewoman, I im-
agine," thought Wilton, as he moved from his place to
the centre seat opposite her to be nearer the light
There was something touching in the childlike aban-
donment of her attitude ;her head lay back in the angle
of the division she occupied ; her face was very pale,
and a dark shade under the eyes bespoke fatigue.
Long black lashes fringed her closed eyes, curling back
at the ends, and all of color was concentrated in her
delicately-curved lips. Ralph Wilton could not help
glancing from his paper to her face, and forming con-
jectures respecting her. Why did her people let
so fair, so young a creature wander about by herself?
1 6 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
But he was by no means old enough to adopt a fatherly
view of so pretty a subject. She must be seventeen
or eighteen here his companion murmured in her
sleep, and sighed deeply ; while Wilton, with a sudden
access of chivalrous modesty, reproaching himself for
presuming upon her unconsciousness to scan so closely
the tender, childlike face that lay hushed before him,
withdrew to his original position. Here he tried to
read, but the face and figure of the old recluse noble-
man flitted between him and his paper, and the bitter-
sweet of his tone sounded again in his ears what
depths of disappointment and mortification that old
man must have fathomed ! Well, worse endings might
have come .about than the union of Lord St. George's
title and property in his (Ralph Wilton's) favor ; and, if
he ever inherited these good things, he would certainly
look up his erring cousin's children. These medita-
tions were varied by sundry glances at his companion,
vague conjectures concerning her. How soft and
gentle her mouth looked ! Yet there was a good deal
of power in the wide, smooth forehead and delicately
but clearly marked dark-brown eyebrows. As Wilton
looked he perceived her shiver, without waking, and
make a sleepy effort to fold her shawl closer. The
night was growing colder, and W^ilton, observing a
small portion of the window next his companion open,
rose to shut it. In moving to accomplish this, he
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
17
touched the slumberer's foot. She opened her eyes
with a sleepy, startled look great, dark, lustrous eyes,
which seemed to banish the childlike expression of
her face,
" I beg your pardon," said Colonel Wilton \ " but
it is' cold, and I thought you would like the window
shut."
"Oh, yes, thank you ; it is very, very cold." She
sat up and rubbed her hands together, tying the blue
scarf closer round her head, and thrusting carelessly
under it a heavy tress of very dark -brown hair, that
had become loosened, with utter disregard of appear-
ances, as if only desirous of rest. " I am so, so
weary," she went on, ** and I dream instead of sleep-
ing."
" That is probably because of your uneasy posi-
tion," said Wilton. " If you will allow me to arrange
the cushions for you, I think you may rest better I
am an old traveller."
"You are very good," she returned, hesitatingly;
" how do you mean ? "
" I will show you ; " and he proceeded to make
supports for one of the unoccupied cushions with a
walking-stick and umbrella so as to form a couch, and
then rolled up his plaid loosely for an impromptu pil-
low. " Now," he said, with frank good-nature, "you
can rest really ; and, if you will wrap yourself in my
l8 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
cloak, I dare say you will soon forget you are in a
railway- carriage. "
" Thank you very much," she replied. " How good
of you to take so much trouble and your plaid, tool
You have left yourself nothing I "
" Oh, I do not need anything ! Take the cloak,
and I wish you good-night."
He checked an inclination to wrap it round her,
lest she might think him too officious ; and, smiling
at the change in his own sentiments toward his fellow-
traveller, withdrew to his original position.
" At least you can smoke," said she, as she placed
herself upon the couch he had improvised. " I really
like the perfume of a cigar,"
Thus encouraged, Wilton drew forth his cigar-case
and comforted himself with a weed, while he had the
satisfaction of observing the perfect stillness of the
rather shapeless mass of drapery made by his heavy
cloak round the slender form slumbering beneath it.
So they sped on into the night. Wilton's cigar was
finished ; he threw the end from the window. Gazing
a moment at the dim, uncanny trees and hedges as
they flew past with ghastly rapidity, and settling him-
self in his corner, he too tried to sleep for a long time
in vain. The past the possible future the absolute
present his sudden interest in his companion,
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
19
crowded and jostled each other in his thoughts, but
gradually all became indistinct, and at last he slept.
Uneasily, though visions of struggles of men
and horses dying of a desperate necessity to carry
an order from the general to a remote division, and
the utter impossibility of getting his horse to move
dreams like these distracted him ; at last a heavy bat-
tery on his left opened fire, and he woke.
Woke suddenly, completely, with a feeling that
the end of everything was at hand. A noise of tear-
ing and crashing filled his ears, mingled with shrieks
and yells ; the carriage heaved violently, first to one
side, and then lo the other, in which position it
remained.
As Wilton sprang to his feet, his fellow-traveller
started quickly to hers ; and, grasping his arm, ex-
claimed, with ajcertain despairing calm that struck him
even in such a moment : " Is it is it death ? "
He did not reply ; but, holding on by the bar
which supports the netting over the seats, he managed
to open the door next him. It was on the upheaved
side, and he found a heap of clay jammed under the
step of the carriage.
" Come," he exclaimed, " give me your hand !
lean on my shoulder there is an open space beyond
here."
His fellow-traveller obeyed, silently and steadily.
20 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
Instinctively Wilton groped his way across what
seemed a truck laden with earth and stones, and
assisted his companion down the opposite side on to
the grass-grown border of the line, which was open,
and only fenced by a low bank and hedge. Placing
her in safety, he turned to look at the scene of fear
and confusion. A few yards ahead lay the massive
fragments of the two engines heaped together, the
foremost carriage smashed to pieces and already blaz-
ing, having caught light from the guard's lamp, which
had been overturned. Two other carriages, more or
less injured, were, like the one he had just quitted,
forced upon trucks laden with stone and clay. The
passengers were scrambling over them, the women
screaming, the men shouting directions and questions.
"If you will stay here, I will go and see if I can
be of any use," exclaimed Wilton. " You are quite
safe, and I will return as soon as I can."
She murmured something in reply as he went for-
ward.
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, 21
CHAPTER II.
WILTON found an indescribable scene of con-
fusion when he came up to the overturned
engine. The male passengers and some twenty nav-
vies, who had been with the ballast train, were trying
frantically to separate the burning carriages from the
others by forcing them back; but, although the coup-
ling irons were broken, the foremost carriages had
been so violently dashed against the trucks that they
had become too closely entangled to be stirred, and
it seemed highly probable that the whole train would
be consumed before arty means could be devised for
extinguishing the flames. Wilton's quick eye took in
the difficulty in a moment, and noticed that the blaz-
ing van, having been the first to encounter the shock,
had fallen on the side away from the ballast train,
breaking the couplings and everything breakable as
it crashed over. The next carriage had been forced
upon the second truck, and the others more or less
upon those nearest them, as they were farther from
the actual collision. The unhappy guard had been
dragged senseless from the dSris; there was, there-
22 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
fore, no one to direct the willing but fruitless efforts
of the volunteers. Seeing this, Wilton sprang upon
the truck nearest him, and shouted, in clear, ringing
tones :
" Hold, men ! you will never move that wreck !
Your only chance to put out the flames is to smother
it with the damp clay here. Get your shovels and
picks some of you jump up with the picks and loosen
the stuff; another party be ready with the shovels to
pile the clay over the fire."
At the first sound of authoritative direction the
men sprang to obey, and Wilton took as supreme
command as if ^ party of his own pioneers were at
his orders. The men worked with a will, as men
generally do when intelligently and energetically com-
manded. It was a wild and not unpicturesque scene.
At first the flames from the dry varnished wood
streamed out upon the breeze, which, fortunately, was
not high, though it sometimes sent wreaths of smoke
and fire against the men who were toiling to extin-
guish it, and bringing out in strong relief the figure of
Wilton, who had climbed upon the side of the car-
riage nearest the burning fragments, and, holding on
with one hand, urged the working party with quick,
commanding gestures. By the time the truck had
been half emptied the fire was evidently arrested.
Ever)' now and then a jet of flame shot up to the sky ;
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
23
a few more minutes of fierce exertion and the enemy
was got under, and Wilton descended from his post
of observation to find a new authority on the scene,
who was bustling about very actively. This was the
master of a small station about half a mile farther up
the line, scarcely to be seen from the fast and express
trains, which never stopped there, but elevated by
the present catastrophe into importance and authority.
By his directions the guard and stoker, who were
most injured, were removed to a small town at a little
distance, where medical aid could be procured. Hav-
ing discovered and liberated his yelping dog, Wilton
sought what information he could from this official.
"No, sir; there ain't much damage done. The
stoker of the ballast train is hurt a good deal ; but the
guard is more stunned than hurt. No lives lost,
thank God only some bruises and a broken head.
You see, it*s getting late for night-travelling, and there
wasn't a soul in the first carriage. How did it hap-
pen? You see, the ballast train was shunted here to
wait till yours was past; but those pointsmen are
overworked, and this here forgot to set back the
points; so you see, right into the other engine,"
etc., etc.
After mixing with the other passengers, and ascer-
taining what they intended to do, or if he could be
of any use to them, Wilton bethought him of his lonely
24
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
little travelling companiotiy and returned to seek her.
She had advanced nearer the scene of action, and
climbed up the low bank which here bordered the
line, the better to see what was going on.
'* I am afraid you must think I was not coming
back," said Wilton, offering his hand to help her down.
" I saw you were well occupied," she said, touch-
ing it lightly as she descended.
" By Jove 1 you are shivering with cold and no
wonder, without a cloak or plaid ! Wait for a moment
and I will bring you mine from our carriage.**
" Would you also be so kind as to bring my bonnet
and a small travelling bag? 1 should have gone for
them myself, only I could hardly stand."
But Wilton was gone, and returned quickly.
" There are but three other ladies," he said, assisting
to wrap his plaid asound her, " and they are going up
to a small town or village about two miles off, to rest
at the inn ; and when they are refreshed, intend post-
ing on to their destination, which is somewhere in
this district. Would you like to go with them, or
wait at a little station close to this, where a fresh train
will be sent as soon as they can clear the line ? "
" Oh, I will go to the station. I am anxious to
get on as soon as possible."
** And so am I. I shall, therefore, remain there
also, and shall be most happy to be of any use to you.'*
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD. 2$
** Thank you. Can I walk to this station at once ? "
" Certainly, if you will take my arm."
'* I feel I must to steady myself/* she replied. " I
did not know I was so much frightened and shaken.
I feel ashamed."
They walked on in silence for a few yards, and
then Wilton asked if she was going much farther.
*' Yes," with a sigh, " a long way over the Border
to a place called Monkscleugh.''
" Indeed 1 " cried Wilton ; ** that is my destination
also."
She made no reply, and they accomplished the
short distance in silence, save for a few friendly
remarks and inquiries from Wilton. The station was
almost deserted when they reached it; but the gas-
light and a good fire were very welcome; and the
station master soon returned with the intelligence that
they had collected more men, who were working hard
to clear the line, and, that, as soon as it was passable,
a fresh train would be sent on from A .
The station-master was a short man ^broad with-
out being stout with a peculiarly weather-beaten
aspect, his mouth screwed to one side, and one eye
squeezed down to the other, as if in the habit of facing
the sun's glare without adequate shelter. He spoke,
too, in a staccato style, as if some intermittent power
pumped up his words.
26 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
" I dare say this* lady would be glad of a cup of
tea or something," said Wilton, looking compassion-
ately at the figure of his companion, who had drawn a
chair to the fire, and sat down wearily, putting a small,
well-booted foot upon the fender.
" I have sent up to the village for refreshments,
sir ; but I am sorry to say I have nothing in the place.
I generally go away for my meals."
So saying, the station-master hurried off.
" I do not feel to want anything but sleep,'' said
the lady. " I have not had any for many nights, and
I am scarce awake now. If I could but close my
eyes, and rest.'*
She raised them as she spoke to Wilton such
large, black-blue eyes, so heavy with fatigue, that his
compassion for her evident exhaustion was naturally
increased by the admiration they excited.
" You really ought to take something, if we could
get it," he said. " Such a shock must have been too
much for you, though you showed remarkable pluck."
"Yet I was dreadfully frightened," she replied,
clasping her hands over one knee, and gazing dreamily
into the fire. ** I do not fear death so much as being
hurt and helpless."
" Well," said Wilton, cheerfully, " we must find a
resting-place for you. There ought to be a lady's
waiting-room even here." He rose and looked about
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, 27
as he spoke. " And so there is " ^he opened a door
on the right of the fireplace " a very desolate-looking
chamber. Still there is an uneasy-looking stuffed
bench, and perhaps, with my cloak and plaid, you
might manage to get an hour's sleep while we are
waiting."
" How good of you to think of all this ! *' she ex-
claimed, looking at him more attentively than she had
yet done. " But it is dark and see ! the lock is
broken. I do not think I should like to sleep with
an open door."
" Let me light the gas," said Wilton, turning the
stiff tap and striking one of his fusees. " Now the
only objection is the broken lock. I will mount guard
outside, and, trust me, no one shall intrude upon you.
What do you say ? "
" Many, many thanks., I will gladly lie down and
try to sleep. Are you not weary ? "
" Not in the least. I would advise your trying to
compose ypurself at once ; the others will be here
soon, and will probably talk and make a row. By-
the-way," interrupting himself, " would you like to
telegraph to your friends that you are all right ? I am
going to do so myself."
" Telegraph to my friends ! " she replied, stopping
and looking full at him, her large, dark, dewy eyes
lighting up as a half-sad, half-scornful smile dimpled
28 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
her cheek. *^ It is not at all necessary ; they will not
distress themselves."
She bent her head as Wilton held the door for her
to pass through. Closing it after her, he returned to
his seat by the fire, wondering at himself; for, though
far too manly a man to adopt a tone of selfish indiffer-
ence toward others, though he would have shown
kindly consideration to a plain or an elderly woman
in such circumstances, he was conscious of an extraor-
dinary degree of interest and admiration for his quiet,
undemonstrative fellow-traveller. She was so gentle,
yet so indifferent; so simple and so self-possessed ;
evidently grateful to him for his attentions, and yet
utterly regardless of him as a " good-looking fellow,*'
or as anything save a civil travelling-companion.
There was something marvellously attractive in the
almost infantine sweetness of her mouth and delicate
chin, and the contrast of her earnest, expressive eyes.
"Who can she be?" asked Wilton of himself;
"though quite unconventional, there is a. high tone
about her, poor little thing ! It is as well she fell in
with such a steady fellow as myself. I must see her
safe to the end of her journey, and find out all about
her before we part.'*
His reflections were interrupted by an influx of
some of the passengers, who now began to collect,
having impeded the efforts of the railway officials as
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD. 29
much as possible by their attempts to afford assist-
ance ; they were all exceedingly talkative and hungry,
not to say hilarious, from the reaction of their escape.
The refreshments which had been sent for had now
arrived, and the little station looked quite crowded.
In the midst of the buzz of voices, while all except
Wilton were gathered round the table discussing the
viands placed thereon, he observed the door of the
ladies' room open gently and his prot'gd appear, his
cloak over one shoulder, and trailing behind. Wilton
immediately went;^toward her.
" I cannot sleep," she said ; " I dozed a little just
at first, but now I am quite awake and restless."
" That's bad," returned Wilton. " Will you come
in here and sit by the fire ? "
" Oh no ! " shrinking back, " not among all those
people."
" Well, it would not be very pleasant ; but shall
you not be very cold ? "
" Not if you will still allow me to have your cloak."
^'Certainly; and I hope we shall not be kept
much longer. Could we not get you a fire here ? " and
he walked in unceremoniously.
" I do not think even you could manage that," she
returned, with a quiet smile, as she placed herself at
a table under the gaslight, and opened a large note-
book, as if about to make some entries.
30 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
"Not a strong-minded female taking notes, I
hope," thought Wilton. ^ She is far too pretty for
that."
" No," said he, aloud, as he observed there was
no fireplace. '^ With all the will imaginable, I cannot
manage a fire ; but can I do nothing more ? I must
insist on your taking some wine or tea. They are all
devouring out there ; and I have had some very toler-
able brandy-and-water myself," and Wilton beckoned
a waiter to bring some refreshment.
'* I tell you what you could do for me," said the
young lady, suddenly looking up more brightly than
she had yet done ; " make the station-master come in
here and talk ask him questions. Oh, you know
what I mean ! " she went on, with a sort of graceful
petulance as Wilton looked at her in no small sur-
prise, " anything to make him talk. There, I think I
hear him in the next room ; please to watch for him
and bring him here. I will begin, you can follow me ;
when I say * thank you,' send him away there, please
to catch him."
Wilton, greatly wondering that the first signs of
animation in his interesting companion should be
aroused by so rugged and commonplace a subject,
hastened to obey, and soon returned with the func-
tionary.
" Oh I " said the lady, bending her head with such
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD. 31
a proud yet gracious air that the man involuntarily
removed, his hat " Pray tell me, is there really no
serious injury? 1 should be more satisfied were I
assured by you."
" Well, mum, I am happy to say there is no one
much hurt to speak of," etc., etc.
** Is it long since you have had an accident be-
fore? ''asked Wilton, not very well knowing how to
proceed in compliance with a little private imperative
nod from the fair inqu"sitor.
The que.stion was opportune, for it launched the
station-master upon quite a flood of memories into
which he rushed and talked for good ten minutes
without intermission. How long he would have con-
tinued it is impossible to say, but one of the porters
came to call him, as there was a telegraph from ,
Wilton followed to hear the news, and returned,
after a short absence, with the intelligence that the
expected train would not arrive for another hour.
"That is long,'* replied the young lady, scarce lift-
ing her head ; then, as Wilton, a little mortified by her
tone, turned to leave the room, she exclaimed, still
looking down, " Stay one moment, if not inconvenient."
^* Certainly/' and Wilton stood still for another
minute or two.
" There," she said, holding out the book, " is that
like him ? "
32 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
Wilton took it and uttered an exclamation of sur-
prise. On the page before him was a bold, rapid,
admirable sketch of the station-master ; all the char-
acteristic lines and puckers were there, but slightly
idealized.
^' This is first-rate I You are quite an artist."
" I wish I was ! Let me touch it a little more.
What a capital face it is so rugged, so humorous
yet so English ; not the least bit picturesque. I shall
work this into something some day."
" Then I am right in supposing you an artist ?
May I look again ? " said Wilton, sitting down
beside her.
" Oh, yes ; you may look at my scratchings. This
is my note-book. I like to draw everything but,
you see, most imperfectly."
" I do not, indeed. I know very little of art,
though I can sketch roughly merely professional
work but you seem to me to have both genius
and skill."
" Some taste, scarce any skill."
There was something quite genuine in her tone
not the least tinge of mock-modesty as she turned
over the pages, and touched them here and there,
while her manner was singularly devoid of coquetry.
Wilton might have been her grandfather for all of
embarrassment or excitement his attentions caused.
RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD,
33
"And you can draw; perhaps you know these
trees ; they are not far from Monkscleugh."
She showed him a group of beeches most delicately
yet clearly drawn.
" I do not know the neighborhood. I am going
there^ for the first time. May I ask if you reside
there ? "
" Yes, at present. Oh, you will find a great deal
to sketch all about especially by the river and there
is beauty, too, in the gray skies and rich brown moors ;
but how unlike the beauty of the sunny south ! "
" It is not necessary to ask which you like ; your
voice tells that," said Wilton.
** And are you not fond of drawing ? " she resumed,
as if the subject had an irresistible attraction.
" You would not look at such school-boy produc-
tions as mine," returned Wilton, smiling. " As I said
before, they are mere rough professional drawings."
" Professional ! What is your profession ? "
This rather leading question was put with the
most straightforward simplicity.
"I am a soldier.*'
" A soldier ! " looking very earnestly at him
" what a pity ! "
" Why ? " asked Wilton, surprised, and a little
nettled. " Soldiers are necessary evils."
" But what evils ! what symbols of deeper evils
2
34
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
than themselves I I do not mean to say," interrupting
herself with a sudden consciousness that her words
were rude, while a delicate tinge of color came and
went in her cheek, " that you are bad or wicked \ but
it is so sad to think that such things, or people rather,
should be necessary still."
" No doubt it would be better for the world to be
in an Arcadian or paradisiacal condition ; but, as it
is, I am afraid it will be a long time before we can
dispense with fighting or fighting-men. However, you
are right war is a horrible thing, and I hope we shall
have no more for a long time."
" Alas ! how dare we hope that, so long as it is in
the power of three or four men to plunge three or
four nations into such horrors t *'
"Ah, I see I have encountered a dangerous
democrat," said Wilton, laughing ; and, vaguely
pleased to see her drawn out of her cool composure,
he watched the varying color in her cheek while she
was turning over the leaves of her sketch-book, seem-
ing to seek for something. " Pardon me," said Wilton,
after waiting for a reply, and determined to speak again,
" but I imagine you are not English."
" I scarcely know ^yes, I believe I am." She spoke
in her former quiet tone again.
" In England all young ladies are conservative, at
least all I have evei known," continued Wilton.
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
35
** Conservative ! I have read that word often in
the journals. Is it legitimacy, Church and state, and
all that ? "
" Exactly."
" Well, the young ladies I know and they are but
few are very charming, very accomplished ; but they
know nothing, absolutely nothing. Is it not strange ? '*
There was not the slightest approach to cynicism
in her tone, but she looked at Wilton as if fully expect-
ing him to share her wonder.
" Is this the character of the young ladies of the
unknown land into which I am about to plunge ? I
fancied Scotchwomen were educated within an inch
of their lives."
" I know English girls best. Some are very
learned; have been taught quantities; they can tell
the very year when printing was tried, and when
Que^n Elizabeth first wore silk stockings, and when
every great pope was bom ; and they read French and
German ; and oh, I cannot tell all they can do and
say. And yet ^yet, they know nothing they care
for nothing they lead such strange lives."
" I suppose the lives of all girls are much alike,"
observed Wilton, more and more curious to find out
some leading acts concerning his rather original com-
panion. " But, as we are both bound for the same
place, perhaps I may have some opportunity of com-
38 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
*^ I suppose she must be the governess. I understand
he is quite the grand seigneur of Monkscleugh," he
said aloud.
" Well, I suppose so. He is a good little man
at least, whenever I see him he is very kind." After
some further, but intermittent conversation, there was
a sort of movement in the next room, and Wilton's
companion begged him to go and see what was the
matter.
The matter was the arrival of the promised engine
and train; so Wilton's conversation and inquiries
were put an end to for the present.
To his infinite disgust, when they resumed their
places, a fat elderly man, a commercial traveller from
Glasgow, intruded upon their tete-h-ttte^ and absorbed
all the talk to himself. He was great in railway
experiences, accidents included, and addressed a
steady, unceasing flow of talk to Wilton, who burned
to eject him summarily from the window.
The young lady had sunk to sleep at last, care-
fully wrapped in Wilton's cloak, and the bagman,
having exhausted either his powers or his subject,
composed himself to slumber. But Wilton could not
rest for a long time, and he seemed hardly to have
lost consciousness before they stopped at Carlisle.
Here the commercial traveller alighted, and Wilton's
puzzling companion woke up.
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
39
" We shall be at Monkscleugh in three-quarters
of an hour," said Wilton ; '* can I be of any further
use to you if your friends are not there to meet you,
as may be the case ? "
" There will be no friends to meet me," she re-
plied ; " but I need trouble you no more : I go to the
house of one of the Brosedale employes, who will
send me on."
"After a hair-breadth 'scape, such as ours," said
Wilton, amused at his own unwonted bashful ness and
difficulty in putting the question, "may I ask the
name of my comrade in danger ? "
" My name ? " with some surprise. " Oh, Ella
Ella Rivers."
" And mine \ do you not care to inquire ? " said
Wilton, bending forward to look into her eyes.
" Yes," she said, slowly, with a slight sigh ; "what
is your name ? "
" Wilton."
" Have you no other ? there is always more char-
acter in a Christian name."
" Mine is Ralph."
" Ralph Ralph I do not seem to understand it.
Are you noble ? "
" No ; simply Colonel Wilton."
" Ah ! a colonel is higher than a captain, and
lower thJ^p a general ? "
40
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
"Just SO."
She relapsed into silence, scarcely responding to
Wilton's endeavor to make her talk and turn her eyes
upon him. He was surprised to find himself counting
the minutes that remained before he should be com-
pelled to lose sight of his curiously fascinating com-
panion. The parting moment came all too quickly,
and Wilton was obliged to say "Go6d-by."
" I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you again,"
he said, politely.
" There is nothing so unlikely," she returned, with
a slight blush ; " but," holding out her hand, " your
kindness will always be a pleasant recollection."
She bowed and turned away so decidedly that
Wilton felt he must not follow.
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
41
CHAPTER III.
TV /r AJOR MONCRIEF was as good as his word,
^^ ^ and joined his friend before the stipulated ten
days had expired. Nor had time hung heavily on
Wilton's hands. He was up early, and turned out
every day to tramp through the heather, or among
the wooded valleys of the picturesque country sur-
rounding the lodge. He was an active pedestrian
and a good shot ; moreover, he went thoroughly into
the pursuit or amusement that engaged him. The
game-keeper pronounced him a real sportsman, but
thought it rather odd that, whatever line of country
they had beaten, or were going to beat. Colonel Wilton
generally contrived to pass across the brae, or the
path leading from Brosedale to Monkscleugh. The
evening was generally spent in arranging and correct-
ing his Crimean and Indian diaries, so, with the help
of a couple of horses, which arrived under the care of
his soldier servant, he had no lack of amusement and
occupation. Nevertheless, he welcomed Moncrief
very warmly.
" You are a first-rate fellow for joining me so soon.
42
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD
It certainly is not good for man to live alone. These
are capital quarters lots of game, beautiful country,
hospitable neighbors. Look here 1 I found these
when I came in yesterday."
So spoke Wilton, handing a card and a note to his
friend as they drew near the fire after dinner.
" Hum ! ah! Sir Peter, or rather Lady Fergusson
has lost no time," returned the major, laying down the
card, which was inscribed " Sir Peter J. Fergusson,
Brosedale," and, opening the note, which bore a crest
and monogram in lilac and gold, " her ladyship is
anxious we should partake of the hospitality of Brose-
dale on Thursday next, ^ sans c&emdnieJ* I am to
bring my fi'iend Colonel Wilton."
" Who are these people ? " asked Wilton, as he
peeled a walnut.
" Oh, Sir Peter is a man who made a big fortune
in China a very decent little fellow. He married an
Honorable widow with a string of daughters, who
manages a happy amalgamation of her old and her
new loves by styling herself the Honorable Lady Fer-
gusson. Sir Peter bought a large estate here for a
song when the Grits of Brosedale smashed up. I met
the baronet iri London at General Maclellan's, and
my lady was monstrously civil ; hoped to see me when
I was in their neighborhood, and all that ; but, of
course, Wilton, you will not go? We did not
RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD,
43
come down here for polite society it would be a
bore."
Wilton did not answer immediately. " I do not
know," he said, at last. "It would not do to give
such near neighbors the cold shoulder. We might be
glad of them if we tire of each other. Suppose we go
this time, and see what sort of neighbors we have ? "
Moncrief looked at his friend with some surprise.
" As you like," he said. " I should have thought it
anything but a temptation to you. "
" My dear fellow, the weather and the sport and
the scenery have made me so confoundedly amiable
that I am indisposed to say * No ' to any one."
"Very well, I will write and accept; but if you
think I am going to dine with every resident who
chooses to enliven his dulness by entertaining two
such choice spirits as ourselves, you are very much
mistaken, my lad. I suppose you are anxious to .pro-
secute your search for a wife, in obedience to that
crotchety old peer."
"Not I," returned Wilton, laughing; "and, if I
were, I do not think it very likely I should find the
desired article among the Honorable Lady Fergusson's
daughters."
" I believe Fergusson was married before/* said
the major, " in his earlier, humbler days, when he lit-
tle thought he would reign in the stead of old Jammie
44
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
Grits at Brosedale." Whereupon the major branched
off into some local anecdotes, which he told with much
dry humor. Wilton listened and laughed, but did not
forget to put him in mind of the necessary reply to
Lady Fergusson's invitation.
The major was by no means well pleased at being
obliged to dress after a severe day's work, for which
he was not as yet in training \ moreover, he was full
fifteen years older than his friend, and at no period
of his life possessed the fire, the eager energy which
Wilton carried with him into every pursuit, even into
every whim. So he grumbled through the purgatorial
operation, and marvelled gloomily at Wilton's unusual
readiness to rush into the inanities of a country dinner.
As to Wilton, he felt quite angry with himself for
the curious elation with which he mounted the dog-
cart that was to convey them to Brosedale. He did
not think there was so much boyish folly left in him ;
but, occupy himself as he might, he could not banish
the haunting eyes of Ella Rivers. He could not for-
get the unconscious dignity of her question, " Is it
death ? " The full knowledge of danger, and yet no
wild terror! There was a fascination about that
insignificant stranger which, absurd and unreasonable
though it was, he could not shake off. This effect
was heightened by the peculiar, sad indifference of
her manner. It was odd that he had never met her
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD. 45
in any of his varied and extensive excursions. The
weather had been beautiful, too most favorable for
sketching, but she had never appeared. If he could
see her again, and disperse the species of mystery
which formed part of her charm, by ascertaining who
and what she was, he felt as if he could better break
the spell. But all this was more vaguely felt than
actually thought and acknowledged. Wilton would
have laughed at any one who told him that his
thoughts were all more or less pervaded by the quiet
little girl who had shown such an unusual dislike to
soldiers.
The friends reached Brosedale just as Sir Peter
hoped they would not be late. The house which
was an old one, so largely added to, altered, and im-
proved, that scarcely any of the original could be
traced was very like all rich men's houses where the
women have no distinctive taste handsome, ornate,
and commonplace. Lady Fergusson was a fine, well-
preserved woman, richly dressed in silk and lace.
She received Major Moncrief and his friend with
much cordiality, and presented them to her daughters,
Miss Helen and Miss Gertrude Saville, and also to a
nephew and niece who were staying in the house.
" My eldest daughter, who was with me when we
had the pleasure of meeting you in town, is staying
with her aunt. Lady Ashleigh, in Wiltshire," said the
46 RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD,
hostess to Moncrief. '* She is quite enthusiastic
about archaeology, and Ashleigh is in itself a treasure
of antiquity."
Miss Helen Saville was a grand, tall- brunette, with
rich red lips and cheeks, luxuriant if somewhat coarse
black hair, and large, round black eyes, that looked
every one and everything full in the face. Her sister
was smaller, less dark, and in every way a faint copy
of the great original. The niece was a plain girl,
with good points, dressed effectively ; and the nephew
a young lieutenant in some hussar regiment, who
considered himself bound to fraternize with Wilton.
The latter was told off to take in Miss Saville by Sir
Peter, a small man, whose close-clipped white whiskers
looked like mutton-chop patterns thickly floured.
He had a quiet, not to say depressed air, and a
generally dry-salted aspect, which made Wilton won-
der, as he stood talking with him before the fire, at
the stuff out of which the conquerors of fortune are
sometimes made.
" What a beautiful country this is ! " said Wilton
to his neighbor, as his soup-plate was removed, and
Ganymede, in well-fitting broadcloth, filled his glass.
" Strangers admire it, but it is by no means a
good neighborhood."
" Indeed ! I suppose, then, you are driven in upon
your own resources."
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
47
" Such as they are,*' with a smile displaying white
but not regular teeth.
" No doubt they are numerous. Let me see ; what
are a young lady's resources crochet, croquet, and
curates, healing the sick and feeding the hungry ? **
" Oh, I do none of those things. The crochet,
croquet, and curates, are my sister's amusements,
and I dislike both the sick and the hungry, although
I have no objection to subscribe for them."
" Ah ! you are terribly destitute ; and you do not
ride, or I should have met you."
" Yes, I am very fond of riding ; but we have
scarcely returned a week, and I have had a bad cold."
"Perhaps you draw? " asked Wilton, approaching
his object from afar.
"No ; I have always preferred music. None of us
care for drawing, except my youngest sister."
"Indeed!" (looking across the table), "that
is a pleasant variety from the crochet, croquet, and
curates."
" No ; not Gertrude I mean Isabel. She is still
in the school-room."
"Ah! And I suppose sketches with her gover-
ness ? "
"Yes."
" As I imagined," thought Wilton, " my pretty
companion is the governess. Perhaps she will be in
48 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
the drawing-room when we go there. If so, I must lay
the train for some future meeting."
"Pray, Colonel Wilton, are you any relation to a
Mr. St. George Wilton we met at Baden last summer?
He was, or is, attachi somewhere."
" He has the honor of being my first cousin once
removed, or my third cousin twice removed some
relation, at all events. I am not at all well up in the
ramifications of the family."
" Well, he is a very agreeable person, I assure you,
quite a favorite with every one, and speaks all sorts of
languages. There was a Russian princess at Baden,
quite wild about him."
" Is it possible ? These fair barbarians are im-
pressionable, however. I have met the man you
mention years ago. We were at that happy period
when one can relieve the overburdened heart by a
stand-up fight, and I have a delightful recollection of
thrashing him."
Miss Saville laughed, and then said, " I hope you
will be better friends when you meet again. I believe
he is coming here next week."
"Oh, I promise to keep the peace unless, in-
deed, I see him greatly preferred before me," re-
turned Wilton, with a rather audacious look, which
by no means displeased Miss Saville, who was of the
order of young ladies that prefer a bold wooer.
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
49
While the talk flowed glibly at Sir Peter's end of
the table, Lady Fergusson was delicately cross-exam-
ining Moncrief as to the social standing of his friend.
" Try a little melon, Major Moncrief. Pray help
yourself. That port is, I believe, something remark-
able. And you were saying Colonel Wilton is related
to that curious old Lord St. George. We met a
cousin of his his heir, in fact abroad last year, a
very charming young man."
" Not his heir. Lady Fergusson, for my friend
Ralph is the heir. I am quite sure of that."
"Indeed!" returned Lady Fergusson, blandly.
" I dare say you are right ; " and her countenance
assumed a softer expression while she continued to
bestow most flattering attentions upon the rather
obtuse major.
The after-dinner separation seemed very long to
Wilton, although he was a good deal interested by his
host's observations upon Eastern matters ; for Sir
Peter was a shrewd, intelligent man ; but at last they
joined the ladies, and found their numbers aug-
mented by a little girl of twelve or thirteen, and a
rigid lady in gray silk, who was playing a duet with
Miss Gertrude Saville. Wilton betook himself, coffee-
cup in hand, to Miss Saville, who was turning over a
book of photographs in a conspicuously-disengaged
position.
4
so
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
" I have had quite an interesting disquisition with
your father on the East and China. He evidently
knows his subject."
" Sir Peter is not my father," said the young lady,
with a tinge of haughtiness.
"True. I forgot," apologetically. "Ah! that is
your little artist-sister. I am very fond of children."
"Are you ? I am sure I am not, little tiresome,
useless animals."
" Human nature in the raw, eh ! "
"Yes; I prefer it dressed. Still, to quote an
inelegant proverb, 'Too much cookery spoils the
broth ! ' But some is quite essential. Here, Isabel,
take my cup." The little girl approached and offered
to take Wilton's.
" No, not at any age could I permit such a thing,"
said he, laughing. " And so you are the artist in the
house of Saville! Are you very fond of drawing?"
" I used not to be until " she began to reply,
when her sister interrupted her.
" Look, Isabel, Miss Walker wants you. Miss
Walker (Hooky Walker, as my Cousin Jim calls her,
because she has a hooked nose) is the governess. I
think poor Isabel is a little afraid of her. She is
awfully clever, and very slow."
Wilton looked at her in deep disappointment; the
mystery was growing more difficult. Perhaps after
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
51
all, Ella Rivers did not live at Brosedale ! Now he
recalled all she had said, he found she had not posi-
tively asserted that she lived there, or anywhere.
Could it be possible that she had slipped from his
grasp that he would never see her again was she
only the wraith of a charming, puzzling girl ? Pooh !
what was it to him ? His business was to enjoy three
or four months' sport and relaxation. He was so far
fortunate. His chum, Moncrief, had pitched on
excellent shooting- quarters for their joint occupation.
His campaign had proved a very remedial measure,
for he was quite clear of his debts, and the good
intentions of Lord St. George formed a pleasing if
uncertain perspective. So Wilton reflected, while
Miss Helen Saville performed a tarantella of marvel-
lous difficulty, where accidentals, abstruse harmonious
discords, and double shakes, appalled the listening
ear. When it was finished, the audience were prop-
erly complimentary, which homage the fair performer
disregarded with a cool and lofty indifference highly
creditable to her training in the school of modern
young-ladyism.
" What an amount of study must be required to
attain such skill ! " said Wilton, as she returned to
her seat near him. "Is it indiscreet to ask how
many hours a day it took to produce all that ? "
" Oh, not so very many. When I was in the
52
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
school-room, I practised four or five ; now much less
keeps me in practice. Are you fond of music, Col-
onel Wilton ? "
" Yes, I am extremely fond of it, in an ignorant
way. I like old ballads, and soft airs, and marches,
and all that low stvle of music suited to outside bar-
barians like myself." And Wilton, instinctively con-
scious that the brilliant Miss Saville admired him,
bestowed a mischievous glance upon her as he spoke,
not sorry, perhaps, to act upon the well-known prin-
ciple of counter-irritation, to cure himself of the
absurd impression made upon him by his chance
encounter.
" I understand," returned Miss Saville, a little
piqued, as he had intended she should be. " You look
upon such compositions as I have just played as a
horrid nuisance."
" Like a certain very bad spirit, I tremble and
adore," said Wilton, laughing. " I have no doubt
however, that you could charm my savage breast, or
rouse my martial fire, with *Auld Robin Gray' or
* Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled.' "
" No, I cannot," replied Miss Saville, haughtily. '
" Gertrude sings a little, and, I believe, can give you
* Auld Robin Gray,' if you ask her."
" I shall try, at all events," said Wilton, amused
at the slight annoyance of her tone, and rising to
RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD,
53
execute his purpose, when Helen, to his surprise,
forestalled him by calling her sister to her very
amiably, " Gertrude, will you sing for Colonel Wil-
ton ? I will play your accompaniment." So the
desired ballad was sung, very correctly and quite in
tune, but as if performed by some vocal instrument
utterly devoid of human feeling.
There was more music, and a good deal of talk
about hunting arrangements ; but Wilton was extremely
pleased to be once more in the dog-cart, cigar in
mouth, facing the fresh, brisk breeze, on their home-
ward way. The major, on the contrary, was in a far
more happy frame of mind than at starting. He pre-
ferred hunting to shooting, and was highly pleased at
the prospect of two days' hunting a week.
" You are right, Moncrief," said Wilton, as they
bowled away over the smooth, hard road ; " these
country dinners and family parties ought to be
devoutly avoided by all sensible men."
" I do not know," returned the mentor. *^ I think
they are a very tolerable lot ; and I fancy you found
amusement enough with that slashing fine girl
you took very little notice of any one else, by Jove !
I sometimes think I hate the lassies, they are
such kittle cattle. Now, a woman that's * wooed
and married and a' ' is safe, and may be just as
pleasant"
i
54 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
" I acknowledge the fact, but I object to the mo-
rality/' returned Wilton, laughing.
" You do ? 1 was not aware of your regeneration."
" Hallo ! " cried Wilton. " There's some one in front
there, just under the shadow of that beech-tree."
" Yes, I thought I saw something. It's a child or
a girl."
Wilton, who was driving, did not answer, though
he drew up suddenly, and made a movement as if to
throw aside the plaid that wrapped his knees and
spring down.
" What are you about ? are you daft, man ? "
" Nothing, nothing. I fancied here, Byrne, look
at this trace ; it is loose."
'* Sure it's all right, sir."
" Is it ? Never mind." And Wilton, after casting
an eager look up a pathway which led from the beech-
tree into the grounds of Brosedale, gathered up the
reins and drove rapidly home.
It was about a week after the Brosedale dinner
that Wilton had sallied forth, intending to ride over to
Monkscleugh. He had nearly resigned the idea of
ever encountering his fair fellow-traveller again,
though he could not shake off the conviction that the
slight dim figure which had flitted from out the shade
of the beech-tree, across the moonlight, and into the
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
55
gloom of the Brosedale plantations, was that of Miss
Rivers. Still, it was most strange that she should be
there at such an hour half-past ten at least rather
too enterprising for a young lady. Yet, if Moncrief
had not been with him, he would certainly have given
chase, and satisfied himself as to the identity of the
child or woman who had crossed their path.
On this particular afternoon, however, Wilton's
thoughts were occupied by the letters he had received
that morning, one of which was from Lord St. George,
who wrote to remind him of his promise to call when
he passed through London again. The viscount also
mentioned that a former friend of his, the Earl of
D , would be in his (Wilton's) neighborhood early
in November, and would probably call upon him.
Wilton smiled as he read this, remembering that
the earl had three unmarried daughters. " A young
gentleman, '"the writer continued, *' calling himself St.
George Wilton, left a card here some days ago, and
was good enough to say that he would call again,
which enabled me to forbid his admittance. He did
repeat the attempt, when he told my valet, whom
he asked to see, that he was going to Scotland, and-
would probably see Colonel Wilton, if I had any com-
mands. I imagine my obliging namesake is a son of
Fred Wilton, who was in the navy but not exactly
the type of an honest, simple sailor. I would advise
56 iiALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
you not to be on too cousinly terms. I have heard,
even in my cell, of the young gentleman's diplomatic
astuteness."
Pondering on this epistle, and smiling at the sud-
den interest evinced toward him by the eccentric
peer, Wilton rode leisurely toward Monkscleugh,
enjoying the splendid golden evening tinge in the sky,
the rich and varied hues of wood and moorland, when
a sudden turn in the road brought him face to face
with a slight, gray figure, wearing a wide-brimmed hat,
and carrying a small parcel. In an instant all the
half-scorned but potent longings, the vivid picture-like
recollections of tones and glances, that had haunted
him even while he laughed at himself for being per-
vaded by them all these absurd fancies he had so
nearly shaken off rushed back in a torrent, and made
his pulses leap at the immediate prospect of solving
many mysteries.
He was dismounted and at her side in an instant.
** I thought you had vanished that I had lost you
forever I '* he exclaimed, with the sort of well-bred
impetuosity peculiar to his manner; while, seeing
that she made no motion to hold out her hand, he
only lifted his hat.
The faint color came to her cheek as she raised
her eyes frankly to his, with a brighter, merrier smile
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, t^j
than he had seen upon her lip before. " Neverthe-
less, I have not been very far away."
" Have you been at Brosedale all the time then
how is it we have not met ? "
*^ I cannot tell ; but I have been at Brosedale."
Wilton threw the reins over his arm, and walked
on beside her. ^* And are you all right again
recovered from your fright, and had sleep enough ? "
looking at her eagerly as he spoke, and ' noting the
soft lustre of her eyes, the clear, pale cheek, the ripe
red though not full lips, all so much fairer and fresher
than when they parted.
" Yes, I am quite well, and rested." A pause.
She was apparently not inclined to talk more than
she could help.
" Do you know I quite expected to see you when I
dined at Brosedale the other day how was it you did
not appear ? "
" What ! did you expect to see me at dinner ? Do
you, then, think I am a much-disguised princess ? "
" Not so very much disguised," he replied, rather
surprised at her tone.
She raised her eyes fully to his, with a look half
amused, half scornful. " You might dine many times
at Brosedale without seeing me. Do you know that
Sir Peter Fergusson was married before, and he has
one son a poor, crippled, often-suffering boy of
58
RALPH WILTON *S WEIRD.
thirteen, I think ? Well, this boy can do very little to
amuse himself; he does not care for study, but he loves
pictures and drawing, so 1 was engaged about a year
ago to be, not his governess I am too ignorant nor
his companion that would be a lady-in-waiting but
a souffre douleur and teacher of drawing. I live with
my poor boy, who is never shown to visitors ; and we
are not unhappy together."
" I have heard of this son, but thought he was
away; and you are always with him very fortunate
for him, but what a life for you ! ''
^* A far better life than many women have," she
replied, softly, looking away from him and speaking as
if to herself.
" Still, it is an awful sacrifice ! "
She laughed with real, sweet merriment. " That
depends on what has been sacrificed. And you," she
went on, with the odd independence of manner which,
had her voice been less soft and low, her bearing less
gentle, might have seemed audacious, " do you like
Glenraven ? Have you found many lovely bits of
scenery ? "
" I am charmed with the country ; and, were I as
fortunate as young Fergusson in a companion, I might
even try my *prentice hand at sketching."
" If you will not try alone, neither will you even
if Claude Lorraine came to cut your pencils."
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
59
" I wish," said Wilton, " I had a chance of cutting
yours."
" But you have not," she returned, with a sort of
indolent gravity not in the least coquettish, and a
pause ensued. Wilton had seldom felt so adrift with
any woman ; perfectly frank and ready to talk, there
was yet a strange half-cold indifference in her manner
that did not belong to her fair youth, and upon which
he dared not presume, though he chafed inwardly at
the mask her frankness offered.
" I suppose you are kept very much in the house
with your pupil ? " asked Wilton.
" Sometimes ; he has been very unwell since I
came back. But he has a pony-carriage, and he drives
about, and I drive it occasionally ; but it pains him to
walk, poor fellow ! He is interested in some things.
He wished much to see you and hear about the
Crimea and India."
" I am sure," cried Wilton, with great readiness,
" I should be most happy to see him or contribute to
his amusement pray tell him so from me."
" No, I cannot," with a shake of the head ; " Lady
Fergusson is so very good she thinks everything wrong ;
and to walk upon a country-road with a great man
like you would be worse than wrong it would be
shocking!"
Wilton could not refrain from laughing at the droll
6o RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
gravity of her tone, though in some indefinable way it
piqued and annoyed him.
"Well, they are all out of the way they have
driven over to A . Have they not ? "
" Yes, and therefore there was no one to send to
Monkscleugh to choose some prints that Donald
wanted very much for a screen we are making, so I
went."
" And so at last I had the pleasure of meeting you.
I had begun to fear I should never have a chance of
asking if you had recovered from your fright; for
though no woman could have shown more pluck, you
must have been frightened."
" I was, indeed, and I do not think I am naturally
brave j but I must bid you good -morning my way
lies through the plantations."
" No, no ! you must not send me adrift are we
not comrades? We have faced danger together; and
I am sure you are not influenced by Lady Fergus-
son*s views."
" Lady Fergusson ! pooh ! "
There was wonderful, airy, becoming grace in the
pant which seemed to blow defiance like a kiss to the
immaculate Lady Fergusson. " Nevertheless, I must
say good-by, for your horse could not get through
that."
She pointed to a small swing-gate, which led from
RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD. gi
the road to a path across a piece of rough heath-
grown ground, between the road and the woods.
" Do you forbid me to escort you farther ? " said
Wilton, quickly.
She thought an instant. "Were I going to walk
along the road I should not," the faintest color steal-
ing over her cheek as she spoke ; " it is pleasant to
talk with a new person sometimes, but I cannot alter
my route."
Wilton laughed, and, mounting rapidly, rode to the
farther side of the wide waste border, where there was
almost a small common ; rousing up his horse he
rushed him at the fence separating Sir Peter's land
from the road, and landed safely within the boundary
just as his companion passed through the gate.
She gave a slight suppressed scream, and as he
again dismounted and joined her she looked very pale.
" How could you be so foolish as to do so ! " she
exclaimed, almost angry. " You have frightened me."
" I am extremely sorry, but you can know little of
country-life ; any man accustomed to hunt, and toler-
ably mounted, could have done as much."
She shook her head and walked on in silence,
most embarrassing to Wilton. " I hope I have not
displeased you," he said, earnestly, trying to look into
her eyes; "but I thought I had your permission to
accompany you a littte farther."
62 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
" Yes, but who could imagine you would commit
such an eccentricity as to take a leap like that ? "
" I do not allow it was an eccentricity/ I suppose
you absolve me ? "
^^ Absolve tef and the horse also. What a beauti-
ful horse ; how gently he follows you ! I should so
much like to sketch him ; I fear I do not sketch
animals well ; I do not catch their character. Oh I
could I sketch him now ! " stopping shjort, and speak-
ing with great animation. " Ah ! I am too unreason-
able how could I ask you ? "
The faint flitting flush that gave so much charm to
her countenance, the sudden lighting up of her dark
eyes with childlike eagerness, so unlike their usual
expression of rather sad indifference, fascinated Wilton
strangely ; it was an instant before he replied, *' Of
course you shall sketch him ; I have nothing to do,
and am very glad to be of any service to you."
" Thank you, thank you very much ! See," as she
hastily unfolded her parcel, " I had just bought a new
sketch-book, and you have provided a frontispiece."
She seated 'herself on one of the large gray stones
that dotted the piece of ground they were crossing,
and quickly pointed a pencil. " There, turn his head
a little toward me not quite so much ; that will do."
For some time Wilton stood still and silent, watch-
ing the small, white, deft fingers as they firmly and
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, 63
rapidly traced the outline, or put in the shading with
broad, bold strokes ; occasionally he quieted the horse
with a word, while he stored his memory with the
prett}'' graceful figure, from a tiny foot half-buried in
the soft, short grass to the well-set, haughty head and
neck. " It is curious," he thought ; " here is a girl,
in almost a menial position, with all the attributes of
race, and a pair of eyes a king's daughter might pine
to possess. Who can she be ? What is her history ?
Why did she venture out alone when she ought to have
been going to bed ? I shall ask her." These ideas
passed through Wilton's brain, although any clear con-
tinuity of thought was considerably impeded by the
intermittent glimpses of a pair of full, deep-blue eyes,
alternately upturned and downcast.
Suddenly Wilton was ordered, " Look away over
your horse's neck ; " and when, having preserved this
position for several moments, he attempted to assume
a more agreeable attitude, he was met with an eager
" Pray be still for a little longer."
At last he was released.
" There," said his new acquaintance, " I will keep
you no longer ; you have been very kind. See, how
have I done it ? "
Wilton looked eagerly at the page held out to him.
" It is wonderfully good for so hasty a sketch," he
said \ " the head and foreleg are capital, and as far as
64 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
I can judge, the likeness to the back of my head first-
rate."
" I can generally catch the likeness of people,*' she
returned, looking at the page and touching it here and
there.
" Was that the reason you told me to look away ? '*
asked Wilton, smiling.
" No ; I did not wish your face in my book."
Then, coloring and looking up, " Not that I forget
your kindness to me. No ; but, you understand, if
Lady Fergusson found Mr. that is. Colonel Wilton's
face in my book it would be the most shocking the
superlative shocking ! Ah, there is no word enormous
enough for such a * shocking ! ' " And she laughed
low but merrily. Wilton found it catching and
laughed too, though it puzzled him to reply. She
went on, "You would have come in better for the
picture had you had your soldier's dress on, holding
the horse and looking thus; and then, with some
bright coloring, it might have been called * On the
Alert,' or some such thing, and sold for a hundred
pence. I have seen this sort of sketches often in
picture-shops." She spoke quickly, as if to cover a
slight embarrassment, as she put away her pencils and
book.
" Well, Miss Rivers, both Omar here and myself
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, 65
will be most happy to sit, or rather stand, for you
whenever you like."
"Ah, I shall never have another opportunity," she
replied, walking toward the next fence and swing-gate,
which led into the wood.
" You threatened as much when I bade you good-
by, that I was never to see you again, and yet we have
met ; so I shall not be utterly downcast by your
present prophecy."
She did not reply for a minute, and then exclaimed,
" Suppose I were ever to succeed in making painting
my career, would you, when you are a great nobleman
as Miss Saville says you will be sit to me for your
picture ? And then we should have in the catalogue
of the year's exhibition, ^ Portrait of the Earl or
Duke of Blank, by Ella Rivers.'"
" I can only say I will sit to you when and where
you will."
" Ah, the possibility of independent work is too
charming ! But I forget myself what o'clock is it ? "
" Quarter to three," said Wilton, looking at his
watch.
" Then I have been out too long. See how low
the sun is ! What glorious sunset hues ! But I must
not stay. Oh, how I hate to go in ! How I love the
liberty of the open air the free, unwalled space I I
feel another being in the prison of a great house. If
66 RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD,
you met me there, you would not know me. I should
not dare to look up ; I should speak with bated breath,
as if you were a superior. Can you fancy such a
thing ? "
" No ; the wildest stretch of my imagination could
not suggest such an idea. But can you not keep out a
little longer ? " There was a strained, yearning look
in her eyes that touched Wilton to the heart.
" Impossible ! My poor Donald will be cross and
wretched. And you you must go. I am foolish to
have talked so much."
" You must let me come a little farther ; that fence
up there is considerably stiffer than the last, but I
think Omar will take it."
" No, no, no ! " clasping her hands.
" Yet you are not easily frightened. A young lady
that can venture on a moonlight ramble when less
adventurous people are going to bed must have strong
nerves."
" Did you recognize me, then ? " she interrupted,
not in the least disturbed by his question, but offering
no explanation of her appearance at such an hour.
" Yes, I am not cowardly in some things. However,
I must say good morning."
" And you will not permit me come any farther ? "
"Nol" He felt her "no" was very earnest.
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.- 6/
" Nay, more, I will stay here until I see you safe at the
other side of that fence again."
There was a quaint, unembarrassed decision in
her tone that somewhat lessened the pleasure with
which he heard her.
" I assure you, it is not worth your while to watch
so insignificant a feat of horsemanship ; that fence is
a nothing."
" It does not seem so to me. It is possible an
accident might happen, and then you would have no
help. It would not be right to go on, and leave you
to chance."
" If you will, then, I shall not keep you long.
But, Miss Rivers, shall you not want to visit Monks-
cleugh soon again? Have you abjured the pictur-
esque braes of Glenraven ? Is there no chance of
another artistic talk with you ? "
*^No! Scarcely any possibility of such a thing.
Good-by! I am much obliged for the sketch you
granted me. My good wishes ! " a slight, proudly-
gracious bend of the head " but go ! " She stood
with her parcel tightly held, not the slightest symptom
of a shake of the hand ; and, bold man of the world
as he was, Wilton felt he must not presume to hold
out his ; he therefore sprung into the saddle, and was
soon over the fence and on the road. He raised his
hat, and received a wave of the hand in return.
58 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
He remained there until she vanished through the
gate, and then, touching his impatient horse with the
heel, rode at speed to Monkscleugh, whence, having
accomplished his errand, he made a considerable
detour; so that evening had closed in, and the major
was waiting for dinner when he reached the lodge.
"Where have you been?" demanded his hungry
senior. Wilton replied by an elaborate description of
his progress, minus the leading incident. The care he
took to mislead his friend and mask his own move-
ments was surprising almost to himself. Yet, as he
reflected, what was there in the whole adventure to
conceal ? No harm, certainly. Nor was Moncrief a
man who would jest coarsely, or draw wicked infer-
ences. Still, it was impossible that he or any man
could understand the sort of impression Ella (it was
extraordinary how readily her name came to his mind)
had made upon him, unless he knew her ; and even
then, what opinion would a cool, shrewd, common-
sense fellow like Moncrief form ? He (Wilton) him-
self was, he feared, an impressionable idiot, and, no
doubt, exaggerated effects. Nevertheless, those soft,
deep eyes, with their earnest, yearning expression,
haunted him almost painfully. If he could see them
again, perhaps the effect would wear off; and, with-
out thinking of the consequences, he most resolutely
determined to see her as soon as he could possibly
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, 69
manage to do so, without drawing down any unpleas-
antness on that curious, puzzling, piquante girl. Major
Moncrief little imagined the vivid gleams of recollec-
tion and conjecture which ever and anon shot athwart
the current of his companion's ideas, as he took his
part in a discussion on the probable future of the
army in India with apparent interest, and even eager-
ness. The major's intelligence was keen so far as it
went, but that was not far ; therefore, though good
comrades and excellent friends, they seldom agreed
in opinion, Wilton's mental views being greatly wider :
the result of the difference being that Moncrief con-
sidered Wilton " a fine fellow, but deucedly visionary
unpractical, in short," except in regimental matters ;
while Wilton spoke confidentially of the major as " a
capital old boy, but blind as a bat in some directions."
" Well, I maintain that we will never have such
men again as the soldiers and diplomates trained
under the old company. Why, even the officers of the
humbler grade the Jacobs and Greens, to say nothing
of Edwards and a lot more have very few equals in
the queen's service."
" True enough," replied Wilton, a little absently.
"We have too much pipe-clay and red-tape." So
spake he with his lips, while his brain was striving
busily to solve the question, " What could have brought
her out at night through the lonely woods ? Was it
70
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
possible that any motive less strong than an appoint-
ment with a lover could have braced a slight, nervous
girl (for, though plucky, she is nervous) to such an
undertaking ? But, if she cared enough for any one
to dare it, it would be worth braving a good deal to
meet her." The picture suggested was rather fascinat-
ing, for the major exclaimed, " I say, Wilton, are you
asleep ? " and brought their discussion to an end.
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
71
CHAPTER IV.
ANOTHER week passed rapidly over, assisted in
its flight by two capital runs with the Friarshire
hounds and a dinner at a neighboring magnate's,
where Wilton made himself marvellously agreeable to
Helen Saville, and promised to ride with her next day ;
but neither at luncheon nor in the house or grounds
did he catch a glimpse of Ella Rivers ; again she had
totally disappeared.
Miss Saville did not find Wilton so pleasant a
companion, either during their ride or the luncheon
which preceded it, as he had been at dinner the day
before.
The accomplished Miss Walker and her pupil
joined the party, but no other junior member of the
family.
"What an infamous shame," thought Wilton, "not
to let that poor boy have a little society ! " However,
Fortune was not quite inexorable. As Wilton rode
up to the door on their return, intending to bid the
young ladies under his escort good-by, he became
i
J2 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
aware of a small /igure, with a large head and promi-
nent eyes, standing on the threshold, supported by
crutches, while a pony-carriage was just disappearing
toward the stables.
" What a nuisance ! " said Helen to Gertrude.
'* I wonder what that boy wants ? "
" Well, Donald, you ought not to stay here after
your drive. You will take cold," said Miss Saville.
" Never you mind," retorted the boy, in a shrill,
resentful voice. " I want to speak to Colonel Wilton."
"To me ? " said Wilton, coming forward.
" Yes, I have asked them all to bring you to see
me, and they won't. I believe they'd like to smother
me altogether. Will you come and see me and Ella?
I want to hear about a battle and lots of things."
He spoke with a sort of querulous impetuosity.
"I shall be most happy to rub up my recollections
for your benefit," said Wilton, good-humoredly, and
taking the hand which the little cripple contrived to
hold out to him.
" When will you come ? To-morrow ? "
" I am afraid I cannot," replied Wilton, remem-
bering an engagement with Moncrief, and speaking
with very genuine regret.
" Well, the day after ? ''
" Oh, don't tease, Donny," cried Gertrude Saville.
"The first time Colonel Wilton comes over to
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, 73
luncheon I will ask him to come and talk to you,"
said Helen.
" Colonel Wilton, will you just ask for me Master
Fergusson ! In the old times, I would be * Master of
Brosedate.* I shall never see you if you do not."
" Depend on my calling on you," returned Wilton,
smiling.
" And soon ? "
"Yes, very soon."
Without another word, the unfortunate heir of so
much wealth turned and limped into the hall with
surprising rapidity.
" How annoying ! " cried Gertrude.
" What an awful bore ! " said Helen. " Really,
Colonel Wilton, I am quite vexed that he should
intrude himself upon you."
" Why ! I do not see anything vexatious in it."
" You are too good. Do you know that boy is
the bane of our existence?"
" Do you wish me to shoot him ? " asked Wilton,
laughing. " I really cannot wait to do so at present,
so good morning, though closing shades almost com-
pel me to say good night."
It was nearly a week before Wilton permitted him-
self to accept the invitation given him by the heir of
Brosedale, and, in the interim, he dined at D
74
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
Castle. The Ladies Mowbray were pleasant, unaf-
fected girls, considerably less imposing and more
simple than Helen Saville.
" These are exactly the style of women to please
Lord St. George," thought Wilton, as he walked over
to Brosedale a day or two after. " And very much
the style to please myself formerly ; but at present
no. I am wonderfully absorbed by this temporary
insanity, which must not lead me too far." Musing
in this strain, he reached the grand, brand-new house,
where Lady Fergusson and her daughters received
him in rich silk morning costumes, very becoming and
tasteful, but, somehow, not so pleasant to his eye
as the pretty, fresh print dresses of Lord D *s
daughters.
Sir Peter came in to luncheon, which he did not
always. His presence generally produced a depressing
effect upon his fair step-daughters, and Wilton began
to fear that no one would give him an opening to fulfil
his promise to the crippled boy. At last he took the
initiative himself; and, when Sir Peter paused in
an exposition of the opium-trade, Wilton addressed
Helen :
"You must not let me break my promise to your
brother step-brother, I mean."
" How ! what ! " exclaimed Sir Peter to his wife.
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
n
''Has he seen Donald ? " He spoke in a sharp, star-
tled tone.
"The young gentlerrian introduced himself to me
at the entrance of your hospitable mansion the other
day, and expressed a wish to hear my warlike experi-
ences, so I promised to give him a stance,''*
"You are very good," said Sir Peter, slowly, look-
ing down. "Donald has but few pleasures, poor
fellow ! "
After this, all the talk died out of the little baronet,
and he soon rose and left the room.
" Indeed ! " cried Gertrude, as the door closed on
her step-father, " Donald has tormented us ever since
to know when you were coming to see him. You had
better take Colonel Wilton to the school-room, Helen,
and have done with it."
" I am quite ashamed of troubling you, Colonel
Wilton," said Lady Fergusson. "But that boy's
whims are very absurd, and Sir Peter is very weak, I
must say.'*
" However, we have had quite a respite since little
Miss Rivers came down," interrupted Helen Saville.
"She manages him wonderfully. You cannot think
what a curious pair they are together. You have seen
Donald; and Miss Rivers, though not absolutely
plain, is a cold, colorless little thing, generally very
silent."
k
76 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
**But she can tell stones delightfully," cried
Isabella ; '* she makes Donald laugh and be quite
good-humored for hours together."
"I fear,*' interrupted the accomplished Miss
Walker, " that, if my young charge is too much with
Master Fergusson and his companion, her mind will
be quite occupied with a very useless array of fairy
tales and legends, more calculated to distort than to
illustrate historic truth."
" I am sure you are right, Miss Walker. Isabella,
you must not go into Donald's room without Miss
Walker's permission," remarked Lady Fergusson.
" And she will never let me," said Isabella, with a
very rebellious pout.
" Well, well, let us get this visit over," cried Helen,
rising. " I will see if he is in the house and visible."
" You cannot think what a nuisance that poor boy
was to my girls at first, and how well they bore with
him, particularly Helen," said Lady Fergusson. " I
am sure Miss Walker did the state great service when
she found little Miss Rivers. She suits Donald won-
derfully, though she is an oddity in her own way also."
Miss Walker murmured something about " being
happy," but her tone was melancholy and uncertain,
as though she thought the introduction of an element
at variance with historic truth was a doubtful good.
Wilton made no direct reply ; he was curious to
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
77
ascertain if Miss Rivers had mentioned him, and anx-
ious in any case to play into her hands.
Helen Saville returned quickly.
" Yes," she said, *' Donald is at home, and will be
highly pleased to see you."
Wilton accordingly followed her through various
well-warmed and carpeted passages to a handsome
room on the sunny side of the house, which was the
dwelling-place of the heir. Books and music, a piano,
drawing-materials, globes, pictures, maps, all appli-
ances for amusement and study, gave a pleasant aspect
to the apartment. The boy was seated in a chair of
elaborate make, furnished with a desk and candle-
holder, and which could be raised or lowered to any
angle. His crutch lay at hand, and he seemed
engaged in drawing. He was plain and unattractive
enough a shrivcUed-looking frame, a large head, wide
mouth, projecting brow all the characteristics of
deformjty. Even large and glittering eyes did not
redeem the pale, wan face, over which gleamed a
malign expression by no means pleasant to a stranger.
*^ I thought you would never come," he exclaimed,
bluntly, in a harsh, querulous voice, and holding out
his hand.
" You will accept me now I am here, I hope," said
Wilton, smiling.
** Oh, yes ; I am very glad to see you."
78 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
" You are an artist, I see ? "
" I hope to be one. Look here."
Wilton approached his desk. A sketch lay upon
it. A confused mass of figures, apparently intended
for a desperate battle.
" This," continued Donald, " is what I wanted you
for. This is a study for a large picture in oils (I will
begin it when I am a little stronger) of the battle of
Balaklava. Nothing has ever been made of this sub-
ject, and I want to make something of it ; so I
thought you would just look at my sketch and see if
I have caught an idea of the scene, and correct any
inaccuracy that strikes you."
"I should be most happy to help you," returned
Wilton, looking hopelessly at the crowd of forms before
him ; "but I fear my capabilities are not quite equal
to the task. In the first place, I was not in the Bal-
aklava affair, and then one's recollections of a battle
are not very clear."
" If confusion is a true likeness, Donny's picture
will be remarkably successful," said Miss Saville, with
a grave manner. Her words brought a flush to the
boy's pale brow.
" I wish you would go away," he said, rudely and
abruptly. " I can never talk about anything when
you are by."
" To hear is to obey," replied Miss Saville, rising ;
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, 79
" only do not try Colonel Wilton^s patience too
much."
" Go ! go ! " returned Donald, almost fiercely.
Wilton could not refrain from smiling as she left
the room.
" I hate those Savilles ! " cried Donald, observing
it ; *' and so would you if you lived in the house with
them."
" That is a subject on which we shall never agree.
Let us return to your picture," said Wilton, thinking
what a thorough "sell" it would be if Ella Rivers
never made her appearance ; for, with all his surface
easy good-nature, Wilton did not fancy sacrificing
even a small share of his time to an ill-natured imp
like this.
" Look here ! I have made this hussar grasp a
lancer by the throat, and thrust a sword into his side.
Will that do ? "
" I see. Well, hardly. You know both hussars
and lancers were our men, therefore you must not
make them fight ; and here you have not the Russian
uniform quite correctly. I think I have some
sketches of the Russians that would help you. But
is it not rather ambitious for such a youngster as
yourself to aim at historical painting ? "
" That is what Ella says ; but it is my only chance
of fame." The word on his lips was suggestive of
8o RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
sadness, and Wilton looked at the frail form, the
pallid face, the ihin, tremulous, feverish fingers with
compassion. Before he could reply, a door behind
him opened softly. " Oh, come here, Ella ! " cried
Donald. Wilton turned quickly, and just caught a
glimpse of a gray skirt vanishing. "Ella, come
back ! Ella I Ella I " screamed the boy, with a sort
of angry impatience that would not be denied.
" I am here, then," slie said, reopening the door
and coming in.
Wilton felt his (not inexperienced) heart throb as
she approached, her cheek warm with a soft, flitting
blush, a slight smile upon her lips, but her large eyes
grave and calm. It was the first time Wilton had
seen her in-doors, and the delicate dignity of her look,
especially the setting on of her head, charmed him.
The excessive simplicity of her perpetual gray dress
could not hide the grace of her slim, round form, and
yet he could well imagine that the vulgar, common
taste that looks for rich color and striking outline
might consider the quiet moonlight beauty of this
obscure girl something almost plain.
Wilton greeted her silently as she approached,
with a profound bow. She acknowledged him.
" I did not know you had any one with you," she
said to her pupil.
*'Do you know Colonel Wilton?" he asked, sharply.
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD. gl
** He was in the train with me when the collision
occurred," she replied quietly, the color fading away
from her cheek, and leaving it very pale
" Why did you not tell me ? "
"There was nothing to tell, and you never asked
me about my adventures."
"This young gentleman is very ambitious," said
Wilton, to change the subject. " He is designing to
immortalize himself and the Six Hundred at once."
" He will not have patience. I tell him that even
the greatest genius must wait and work." She sighed
as she spoke. " Besides, it is almost desecration for
art to bestow itself on such a subject."
" There ! " cried the boy, passionately, " you
always discourage me ; you are cruel 1 Have I so
much pleasure or hope that you should take this from
me?"
She rose from the seat she had taken and came to
him, laying her hand on his shoulder with a wonder-
fully tender gesture. " I do not discourage you, caro !
You have much ability, but you have scarcely four-
teen years. Twenty years hence you will still be
young, quite young enough to paint men tearing each
other to pieces with immense success. Now, you
must learn to walk before you can fly upon the wings
of fame. Let us put this away."
82 liALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
" No, you shall not. As to twenty years hence,
do not talk of them to me ! "
The fierce, complaining tone passed from his
voice, and he leaned back, raising his eyes to hers
with a yearning, loving, sad expression that struck
Wilton with strange jealousy. The boy was old for
his years, and perhaps, unknown to himself, loved his
gentle companion with more than brotherly love.
The idea chafed him, and to banish it he spoke :
" Why not make separate studies for your figures ?
It will practise your hand and make material for your
picture. I will send you over the Russian views and
figures I have ; they will help you as to costume and
scenery."
There was a pause. Wilton was determined not
to go away ; and Donald, the fire gone from his eyes,
his very figure limp, would not speak. At last, Miss
Rivers, who was arranging a box of colors, said,
"This gentleman Colonel Wilton's suggestion is
very good. Suppose you act upon it ? And perhaps
he will come again, and see how you go on."
She looked at Colonel Wilton as she spoke, and
he tried to make out whether she wished him to return,
or to give him the opportunity of escape. Although
not inclined to under-estimate himself, he came to the
latter conclusion ; but did not avail himself of it.
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD. 83
" You have something more to show me, have you
not ! " he asked, kindly.
" Yes j plenty much better," answered Ella Rivers
for him ; and, slipping away the fatal battle-scene,
she replaced it with a portfolio full of sketches very
unequal in merit. Ella quickly picked out the best,
and Donald appeared to cheer up under the encour-
agement of Wilton's praise.
"Show your sketch of * Dandy,* " said the boy to
Ella. " She draws very well. Bring your portfolio,
Ella," he went on.
" It is not necessary. You are keeping Colonel
Wilton."
" You are not, indeed. I rather fancy you wish to
get rid of me, Miss Rivers."
" Miss Rivers I Miss Rivers ! How did you
know her name ? "
" I ? Oh, I have heard it several times I Your
sister mentioned Miss Rivers to-day at luncheon."
" Show your book, Ella, at all events."
She went to a distant table, after a full, searching
look at Colonel Wilton, and brought the book he well
remembered.
** Here is a capital likeness of my pony and my
father's pet Skye. But, Ella, you have torn out a page
the first one. Why ? "
"Because it pleased me to do so." She spoke
84 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
very composedly, but the color went and came faintly
in her cheek.
" Do tell me why, Ella ? " with sharp, angry en-
treaty.
" I will not^ Donald ! You are tyrannical."
His eyes flashed, but he controlled himself.
" Is not this capital ? " he asked, holding out the
book.
" Very good first-rate," returned Wilton, looking
at two admirably drawn figures of a pony and dog.
" It is better. I want to improve in animals," said
Ella, looking down upon the page ; and a little con-
versation ensued respecting this line of art, in which
Donald took no share. Suddenly Ella looked at him.
** You are ill ! you are suffering ! " she exclaimed,
darting to his side, and putting her arm round his
neck, while, pale as death and half fainting, he rested
his head against her breast.
^ Pray bring me that phial and glass from the
cabinet," she said, quickly. Wilton obeyed ; he held
the glass while she poured out the right quantity ; he
took the bottle again, while she held the glass to the
poor boy's lips ; he assisted to lower the wonderful
chair till the weary head could be gently placed in a
restful position, all without a word being exchanged ;
then Ella took the poor, thin hand in hers, and felt
the pulse, and stroked it.
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, 85
Donald opened his eyes. " Ella, I am better ;
ask him to say nothing about it."
"I will, dear Donald, I will." Then, turning to
Wilton, " Come, I will show the way." The moment
they crossed the threshold she exclaimed, ^ It will
be better to say nothing about it ; Lady Fergusson
would only come and make a fuss and torment him,
so I troubled you instead of ringing ; but 1 do not
apologize. You would willingly help him, I am
sure."
" Yes, of course ; but what a responsibility for
you ! "
" Oh, I understand him, and I often see the doctor.
Ah, what a life ! what suffering ! what a terrible
nature ! But I must not stay. You, you were pru-
dent that is pooh I I am foolish. I mean to say, I
am glad you scarcely appeared to know me. I say
nothing of myself here ; -I am an abstraction, a
machine, a companion! Good-by." For the first
time she held out her hand with a gracious, queenly
gesture. Wilton took and iield it.
" One moment," he said, quickly. " Shall I never
have another chance of a word with you in the free
air ? Is there no errand to Monkscleugh that may
lead to a rencontre ? "
*' If I meet you," she said, " I will speak to you ;
but it is, and must be, a mere chance. Follow that
86 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD
corridor, turn to the left, and you will be in the hall.
Good- by/' She was gone.
" Well, what sort of fellow is this cousin of yours ?
I suppose you met him last night ? I never thought
we should tumble into the trammels of polite society
when I recommended these shootings to you. I have
scarcely seen you the last ten days. What's come to
you, lad t "
So growled Moncrief one morning as he smoked
the after-breakfast cigar, previous to turning out for a
run with the " Friarshire."
" Oh ! St. George Wilton is rather an amusing fel-
low; he is tolerably good-looking, and has lots of small
talk; one of those men who do not believe much in
anything, I fancy, except self and self-interest, but
for dear self-sake not disposed to rub other people
the wrong way. He is a favorite with the ladies
cuts me out with the fair Helen."
" Hum ! I doubt that. I do not think you would
let him if he tried ; for of course thafs the attraction
to Brosedale."
** Is it ? '* returned Wilton, carelessly, as he pre-
pared a cigar.
" Yes ; I know you think I am as blind as a mole,
but I can see there is something that takes you to
Brosedale. It's not Sir Peter, though he's the best
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
87
of the lot. It's not my lady ; and it cannot be that
imp of a boy you are so fond of carrying pictures to
I suppose for a 'ploy to get into the interior, though
they are sweet enough upon you without that; so it
must be that girl."
" Your reasoning is so admirable," returned Wilton,
laughing good-humoredly, " that I should like to hear
a little more.'*
" Eh ! " said the major, looking up at him curiously,
" Well, my lad, I am only anxious for your own sake.
Helen Saville is not the style of woman Lord St.
George would like ; the family are by no means sans
reproche; and I don't fancy her myself."
"That is conclusive," replied Wilton, gravely.
" But make your mind easy ; I am not going to marry
Helen Saville, nor do I think she expects me to
do so."
" What she expects, God knows, but there is some-
thing not all square about you, Wilton."
"My dear fellow, do you want me to call you
out?"
" You must j ust go your own way, which, no doubt;
you would in any case; but I am off on Monday next
to pay my sister a visit. I have put her off from time
to time, but I must go now."
"By Jove, I shall be quite desolate! And will
you not return, old fellow ? "
88 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
'* I think not. At any rate, I shall not be able to
come north again till near Christmas ; and I hardly
suppose you will be here then."
" That depends," said Wilton, thoughtfully.
" On what ? *' asked the major, quickly.
" Oh ! the sport my own whims the general
attractions of the neighborhood.*'
" the attractions of the neighborhood !" cried
Moncnef, profanely. " Why do you not make up to
Lady Mary or Lady Susan Mowbray? They are
nice girls and no mistake ; just the very thing for you.
But I am a fool to trouble myself about you ; only I
have always looked after you since you joined. How-
ever, you are old enough to take care of yourself."
" Perhaps I ought to be, at any rale ; and although
I have somehow managed to * rile ' you, I have never
forgotten, and never will forget, what a brick you
have always been."
Major Moncrief growled out some indistinct words,
and went to the window; Wilton followed him.
" You'll scarcely manage a run to-day ;" he said ;
" the ground is very hard, and, if I am not much mis-
taken, there's a lot of snow up there," pointing to a
dense mass of heavy drab clouds to windward.
" No," returned Moncrief, uncertainly, " it is con-
siderably milder this morning; besides, the wind is
too high, and it is too early for snow."
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
89
" Not in these latitudes ; and it has been deiicedly
cold for the week past."
*^ At any rate, I will go to the meet,'* said Moncrief,
leaving the room. " What are you going to do ? "
" I shall not hunt to-day ; I am going over to
Monkscleugh."
" Hum ! to buy toys for the child ? *'
" Yes/' said Wilton, laughing. " But for to-day I
am safe : Lady Fergusson and her fair daughter,
attended by our diplomatic cousin, are going to
Brantwood, where there is a coming-of-age ball, or
some such high-jinks. They politely invited me to be
of the party ; but I resisted, Moncrief I resisted ! "
" Did you, by George ! That puzzles me."
" By St. George, you mean. Why, you suspicious
old boy, you do seem not satisfied ; and yet Helen
Saville will be away three or four days."
" ril be hanged if I can make you out ! " said the
major, and walked away.
Wilton threw himself into an arm-chair and laughed
aloud ; then he turned very grave, and thought long
and deeply. If Moncrief only knew where the real
danger lay, and what it was ! How was it that he had
permitted this mere whim, half curiosity, half compas-
sion, to grow into such troublesome proportions?
He knew it was folly, and yet he could not resist I
He had always felt interested and attracted by that
QO RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
Strange girl whose mingled coldness and sweetness
charmed and wounded him ; but now, since he had
seen her oftener, and listened to her voice, and heard
the sudden but rare outbreaks of enthusiasm and
feeling which would force themselves into expression,
as if in spite of her will, he was conscious that his
feelings were deepening into intense passion and
tenderness.
To catch a sympathetic look, a special smile, a
little word to himself alone such were the nothings
watched for, sought, treasured, remembered by our
patrician soldier. The vision of that poor, suffering
boy leaning his head against Ella and clasped in her
arms, seemed indelibly stamped upon his brain. It
was constantly before him, though he fought gallantly
against it
It seemed to have brought about a crisis of feeling.
Before that, though touched, interested, curious, he
was not absorbed ; now, reason as he would, resist as
he would, he could not banish the desperate longing
to be in that boy's place just for once. In short,
Wilton was possessed by one of those rare but real
passions which, when they seize upon a man of his
age, are infinitely more powerful, more dangerous, or,
as the case may be, more noble, than when they par-
take of the eager effervescence of youth.
And what was to be the end thereof.'' so he asked
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
91
himself as, starting from his seat, he paced the
room.
Ardently as he felt, he could not but acknowledge
that to marry a girl, not only in a position little more
than menial, but of whose antecedents he knew abso-
lutely nothing who, for some mysterious reason, did
not seem to have a friend on earth was a piece of
folly he ought to be ashamed to commit. And yet to
give her up worse still, to leave her for some demure
curate, some enterprising bagman to win, perhaps to
trample upon ? Impossible !
What then ? It must not be asserted that the pos-
sibility of some tie less galling and oppressive than
matrimony never presented itself to Ralph Wilton's
mind. He had known such conditions among his
friends, and some (according to his lax but not alto-
gether unpopular opinions) had not turned out so
badly for any of the parties concerned ; but in this
case he rejected the idea as simply out of the question.
He would no more dare breathe it to that obscure little
girl than to a princess. It would be hard enough to
win or rouse her to admit him as a lover, even on the
most honorable terms. She seemed not to think such
things existed for her. There was in her such a curi-
ous mixture of frankness and indifference, coldness,
sweetness, all flecked with sparks of occasional fire,
that Wilton could not help believing she had some
92
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
uncommon history ; and there were times when he
felt that, if he but asked her, she would tell him
everything he craved to know. Never had he met a
woman (for, young as she was, she was eminently
womanly) so utterly without coquetry. Her perfect
freedom from this feminine ingredient was almost
insulting, and a certain instinct warned him from
attempting to break through the invisible barrier which
her unconscious simplicity created. Yet all this
restraint was becoming intolerable. At Brosedale he
never saw her alone ; out of it, he never saw her at ad.
The desire to know all about her, to impress her, to
win her, and the struggling instinct of caste, the dread
of making some false step that would ruin him in her
estimation, tormented him almost into a fever.
His long meditation ended in his ringing sharply,
and ordering round the dog-cart to drive into Monks-
cleugh.
" It's sure to snow, sir," said his servant.
** Not yet, I think. At any rate, I shall take my
chance.*'
*' Yes," he continued, half aloud, as the man dis-
appeared, " I must make the attempt ; and if I meet
her why, what will be, will be ! " With this pro-
foundly philosophic conclusion he proceeded to draw
on an overcoat and prepare for his cold drive.
The previous day, Wilton had managed, by a pro-
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, 93
found stratagem, to procure an interview with Donald,
and for his pains found that young gentleman fearfully
cross and rude, moreover alone : but, in the course of
their short conversation, the heir of Brosedale con-
fessed to being greatly enraged at the non-appearance
of some fresh drawing-materials which had been for-
warded from London, and of which no tidings could
be heard ; that " Dandy," his special pony, was ill or
disabled, and no one was at liberty to go for them ;
so Ella had promised to walk over to Monkscleugh
the next morning.
Of course Wilton discovered that he, too, had
** urgent private affairs " of his own to transact in the
town, and, had it " rained elephants and rhinoceroses,"
he would have persevered.
It was a still, cold morning. The bitter wind of
the day before had fallen, and a kind of expectant
hush pervaded the air. The man who stood at the
horse's head, looked round him with a very dissatis-
fied air, not seeing the necessity for driving to
Monkscleugh.
However, the drive there was accomplished with-
out any encounter, save with a barefooted lassie on
her way to market. At first Wilton drove slowly, and
then fast, and before they had reached the town the
snow had begun, in large, slow flakes. In spite of its
increasing density, he managed to call at the saddler's
p4 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
and the corn -factor's, and twice at the railway-station,
but all in vain ; so, with a muttered malediction on the
weather, which had, no doubt, defeated the object of his
expedition, he turned his horse's head toward home.
" It's going to be a bad fall," he said to his servant,
as they proceeded through the thickly-descending
snow, which scarcely permitted them to see a yard
right or left.
'' It is so, sir ; and I wish we were home, or, any-
how, across the brae there, where the road turns to
Brosedale."
" Do you think we will lose the track ? "
" I'll be surprised if we do not, sir."
" I fancy I shall be able to make it out," returned
Wilton, and drove on as rapidly as he could in silence.
Suddenly he pulled up. " Look," said he, " there
to the right. Do you not see something like a figure
a woman ? "
^ Faith, it's only a big stone, sir ! "
" No it moves ! Hallo ! " shouted Wilton. " I
think you are off the road."
The figure stopped, turned, and came toward them.
Wilton immediately sprang down and darted forward,
exclaiming, " Miss Rivers ! Good God ! what weather
for you ! How fortunate I overtook you. Come, let
me assist you to reach my dog-cart You must be
nearly wet through."
\
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
95
She put her hand on his offered arm. "It is in-
deed fortunate you came up. I had begun to feel
bewildered." Nevertheless she spoke quite calmly,
and accepted his aid to mount the dog-cart with per-
fect composure. As Wilton took his place beside her
and gathered up the reins, after wrapping his plaid
round her, he made up his mind very rapidly not to
attempt the longer and more open route to Brosedale.
He drove more slowly, taking good heed of the
objects he could make out, and, to his great joy, re-
cognized a certain stunted, gnarled oak, to the right
of which lay Glenraven, and, having passed it, some-
what increased his speed.
" It is scarcely wise to push on to Brosedale until
this heavy fall is over. Besides, the Lodge is much
nearer, and you ought not to be a moment longer
than you can help in these wet clothes. I am afraid
you must depend on the resources of our cook for dry
garments."
" My clothes are not so very wet, but my boots
are. I wish we could have gone on to Brosedale ;
but, if it cannot be, I will not trouble you. This snow
is too heavy to last very long."
" Pray Heaven it may ! " said Wilton inwardly.
Here was the first gleam of good fortune that had
visited him. Ella was to be all alone with him for
two or three hours. Snow or no snow, he would
^6 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
manage that, at all events. All the Brosedale women
away, Moncrief certain to be storm-stayed somewhere
what a glorious chance for a long, confidential talk,
for the solving of many doubts, for the forging of
some link that would bind this wild, free bird to him !
The excessive delight and exaltation that made his
heart bound roused him to the necessity of self-con-
trol, and he swore to himself that not a word or a
look should escape him to offend or startle his prize.
" How was it you ventured out on so unpromising
a morning ? " he asked, as they proceeded, stopping
from time to time to make sure of the road.
"Oh, Donald was so ravenous to get a parcel
which he thought must be mislaid at Monkscleugh,
that I promised to go over for it ; and you know I
love so much to be out. Still I do not think I should
have attempted it, only a Mr. Wihon, who was going
somewhere in the phaeton, offered to drive me to
Monkscleugh. I thought it would snow, but I hoped
to get back before it began. However, I was over-
taken ; and I fancy I should have wandered all day
had you not found me."
" I thought Wilton was going with Lady Fergusson
to the fite at Brantwood ? "
" He was ; but he was to take up some one on the
way.
" He is a relation of mine/' said Wilton, feeling
RALPH V/ILTON'S WEIRD,
97
marvellously crossed by the simple fact of St. George
having discovered the hidden treasure as well as him-
self.
*^ I suppose so ; but he is quite unlike you."
It would be hard to say, logically, why this com-
forted Colonel Wilton, but it did.
" Hold hard, sir ! " cried the groom, who was
standing up and peering ahead. " You will be right
against the gate." And Wilton found he was at home.
Another moment and he pulled up at the door of the
Lodge.
98
RALPH WILTON *S WEIRD.
CHAPTER V.
QEND Mrs. McKollop here," cried Wilton,
*^ hastily and imperiously, to Major Moncriefs
servant, who advanced to the door. "One of the
Brosedale ladies has been caught in the snow, and is
nearly wet through."
He almost lifted Ella from the dog-cart as he
spoke, and led her into the warm, comfortable hall.
While he removed the plaid that wrapped his guest,
the astonished Mrs. McKollop came quickly on the
scene.
" Eh, my word ! but ye're wet ! " she exclaimed
'* Come wi' me, missee, and I'll see till ye ; and you*d
be the better of a drop of hot toddy yerse'f, colonel."
"Oh, I shall be all right! Just look to Miss
Rivers. As soon as you have got rid of your wet
things we will have luncheon," he added, address-
ing her. She bowed, and followed the portly Mrs.
McKollop.
"I hope there is some place fit to take a lady
into," said Wilton to Major Moncriefs man, on whom
the domestic arrangements devolved, for he was barely
RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD. g^
acquainted with Mrs. McKollop's name. This impor-
tant functionary was attached to Glenraven Lodge,
and let with the premises. To this species of serfdom
she was by no means averse, for the system proved
profitable, and, by a sort of mental inversion, she had
grown to regard the temporary proprietors as her
guests and vassals.
" Yes, sir, I believe Mrs. McKollop keeps the top
rooms pretty tidy."
" Well, get luncheon, will you ? I hope the fire is
good." So saying, Wilton hastened to change his
own damp clothes, and don a black velvet shooting-
jacket. His toilet was completed, and he was fully
a quarter of an hour in the dining-room before any
one appeared. " Go and let Miss Rivers know lunch-
eon is ready." A few minutes more, and the door
opened to admit his guest An expression of demure
fun sparkled in her eyes as she came in, holding up
the voluminous drapery of Mrs. McKollop's best
dress a strongly-pronounced Mac-something tartan,
of bright red and green and yellow which was evi-
dently a world too wide for her slight waist. Above
was the close-fitting gray jacket of her own dress,
which had been saved from wet by her water-proof.
" I trust you have been made tolerably comfort-
able ? " said Wilton, placing a chair for her, while he
glanced with much satisfaction at the fast-falling snow.
:^-i:901:0
lOO RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
"Your house-keeper has been so good," she
replied, with her sweetest, frankest smile. "She
exhausted all her resources to supply my wants, and,
I think, would fain have made me come to luncheon
in her best bonnet, which is the most wonderful thing
you ever saw. It has feathers, and flowers, and cur-
rants in it."
" I suppose carrots and turnips would be too much
like the insignia of office. But you must be exhausted.
Pray sit down and have some luncheon."
" Thank you. I do feel rather hungry."
It seemed almost incredible to be sitting tete-d^'tcte
with Ella, after all his dreams and efforts ; but even
more surprising was her quiet, unembarrassed man-
ner. Had Wilton been her grandfather, she could
not have eaten with more composure, and, it must be
added, zest, showing a decided preference for cold
game and sweets.
"Let me recommend some hot wine-and- water,*'
said Wilton, as she put down her knife and fork, after
refusing a second supply of grouse.
" Thank you, no. I never take wine ; but, if I
might ask for something ? "
" Certainly ; anything within the resources of Glen-
raven and Mrs. McKollop."
" Then may I have a cup of coflee ? "
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD. iqi
Wilton immediatel}' ordered it ; and, when it came^
his guest expressed high approval.
" Ah ! your people have learned how to make this
in France."
" From Frenchmen, at any rate. That was one
accomplishment our servants picked up."
" The coffee at Brosedale is so dead ; it is not the
least like coffee ! This reminds me of Italy and
France."
" Then you have been a good deal abroad ? "
"Nearly all my life." A full stop; and Wilton
felt he had led up neatly to the story of hg: past.
" As you will take nothing more, suppose we go
into the next room ? " She rose, and then stopped.
" Oh ! I have lost Mrs. McKollop's shoe under the
table." Wilton laughed, and assisted in the search.
" I wisli we had anything nearer the mark to offer
you," he said, as he produced a huge, broad-soled
thick shoe, tied on the instep. " They must fit you
like snow-shoes."
" There is a good deal of stocking to fill up with,"
she replied, as she managed to shuffle into the room
on the opposite side of the hall, which was somewhat
more ornamental than the one they left. Sundry
sporting prints, a deer's head, various pipes, and
plenty of writing-materials, with a splendid fire, and
102 RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD.
several comfortable easy-chairs, made it a pleasant
apartment.
" And you live here ? " said Ella Rivers, moving
round the room with some curiosity ; " and you smoke
very good cigars. I recognize the perfume."
" I hope it is not very disagreeable ? "
^* Disagreeable ? Oh, no 1 I love it. But how
it snows ! There is no chance of my getting back
till it abates."
" Certainly not," returned Wilton, cheerfully, and
adopting her easy, friendly tone. ^* So, pray sit down
near the fire, and permit me to enjoy the fruit of my
treasure-trove I mean, a little talk with you."
" Yes it is very nice to talk over a good fire,"
she said, returning slowly from the window and seating
herself in a large chair ; " but I wish it would clear."
" I suppose young Fergusson will be v^ry anxious
about you?" remarked Wilton, taking advantage of
her steady gaze at the fire to study the graceful outline
of her headj and ear, and neck, the pale, delicate oval
of her face. There was a wonderfully-patrician look
about this mysterious girl ; how small and white were
the hands she had carelessly clasped upon her knee !
and, simple as were her manners, too, they were
infinitely more refined than the superb Miss Saville*s ;
and, at all events, he would have her all to himself for
the next two hours.
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
103
" Anxious about me ? " she said, after a moment's
silence ; ** not very. He will be anxious about his
parcel (which, after all, I did not get), and vexed
at my absence. But Donald is a strange boy. I
know him."
" He must be an ungrateful young dog," said
Wilton, carefully averting his eyes as she turned to
him. " You are so good to him."
" It is not what you would call grateful, though he
is very fond of me that is, I have become a neces-
sity to him ; then he knows I am fond of him, and I
believe no one else is, not even his father. Poor,
poor fellow I Ah, how I feel for him ! "
" He cannot be a pleasant companion."
" At times most unpleasant ; then, again, wonder-
fully sympathetic, and so dependent that / feel a
great, strong, free creature, rich in youth, and health,
and strength, all grand things that Sir Peter's gold
cannot buy, and 1 can do anything for him. Then I
forget the dark side of my own lot, and only see the
wealth that nature has given me."
** You are, indeed, wealthy ! "
"In some ways, yes ; in others " She stopped,
shook her head, with a smile, half-sad, half-mocking,
and resumed her gaze at the fire.
There was a short pause, and Wilton said :
" Still, to so bold a spirit as yours, it must be im-
104
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
prison ment, indeed ; and I am not surprised that you
seize every chance of momentary relief. But forgive
me if I am presumptuous it was no ordinary courage
that would take you so far afield that night 1 caught
a glimpse of you retreating in the moonlight no
ordinary inducement that would tempt you to such a
distance."
" I had inducement enough," she returned, with a
slight sigh. " Donald had been in one of his worst
moods all day one of his mean, suspicious tempers,
and I could not persuade him to go to bed till late.
Then, I opened the study window, and looked out to
breathe and grow tranquil before I tried to sleep
then the memory of the moonlight nights long ago,
when I used to sit in a corner by the window, before
the lamp was brought, and listen to my father talking
( rather dreaming aloud oh, so gloriously ! ) came
over me with a wild, irresistible longing to be out in
the free air, alone and standing upright before heaven,
with things really greater than myself about me such
an intense longing that I sprang down the steps and
away." As she said the last word she unclasped her
ands and threw one out with a sudden, expressive
gesture full of grace, and not without a certain dig-
nity. " But I suppose to you it seems shocking ? ^
And again she turned to the fire.
"By no means!" exclaimed Wilton, eagerly.
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
105
" Pray do not imagine me a slave to ' the shocking.'
What you do seems right and natural in you to an
extraordinary degree ; but every one may not view
matters as I do, and I confess I wished to escort you
back, but dared not intrude besides, I was not
alone."
** Escort me back ! " she replied, with a low, sweet
laugh of genuine merriment. " That would have put
a climax to my misdoings, and also (pardon the
rudeness destroyed the sense of freedom. As it was,
my outbreak was severely rebuked by Miss Walker,
who was informed of my absence, and talked yards
of sense and propriety before I escaped to bed. Ah,
what a degrading finale to a moment's outbreak into
light and liberty I But I must not quarrel with Miss
Walker. She is * Madonna dell' Esperanza.' "
There was a wonderful charm in her voice and
manner, a curious mixture of softness and daring.
" And pray why do you dignify that iron-gray
woman with so romantic a title ? I should not im-
agine her in the least hopeful."
" She found me when I was at a very low ebb, and
placed me with Donald."
" Indeed 1 Then he ought to consider her his
* Dame de bon Secours.' "
"He thinks I am fortunate."
" And, when you found yourself so far from human
\
1 06 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
aid that night, did you not feel uncomfortable ? '* re-
sumed Wilton, hoping to lead her back to her remi-
niscences.
" Yes. When I turned to go back the fire had
nearly burnt out in my heart ; but, you see, I have
never been with women, so their fears are not mine.
I fear what they may think of me when I act differ-
ently from them."
"I suppose, then, you have numerous brothers? "
" I have neither brother nor sister. My father "
She paused. "Ah, if you could have known my
father ! He was a great politician, a great philan-
thropist, a true man ; and he was surrounded by men
like himself, devoted to humanity. They were all
very good to me when they remembered my exist-
ence, which was not always, you know." A little
arch smile, that made Wilton burn to tell her how
irresistibly she absorbed his mind, heart, imagina-
tion 1
" Well, your father," said he, with wonderful com-
posure, rising as he spoke to arrange the fire " your
father, I presume, adored you ? V
"Alas, no ! " There was. great forgiving tender-
ness in her voice. "He perhaps remembered me
least of all ; and when he did, I brought bitter
thoughts. My mother, whom he adored, died when I
was born ; so you see I have been quite alone. Yet I
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD. 107
grew to be of importance to him ; for just before he
died he told me to take hef ring, which he had always
worn, and wear it for both their sakes. See, there
it is."
She held out her right hand to show where it
encircled her slender third finger.
" Then you lived in Italy? " said* Wilton, to lead
her on.
" Yes, my first memories are of Italy a great,
half-ruined villa on a hill-side near Genoa ; and my
nurse, a Roman woman, with such grand, black eyes.
I used to hove to look into them, and see myself in
them. How she loved me and spoiled me! My
father must have had money then, for he came and
went, and seemed to me a great person ; but I feared
him, though he was gentle and beautiful, for he
shunned me. Oh, yes, how noble he looked ! None
of the others were like him ; and he was English on
his father's side, so he said, when he told me to keep
the name of Rivers \ but we had many names : one
in Italy, another in Paris, another in Germany. I did
not like Paris. The first time we were there I had a
gouvernante; she taught me a little and tormented me
much ; but still I do know French best. I can write
it well ; but, though I speak Italian and German, I
cannot read or write either."
She had again clasped her hands over her knee,
I08 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
and went on softly and dreamingly, as if to herself.
Wilton still keeping silence, and gazing intently at the
speaker, earnestly hoping nothing would interrupt or
turn her from her spoken musing.
'* But you evidently learned to draw," he suggested,
softly.
" My father was a great artist would have been
acknowledged as a great artist had he not been grad-
ually absorbed in schemes for raising the poor and
ignorant and oppressed, for giving them political life.
There were many artists among our friends, and
all were willing to teach me and help me. To draw
seemed to me as natural as to breathe, and if I ever
had a moment of personal ambition it was to be a
true, a recognized artist; but I had scarcely any.
You, even you, patrician Englishman as you are ! *'
turning to him with sudden animation, " you would
have admired my father. He was my ideal of a true
knight, so simple, so noble, so refined j with such a
deep, fervent faith in his fellow-men. Of course, he
and all our friends were hunted, proscribed ; so I
never knew a relation. And he, my father, never
could bear to speak of my mother ; so I only know from
her picture that she was fair and sweet-looking."
" What a strange, sad life for a girl ! " said Wilton,
with genuine sympathy.
" Strange, but not sad. Oh, no ! I was ignorant
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
109
(I am ignorant, by your standard), and not a little
neglected. But what delight it was to listen to the
men my father knew, to hear the grand schemes they
planned ; the noble, tender pity for the suffering and
oppressed ; the real brotherhood they acknowledged
to all mankind, and the zest of danger ; for often a well-
loved comrade was missing, and some never returned.
Imprisonment in Italy or Prussia for a political offence
is a serious matter.
" The first time I ever won real notice from my
father was at Naples. There was a man we loved
much ; he was called Diego it was not his real name.
He was very much suspected by the government. My
father found out he was to be seized that day, and he
knew not whom to trust to send him word ; so I begged
to be honored by his permission to carry the message,
and I managed it all. I borrowed a costume from my
maid's niece ; I went alone on the Corso, and offered
bunches of violets to every one oh ! I had heaps of
paoli till I met him and said the word, which
sufficed."
" You did this ? " cried Wilton.
" Yes \ I had but thirteen years then. Oh ! my
father always noticed me after; and I would have
dared much for that. Then we were in London, and
in many places we grew poorer and poorer. I think
my father helped the cause largely. Two years ago
no RALPH WILTON* S WEIKD.
we were in Paris, and then I saw my father was d}nng.
There were very few of our clique there, for the emp^
ror's spies were legion. I did not stop to think of
fear or grief ; I only wanted to keep him quiet and
content to the last, for, you see " with a sort of exul-
tation very touching ** I was now very important to
him he thought more of me, and I have always
believed it was in the hope of arranging some shelter,
some refuge, for me that he came to London, now
more than two years ago. Diego came to see us. He
had a long talk with my father, who said to him, when
he was going, * Do your best for her sake ! '
" Two days after, Diego came again, and demanded
to see my father alone. Presently there was a cry ;
they called me, and, when I went in, my father lay in
Diego's arms, the blood streaming from his mouth.
He died two days after." An instant's pause, and
she resumed, quickly : ^* I was quite alone, and had
but a few shillings. Poor Diego, how good he was !
He did much for me. My father had a diamond ring ;
they sold it, and so things were paid for. Diego, poor
fellow ! he was rich then he had five gold-pieces
sovereigns. He left me two. He was obliged to go
away ; he promised Mrs. Kershaw to come back for
me, but he never came. He is no doubt imprisoned
or kUled.''
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, \\\
" Who was Mrs. Kershaw ? " asked Wilton, huskily ;
"and how old is this Diego?"
" Diego ? Oh, fifty sixty I am not sure. Mrs.
Kershaw is the landlady of the lodgings where my
father died. Such a strange woman ! Not unkind at
all events, to me. There was a lady in the rooms
above ours who was very kind to me, and felt for me;
and nearly ^v^ months after I was left quite alone.
Miss Walker came to stay with this lady, and so they
managed to have me engaged as companion to Donald.
Ah, it was all so wretched ! Nothing reconciled me
to Brosedale but the scenery that made me remem-
ber there was a world of life and beauty beyond
Donald's study."
She stopped, and leaning back, pressed both hands
over her face, as if to shut out the present. Wilton
scarce knew how to speak to her without saying too
much. He had sufficiently delicate instincts to feel
that he must not, when she was in such a mood, show,
by the slightest indication, that he was herlovier; nay,
his deep sympathy made him for the moment forget
the fair woman in the lonely, suffering girl.
" And had none of your father's friends a wife or
a sister with whom you might have taken shelter?
Brosedale, under such circumstances, must have been
a real inferno,^'
** No ; I have met one or two ladies abroad con-
112 RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD.
nected with our cause, and they were far away. But
Brosedale was more astonishing than anything' else.
Miss Walker, who likes me, although I shock her
every hour in the day, warned me of the respect I
must show to ' miladi * and her daughters, and I never
dreamed of disrespect toward them ; but they were
they are so strange ; they are so ignorant; they belong
to the middle ages. When I spoke to them of the
scenery, when I asked them questions about their
country, when I addressed them as my fellow- creatures,
they were petrified they were indignant; they went
through a little comedy of insulted majesty, very droll,
but not pleasant. Then I began to know what it is
to believe that you are made of different clay from
certain others of your fellows. Alas! what wide gulfs
still yawn between man and man, and what precious
things must be cast in before they are filled up ! "
"Well, and Donald how did you get on with
Donald?"
" He was inclined to treat me like a petted ani-
mal; but, no! Per Baccho! that should not be. I
said, *If you are good, you shall call me Ella, and I
will call you Donald.' He replied, * I am Master
Fergusson ; ' and I said, ' Not so it is too long.
Besides, I am your superior in age and in knowledge,
so between us there shall be kindness and freedom.'
Now I mark my displeasure by calling him Master
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
113
Fergusson. Ah ! how astonished were Miss Walker
and *miladi,' but I laughed."
" I am surprised he can bear you out of his sight,"
exclaimed Wilton, warmly, and checked himself; but
she only noticed his words.
" He does not like me to be away. I am often
imprisoned for weeks. Last August I grew weak and
languid; so Lady Fergusson gave me a holiday. I
had nowhere to go but to Mrs. Kershaw's ; then she
was taken ill a bad fever so I nursed her, thankful
to be of use. Then Donald summoned me back^
and " turning with the peculiar air of gracious ac-
knowledgment which Wilton had before noticed, she
added " it was on my journey back I met you. Oh
how weary I was ! I had been awake night after night.
I was stupefied with fatigue, and you were so good.
Could Death then have come to me in sleep, I should
have held out my arms to him. Yet you see I was
terrified at the idea of being hurt or torn when the
train was overset."
" You behaved like like an angel, or rather like
a true, high-souled woman."
She laughed softly, and rising, attempted to walk
to the window.
" Ah ! " she exclaimed, " I forgot my shoes ; "
then, resuming her seat, went on : " There, I have told
you all my life. Why, I cannot say ; but, if I have
8
114
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
wearied you, it is your own fault. You listened as if
you cared to hear, while to me it has been sad, yet
sweet, to recall the past, to talk of my father to one
who will not mock at his opinions his dreams, if you
will. But, ah ! what dreams ! what hopes ! Thank
God ! he lived to know of Garibaldi's triumph to see
the papal throne tremble at the upheaval of Italy !
These glimpses of light gladdened him at the last ; for
never was Christian martyr upheld by faith in a future
world more steadfastly than my father by his belief in
the political regeneration of this one. Yet I have,
perhaps, forgotten myself in speaking so much."
She turned toward Wilton as she spoke, and,
placing her elbow on the arm of the chair, rested her
chin in the palm of her hand, looking at him with the
large, deep-blue eyes which had so struck him at first,
her long lashes wet with tear drops, of which she was
unconscious.
"At least,'*' said Wilton, "you must feel that no
speaker ever riveted attention more than you have.
As for the accuracy of the opinions so disinterestedly
upheld, I neither combat nor assent to them. I can
only think of you so young, so alone ? "
It is impossible to say how much passionate
sympathy he was about to express, when a sudden
change in Ella Rivers 's face made him stop and turn
round. To his infinite annoyance there stood Major
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
115
Moncriefj with the door in his hand, and an expression
of utter blank astonishment on his countenance, his
coat covered with fast-melting snow, and evidently
just dismounted.
'* Hallo, Moncrief ! " cried Wilton, his every-day,
sharp senses recalled in a moment by this sudden,
unwelcome apparition. " Wet to the skin, I suppose,
like Miss Rivers " a wave of the hand toward her
" and myself. I most fortunately overtook her half-
way from Monkscleugh, and brought her here for
shelter."
"Oh!" ejaculated Moncrief: it sounded like a
groan.
" You have met my chum. Major Moncrief, have
you not, Miss Rivers ? "
She shook her head. " Yr u know I am always
with Donald."
" Oh, ah, I see ! *' muttered Moncrief. " No, I
have never had the pleasure of meeting the young
lady before ; and so, Wilton, I will not interrupt you.
I will go and change my clothes."
"Interrupt!" said Ella, as he left the room.
" What does he mean by interrupt ? Who is he ?
your uncle your guardian ? "
" Do you think I require a guardian at my age? "
replied Wilton, laughing, though greatly annoyed at
Moncrief s tone.
Il6 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
" How old are you ? " asked Ella, but so softly and
simply that the question did not seem rude.
" Almost four and thirty ; and, en revanche^ how
old are you ? "
"Almost twenty."
" I should not have thought you so much : yet there
are times you look more. However, Moncrief is an
old brother-officer of mine ; really a friend, but a queer
fellow, a little odd."
" I see ; and I do not think he likes me to be here.
Can I not go ? " said Ella, starting up and making her
way to the window, although she left a shoe behind
her in her progress.
. " Not like you ! More probably fascinated at first
sight," returned Wilton, attempting to laugh off the
impression she had 'eceived, though feeling terribly
annoyed at Moncriefs manifestation. " And, as to
returning, you cannot stir just yet ; the snow has only
just cleared off and may recommence."
" Still I should so much like to return ; and I am
sure I could manage to walk very well."
" I do not wish to be oppressively hospitable, so I
will leave you for a moment to inquire what will be the
best mode of reaching Brosedale."
So saying, he quitted the room and followed Major
Moncrief.
He found that excellent soldier in his dressing-
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
117
gown, and wearing a more "gruesome" expression
than could be accounted for by his occupation, viz.,
sipping some scalding-hot whiskey-and-water.
" Have you had anything to eat ? " asked Wilton,
amiably. " I believe luncheon is still on the table."
" No, it is not," replied the major, curtly ; " and I
do not want anything. I had a crust of bread and
cheese at that farmer's below the mill, so you can go
back to your charming guest."
" And you must come with me, Moncrief. Never
mind the dressing-gown, man ; it is quite becoming.
You frightened Miss Rivers, you looked so 'dour'
just now. I want her to see what a pleasant fellow
you can be."
" Thank you ; I am not quite such a muff as to
spoil a tete-^'tete:'
" Come, Moncrief, you know that is bosh. I over-
took Miss Rivers as she was struggling through the
snow, and I do not suppose you or any other man
would have left her behind. Thea I couldn't possibly
pass my own gate in such a storm ; besides, the poor
girl was so wet. Be that as it may, you shall not be
uncivil j so finish your grog, and come along."
" Let me put on my coat. If I am to play pro-
priety, I must dress accordingly. How in the name
of Fortune did you come to know this Miss Rivers ? "
growled Moncriet
I
1 18 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
"Why, at Brosedale, of course. Whenever they
dragged me in to see that poor boy she was there, and
one can't be uncivil to a woman, and a pretty girl to
boot"
" Pretty ! " ejaculated the major, thrusting himself
with unnecessary vehemence into his coat. " I did
not see much prettiness about her ; she has big eyes,
that's all."
" Come and have another look then, and perhaps
you will find it out," said Wilton, pleasantly, as sorely
against his will Moncrief followed him down stairs.
" I have much pleasure in introducing two such
admirable representatives of two great opposing
systems. Major Moncrief is conservative among con-
servatives ; Miss Rivers revolutionary among demo-
crats ! " said Wilton.
" You say so for me ; I myself scarce know enough
to be anything," she replied, in a low tone, turning
from the window at which she was standing when they
entered, acknowledging the introduction and Mon-
crief s "boo," as he would have called it, by a slight,
haughty courtesy, which even Mrs. McKoUop's plaid
dress did not spoil, as she spoke.
" A young lady confessing ignorance on any sub-
ject is a rara avis nowadays," returned Moncrief,
gloomily.
Ella Rivers looked earnestly at him as he spoke,
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
119
and then glanced, with a sort of mute appeal, to Wil-
ton, who felt instinctively that, in spite of her com-
posed, brave air, her heart was beating with sorrowful
indignation at the major's unfriendly aspect.
"You must know, Miss Rivers," said Wilton, with
his pleasantest smile, longing all the time to fall upon
and thrash desperately his good friend and comrade
"you must know that my friend Moncrief is the
gloomy ascetic of the regiment, always available for
the skeleton's part at the feast, that is, the mess, a
terror to lively subs, and only cheerful when some one
in a terrible scrape requires his help to get out of it ;
but one grows accustomed even to a skeleton. I have
been shut up with him for nearly six weeks, and, you
see, I have not committed suicide yet; but he is a
first-rate old Bones after all ! " (slapping the ungenial
major on the shoulder).
"Is he really unhappy?" asked Ella, with such
genuine wonder and curiosity that the " dour " major
yielded to the irresistible influences, and burst into a
gracious laugh, in which Wilton joined, and the cloud
which Moncrief brought with him was almost dis-
persed not quite, for Ella was changed pale, com-^
posed, silent, with an evidently unconscious drawing
to Wilton's side, that did not help to steady his pulse
or cool his brain.
" It is quite clear," said Miss Rivers, anxiously \
I20 RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD.
"may I not return ? for in another hour night will
close. I must go!"
*' Certainly ! " cried Wilton, who was feeling dread-
fully bored by the flagging conversation and general
restraint of Moncrief s presence ; " your dress will be
dry by this time, and while you put it on I will order
the dog-cart. I will drive you over to Brosedale in
half an hour, snow or no snow."
" You drive me oh, no ! I can walk quite well ;
I am not the least afraid. Do not come out again."
" My dear Miss Rivers ! allow you to walk alone ?
Impossible ! Even this stem Bones, this incarnation
of inexorable Fate, would not demand such a sacrifice.
Moncrief, ring the bell ; summon Mrs. McKollop
from the vasty deep to attend -our fair guest. You
must know. Miss Rivers, my brother-in-arms is part
proprietor of this sylvan lodge."
" Then will he forgive my intrusion," said their
guest, with an air so deprecating as to a man of his
age, so certainly dignified as to herself, yet so simple
withal, that the hidden spring of chivalry far down in
the man's nature was struck and pushed to the surface
all the more strongly for the depth of the boring.
"You must think me *a skeleton of the feast,'
indeed, as Wilton has been good enough to describe
me, if I were not ready to welcome the chance visit of
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, 12 i
a charming young lady ; I am not quite so hopeless an
old * Bones' as you both make out.''
" Bravo ! " cried Wilton, highly pleased at his
change of tone.
" Thank you ! " said Miss Rivers, simply ; and
then the door opened to admit Mrs. McKollop, who
wore upon her arm a mass of drapery, and in her
hand a very small pair of boots, evidently the garments
she had been drying.
" They are all nice an' weel aired, if you be going,"
said the benign ruler of the roost. " It's a wee bit
clear just noo, but I'm thinking the frost is coming on,
so the snaw will be harder by-an '-by ; an' if the major
don't mind having dinner an hour before his usual
time, a drap o' hare soup and a cut out of a loin o'
mountain mutton will warm ye up weel, an' mak' ye
ready for the road," or, as she pronounced it, " rod."
"Mrs. M'Kollop, you are a most sensible woman,"
said Wilton, gravely. Moncrief looked alarmed ; and
Miss Rivers merely observed, " I will come with you,"
and left the room, accompanied by the friendly cook.
Wilton followed immediately, to give orders about the
dog-cart, and Major Moncrief was left alone. He
walked once or twice up and down the room with a
troubled and irate expression ; he then stirred the fire
viciously, threw down the poker with a clang, and,,
drawing a chair close up, thrust his feet almost against
122 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
the bars. How long he sat in gloomy reverie he
knew not, but he was roused by the entrance of Wil-
ton, who ushered in their guest, saying, " Miss Rivers
wants to say good-by, Moncrief."
" Yes, good-by ! " said she, in her soft yet clear
voice, which always seemed to fix attention. *' Thank
you thank you both for your kind hospitality."
With a slight, touching hesitation she held out her
hand, and Moncrief took it with much politeness and
an altered expression.
" Good-by, then, as you will not stay for the hare
soup and a cut of the mountain mutton. I hope you
will not take cold. Have you nothing to put round
your throat ? You must have this muffler of mine, if
you will condescend to wear it. ^Jump up, Wilton. I
will help Miss Rivers."
So spoke the Major, in his joy to speed the parting
guest. Wilton obeyed, somewhat amused, and they
started. But the drive was a silent one on Miss
Rivers's side ; all Wilton's dexterous observations and
thoughtful care could not win a look scarce a word.
" Does she regret she opened her heart to me ? " he
thought; and, as they neared the great house, he
could not refrain from saying, " I shall often think of
the interesting sketch you have given me of your wan-
derings in many lands, Miss Rivers, though I shall
only speak of them to yourself."
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
123
" Pray, pray, put it all out of your mind I I am
half ashamed of having talked so much of myself.
Think no more of it."
" Suppose the subject will not be banished ? I
cannot. At least," resumed Wilton, after a moment's
pause to tighten the reins of his self-control, " I shall
look upon liberal politics with a new light, after the
glimpse you have given me of their inner life."
" If, when you have power, you will think of the
people, I am not sorry I spoke." She said it very
softly, almost sadly.
" I shall look in to-morrow, to know if you are all
right," he replied.
They had now reached the entrance. Wilton
sprang down, and, as Miss Rivers was muffled in
plaids, nearly lifted her from the carriage, though with
' all the deference he would have shown a princess.
" Good-by I I hope you will not be the worse."
" Adieu ! " For a moment she raised her eyes
to his with a frank, kind glance, and vanished into
the house.
For a moment Wilton hesitated, then mounted the
dog-cart, and drove back as fast as circumstances would
allow. He was conscious of an angry, uncomfortable
sensation toward Moncrief a feeling that it would be
a great relief to avoid dining with him of a curious,
uneasy strain of dissatisfaction with himself with the
124 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
routine of life with everything ! It was so infernally
stupid, smoking and reading, or listening to Moncriefs
prosings, all the evening ; while that cranky, tiresome
boy, Fergusson, would be talked to, and soothed, and
petted by Ella Rivers. And she would she wish to
be back at Glenraven, telling the story of her simple
yet stirring life to an absorbed listener ? Yes, with-
out a shadow of conceit he might certainly conclude
that she would prefer an intelligent companion like
himself to that cross-grained boy ; -but he had very lit-
tle to nourish conceit upon in the recollection of the
delightful tcte-d-tete he had enjoyed. Never before
had he met a woman so free from the indescribable
consciousness by which the gentler sex acknowledge
the presence of the stranger. She must have been
much in the society of men, and of men, too, who
were not lovers. Yet stop I How much of her com-
posure and frankness was due to the fact of her being
already wooed and promised to one of those con-
founded carbonari fellows ? The very idea made
Wilton double-thong his leader for tandem stages
had been thought necessary to the infinite surprise
of his servant. However, he reached his destination
at las*, and as he threw off his plaid in the hall Mrs.
McKollop's broad and beaming face appeared at
a side-door.
" Aweel, sir, din ye win ower a' right to Brosedale
\
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
125
wi' the young leddy ? I've been aye watching the
weather; for I don't think she is just that strong.
Eh, sir ! but she is a bonnie bird sae saft and kind I
When she was going, after I had red up her things
for her, she says, * If you are as good a cook as you
are a ladies' maid, I am sure Major Moncrief must be
pleased with his dinners,' says she ; an' wi' that she
takes this neckerchief from her pretty white throat,
and says she, so gentle and so grand, *Wear this for
me, Mrs. McKollop,' putting it round my neck her
ainsel'. * Think, whenever ye put it on,' says she,
that I shall always remember your motherly care.'
The bonnie bird ! I'm thinking she has nae mither,
or they wouldn't let her be worrit wi' that ill-faured,
ill-tempered bairn at Brosedale."
" I left Miss Rivers quite safe, I assure you, and,
as far as I could observe, quite well, at the door."
said Wilton, who had listened with much attention to
this long speech, looking all the time at the pretty
violet necktie held up in triumph by Mrs. McKollop,
and conscious of a boyish but strong inclination to
purchase it, even at a high premium, from the worthy
house-keeper. " I am sure you did your best for our
charming visitor."
"That I did ; an' I tauld her that it was a pleasure
to cook for the colonel ; for though she spoke of the
major, it was 2iye you she thocht on."
126 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
" Oh, nonsense ! " returned Wilton, good-humor-
edly, and he left the eloquent Mrs. McKollop, to join
the moody Moncrief, with whom he exchanged but
few remarks, till dinner thawed them. The evening
passed much as usual, but neither mentioned their
guest a fact by no means indicating that she was
forgotten by either.
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD. \2
CHAPTER VI.
WILTON was true to his intention, and rode
over the next day to make the promised
inquiry, when he Jiad the pleasure of spending half
an hour with Donald^ but Ella Rivers never appeared.
The boy was in one of his better moods, although
that was a poor consolation.
"I thought Ella was never coming back yester-
day/' he said, in his plaintive, querulous voice. " I
could not make out whether she had been lost in the
snow, or whether 5'our cousin, that Mr. St. George
Wilton, had run away with her. Oh ! I had such a
miserable day ! Miss Walker fussing in and out, and
no one able to do anything for me ! Where did you
pick up Ella ? "
"On that piece of common half-way to Monks-
cleugh ; and it is very fortunate I did so, or perhaps
you might have been obliged to do without her for
some time longer. I fear she would have lost her
way altogether."
" Oh, she knows the country, and has plenty of
pluck."
128 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
" Still, she might have been wandering about for
hours, and 1 fancy she is not over strong.*'
" She is well enough ! Every one is well enough
but me ! "
'* I suppose/' said Wilton, to change the subject,
"the rest of your party return to-morrow? '*
" I am afraid they do ! I wish they would stay
away ! They have taken me up disgustingly since
you came to see me. I was much happier alone with
Ella I I don't mind your coming you are not a
humbug ; but I hate Helen, she is so insolent ; and that
cousin of yours is detestable. He is so conceited so
ready to make allowance for everyone. And then he
always speaks Italian to Ella, and worries her; I
know he does, though she will not tell me what he
says."
The boy's words struck an extraordinary pang to
Wilton's heart. Had Ella met this diplomatic sprig
in Italy? Had he the enormous advantage of having
known her and her father in their old free wandering
days ? If so, why had she not mentioned him ? The
irrepressible answer to this sprang up with the query
whatever her antecedents, Ella spoke out of the
depths of a true soul.
"Well," exclaimed Wilton, while these thoughts
revolved themselves, "if you do not like him, do not
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
129
let him come in here. But I thought he was a uni-
versal genius, and an utterly fascinating fellow ! "
" The women think so," returned young Fergus-
son, with an air of superior wisdom, " but I think
him a nuisance. Will you ring the bell, Colonel
Wilton ? "
*' What has become of Miss Rivers ? " to the ser-
vant, who quickly appeared. "Tell her to come
here."
Though disposed to quarrel with the terms of the
message, Wilton awaited the result with some anxiety.
The reply was, " Miss Walker's compliments ; Miss
Rivers was hearing Miss Isabel read Italian, and she
could not come just yet."
" It is infamous ! " exclaimed Donald, working
himself into a fury. " They all take her from me
they don't care what becomes of me ! Give me my
crutches, James. I will go to the school-room myself;
so I shall say good-by to you, Colonel."
He dragged himself out of the room with surpris-
ing rapidity, and Wilton felt he must not stay.
The rest of the day was rendered restless and
uncomfortable by Donald's words. But Wilton,
though of a passionate and eager nature, had also a
strong will, and was too reasonable not to determine
resolutely to banish the tyrannic idea which had taken
such possession of his heart or imagination. He
9
I30
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
noticed, with mingled resentment and amusement,
the sudden silence and reserve of his friend Moncrief
on the subject of Brosedale and its inhabitants.
What an absurd, strait-laced old Puritan he was
growing! Wilton felt it would be a relief when he
departed to pay his promised visit in the South. So,
as the weather, after the memorable snow-storm,
moderated, and proved favorable for sport, hunting
and shooting were resumed with redoubled vigor, and
the Major's solemn looks gradually cleared up.
" I shall be rather in the blues here when you are
gone," said Wilton, a they sat together the evening
before the Major was to leave. " You have not been
the liveliest companion in the world of late, still I
shall miss you, old boy."
The Major gave an inarticulate grunt, without
removing his cigar from his lips.
"So," continued Wilton, "as Lord D asks
me over to dine and stay a few days while General
Loftus and another Crimean man are there, I shall
go; and perhaps I may look up the 15th afterwards ;
they are quartered at C ."
" Do ! " said the Major, emphatically, and with
unusual animation. " There's nothing more mis-
chievous than moping along and getting into the blue
devils ! nothing more likely to drive a man to sui-
cide or matrimony, or some infernal entanglement
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
131
even worse ! Go over to D Castle by all means
go and have a jolly week or two with the 15th ;
and, if you will take my advice, do not return here."
" My dear Moncrief," interrupted Wilton coolly,
for he was a little nettled at the rapid disposal of his
time, "why should I not return here ? What mischief
do you fear for me ? Don't turn enigmatical at this
time of day."
" What mischief do I fear ? The worst of all a
fair piece of mischief! Not so pretty, perhaps, but
^devilish atthractive,' as poor O'Connor used to say."
Wilton was silent a moment, to keep his temper
quiet. He felt unspeakably annoyed. Anything less
direct he could have laughed off 01; put aside, but to
touch upon such a subject in earnest galled him to
the quick. To be suspected of any serious feeling
toward Ella necessitated either appearing an idiot
in the eyes of a man like Moncrief an idiot capable
of throwing away his future for the sake of a freak of
passion or as entertaining designs more suited to
worldly wisdom, yet which it maddened him to think
any man dared to associate with a creature that some-
how or other had managed to establish herself upon
a pedestal, such as no other woman had ever occu-
pied, in his imagination.
"I think," said he at last and Moncrief was
struck by the stern resentment in his tone " I think
132
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
that too much shooting has made you mad ! What,
in the name of Heaven, are you talking of? Do you
think I am the same unlicked cub you took in hand
twelve or fourteen years ago? If you and I are to be
friends, let me find my own road through the jungle
of life."
" All right," said the Major, philosophically. " Go
your own way. I wash my hands of you."
"It is your best plan," returned Wilton, dryly;
and the evening passed rather heavily.
The next morning Major Moncrief took leave of
his friend. They parted with perfect cordiality, and
Wilton drove him over to Monkscleugh.
It is by no means clear that the Major's well-
meant warning did the least good. The vexation it
caused helped to keep the subject working in Wil-
ton's mind. Certain it was, that after returning from
Monkscleugh and writing two or three letters, he took
advantage of a fine wintry afternoon to stroll leisurely
to the brae before mentioned, and beyond it, to the
piece of border ground between the Brosedale planta-
tions and the road, where he had held his horse for
Ella Rivers to sketch ; but all was silent and deserted,
so he returned to dress and drive over to D Castle.
It was a pleasant party, and Wilton was a most
agreeable addition. He felt at home and at ease
with the EarFs kindly, well-bred daughters ; and per-
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
133
haps they would have been a little surprised, could
they have read his thoughts, to find that he classed
them as unaffected gentlewomen almost equal to the
humble companion of Sir Peter Fergusson's crippled
boy.
Parties like this, of which Ralph Wilton formed
one, are so much alike that it is unnecessary to de-
scribe the routine. The third day of his visit the
Brosedale family came to dinner, and with them St.
George Wilton. Notwithstanding Sir Peter's wealth
and Lady Fergusson's fashion, invitations to D
Castle were few and far between ; nor did Ralph
Wilton's position as a visitor in the house a favored,
honored guest seem of small importance in Helen
Saville's eyes.
Wilton took her down to dinner, with a sort of
friendly glow pervading his manner, well calculated to
deceive the object of his attentions. He was dimly
aware that, after all his reasoning, all his struggles for
self-control, his dominant idea was that if Miss Saville
was not the rose, she lived with her.
" I have never seen you since the coming of age at
Brantwood ; you have been out when I called, and in
when I rode about in search of you in short, you
have scarce cast me a crumb of notice since my poly-
glot cousin has taken up the running and left me no-
where," said Wilton, under the general buzz of talk,
134
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
while the chief butler whispered a confidential query
as to whether he would have hock or champagne.
" If you will not come in search of the crumbs, you
cannot expect to get them," said Miss Saville, looking
boldly into his eyes with a smile. " Mamma asked
you to dinner the day after our return, but in vain."
" Ah ! that day I knew we were to hunt with the
, and I feared I should not be able to *reach
Brosedale in time for dinner. Now, tell me, how is
everyone? Your sister I mean the school- room one
I see my opposite neighbor is flourishing. How is
young Fergusson ? "
" Isabel has a cold ; but Donald has been wonder-
fully well. I think we cheer him up ! Benevolence
seems to run in your family, Colonel Wilton. You set
the example, and Mr. St. George Wilton followed it
up. Now, we are so anxious to amuse Donald that
we congregate on wet, stormy mornings or afternoons
in his room, and try to draw are fearfully snubbed
by the young heir ! and silently endured by his little
companion, who is such a strange girl ! By the way
your cousin seems to have known some of her clique
abroad. He says they were a dreadful set of commu-
nists and freethinkers."
" Indeed," he returned carelessly, as he raised his
glass to his lips and made a mental note of the in-
formation. " And, pray, how much longer do you
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD. 135
intend to foster my delightful relative in the genial
warm th of Brosedale ? "
" As long as he likes to stay ; but he talks of
leaving next week."
"Ah ! he finds it difficult to tear himself away ?"
" That I know nothing about. How long do you
remain here ? "
" Till the day after to-morrow."
" Then you had better dine with us on the twen-
tieth. I know mamma intends to ask you. The
Brantwood party are to be with us, and some people
we met at Scarborough last autumn."
" Of course I shall be most happy."
Now there was nothing Wilton hated more than
dining at Brosedale ; the artificial tone of the house
was detestable, and he was always tantalized by
knowing that although under the same roof with Ella,
he had not the least chance of seeing her ; neverthe-
less, he was impelled to go by a vague, unreasonable
hope that some chance might bring about a meeting;
aud now as he had absolutely written to his old
friends of the 15th to say he would be with them the
ensuing week, he felt ravenously eager to encounter
the very danger from which he had determined to fly.
But Helen Saville's hint had filled him with curiosity
and uneasiness. It was as he feared. St. George
Wilton and Ella Rivers had doubtless many experi-
136 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
ences in common which both might prefer talking
about in a tongue unfamiliar to the rest of the audi-
ence, for he did not, of course, attach any value to
Donald's remark that Ella did not like the clever
attachd. Why should she not like him ? He looked
across the table and studied his kinsman's face very
carefully while Ellen Saville told him of a run she
had enjoyed with the shire hounds while staying
at Brant wood.
St. George Wilton was occupied in the agreeable
task of entertaining Lady Mary Mowbray, so his
cousin could observe him with impunity. He was a
slight, delicate-looking man, with high, aristocratic
features, pale, with fair hair and light eyes, thin-
lipped, and nominally near-sighted, which entitled
him to use a glass. He wore the neatest possible
moustaches and imperial, and when he smiled, which
was not often (though his face was always set in an
amiable key), he showed a row of very regular white
teeth, but rather too pointed withal, especially the
molars, which were slightly longer than the rest,
and gave a somewhat wolfish, fang-like expression to
that otherwise bland performance. His voice was
carefully modulated, his accent refined, and his ease
of manner the perfection of art. St. George Wilton,
an ambitious poor gentleman, determined to push
his way upwards and onwards, had no doubt sufficient
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
137
experience to sharpen and harden his faculties. The
struggle of such a career ought to be, and is invig-
orating; but there are ingredients which turn this
tonic to poison the greed for wealth and rank, the
hunger for self-indulgence and distinction, the care-
fully-hidden envy that attributes the success of others
to mere good-luck, and curses blind fortune while
congratulating the competitor who has shot ahead
the gradually increasing tendency to regard all
fellow-creatures as stepping stones or obstacles the
ever-growing, devouring self which, after rejecting
every joy that gladdens by reciprocity, slowly starves
to death in the Sahara of its own creation.
Although the cousins had seldom met before, they
had heard of each other, forming their respective esti-
mates from their special standpoints St. George
heartily despising Ralph, as a mere stupid, honest,
pig-headed soldier, whose luck in coming somewhat
to the front was a disgrace even to the whims of that
feminine deity. Fortune. How such rapid promotion
could be brought about without finesse, without tact,
without anything more extraordinary than simple duty
doing, was beyond the peculiar construction of St.
George's mind to conceive. While Ralph scarcely
bestowed any consideration whatever on his kinsman
he had heard of him as a clever, rising man, and
also as a "keen hand;" but now he had acquired a
k
138 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
sudden importance ; and Ralph, as he gazed at the
bland countenance opposite, and traced the hard lines
under its set expression, laughed inwardly at the
notion of extracting any information which St. George
was disinclined to give.
Nevertheless, when they joined the ladies, Wilton
approached his cousin, and opened the conversation
by inquiring for a mutual acquaintance, one of St.
George's brother attaches \ this naturally led to other
topics, and their talk flowed easily enough. ^'I am
told you were received by our eccentric relative, Lord
St. George," said his namesake, at last; "rather an
unusual event for him to see any one, I believe ? *'
" Yes j he sent for me, or I should never have
thought of presenting myself. He looks very old and
worn and not particularly amiable."
" Well, he has had enough to sour him. How did
he receive you ? "
"With tolerable civility."
" He would not let me in ! I wonder what he will
do with all his property. If he dies intestate, I sup-
pose you will inherit everything?"
" I suppose so ; but I strongly suspect he will not
leave me a sou^ I am not pliant enough ; and that
unfortunate daughter of his may have left children to
inherit, after all. I fancy I heard she was dead."
"So have I," said St. George. "Who did she
marry }^^
RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD, 139
" I believe a Spaniard an adventurer, with fine
eyes and a splendid voice ; I forget the name. Old
Colonel du Cane, who was about town in those days,
remembers the affair and the scandal, but the whole
thing is forgotten now. I wonder old St. George did
not marry and cut out every one."
" Unless he makes a very distinct will, you will
have to spend a large slice of your fortune in defeat-
ing the pretenders who are sure to spring tip."
" Or you will," returned Wilton, laughing ; " for
he is as likely to leave it to one as the other, or to
some charity.**
"To some charity? That is surely the last of
improbabilities.'*
" It is impossible to say," returned Wilton ; and
there was a short pause, during which he revolved
rapidly in his own mind how he could best approach
the topic uppermost in his mind. *^ How long do you
stay at Brosedale?" he resumed abruptly, as St.
George looked round, as if about to move away.
" Perhaps a week longer. I have already paid a
visitation, but the house is comfortable, the girls agree-
able, and the padrone unobtrusive.**
" If you had not been in such luxurious quarters,
and enjoying such excellent sport, I should have
asked you to try a day or two on the moor I have at
Glenraven."
140
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
" Thank you ; I should have been most happy, but
am engaged to Lord Parch mount after the twenty-
fifth."
" Did you ever meet any of Lady Fergusson's
people, the Savilles she is so fond of talking about ;
I fancy there was a brother of hers in the th
Hussars ? "
" A brother of her former husband's, you mean.
I don't believe Lady Fergusson ever had a brother or
a father, or any blood tie of any kind, but sprang up
full-blown, lovely, ambitious, aristocratic, at the touch
of some magic wand ; or, to come to a commonplace
simile, in a single night's growth, like a toad-stool.
She has been eminently successful too. What a catch
Sir Peter was ! Now, if that wretched boy were to
die for which consummation, no doubt, her ladyship
devoutly prays and Helen Saville would play her
cards with the commonest discretion, she might secure
the fortune for herself and her sisters ; but she is a
very uncertain person, a woman on whom no one
could count." And St. George shook his head, as
though he had given the subject mature consideration.
" I suppose you have seen the son and heir ? '*
asked Wilton.
" Frequently. He dislikes me, and I am amused
at the elaborate display he makes of it. I also like
to air my Italian with his interesting little companion."
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, \^\
"You knew her in Italy, I think Miss Saville
said," remarked Wilton.
" Knew her ? Never. I fancy, from what she
says, I have met some of the people her father asso-
ciated with a very disreputable set."
" Sharpers and blacklegs, I suppose,'* said Wil-
ton carelessly.
" No \ politically disreputable ; dreamers of Utopian
dreams, troublesome items to governments; amiable
men, who will make martyrs of themselves. You
have no idea in England what a nuisance these fellows
are ; of course there are plenty of desperate fanatics
mixed up with them. I do not remember the name
of Rivers among those I have met, but I imagine
that picturesque girl at Brosedale was among the bet-
ter class. She really looks like a gentlewoman ; with
her knowledge of language and air of refinement
she would make a charming travelling companion."
As the accomplished attache uttered this with a
soft arch smile, as though it were an infantine jest, he
little thought what a large amount of self-control he
called into action in his cousin's mind. To have
seized him by the collar, and shaken him till he
retracted the insulting words, would have been a great
relief; to have rebuked him sternly for speaking
lightly of a girl of whom he knew no evil, would have
been some satisfaction ; but modern manners forbade
i
142
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
the first, and a due sense of the ridiculous the
second. Control himself as Wilton might, he could
not call up the answering smile which St. George
expected, but instead stared at him with a fixed
haughty stare, which, although rather unaccountable
to its object, seemed sufficiently disagreeable to
make him turn away and seek more congenial com-
panionship.
Wilton, too, talked and laughed, and played his
part with a proper degree of animation ; but a bruised,
galled sensation clung to him all the evening. There
is a large class of men for whom such a remark as St.
George Wilton's would have been fatally destructive
to the charm and romance enfolding an object of
admiration. To find what is precious to them, com-
mon and unholy in the eyes of another, would destroy
the preciousness and desecrate the holiness ! But
there is another, a smaller, though nobler and stronger
class, whom the voice of the scoffer, scoff he never so
subtly, cannot incite to doubt or disloyalty to whom
love is still lovely, and beauty still beautiful ; although
others apply different terms to what they have recog-
nized as either one or the other. These are the men
who see with their own eyes, and Wilton was one of
them. It was with the sort of indignation a crusader
might have felt to see an infidel handling a holy relic,
that he thought of his cousin's careless words. Nay,
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
143
more, reflecting that St George was but one of many
who would have thus felt and spoken of a girl to whom
he dared not address a word of love lest it might
check or destroy the sweet, frank friendliness with
which she treated him, he asked himself again, what
was to be the end thereof? Then he for the first
time acknowledged to himself what he had often
indistinctly felt before, that to tell her he loved her,
to ask her to be his wife, to read astonishment, per-
haps dawning tenderness, in her wonderful eyes, to
hold her to his heart, to own her before the world, to
shelter her from difficulty so far as one mortal can
another, would be heaven to him !
She had struck some deeper, truer chord in his
nature than had ever been touched before ; and his
whole being answered ; all that seemed impossible
and insurmountable gradually faded into insignificance
compared to his mighty need for that quiet, pale,
dark-eyed little girl !
The day after Wilton's return from D Castle,
feeling exceedingly restless and unaccountably expect-
ant, he sallied forth with his gun on his shoulder, more
as any excuse than with any active sporting inten-
tions. As he passed the gate into the road, a large
half-bred mastiff, belonging to Sir Peter Fergusson,
rushed up, and Wilton, knowing he was an ill-
tempered brute, called his own dogs to heel, but the
144
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
mastiff did not notice them; he kept snuffing about
as though he had lost his master, and then set off in
a long, swinging gallop toward Brosedale.
Wilton, deep in thought, went on to the brae he so
often visited in the commencement of his stay at Glen-
raven. He had not long quitted the high road, when
he perceived a well-known figure, as usual clothed in
gray, walking rather slowly before him, and looking
wonderfully in accordance with the soft, neutral tints
of sky and stones and hill-side it was one of those
still, mild winter days that have in them something
of the tenderness and resignation of old age ; and
which, in our variable climate, sometimes come with
a startling change of atmosphere immediately after
severe cold. As he hastened to overtake her, Wilton
fancied her step was less firm and elastic than usual ;
that her head drooped slightly as if depressed ; yet
there -was a little more color than was ordinary in her
cheek, and certainly an expression of pleasure in her
eyes that made his heart beat when she turned at his
salutation. She wore a small turban hat of black
velvet, with a rosette in front, which Ipoked Spanish, and
most becoming to her dark eyes and pale, refined face.
" At last, Miss Rivers ! I thought you must have
abjured this brae since Moncrief and myself became
temporary proprietors. I began to fear I should never
meet you out of doors again."
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
145
" I have not been out for a long time alone," she
replied ; " but to-day some great man from London, a
doctor^ was to see poor Donald, and I was free for
awhile, so I rambled away far up that hill-side. It
was delightful so still, so grave, so soft."
"You have been up the hill," cried Wilton, in-
finitely annoyed to think he had been lounging and
writing in the house when he might have had a long
walk with his companion. "I wish I had been with
you. I imagine it must double one's enjoyment of
scenery to look at it with a thorough artist like
yourself."
Miss Rivers did not reply at once, but, after a
moment*s pause, asked, " Are you going out now to
shoot ? "
"Well, yes at least it is my first appearance
to-day."
" Would it be very inconvenient to you to walk
back to Brosedale, or part of the way, with me ? "
She spoke with a slight, graceful hesitation.
" Inconvenient 1 No, certainly not," returned
Wilton, trying to keep his eyes and voice from ex-
pressing too plainly the joy her request gave him.
" It is a charity to employ me. You know I have
lost my chum. Major Moncrief, and I feel somewhat
adrift. But I thought young Fergusson was better.
Miss Saville said so."
lO
1^6 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
Miss Rivers shook her head. "They know
nothing about it. He will never be better ; but it is
not because he is worse that this great doctor comes.
He pays periodical visits. Donald always suffers;
and I think he frets because his step-sisters and that
cousin of yours come and sketch and talk in our room
so often ; it does him no good."
"Am I wrong in interpreting your emphasis on
^ that cousin of yours* as an unfavorable expression? "
" Do you like him ? '* she asked, looking straight
into his eyes.
"No," replied Wilton, uncompromisingly; while
he gave back her gaze with interest.
" It is curious," she said, musingly, " for he never
offends ; he is accomplished ; his voice is pleasant.
Why do you not like him ? "
" I cannot tell. Why don't you ? "
" Ah ! it is different I I am foolish, perhaps,
to be so influenced by unreasoning instinct ; but *I
fancy I feel he is not honest not true. Are you
really kinsmen ? of the same race, the same blood ? "
" Yes, I believe so ! And may I infer from your
question that you believe I am tolerably honest
beyond deserving to be intrusted with the forks and
spoons, I mean ? "
" I do I do, indeed." She spoke quite earnestly,
and the words made Wilton's heart beat. Before,
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
H7
however, he had time to reply, a gentleman came
round an angle of broken bank, crowned by a group
of mountain ash, which in summer formed a very
picturesque point, and to Wilton's great surprise he
found himself face to face with St. George. Involun-
tarily he looked at Ella Rivers, but she seemed not
in the least astonished ; rather cold and collected.
Suddenly it flashed into his mind that she had asked
his escort to avoid a tJe-a-tete with the agreeable
attachdy with a crowd of associated inferences not
calculated to increase his cousinly regard. St. George
raised his hat with a gentle smile.
" I did not expect to have the pleasure of meeting
you, Colonel, though I had intended paying you a
visit. Miss Rivers, one has seldom a chance of find-
ing you so far afield. I presume it is a favorable
indication of the young laird's health that you can be
spared to enjoy a ramble with Colonel Wilton."
There was just the suspicion of a sneer about his
lips as he spoke, which completed the measure of
Wilton's indignation. But Miss Rivers replied with
the most unmoved composure that Donald was as
usual, and then walked on in silence. After a few
remarks, very shortly answered by Wilton, the bland
attache accepted his defeat.
" Did you see a large brown dog along here ? I
had the brute with me this morning, and he has strayed.
148 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
I do not like to return without him, for he is rather a
favorite with Sir Peter/'
" Yes, I saw him just now further up the road, close
to my gate," returned Wilton quickly, without adding
what direction the animal had taken.
" Thank you. Then I will prosecute my search
instead of spoiling your /(f/^-i-/f/^ '* with which parting
shot St. George left them.
For some paces Wilton and his companion walked
on in silence. He stole a glance at her face ; it was
composed and thoughtful. " I suppose you were not
surprised by that apparition 1 Perhaps it was a choice
of the smaller evil that induced you to adopt a tete-d-
tite with me, instead of with him ? " He looked
earnestly for her reply.
" It was," she said, without raising her eyes to his.
".He passed me just now in the dog-cart with another
gentleman, and I thought it possible he might return ;
so, as you have always been kind and friendly, I
thought I might ask you to come with me."
Another pause ensued^ for Wilton's heated imag-
ination conjured up an array of serious annoyances
deserving the severest castigation, and he scarcely
dared trust himself to speak, so fearful was he of
checking her confidence, or seeming to guess too
much of the truth. At last he exclaimed, with a sort
of suppressed vehemence that startled Miss Rivers
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
149
into looking at him quickly, " By heaven, it is too bad
that you shoujd be bored, in your rare moments of
freedom, with the idle chatter of that fellow.'*
" It is a bore, but that is all. It amuses him to
speak Italian with me " an expression of superb dis-
dain gleamed over her face for an instant, and left it
quiet and grave. " Though wonderfully civil, even
complimentary, he conveys, more than any one I ever
met, the hatefulness of class distinctions."
" I feel deeply thankful for the doubt you expressed
just now that he belonged to the same race as myself.*'
" You are quite different ; but I dare say you have
plenty of the prejudices peculiar to your caste."
" I wish you would undertake my conversion. It
might not be so difficult. Your denunciation of
soldiers has rung in my ears no rather haunted my
imagination ever since you showed me your sketch-
book in that desolate waiting-room."
" I remember," said she, gravely. " No, I shall
never convert you ; even if I wrote a political thesis
for your benefit." After a short pause, she resumed
abruptly, " Do you know, I fear poor Donald has not
much of life before him ? "
" Indeed ! What induces you to think so ? "
" He is so weak, and feverish, and sleepless. He
often rings for me to read to him in the dead of the
night. And then, with all his ill-temper and selfish-
ISO
RALPH iriLTO.VS iVEIRD.
i
ness, he has at times sach gleams of coble thoogfat,
such t!ashes of ictellectual light, that I cannot help
feeling it is the flicker of the dying lamp. I shall be
profoundly grieved when his sad, blighted life is over.
No one knows him as I do ; and no one cares for nie
as he does. I have ventured to speak to Ladj
Fergusson, but she cannot or will not see, and forbids
my addressing Sir Peter on the subject"
''And if this unfortunate boy dies, what is to
become of you ? " asked Wilton, too deeply interested
to choose his words, yet a little apprehensive lest he
might ofiend.
"I do not know; I have never thought," she
replied, quite naturally. " I suppose I should go back
to Mrs. Kershaw. She is fond of me in her way, espe-
cially since I nursed her through that fever."
" And then," persisted Wilton, looking earnestly
at her half-averted face with an expression which, had
she turned and caught it, would probably have de-
stroyed the pleasant, friendly tone of their intercourse.
" I do not know ; but I do not dread work. To
do honest service is no degradation to me. I have
always heard of work as the true religion of humanity.
No. I have very little fear of the future, because,
perhaps, I have so little hope."
"You are a strange girl," exclaimed Wilton, with
a certain degree of familiarity, which yet was perfectly
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
151
respectful. " I fancy few men have so much pluck
I dare say Lady Fergusson^ would not like to lose so
charming a companion for her daughters."
" Lady Fergusson does not think me at all charm-
ing; and Miss Saville does not like me, nor I her.
But whether they like it or not, I shall not remain if
Donald dies."
" Mrs. Kershaw is the person in whose house your
father died ? " said Wilton softly, and in the same con-
fidential tone their conversation had taken.
Miss Rivers bent her head.
" Where does she live ? " ,
"At Kensington."
" Whereabouts ? I know Kensington pretty well."
" Oh ! in H Street. There is a little garden
in front, so it is called Gothic Villa, though there is
very little that is Gothic about it." Here Miss Riv-
ers stopped.
" Yes 1 " exclaimed Wilton ; " I see we are within
the Brosedale boundaries ; but you must not dismiss
your escort yet ; that diplomatic relative of mine may
be on our heels."
" Do not imagine I fear to encounter him," said
she, with an arch smile. " I ought, perhaps, to apolo-
gize to you for taking you out of your way for so slight
a cause ; but even if a fly alights on one's brow or
hand, the impulse is to brush it away."
152 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
"Do not dismiss me so soon, however. I am
going away the day after to-morrow, and may not see
you again before I leave."
" You are going ! I am sorry." She spoke with
a simple sincerity that at once charmed, and yet mor-
tified him.
" You have always seemed more like an old friend
than a stranger," she continued ; " and I shall miss
you."
" If I could be of the smallest use the slightest
comfort to you," said Wilton his tones deepening
unconsciously while he drew nearer to her, feeling
still fearful of awakening any consciousness of the
passionate feeling with which he regarded her " I
would willingly renounce my visit to A ; but I
am only going there for a few days, and hope to
return in time for some entertainment which is to take
place in honor of Sir Peter's birthday."
" Oh, yes ; it was the same last year. A ball for
the near neighbors and tenants and dwellers in the
house. I had no heart to see the last, but I have
promised Isabel to be present at this."
" Indeed 1 then, pray, make another promise to
dance with me."
" Yes ; I will dance with you, if you remember
about it, and come to claim me."
"If!" repeated Wilton with eloquent emphasis;
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
IS3
" If I am in life you will see me there, even though I
risk another railway smash to keep the tryst."
There was a fervor and depth in his voice beyond
what the mere words required that struck his com-
panion. She turned to him with a startled, won-
dering expression in her eyes, which met his fully
for a moment, and then sank slowly, while a faint
flitting blush came and went on her cheek, the sweet
curved lips quivered, and an unmistakable look of
pain and gravity stole over her face. Wilton was
ready to curse his own want of self-control for thus
disturbing her, and yet this touch of emotion and
consciousness completed the potent spell she had
laid upon him. He burned to complete with his lips
the confession his eyes had begun, but he must not,
dare not then ; so, with an immense effort over him-
self, he managed to say somewhat at random, " I
suppose they have a good band ^good enough to
dance to ? "
" Yes, I believe so ; " and then again she stood
still. "You have come quite far enough. I must
say good-by. I do not wish to take you any further."
She again raised her eyes to his with a sort of effort,
but gravely and resolutely.
" I obey,** replied Wilton as gravely, all anxiety
to win her back to her former easy, confidential tone ;
he raised his hat and looked in vain for a movement
154
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
on her side to hold out her hand. " Then I may
count on you for the first waltz at the birthday fete.
I shall come for it, rest assured ; so remember if you
let St. George or any one else persuade you to break
your promises, the results may be fatal." He
endeavored to assume a light tone, but could not
judge of its effect, for Miss Rivers merely said in a
low voice, " Good-by. I shall not forget."
Wilton sought for another glance in vain. She
bent her head as he stood aside to let her pass, and
vanished quickly among the trees.
The walk back was accomplished almost uncon-
sciously, so deeply was Wilton absorbed in thought.
Involuntarily he had torn away the veil which had
hitherto hidden the real character of their inter-
course from that proud, frank, simple girl, and how
would she take it ? With a woman of her calibre any-
thing like indirectness, of parleying with generous
impulses, would consign him to the limbo of her con-
tempt; and the grand scorn of her face when she
spoke of St. George Wilton amusing himself with her,
flashed back upon him. Of that he could not. bear to
think, nor of giving her up and seeking safety in
flight, nor of tormenting himself by hanging about her
vaguely. There was but one way out of it all wild,
imprudent, insane as it must appear, even to decent
worldlings like Moncrief and that was to go in gal-
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
155
lantly and dauntlessly for marriage at all risks. Wil-
ton's pulses throbbed at the idea ; once certain of
himself and his motives, he felt that he could break
down any barrier of reserve Ella Rivers might erect
against him, and, at least, ascertain what were his
chances, or if he had any.
In this mood the next day's dinner at Brosedale
was a great trial, though a slight increase of friend-
liness toward St. George, who had evidently held
his tongue about their rencontre. All passed over
serenely, and promising faithfully to return in time
for the ball, he bid the Brosedale party "good-night**
Not sorry to try his own impressions by the test of
change, both of scene and company, he started for
A the next morning.
156 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
CHAPTER VII.
THE annual entertainment at Brosedale was on
an unusual scale this yean The house was full,
and full of eligible people. Mr. St. George Wilton,
it is true, had departed without laying iiimself and
his diplomatic honors at Miss Saville's feet ; but that
accomplished young lady was upheld by the con-
sciousness that his soldier-cousin would be there to
fill his place, and would be no mean substitute.
This celebration of Sir Peter Fergusson*s birthday
was instituted by his admiring wife, who found it use-
ful as a sort of rallying point at a diflScult season, and
helped the family radiance to obliterate the whilom
revered Grits of Brosedale ; and Sir Peter, to whom
money was no object, allowed himself to be flattered
and fooled into this piece of popularity-hunting as
" advisable " and the " right thing."
Wilton dressed and drove over to Brosedale, in a
mingled state of resolution and anxiety. Although
he seemed as pleasant a companion, as good a shot,
as bold a rider as ever to bis Hussar hosts, he found
plenty of time to think, to examine, and to torment
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD. 157
himself. He bad not reached his thirty-fifth year with-
out a sprinkling of love affairs, some of them, espec-
ially of early date, fiery enough ; but no previous fancy
or passion had taken such deep hold ujDon him as the
present one. Like many of the better sort of men,
he looked on women as pretty^ charming toys; to
be kindly and honorably treated, cared for and pro-
tected, but chiefly created for man's pleasure, to give
a certain grace to his existence when good, and to
spoil it wh^n wicked. A woman with convictions,
with an individual inner life ; a woman he could talk
to, as to a friend, apart from her personal attraction ;
a woman who spoke to him as if love-making was not
thought of between them ; a woman to whom he dared
not make love lest he should lose those delicious
glimpses of heart and mind, so fresh, so utterly uncon-
scious of their own charm this was something quite
beyond his experience. Then, to a true gentleman,
her strangely forlorn, isolated position hedged her
round with a strong though invisible fence ; and the
great difficulty of meeting her alone, of finding oppor-
tunities to win her, and rouse her from her pleasant
but provoking ease and friendliness all conspired
to fan the steadily increasing fire. Occupy himself as
he might, the sound of her voice was ever in his ear ;
her soft, earnest, fearless eyes forever in his sight
What a companion she would be, with her brijght
1 58 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
intelligence, her quick sympathy, her artistic taste!
and through all this attraction of fancy and intelligence
ran the electric current of strong passion, the intense
longing to read love in her eyes, to feel the clasp of
her slender arms, to hold her to his heart, and press
his lips to hers I He had known many fairer women,
but none before had stirred his deeper, better nature
like this friendless, obscure girl, on whom he involun-
tarily looked with more of reverence than the haughti-
est peeress had called forth ; and come what might,
he would not lose her for lack of boldness to face
the possible ills of an unequal match.
Wilton did not deceive himself as to the seeming
insanity of such a marriage. He knew what Moncrieif
would say; what the world in which he lived would
say for that he cared little ; but he looked ahead.
He knew his means were limited for a man in his
position ; then there were good appointments in India
and elsewhere for military men with administrative
capacities and tolerable interest ; and with Ella Rivers
and plenty of work, home and happiness would exist
anywhere, everywhere I Lord St. George ! Ay ; there
lay a difficulty. However, he was certainly a perfectly
free agent ; but it went sorely against him to resign
the prospect of wealth to support the rank which
must come to him. Insensibly he had appropriated
it in his mind since his interview with the old peer,
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD. 159
and now he wished more than ever to secure it for
Ella's sake. Whatever might be the obscurity of her
origin, she would give new dignity to a coronet, if she
would accept him. It was this "if "that lay at the
root of the anxiety with which Wilton drove to Brose-
dale, and struggled to be lively and agreeable while
the guests assembled, for he was unusually early.
Who could foresee whether that wonderful uncon-
sciousness which characterized Miss Rivers\s manner
might not be the result of a preoccupied heart ? At
the idea of a rival a successful rival Wilton felt
murderous, while smiling and complimenting Miss
Saville as they stood together in the music-room, where
the first arrivals were received.
" I thought St. George had left some time ago,"
he said, observing that gentleman approach.
^*He returned for the ball," replied Miss Saville,
who was looking very handsome in a superb toilet.
"He dances divinely. We could not have got on
without him."
"Dancing is a diplomatic accomplishment," said
Wilton gravely. " I am told there used to be a com-
petition ballet once a year at Whitehall, for which leave
was granted at remote missions ; but the advantages
possessed by the Paris and Vienna attaches over those
in Vancouver's Land and the Cannibal Islands were
l6o RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
so unfair that it has been discontinued; besides, old
H is opposed to the graces."
This speech permitted St. George to come up, and
he immediately engaged the beautiful - Helen for the
first waltz.
" I think we may as well begin, Helen," said Lady
Fergusson ; *' we can make up two or three quadrilles.
"/Come, LQrd Ogilvie" this to a fledgling lord, who
had been caught for the occasion " take Miss Saville
to the ball-room.*'
"Where is your youngest daughter. Lady Fer-
gusson ? " asked Colonel Wilton. " I suppose on
such an occasion she is permitted to share the pomps
and vanities. Eh ? "
** Oh, Isabel ! She has already gone into the
ball-room with Miss Walker \ but I cannot permit you
to throw yourself away on a school girl. Let me
introduce you to "
" My dear Lady Fergusson, you must permit me
the liberty of choice. Isabel or nothing," he inter-
rupted.
" Very well," said Lady Fergusson, with a slight,
but pleased smile.
Colonel Wilton offered his arm, and they proceeded
to the ball-room. It was the largest of two large
drawing-rooms, only separated by handsome columns.
Cleared of furniture and profusely decorated with
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD. jgi
flowers, it was spacious and attractive enough to
satisfy the wildest D shire imagination, nor was it
beneath the approval of the experienced Londoners
staying in the house. At one end it opened on a
large fragrant conservatory ) here the band was sta-
tioned j at the further end of the second drawing-
room was an apartment devoted to refreshments, and
again communicating with the conservatory by a
glass-covered passage lined with tropical shrubs,
lighted by soft, ground-glass lamps, and warmed to a
delicious temperature. When Wilton entered the
ball-room the first sets of quadrilles were being formed.
He soon perceived Isabel standing beside her step-
father, and Miss Walker, in festive attire, conversing
with a learned-looking old gentleman in spectacles at
a little distance. Wilton's heart failed him. Where
was Ella Rivers ? Had Donald insisted on keeping
her a prisoner lest she might enjoy a pleasure he
could not share ?
However, he asked the delighted school-girl to
dance with a suitable air of enjoyment, and before
the third figure had begun had extracted the follow-
ing information.
''Donald has been frightfully cross all day; he-
always is when wc have a ball ; and he has kept Miss
Rivers so late ! But I think she is ready now ; she
was to wait in the conservatory till Miss Walker
II
l62 RALPH WILTOX'S WEIRD.
went for her, as she could not very well come in
alone."
After which communication Miss Isabel Saville
found her partner slightly absent, and given rather to
spasmodic spurts of conversation than to continuous
agreeability. In truth, the quadrille seemed very
long. He watched Miss Walker carefully ; she was
still alone, and if such a phrase could be applied to
anything so rigid fluttering amiably from one dow-
ager to another among the smaller gentry invited
once a year.
" Now Colonel Wilton," said Lady Fergusson
when the quadrille was over, ^* I will introduce you
to a charming partner an heiress, a belle "
" Do not think of it," he interrupted. " I have
almost forgotten how to dance ; you had better keep
me as a reserve fund for the partnerless and forlorn."
Wilton stepped back to make way for some new
arrivals ; still, no sign of Ella. Miss Walker was in
deep conversation with a stout lady in maroon satin
and black lace ; she had evidently forgotten her
promise; so, slipping through the rapidly-increas-
ing crowd, Wilton executed a bold and skilful flank
movement.
Passing behind the prettily ornamented stand
occupied by the musicians, just as they struck up a
delicious waltz, he plunged into the dimly-lighted
I
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, 163
recesses of the conservatory in search of the missing
girl. She was not there, so he dared to penetrate
into the passage before mentioned, 011 which one or
two doors opened ; one of them was open, letting in
a brilliant light from the room behind, and just upon
the threshold stood Ella Rivers, with an expectant
look in her eyes. Wilton paused in his approach, so
impressed was he by her air of distinction. The
delicate white of her neck and arms showed through
her dress of black gauze ; her dark brown, glossy
hair braided back into wide plaited loops behind her
small shell-like ear, and brought round the head in a
sort of crown, against which lay her only ornament, a
white camellia with its dark green leaves. As she
stood thus, still and composed, waiting patiently, and
looking so purely, softly, colorless, and fair, the quiet
grace of her figure, the dusk transparency of her
drapery, associated her in Wilton's fancy with the
tender beauty of moonlight ; but^ as the thought
passed through his brain, he stepped forward and
accosted her.
" I have come to claim the waltz you promised
me. Miss Rivers."
She started, and colored slightly. " Yes," she re-
plied, *^ I am ready, as you have remembered. I
am waiting for Miss Walker, who promised to come
for me."
l64 RALPH WJLTOX'S WEIRD.
*^ She is engaged with some people in the ball-
room, so I ventured to come in her place."
He bowed, and offered his arm as he spoke, with
the utmost deference ; and Miss Rivers, with one
quick, surprised glance, took h in silence.
" You remembered your premise to me ? " asked
Wilton, as they passed through the conservator}'.
"Scarcely," she replied, with a slight smile. *'I
did not think of it till you s[xke."
^' And had I been a little later I should have found
you waltzing with some more fortunate fellow ? "
" Yes, very likel}*, had any one else asked me.
You see," apologetically, " I am very fond of dancing,
and I know so few or rather I know no one so had
you not come, and I had waited for you, I might never
have danced at all."
" But you ^new I would come," exclaimed Wilton,
eagerly.
Miss Rivers shook her head, raising her eyes to *
his with the first approach to anything like coquetry
he had ever noticed in her, though playfulness would
be the truer description.
" You knew I would come," he repeated.
"Indeed I did not."
These words brought them to the ball-room, and
as they stepped out into the light and fragrance of
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
165
the bright, well-filled, decorated room, Wilton's com-
panion uttered a low exclamation of delight.
" How beautiful 1 how charming and the music !
Come, let us dance ! we are losing time. Oh ! how
long it is since I danced ! How glad I am you came
for me ! "
Wilton tried to look into her eyes, to catch their
expression when she uttered these words, but in vain
they were wandering with animated delight over the
gay scene and whirling figures, while her hand, half
unconsciously, was stretched up to his shoulder. The
next moment they were floating away to the strains of
one of Strauss's dreamy waltzes.
"And where did ypu last dance?" asked Wilton,
as they paused for breath.
"Oh 1 at M , under the great chestnut trees.
There was an Austrian band there ; and, although
such tyrants, they make excellent music, the Austrians.
It was so lovely and fresh that evening."
"And who were your partners Austrian or
Italian?"
" Neither ; I only danced with Diego dear, good
Diego. Do not speak of it! I want to forget
now. I want to enjoy this one evening just this
one."
There was wonderful pathos in her voice and eyes ;
but Wilton only said, "Then, if you are rested, we will
l66 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
go on again." He could not trust himself to say more
at that moment
When the dance was ended. Wilton, anxious to
avoid drawing any notice upon his partner, led her at
once to Miss Walker, and considerably astonished
that lady by asking her for the next quadrille. For
several succeeding dances he purposely avoided Ella,
while he distributed his attentions with judicious
impartiality; although he managed to see that she
danced more than once, but never with St George,
who seemed to avoid her.
At last, the move to supper was made, and, at the
same time, a gay gallop was played, to employ the
younger guests and keep them from crowding upon
their elders while in the sacred occupation of eating.
Seeing the daughters of the house deeply engaged,
Wilton indulged himself in another dance with Ella.
When they ceased, the room was wellnigh cleared.
" Now, tell me," said Wilton his heart beating
fast, for he was resolved not to part with his compan-
ion until he had told her the passionate love which
she had inspired till he had won her to some avowal,
or promise, or explanation " tell me, have you had
nothing all this time ? No ice, or wine, or "
" Yes an ice ; it was very good."
" And you would like another ? Come, we are
more likely to find it in the refreshment-room than at
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, 167
supper, and be less crowded too ; unless your mind is
fixed on gan^e pie and champagne ? " While he
forced himself to speak lightly, he scarce heard his
own spoken words, for listening to the burning sen-
tences forming themselves in his brain, and for plan-
ning how to find some blessed opportunity of being
alone with the fair girl, whose hand, as it rested on
his arm, he could not help pressing to his side.
" No, no," she exclaimed, smiling, '* I do not care
for game pie ; but I should like an ice."
" Then we will make for the refreshment-room."
It was nearly empty, but not quite ; one or two coup-
les and a few waiters rendered it anything but a desir-
able solitude. However, Wilton composed himself as
best he could to watch Ella eat her ice, while he
solaced himself with a tumbler of champagne. "Who
have you been dancing with?" he asked, trying to
make her speak and look at him.
" I do not know. One gentleman was introduced
to me by Isabel ; the other introduced himself I
liked him the best, although he is a soldier " a
laughing glance at Wilton " and he says he knows
you."
" Oh ! young Langley of the 15th, I suppose? "
" He dances very badly much worse than you
do."
" That is a very disheartening speech. I thought I
I
l68 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
rather distinguished myself this evening; but I suppose
your friend Diego could distance me considerably."
"You mean he danced better?" pausing, with a
spoonful of ice half-way to her lips. '* Well, yes ;
you really dance very well ; I enjoyed my dance with
you ; but Diego ! his dancing was superb ! "
** Was he not rather old for such capering ? "
" Old ! Ah, no. Diego never was, never will be,
old ! Poor fellow ! You would like Diego, if you
knew him."
" You think so ? " very doubtfully ** however,
we were not to talk about him. Let me take away
your plate. And have you managed to enjoy your
evening ? "
" Well, no " looking up at him with wistful eyes
" that is the truth. It is so terribly strange and
lonely, I was thinking of stealing away when you
asked me for that galop."
"Let us go and see Donald," exclaimed Wilton,
abruptly rising. " His room opens on the other side
of the conservatory, does it not ?"
" But he is not there ; he is gone to bed."
" Had he gone when you came away ? "
" No j but he was quite worn out with his own
crossness, and is, I hope, fast asleep by this time."
" Well, I am under the impression that he is still
up.
RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD, jgg
" Did any one tell you ? How very wrong. He
ought to be in bed. I shall go and see."
"Yes; you had better. It is half past twelve!
Let me go with you \ I may be of some use."
*^ Come, then," said she, frankly ; and Wilton fol-
lowed her, feeling that he was about to reap the
reward of the self-control by which he had won back
her confidence, which he feared his unguarded glance
had shaken when they had last met.
Ella Rivers walked quickly down the passage
leading to the conservatory, now quite deserted, the
band having gone to refresh, and crossed to a glass
door, through which light still shone. " I do believe
he is up. The lamp is still burning." She opened
it and stepped in. Wilton followed, dexterously drop-
ping the curtain as he passed through.
" No ; he is gone," said Ella, looking around. "I
am so glad ! "
" So am I," exclaimed Wilton, most sincerely.
" How quiet and comfortable the room looks,"
continued his companion, drawing off her gloves. " I
shall not return to the ball \ it is no place for me ; so
good-night, Colonel Wilton."
" Not yet," he exclaimed, in a low, earnest tone.
" Hear me first I cannot help speakinp, abruptly I
dare not lose so precious an opportunity." He ap-
proached her as he spoke. She was standing by a
I/O
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
large writing-table near the fire-place, where the last
embers were dying out ; she had just laid down her
gloves, and, resting one hand upon the table, looked
up with a wondering, startled expression. Her total
unconsciousness of what was coming struck Wilton
dumb for a moment ; but he was naturally resolute,
and had the advantage of having thoroughly made up
his mind. " Although I have done my best to mask
my feelings," he resumed, speaking rapidly, but with
unmistakable emotion, "fearing to frighten you from
the friendly confidence you have hitherto shown me,
I cannot hide or suppress them any longer I must
tell you I love you ! I must ask if there is a chance
for me with you ? I know it is audacious to address
you thus when I have had so few opportunities of
making myself known to you ; but the great difficulty
of seeing you, your peculiar position, the terrible
uncertainty "
^* Oh ! hush, hush ! " interrupted Ella, who had
turned very pale, covering her eyes with one hand and
stretching out the other as if to ward off a danger ;
"do not speak like that ! Have I lost my only friend !
I did not dream of this at least I only once feared
it, I-"
" Feared," interrupted Wilton in his turn. " Why,
am I lost ? Are you pledged to some other man that
you shrink from me ? Speak, Ella ! If it is so, why
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, 171
I must not force myself upon you. Speak to me !
look at me I " And, in his intense anxiety to ascer-
tain the truth, he drew her hand from her face and
held it locked in both of his.
"I pledged to any one ! no indeed " raising her
eyes, by a sort of determined effort, gravely, earnestly
to his '* I never thought of such a thing ! " she
returned, trying to draw away her hand.
" Then am I utterly unacceptable to you ? You
cannot form an idea of the intense love you have
created, or you would not speak so coldly ! Ella,
there is no one to care for you as I do no one to
consult no one to keep you back from me ! If you
do not care for me now, tell me how I can win you !
do not turn away from me ! I have much to explain
much to tell you and I dare not detain you now
lest we might be interrupted, but come to-morrow
across the brae ! I will be there every afternoon by
the cairn until you can manage to come, if you will
only promise. For God's sake do not refuse to hear
me ! " He bent over her, longing, yet not daring, to
draw her to him.
" Let my hand go," said Ella, in a low voice, and
trembling very much. Wilton instantly released it.
" Go to meet you ! no, I must not I will not." She
stopped, and, pressing her hand against her heart,
went on hurriedly " I can hear no more ; I will go
172 RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD.
away now ! Ah ! how sorry I ain ! " She moved
toward a door opening into the house, but Wilton
intercepted her.
" You misunderstand me, though I cannot see
why ; but will you at least promise to read what I
write ? Promise this, and I will not intrude upon
you any longer."
" I will," she replied faintly. Wilton bowed and
stepped back ; the next instant he was alone.
Alone, and most uncomfortable. He had in some
mysterious manner offended her. He could under-
stand her being a little startled, but here one of those
sudden intuitions which come like a flash of summer
lightning, revealing objects shrouded in the dark of a
sultry night, darted across his misty conjectures he
had not mentioned the words "wife" or "marriage."
Could she imagine that he was only trifling with her ?
or worse ? The blood mounted to his cheek as the
thought struck him ; and yet, painful as the idea was,
it suggested hope. Her evident grief, her visible
shrinking from the word "love," did not look like
absolute indiflerence. She did not like to lose him
as a friend, and she feared a possible loss of respect
in his adopting the character of her lover. Then she
had been so deeply impressed by the caste prejudices
of the people around her, to say nothing of the possible
impertinences of Mr. St. George Wilton, that it was
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, 173
not improbable she had cruelly misinterpreted his
avowal. These reflections gave him the keenest pain,
the most ardent longing to fly to Ella to pour out
assurances of the deepest, the warmest esteem, but
that was impossible for the present ; he had nothing
for it but to hook up the curtain again, and return to
the ball-room, planning a letter to Ella, which should
leave no shadow of doubt as to the sincerity and
purity of his affection for her.
But the sound of the music, the sight of the dancers,
the effort to seem as if nothing had happened, was too
much for his self-control, and, excusing himself to his
hostess, he was soon driving liome, thankful to be out
in the cold, fresh night air, which seemed to quiet his
pulses and clear his thoughts. Cost him what it
might, he would never give Ella up, unless she posi-
tively refused him, and of that he would not think.
The slight and unsatisfactory taste of open love-making
which he had snatched only served to increase the
hunger for more. The indescribable, shrinking,
despairing tone and gesture with which Ella cried,
'Then I hive lost you for my friend," was vividly
present wiih him, and before he slept that night, or
rather morning, he poured forth on paper all his love,
his aspirations, that could be written. He did not,
as letter-writing heroes generally do, sacrifice a heca-
tomb of note-paper. He knew what he wanted, and
174
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
k
said it in good, terse, downright English, stamped
with so much earnestness and honesty that it would
have been a cold heart, much colder than Ella Rivers's,
that could have read it unmoved. Then, like a sen-
sible man for in spite of the strong love fit upon
him, and the rather insane line of conduct he had
chosen to adopt, Wilton was a sensible fellow he set
himself to wait patiently till the following day, which
might bring him a reply, or possibly a meeting with Ella
herself, which he had most urgently entreated. That
she would either write or come he felt sure, and so to
while away the time he kept a half made appointment
with some of his military friends, and enjoyed a sharp
run over a stiflf country with the D shire hounds,
and dined with the mess afterwards.
He was, however, less composed next day when
no letter reached him from Ella, and no Ella appeared
at the tryst. The next day was stormy, with heavy
showers, and the next was frosty still no letter ; still
no Ella and Wilton began to fret, and champ the bit
of imperious circumstance with suppressed fury. If
to-morrow brought no better luck he would endure it
no longer, but make a bold inroad upon the fortress
wherein his love his proud, delicate darling was
held in durance vile.
The weather was still bright and clear. A light
frost lay crisp and sparkling on the short herbage and
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
175
tufts of broom ; the air was so still, that the rush of
the river, as it chafed against the big black stones
opposing- its progress, could be heard at a consider-
able distance past the cairn, where a path very little
frequented branched off to a remote hamlet over the
wooded hill behind Glenraven. The low-lying country
towards Monkscleugh lay mapped out in the rarefied
air, which diminished distance and gave wondrous
distinctness to all outlines. A delicious winter's day ;
all sounds mellowed to a sort of metallic music by
the peculiar state of the atmosphere. But Wilton
was in no mood to enjoy the beauties of nature. He
was feverish with impatience as he walked to and fro
behind the friendly shelter of the cairn, and noticed,
in the odd, mechanical way with which the mind at
certain crises seems excited into a species of double
action, and while absorbed by the great motive can
yet take in and imprint indelibly upon its tablets all
the minute details of surrounding objects. He saw
the picturesque roughness of a prostrate tree ; he
watched the shadow of the cairn stealing gradually
further eastward ; he noticed a little robin perching
on a twig, that seemed to look at him without appre-
hension ; he gazed at a couple of ragged, miserable
goats who were feeding at a little distance, occasion-
ally lifting up their heads to bleat at each other.
Years after he could have described the position of
176
RALPH iriLTOX'S WEIRD.
these objects, thongfa at the moment be was scarce
conscious of thc-m. ''Ten ciinutes to three ! If she
i5 not here in ten min-jtes. I wili walk on to Brosedale
and nnd out why,*" he mutiered to himself, as be
walked av;av once more toward the hilL When he
turned he saw a slight figure, wrapped in a dark
green plaid, standing beside the tree, in the place be
had just quitted. Then impatience, and doubt, and
anger all swept away in a flood of delight ^be sprang
to meet her.
*-* At last 1 I thought you would never come. And
yet how good of you to grant my request I have
lived two years since I spoke to you."
Ella smiled and colored, then turned very pale, and
gently, but firmly, drew away the hand he had taken
looking on the ground all the time. " I could not
come before/' she said, in a low, unsteady voice.
"To-day Sir Peter has taken Donald with him to
D ." A pause. " I am afraid you thought ilie
rude unkind but I scarcely understood you. I "
She stopped abruptly.
*'Do you understand me now?" asked Wilton,
gravely, coming close to her, and resting one foot only
on the fallen tree, while he bent to look into the sweet,
pale face. " Have you read my letter? "
"Yes; many times, It has infinitely astonished
me."
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, 177
Why ? "
" That you should ask so great a stranger to share
your life your name. To be with you always till
death. Is it not unwise, hasty ? "
" Many most people would say so, who were not
in love. I cannot reason or argue about it. I only
know that I cannot face the idea of life without you.
Nor shall anything turn me from my determination to
win you, except your own distinct rejection."
" Is it possible you feel all this and for me ? "
exclaimed Ella, stepping back and raising her great,
deep, blue, wondering eyes to his.
" I loved you from the hour we first met," said
Wilton, passionately. " For God's sake ! do not speak
so coldly. Are you utterly indifferent to me ? or have
you met some one you can love better ? "
" Neither," she replied, still looking earnestly at
him. " I never loved any one. I have often thought
of loving, and feared it ! it is so solemn. But how
could I love you ? I have always liked to meet you
and speak to you, still I scarcely know you ; and
though to me such things are folly, I know that to you
and to your class there seems a great gulf fixed between
us a gulf I never dreamed you would span."
" I do not care what the gulf, what the obstacle,"
cried Wilton, again possessing himself of her hand ;
" I only know that no woman was ever before neces-
12
^
178
RALPH niLTOX'S WEIRD.
sary to my existence ; high or low, you are my queen !
Do not think I should have dared to express my feel
ings so soon, but for the enonnous difficulty of seeing
you of meeting you. Then I feared that you might
drift away from me. I am not wanting in pluck ; but,
by heaven ! I never was in such a fright in my life as
the other night when I began to speak to you."
A sweet smile stole round Ella's lips and sparkled
in her eyes as he spoke. " Ah ! you are not going
to be inexorable," he continued, watching with delight
this favorable s}Tnptom ; "if you are heart-whole I do
not quite despair."
" Colonel Wilton," she replied, again drawing away
her hand, " take care you are not acting on a mere
impulse."
" You speak as if I were a thoughtless, inexperi-
enced boy," he interrupted, impatiently. " You forget
that I was almost a man when you were born -, and as
to reflecting, I have never ceased reflecting since I
met you. Believe me, I have thought of everything
possible and impossible, and the result is you must be
my wife, unless you have some insuperable objection."
" Oh, let me speak to you," she exclaimed, clasp-
ing her hands imploringly ; " speak out all my mind,
and do not be offended, or misinterpret me."
" I will listen to every syllable, and stand any
amount of lecturing you choose to bestow ; but let us
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
179
walk on toward the hill ; you will take cold standing
here."
They moved on accordingly, Ella speaking with
great, though controlled, animation sometimes stop-
ping to enforce her words with slight, eloquent ges-
tures. Wilton's heart in his eyes, listening with his
whole soul, slowly and meditatively pulling out his
long moustaches.
" Nature to nature," continued Ella. " I know I
am not unworthy of you, even if you are all you seem.
But are you quite sure you will always see as clearly
through the outside of things as you do now ? Ah ! I
have heard and read such sad, terrible stories of
change, and vain regret for what was irremediable^
that I tremble at the thought of what you might bring
upon us both. Mind to mind, heart to heart, we are
equals ; but the accidents of our condition just look
at the difference between them. I am the veriest
thistledown of insignificance. I scarce know who I
am myself; and might not the day come when you
will regret having sacrificed your future to a fancy, a
whim ? You might be too generous to say so, but do
you think I should not know it ? If I married you I
would love you, and if I loved you there would not be
a shadow on your heart, nor a variation in your mood
that I should not divine. Do not ask me to love you.
l8o RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
I fear it ! I am quiet dow ; my life is not very sanny,
but it is free from absolute pain. Be wise."
" I am wise," interrupted Wilton ; * most wise in
my resolution to let nothing turn me from my purpose;
and Ella for I must speak to you as I think of you
do not suppose I am offering you a very brilliant lot
when I implore you to be my wife. I am but indiffer-
ently off as a simple gentleman^ and will be positively
poor when I have higher rank. Still, if you will trust
mer-if you will love me life may be very delicious.
All that you have said only makes me more eager to
call you my own. I am not afraid of changing. I
have always been true to my friends why not to my
love ? It is true that you must take me somewhat on
my own recommendation ; but is there no instinctive
feeling in your heart that recognizes the sincerity of
mine? I have listened to all you have said, and
simply repeat Will you be my wife, if 3-ou are free
to be so ? "
** I will answer frankly, yes. Oh, stay, stay ! If
after six months' absence you return and repeat the
question "
" Six months' absence ! You are not speaking seri-
ously ! Do you think I should consent to such ban-
ishment ? "
" You must. Colonel Wilton, both for your own
sake and mine. I must be sure that the feelings you
RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD, igl
think so deep will stand some test ; you ought to
prove your real need of me by absence, by steeping
yourself in the society of your own class the women
of your own class. I have a right to ask this."
*' By heaven ! " cried Wilton, "you are utterly cold
and indifferent, or you would not put me to so cruel a
proof.'
Ella was silent, and tears stood in her eyes, while
Wilton went on. " Think of six months I six months
swept clean off the few years of youth and love and
happiness we have before us ! It is reckless waste !
Hear me in turn ; give up this purgatory ! go back to
your friendly landlady. I will meet you in London ;
in three or four weeks at the farthest we shall be man
and wife. I have more than three months' leave un-
expired ; we will go away to Italy, or the south of
France. Ella ! I feel half-mad at the idea of such a
heaven. Why do you not feel as I do ? "
" No, I must not, I will not," said she, turning very
pale, and trembling excessively, but letting him hold
her hand in both his. " I must insist upon your sub-
mitting to the test of absence, in justice to me."
In vain Wilton implored and almost raged ; she
was evidently much shaken and disturbed, but still
immovable. The utmost Wilton could win was the
shortening his time of probation to three months, dur-
ing which time he was not to write nor expect her to
1 82 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
write. If, at the expiration of that period, he claimed
her, she would be his. If he changed, he was simply
to let the tr}'st go by unnoticed. The settlement of
these preliminaries brought them very near the en-
trance of the Brosedale plantations, whither Ella had
resolutely bent her steps. Finding his eloquence of
no avail, Wilton was rather moodily silent.
" You are angry ; you think me unkind,'' said
Ella, softly ; " but however you decide you will yet
thank me."
" You do not feel as I do."
** Perhaps not ; yet do not think that it costs me
nothing to say good-by. You always cheered me. I
used to look for you when I came out to walk, and
when you used to come and see Donald I always felt
less alone.'*
" If you feel all this, why do you banish me ?"
" Because it is wisest and kindest ; and now good-
by. Yes ; do go ! I want to be back in time to grow
composed before Donald returns.**
" Dearest, you look awfully pale. I ought not to
keep you ; and yet I cannot part with you." He drew
her to him most tenderly, irresistibly impelled to
breathe his adieu on her lips.
^' No, no," she exclaimed, drawing back. " I dare
not kiss you ; a kiss to me would be a marriage bond ;
I
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, 183
do not ask it j do not hold me." He felt how she
trembled, and he released her.
'* One day, Ella, you will perhaps know how much
I must love to obey you. So it must be good-by ? "
"Yes ; and remember you leave me perfectly free.
I say it with no arrogance or want of feeling, but if
you do not return, I shall not break my heart. I shall
rather rejoice that we have escaped a great mistake
a terrible sorrow but if you do come back " A
soft blush stole over her cheek a bright smile. Wil-
ton gazed at her, waiting eagerly for the next words,
but they did not come. " Whatever happens," she re-
sumed, " I shall always remember with pleasure, with
respect, that for once you rose above the conventional
gentleman into a natural, true man." She gave him
her hand for a moment, then, drawing it away from his
passionate kisses, disappeared in the fast increasing
gloom of evening among the plantations.
1 84 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
CHAPTER VIII.
A BRIGHT, blustering March morning was shin-
ing, with a cold glitter over the square of the
well-known B Barracks, in that pleasant, rackety
capital, Dublin, nearly three months after the interview
last recorded. Parade had just been dismissed, and
the officers of the second battalion th Rifles had
dispersed to their various occupations or engagements,
with the exception of a small group which gathered
round an attractive fire in the mess-room, and dis-
cussed the military and club gossip of the hour.
*^ Will you stay for the th Dragoons' ball, on
Thursday, Wilton ? " said one of the younger men to
our friend, who was reading a London paper, and
dressed in mufti, evidently a guest.
"And for St. Paddy's on the 17th?" asked the
colonel. " It's a dazzling scene, and no end of fun."
" I promised to dine with the mess of the th
Dragoons to-night," returned Wilton ; " and I think I
should like to see their ball ; but I must be in Scot-
land before the 17th, so must forego the humors of
St. Patrick's. I see, colonel, my battalion was not to
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD. 185
embark until the 2Sth of February. They cannot
reach England for another month. I have a great
mind to exchange into the regiment that is gone out
to relieve them. I do not like soldiering in England
there is always work to be done in India."
The colonel elevated his brows.
*^ My dear fellow, you are desperately energetic.
I should have thought that, with your prospects, you
had done work enough."
" My prospects have nothing to do with it I
suppose there would be no difficulty in the matter ? '*
continued Wilton, reflectively, more to himself than
to his listener.
" Difficulty ! none whatever. The fighting is over,
so no one will be afraid to stay at home ; and I fancy
there is a very uncomfortable transition-state before
the Anglo-Indian world."
" I shall ask for extension of leave ; I don't fancy
joining the depot."
" How long is Moncrief to be away ? "
" He has three weeks' leave urgent private
affairs. I am sure to see him in town, though I shall
only pass through," remarked Wilton, and relapsed
into silence, scarcely hearing the arguments of his
companion, who proved to demonstration that Wilton
would be a fool to make any exchange, except, indeed,
i
1 86 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
he could get a chance of returning to his old friends
of the second battalion.
Ralph Wilton was looking thinner and graver
than formerly, and there was an expression of anxiety
and irritation in his keen bold eyes. While the col-
onel argued, an orderly approached with letters, which
his oflQcer took, and, glancing at the addresses,
handed two or three to Wilton. " This is from Mon-
criLf," said he, opening an envelope directed in a
remarkably stiff, legible hand '* forwarded from Ath-
garven. He is annoyed at missing me, and " Here
he stopped, and read on, with knit brows and fixed
attention, then let the hand which held the letter
drop, and stood wrapped in thought.
" No bad nevvs ? " asked the colonel.
" Yes no," he returned, absently. " My dear
colonel, I must leave you to-day. I must go up to
town by this evening^s mail."
" This is very sudden. Can^t you manage a day
or two more ? Why, you have only been three weeks
with us.*'
A few words from Wilton convinced his friend and
host that, although indisposed to give a reason for his
sudden move, its necessity was imperative.
The passage in Major Moncrief 's letter which had
moved Wilton was as follows :
" Town is very full ; the club brimming over ; din-
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
187
Tiers going a-begging and, talking of dinners, I met
our Monkscleugh acquaintance, Lady Fergusson, in
Regent Street, yesterday. She was in deep mourn-
ing ; it seems that unfortunate son and heir died
about a month ago. Sir Peter is in great grief; the
establishment at Brosedale broken up, and the whole
family en route for Germany. I wonder what has
become of the pretty lassie you picked up in the
snow ! I was always afraid of your getting into some
mess with her ; but you have more sense than I gave
you credit for."
The Brosedale establishment broken up ! and not
.a line not a word from Ella. Where had she
gone ? Did she wish to avoid him ? In four days
more the three months' absence prescribed by Ella
would have expired, and now he was thrown off the
scent. Had she sought and found any new employ-
ment ? If in her heart she distrusted his constancy
as much as she professed, she might have done so ; or
had she returned to that London landlady whom she.
had described on the memorable occasion of the
snowstorm ? Hold 1 he had noted the address some-
where. This led to a vehement search among his
papers and memoranda ; but in vain. Then he sat
down and thought intensely. Kershaw? yes, that
was the name of the woman \ and Gothic Villa the
name of the house at Kensington \ but the street,
i
1 88 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
that he could not recall ; nevertheless, he would not
leave a corner of the " old court suburb " unexplored.
With this resolution he started on his journey the
mere movement raised his spirits and invigorated
him ; anything was better than the silence and endur-
ance of the last three months.
He had parted with Ella Rivers in a mood curi-
ously compounded of love, anger, slightly-mortified
vanity, but deep admiration. He felt that she had a
right to demand some test of a passion so sudden ;
and, without words, her grave candor had impressed
upon him the conviction that, in asking her to share
his life, he asked quite as much as he offered a con-
viction not always clear to men, even when in love.
Then the respect which her self-control, her noble
simplicity, imposed upon him, deepened and elevated
the character of his affection. Above all, she was
still to be won. She had allowed him to hope ; but he
dared not flatter himself that she loved him and
how wonderfully he yearned for her love ! he was
astonished at it himself. All life seemed empty and
colorless without her. About three weeks after he
had left Glenraven, he had written to let her know
that he had accepted an invitation to Ireland, where
he intended to make some stay and visit his former
brother-officers, seizing gladly the excuse afforded by
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
189
this change of locality ; but he had quickly received
the following reply :
"You must faithfully keep the promise you have
given. Do not in any way seek me for three or four
months. Meantime, I am well and not unhappy.
Whether we meet again or not, I shall ever think of
you kindly. May the good God guide us to what is
happiest and best for both !
'' Always your friend,
"Ella Rivers."
The small, straight, firm writing was kissed again
and again, even while he chafed against her firmness.
This touch of the true magnet had drawn all the
atoms of romance, of nobility, of perception of spiritual
and intellectual light, which lay scattered, not sparingly,
among the coarser material of the man, into sym-
metrical circles converging to one centre. He was
softened and strengthened. He resolved to obey Ella
to the letter ; and his brother-officers noticed that
Wilton was much more ready for balls and dinners
and luncheon-parties than formerly ; for his character
had been rather that of a " reserved, quiet fellow,
with a devil of a temper when roused." He was,
nevertheless, a favorite, as straightforward, plucky
men, who never " shirk their fences " in any sense,
generally are. The neighborhood, too, where Wilton's
visit was made, was unusually wealthy and aristocratic
4
igo
RALPH WILTOX^S WEIRD.
for Ireland, so that he had ample opportunities for
** steeping" himself in the society of people of his own
class. The result, however, was that the impression
he tad received sank deeper and more abidingly as
time went on. And now, when this fresh difficulty
arose, he sprang forward upon the search with all the
eagerness of a sleuth-hound suddenly released from his
chain.
It was in the dim gray of a cold, drizzling morning
that Wilton reached Morley's Hotel. After a bath
and breakfast, he sallied forth, in search of Moncrief.
During his long night-journey he had taken counsel
with himself as to how he should proceed. He would
learn Lady Fergusson's present address, and endeavor
to ascertain from her what had become of Ella. How
he was to accomplish this without rousing her lady-
ship's suspicions, he would leave to the inspiration of
the moment ; for it was no part of his scheme to
unmask his movements until he could really fix his
plans. This could not be done till he had seen Ella
and received a renewal of her promise ; or terrible
alternative been rejected and overthrown I Her
unaccountable silence was cruel, unfeeling, and a
clear breach of faith. Why had she not written to
announce so material a change of circumstances ?
Had any of the pestilent political crew that used to
surround her father started up to exercise an evil
7*
RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD.
191
influence ? The idea fired him with indignation. He
had so delighted in thinking of her as his alone a
hidden jewel, the lustre and value and beauty of which
were for him only ! Meditating thus, he reached the
frugal major's lodgings, as he did not wish at present
to confront the publicity of a club. But his friend
bad not yet emerged from the privacy of his chamber,
and there was only a dingy back-parlor, a sort of
general waiting-room, into which he could be shown.
Wilton therefore wrote hastily on his card, " What
is Lady Fergusson's address in town ? '* and sent it
up to Moncrief; receiving it back again in a few
minutes, with this inscription on the reverse ; " Cla-
ridge's; but I think they are gone. Dine with me
to-day at the club seven, sharp."
Leaving word that he could not dine with Major
Moncrief, Wilton left the house in a state of irritability
and depression, and bent his steps to Claridge's ;
early as it was, he might at least make inquiries there.
A yawning porter, who was sweeping the hall, called
a waiter, who informed him that " Sir Peter and Lady
Fergusson, the Misses Saville and suite,'* had started
for Paris the day before.
" And suite ! " echoed Wilton ; " I suppose that
includes the governess ? "
"YeSj sir; there was a lady as went with the
1^2 RALPH WILTOS^S WEIRD.
youngest lady in one of the hotel broughams] she
was the governess."
*' Was she a tall, thin lady, with spectacles ? "
" Just so, sir."
" No other lady with them ? "
*'No, sir none."
Nothing more to be learned there ! He was quite
afloat No clue to the girl who he had hoped would
be, two days hence, his affianced bride, beyond the
vague address, " Mrs. Kershaw, Gothic Villa, Ken-
sington." He made his way slowly into Piccadilly
and hailed a hansom. Kensington must be the scene
of his research, and the sooner he plunged into it the
better.
How to begin occupied his thoughts as he bowled
along. Shops, police, and postmen, seemed the most
likely sources of information ; failing these, he must
manage to communicate with Miss Walker, who would
certainly know Ella's whereabouts. However, he had
great faith in himself; it was not the first time he had
to hunt up a faint track, though the difficulties were of
a far different character,
" Here we are ! Where to now, sir?" cried Cab-
by, through the hole at the top.
"Oh I a the nearest butcher's," said Wilton.
"Bread and meat and tea," he reflected, "the hum-
blest landlady must require ; " and, proud of his own
I
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, 1^3
reasoning powers, he dismissed the cab, never remem-
bering probably not knowing the ready-money
system, which, paying the amount and carrying off
the article, " leaves not a wrack behind."
The important and substantial butcher, struck by
the lordly bearing of his interrogator, condescended
to repeat the words " Gothic Villa " in several keys,
as though the reiteration would evoke knowledge, but
ended with, " Can't say I know any such place, sir.
Here, Smith " to a blue-gowned assistant, with
rolled-up sleeves, who was adding "one leg more" to
an artistically arranged fringe of legs of mutton
which adorned the cornice " do you know anything
of *Mrs. Kershaw, Gothic Villa?'"
" Kershaw ! " replied the man, pausing " I seems
as if I do, and yet I don't"
At this maddening reply, Wilton felt disposed to
collar him and rouse his memory by a sound shaking.
" The person I want lets lodgings; and is, I think,
elderly."
" No, I don't," repeated the butcher's assistant.
" I know Gothic 'all."
" Ay," struck in the master, " and Gothic 'Ouse
and Gothic Lodge, but no willar. I know the place
well, sir, and I don't think there is a Gothic Wilier in
it. P'r'aps it's lodge, not wilier, you are looking
for ? "
13
I
ig^ RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
" Then who lives at these other Gothics ? "
" Oh, Mr. Reynolds, the great ironmonger, has the
'all ; and the honorable Mrs. Croker lives at the
lodge."
" Well, neither of these names can possibly be
converted into Kershaw. I am sorry I troubled
you."
" No trouble at all, sir."
Patiently, though anxiously, Wilton went from
butcher to baker, from baker to butterman, from but-
terman to milkshop, until he suddenly exclaimed at
his own stupidity, as his eye was caught by a con-
spicuous brass plate bearing the inscription, "Mr.
Mayers, Gas-Inspector." " By Jove ! " cried Wilton,
aloud, " that is the fellow to know every house in the
parish. Why did I not think of a gas-inspector
before ? "
He rang, and a smart young woman appeared at
the door in a few moments.
In his uncertainty whether he was speaking to the
wife or the handmaid of Mayers, Wilton politely raised
his hat, and asked if he could see the master of the
house.
" I am very sorry, sir, he is out, and will not be
here till tea-time."
"And when will that be?" asked the anxious
querist, smiling blandly.
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
195
" Oh, not till half-past five. Could I give any
message ? " replied the lady, much impressed by the
grand air and chivalrous courtesy of her interlocutor.
" I am afraid I must trouble Mr. Mayers myself.
I shall not detain him beyond a moment or two, if he
will be so good as to see me about half-past five."
" Yes, sir ; he will be in then and very happy to
see you.'*
" Perhaps you happen to know where Gothic Villa
is in this neighborhood. I am looking for a Mrs.
Kershaw, Gothic Villa."
*' Kershaw ? Gothic Villa t No, indeed, I do not.
I have very few acquaintances here ; you see people
are rather mixed in Kensington."
"I will not keep you standing at five-thirty,
then," returned Wilton, raising his hat, and smiling as
he said to himself, " Madame the gas-inspectress is
exclusive. Such caricatures ought to cure the follies
they travesty." He looked at his watch. Two
hours and a half to spare. What should he do?
Make any further search, or rely on the gas-inspector ?
Yes ; he would be sure to know. So, after a moment's
thought, he again called a hansom, and rattled back to
the club ; but Major Moncrief was not there. Hastily
scribbling an invitation to breakfast next day, he went
on to his hotel to snatch a mouthful of luncheon or
dinner, or both, for he still hoped to spend the re-
Iq6 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
mainder of the evening exchanging vows, explanations
^perhaps kisses with Ella Rivers. He had by some
unreasonable process of thought convinced himself
that she could have taken refuge in no other haven
than the somewhat unromantic dwelling of Mrs.
Kershaw.
As the half-hour struck, Wilton rang again at the
gas-inspector's house. He was received by the same
lady most graciously, and ushered into an oppressively
smart front parlor, profusely decorated with anti-ma-
cassars, and mats, and table covers.
" Mr. Mayers will be here directly ; he has only
just come in. What a disagreeable day it has been
drizzle, drizzle, the whole time ! I couldn't venture out,"
simpered Mrs. Mayers, who was disposed to improve
the occasion by a little conversation with her "stylish
visitor," as she described him to her husband. Wilton
assented rather absently, and then, to his great relief,
Mr. Mayers came in. After a few words of apology,
Wilton put the oft-repeated question.
" Kershaw, Gothic Villa t " repeated Mr. Mayers,
meditating. " Yes, of course, I know wellnigh every
house ; and it so happened I was at Mrs. Kershaw's
a week or ten days back. Why, it is in H Street,
not far from Holland Park. You must turn right
from this, then first to your right, and third to the
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
197
left. Gothic Villa is down the end of the street,
opposite a dead wall."
With many thanks and apologies, Wilton bowed
himself out, and walked away rapidly, his heart beat-
ing high at the idea of the meeting so near at hand.
Gothic Villa was not a lively residence ; and, what
was worse, it looked untidy. The box borders looked
as if lately trodden down in patches ; the bell was
broken, and the gate hung awry, refusing, after the
fashion of crooked things, to do one thing or the other
to open wide or shut close. Wilton felt unutterably
shocked at the melancholy, sordid aspect of the place.
The bell being broken, he felt at a loss how to summon
the garrison ; but while he hesitated, two little girls,
in short frocks, dingy .stockings, and battered hats,
came up bowling their hoops, and began rattling their
hoop-sticks noisily against the railings, whereupon the
front-door was flung suddenly wide open, aud a grimy
servant began to shout some objurgations to the
juveniles.
"Pray, does Mrs. Kershaw live here?" asked
Wilton, advancing to the door.
" No ; there's no such name here."
For a moment Wilton felt annihilated.
" She used to live here ? "
" P'r'aps so ; we've not been here above a week,
and I wish we was out of it."
198
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
" And do you know where Mrs. Kershaw is gone ? "
"No, that I don't."
After a little talking, she suggested that " missus '*
might know ; but that potentate, on being appealed
to, confessed ignorance, stating, however, that ** mas-
ter" might know; but "master" was absent, and
would not be back till to-morrow morning. More
Wilton could not extract ; and he most reluctantly
left the long-sought villa, informing the inmates that
he would call next day, hoping that " master " might
be able to supply the desired information.
Still, with unshaken perseverance, Wilton lingered
about. He stopped the postman, but he had had no
letter since the new people moved in for Mrs. Ker-
shaw. She had very few letters at any time still she
had some. There was another postman that took the
noonday delivery, he might know. When did he go
round ? Oh, from twelve to twelve-thirty. He might
know, and he mightn't. Addresses were not given to
the letter-carriers, but left at the district office.
"Ah! then I may probably find this Mrs. Ker-
shaw's whereabouts at the post-office ? "
" No, no, sir," said the man ; " they won't give
you no addresses at the office, and the letters is sent
on to the district where the party has moved ; so it's
a chance if any of us knows."
" At any rate, I shall be here to-morrow to meet
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, igg
the twelve o'clock man ; meantime I am obliged
to you." '
So saying, Wilton deposited a judicious tip in the
carrier's willing hand, and made for the main road,
hoping that a favorable report of him would be
given to the other carrier, and predispose him to be
communicative.
It was long before Wilton forgot the oppressive
monotony of that evening. He could not bring him-
self to seek out Moncrief. He would have him at
breakfast, and that was bad enough. He strolled
into the Adelphi, and felt savage at the pathos of the
play, and the fun of the afterpiece. He left before it
was finished, and returned to the coffee-room. He
tried to sketch out an advertisement addressed to Mrs,
Kershaw, but intended for Ella. He vexed himself
with all kinds of conjectures, and finally retired, hop-
ing for oblivion in sleep, which did not come for some
weary hours ; and his last waking thought was that to-
morrow would be the 19th of March, the day of the tryst,
which he had so often pictured to himself. And here
he was in total ignorance of Ella's dwelling not a
step nearer to the desired interview. The following
day was not much brighter than the one just described,
and Wilton rose with an unspeakable loathing for
breakfast and Moncrief especially Moncrief
However, both had to be endured. The major was
i
200 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
considerably puzzled by his entertainer's preoccupa-
tion and testiness. Every subject seemed distasteful,
every person more or less offensive.
" What's come to you, lad ? " asked the old soldier.
" Are you in debt again ? I thought you had left that
class of troubles behind you ; and you seem to have
been quiet and steady enough of late."
" No, I am not in debt."
" Well, I do not think you are in love ; and love,
or money, is at the bottom of most troubles eh ? "
An inaudible muttering was the only reply.
"A idiot ? " repeated the major, thinking he
caught the sound. " No, by no means. I never said
so, though there have been times when I was afraid
you would act like one. Have you seen the vis-
count ? "
" No."
" I suppose you are going to call on him ? "
" No, I am not."
" Then you are rather an idiot. Why will you throw
away fortune ? "
" I am not throwing it away. He is out of town."
*^ Why don't you go and pay him a visit? "
" I cannot ; he has not asked me."
" Not asked you bosh 1 "
" Moncrief," interrupted Wilton, " will you take
some more kidney, or ham, or coffee, or anything ? "
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, 201
" No, thank you ; I have breakfasted well."
" Then go, will you ? like a good fellow. You are
partly right. I am in a pickle. You shall know all
about it one of these days, but I cannot tell you just
now. I have an appointment at that is, I must be
at Kensington at twelve."
" At twelve I Bless my soul, man, it is scarcely
half-past ten now.*'
/
202 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
CHAPTER IX.
THE afternoon of the same day was lowering,
bleak, and drear, as a young girl, in a long black
dress fitting close to her slight figure, and relieved at
throat and wrists by a plaiting of white crape, entered
a small sitting-room at the back of one of a row of
brand-new residences in the cardboard, Tudor style,
inlaid with colored bricks, and further relieved by
oriel windows.
The young lady carried a cup full of violets, and
set it upon a table which had been moved into the
window. It was crowded with materials for water-
color drawing. A ver)* graceful design suited to a
portfolio lay partly colored where the light fell
strongest.
The young lady, or rather Ella Rivers, stood look-
ing at her work for a few minutes, and then sitting
down, with a deep sigh, took up her brush, first bend-
ing lovingly over the violets until her face touched
them.
She was exceedingly pale the pallor of thought
and sorrow. Her eyes, which looked larger than they
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
203
used perhaps because she had grown thinner ^had a
weary, wistful expression, which gave pathos to the
quiet sadness of her face and figure. The last month
had tried her sorely. The sudden, fatal illness of
Donald had caused her immense bodily fatigue and
real sorrow. She had grown to love the afflicted, way-
ward boy, even more than she knew ; and he could
not bear her out of his sight, finally breathing his last
in her arms. Then, not understanding the terms
which existed between Wilton and the Fergusson
family, Ella never doubted that he was aware from the
first of poor Sir Peter's bereavement and the conse-
quent removal of the family. His silence under such
circumstances, the absence of any attempt to seek her
out, was, to her, conclusive evidence that his sudden,
violent affection for herself had passed away. Arriv-
ing at this conviction showed her how fondly, although
unconsciously, she had hoped for his constancy. When
Wilton astonished and agitated her by his unexpected
avowal, she had most truly told him that she did not
love him, that his truth or constancy was not essential
to her happiness. His frank kindness, and the inter-
est he had shown in her art and her conversation, had
touched and diverted her. Feeling keenly the insur-
mountable barrier of caste, which her reason scorn-
fully resented, the possibility of a man of his grade
being her lover never crossed her mind. Moreover,
i
204
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
the habits of her life accustomed her to men as com-
panions, as friends, almost as playfellows, but never as
lovers, WiJton was therefore to her at first an agree-
able, intelligent, though mistaken man, blinded to the
great truths of his age by his position and his profes-
sion, but who, under higher direction, might have been
worthy the friendship of her father, Diego, and the
rest of the exalted society who passed their lives pro-
pagating theories of political perfection and escaping
the police.
After the wonderful interview by the cairn, where
he had shown that, although past the boy- lover period,
he was ready to cast all consideration for rank and
riches to the winds for her sake, she had estimated
him very differently. From his first words of love she
shrunk with an agony she could not express, so certain
was she that they must mean insult; but when his
letter told her the depth and sincerity of his affection,
and she listened to the magic of his earnest pleading,
she felt bewildered and almost frightened at the ardor
of the feeling she had evoked. She could not quite
believe him. She trembled at the idea of his hurrying
into the irrevocable, which he might afterward regret ;
and the more she felt her heart inclined to yield, the
more resolutely she held to her determination, for both
their sakes, to test the reality of his affection.
But when he was gone, when she was left alone
RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD,
205
with the memory of his persuasive voice of his bold
brown eyes, softened into tenderness of the passion
which glowed through the earnest respect of his man-
ner whatever of indifference she had felt or assumed
in their interview fast faded away, or rather warmed
into real interest, and trembling, half fearful liking.
Then the question of his constancy assumed an
absorbing importance. The perpetual struggle in her
mind to resist the delightful suggestions of hope kept
the subject constantly before her; and the bitterest
trial she had ever known was the gradual fading away
of the hopes that had formed themselves in spite of
her, when week after week slipped past and no tidings
reached her from Ralph Wilton. Of course he knew
that she must leave Brosedale, and must also know
that under no circumstances would she take the first
step toward the renewal of their intercourse.
Working round this dreary circle of thought, she
sat motionless, pencil in hand, too absorbed to notice
the entrance of a woman of a certain age, who by her
costume evidently aimed at the higher appellation of
a lady. She wore a handsome plum-colored silk, a
tint which appears to be the especial favorite of pub-
licans' wives and aspiring landladies. Her head a
high, narrow, self-asserting sort of head was perched
on a long, thin neck, and adorned with a scanty screw
of hair on the top, secured by a high tortoise-shell
I
2o6 RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD,
comb, while the front tresses were disposed in short,
wiry ringlets, painfully suggestive of steel springs, and
carefully regulated by ancient contrivances called
side-combs. These locks vibrated when she moved ; I
and as her walk was a succession of jerky sinkings
and risings, the ringlets had an active time of it Her
features were regular and good, but somewhat neu-
tralized by a faint expression of constantly turning up
her nose, which was anything but retrousse^ as if in
contemptuous indignation at the futile efforts of the
world in general to take her in. This personage
paused as she was half across the little room, and
looked very sharply at its occupant's profile, which
was turned to her.
" Anyways, you ain*t breaking your heart with hard
work," she exclaimed, in a tone which would have
been painfully acute but for a slight indistinctness
caused by a melancholy gap where pearly front teeth
ought to have been.
Ella started at her voice, and a large tear, which
some time, unknown to her, had hung upon her eye-
lashes, fell upon the edge of her paper. She looked
at it dismayed ; half an inch nearer, and it would
have played havoc with her colors. She hastily
placed her handkerchief on the fatal spot, and, turning
toward the speaker, said, absently : " Working I Yes,
I
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
207
Mrs. Kershaw ; I am succeeding tolerably with this
design ; I am quite interested in it."
" And that is the reason you are crying over it
eh ? "
" Crying ! Oh, no " smiling a little sadly " I
am not crying."
" Something very like it, then," said Mrs. Kershaw,
advancing to the table and looking critically at Ella's
work. " It's a queer thing," she remarked, with high-
toned candor. " What is it for ? "
" Oh, the cover of a book, or the back of a
portfolio."
'^ Well, I suppose it's my ignorance ; but I can't
see the beauty of it. Why, there's dozens and dozens
of things just like that ready printed in all the shops ;
and you don't suppose hand-work can hold its own
with machine-work ? Why don't you paint a house,
and a tree, and a cow something sensible-like that
would set off a nice, handsome frame ? I wouldn't
mind buying such a picture myself; my first floor is a
trifle naked for want of pictures."
" O Mrs. Kershaw ! " exclaimed Ella, smiling, this
time more brightly, for she was amused at her friend's
notions of art ; " I assure you an original design is
not to be despised. If I can but find favor with "
" Ay, that's just it. It would take a heap of bits
of pictures to make a living. I must say I think you
i
2o8 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
was a fool not to look out for something steady right
off, when the ladies as could have recommended you
was here ; this will be hard work and poor work."
" Nevertheless, I am determined to try it," said Ella,
firmly, though sadly. " You cannot tell the imprison-
ment a great house is to me ; besides, you forget poor
Sir Peter Fergusson's generosity. I can afford to
board with you for six or eight months, and then, if
all my efforts to earn my bread by my art fail, I can
still ask Miss Walker's help. I am not in your way,
good friend, am I ? "
" Well, no. I am not that selfish, like many, as
would try to keep you here when it would be better
for you to be away ; but you are not like other girls,
the place is different when you are in it ; and the trifle
you pay is more than the trifle difference you make.
It was about yourself what is best for you I was
thinking."
" Do not think of me," returned Ella, placing her
elbow on the table and resting her head on her hand
despondently ; " I am so weary of myself "
" Now there is something come to you quite dif-
ferent from what used to be. And you are that pale
and thin, and don't eat nothing. There's some of
those grandedees " (such was Mrs. Kershaw's pronun-
ciation) ^*been talking nonsense, and you have been,
and gone, and been fool enough to heed them, in
\
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, 209
spite of all the talking to I gave you before you went
to Sir Peter's. They are all alike. If you was a
hangel, with a wing sprouting out of each shoulder,
and as beautiful as as anythink, the poorest scrap
of a gentleman among them that hadn't as much
gumption as would earn a crust costermongering
would laugh at the notion of putting a ring on your
finger. No, no ; as much love as you like without
that. I knows *em, the proud, upsetting, lazy lot, I
do ;" and Mrs. Kershaw stopped with a jerk, more
for want of breath than lack of matter.
" You need not distress yourself,** returned Ella,
with a smile of quiet scorn. " No one insulted me at
Brosedale ; and I did keep your good advice in mind.
I am depressed, nor can you wonder at it when you
think of the sad scenes I went through with poor
Donald."
" Well, well, anyhow you won't open your mind to
me, though I fancy I am your best friend, and your
only friend into the bargain, though I say it as
shouldn't," retorted Mrs. Kershaw, with some asperity.
" You are, indeed," said Ella, sweetly. " So
instead of quarelling with me for not telling you a ro-
mantic tale, tell me some of your own affairs ; any
one about the rooms yet ? "
"I believe," said Mrs. Kershaw, a shade less
severely "I believe I'm let."
A
210 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
This startling announcement did not in the least
move Miss Rivers from her gravity ; she merely
observed, sympathetically, ** I am very glad."
"This morning, when you was out, a lady and
gentleman called, and looked at the rooms, and made
rather a stiff bargain. They said they would call
again ; but the gentleman gave me his card, and that
looked like business."
" I suppose so. I went over to Kensington this
morning to see the postman. I thought it was as well
to tell him our new address, in case there might be a
letter for me.*'
" A letter for you ! " repeated Mrs. Kershaw, in a
sharp key, with a sudden nod that set her ringlets
dancing. "I thought Miss Walker knew we was
moved."
" She does ; still it is possible some old friend ''
" Hoh ! " said Mrs. Kershaw, ironically. " Are
you sure it ain't a new friend a Scotch friend ? I
know I haven't no right to ask, but "
" Ah, suspicious one ! " interrupted Ella, laughing.
" If none of my father's old friends seek me out, no
one else will."
" There's the front-door bell ! " cried Mrs. Ker-
shaw, excitedly ; " that's the lady and gent come back
about my first floor " a pause ensued, a rapid but
heavy tread, and the opening of the door was heard.
RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD. 2II
The next moment that of the room in which they
were was flung violently open, and the " girl " an-
nounced a " gentleman for Miss Rivers."
Whereupon a tall figure seemed to fill up the
door-way, and for a moment Ella felt dizzy and
blinded with astonishment, with mingled joy and ter-
ror, as Colonel Wilton entered and stood still.
" Hoh ! " said Mrs. Kershaw ; " do you know this
gentleman, or is he after the apartments ? "
" I know him. I'' faltered Ella.
" Hoh ! " again said Mrs. Kershaw, and, turning
back, walked straight out of the room with dignity.
Wilton closed the door after her, and, advancing
to the agitated girl, exclaimed, with a tinge of stern-
ness, " Ella, have you hid from me purposely ? "
" Hid from you ? No ; you knew where to find
me when poor Donald died."
" Which I first heard of in Ireland two days ago."
" Two days ago 1 " faltered Ella, the truth dawning
on her. *^ I thought you would have known of it
directly. I thought you did not write because you did
not wish to see me again. I oh, listen to me,
understand me I ** clasping her hand with a re-
strained eagerness very impressive " do not think 1
would willingly have caused you the slightest uneasi-
ness from any petty idea of standing on my dignity ;
but, indeed, I was puzzled what to do, and then
i
212 ' RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
believing, as I did, that you must have been informed
of Donald's death and the breaking up of Sir Peter's
establishment, I concluded that you had changed your
plans ^)*our views your oh, I could not write to
you ! Do you not see I could not ? "
'^ I can only repeat that two days ago I did not
know of that poor boy's death. And, but for a few
words in a letter from Moncrief, I should have started
for Monkscleugh to keep the tryst Now, Ella, are
you glad to see me? do you believe me?" as he
spoke Wilton took both her hands, and looked eagerly
into the eyes so frankly, but gravely, raised to his.
" I do believe you," said Ella, trying to speak
steadily, and striving to hold back the tears that
would well up, to suppress the wild throbbing of the
heart which visibly heaved her bosom, to be calm, and
mistress of herself in this crisis \ but it was more than
even her brave spirit could accomplish; the sudden
change from darkness to light, from isolation to com-
panionship, was too overwhelming; and yet she
would not show the shattered condition of her forces.
" I am glad to see you " her lip quivered, great un-
shed tears, brimming over, hung sparkling on her
long lashes as she spoke ; and Wilton, gazing at the
sweet face and slight, graceful figure, felt in his in-
most soul the pathos of her controlled emotion.
" By Heaven, Ella I you are not indifferent to
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, 213
me," he exclaimed. Drawing her to him, he raised
her hands to clasp his neck ; and, folding his arms
round her, pressed her passionately to his heart.
" My love, my life ! why do you distrust me ? Give
me your heart ! give me yourself. Are you ready to
fulfil your more than half promise ? I have kept the
tryst. I have submitted to the test you have im-
posed j and now, what further barrier is there between
me and happiness ? Do you love me, Ella ? Will
you love me } "
She did not attempt to move. She leaned against
him, silently, trembling very much ; at length she
sighed deeply.
** If you are quite sure of yourself," she almost
whispered, " and not afraid of linking yourself with so
isolated a creature as I am, I am ready to keep my
word, as you have kept yours ! "
" And you love me ? " asked Wilton, bending over
her, hungering for her assurance.
She extricated herself gently from Eim, still leaving
her hand in his.
" I will love you," she replied, looking away, and
speaking thoughtfully. Then, suddenly turning, and
meeting his eyes with a grand frankness, " I do love
you," she said, in her sweet, firm tones ; " and I think
you deserve my love I If you do not, out with love
and life, and everything ! I shall never believe more."
i
214
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
She pressed her hands over her eyes, and for a
moment Wilton's passionate longing to cover her
mouth, her cheek, her brow, with kisses, was checked
by the earnestness, the solemnity of her words; it
was but a moment, the next she was in his arms, his
lips clinging to hers as though he could never drink
enough of their sweetness.
" And how did you find me ? ** asked Ella, when at
last she managed to withdraw from his embrace, and
began to gather her drawing materials together as a
diversion from the strange, sweet embarrassment of
the new relations existing between them.
Wilton replied by recapitulating the search he had
made, up to the miserable night before.
" When I arrived at Gothic Villa this morning/'
he went on, " I was considerably before the time of
the second delivery ; but at last I met the postman,
and explained myself to him. * Gothic Villa, Ker-
shaw,' he repeated. 'Now that's curious. Not ten
minutes ago I met a young lady what used to be at
Gothic Villa, and she wanted to give me her new
address, but I told her she must leave it at the district
office.' You may guess the questions I put, and how
I gathered that the young lady was yourself. He had
a confused idea you said your abode was in Belinda
Terrace, Notting Hill, and I have been for nearly the
last three hours endeavoring to discover it. Finding
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
215
there was no such place as Belinda Terrace, I tried
my luck in Melina Crescent, and, after knocking and
ringing at eleven doors, found the right one at last ! "
" Then had I walked down the street, instead of
meeting the postman at the top of it, I should have
met you," said Ella, pausing in her occupation, with
her design in her hand.
" Yes ; and saved me three hours of torture,"
exclaimed Wilton. " What have you there ? This is
a very charming design ; quite your own ? '*
"Yes, quite. Some days ago I took a much
smaller one to a shop in Street, and the man
there gave me two pounds and two shillings for it.
Then he asked me to bring him something else, larger
and richer, so I have been trying to sketch something
better."
" My own darling," said Wilton, taking it from her ;
" this sort of thing is over now. No more work for you. "
" Why not ? " she returned. " You say, dear friend,
that you are not rich. If I am really to be your com-
rade through life, why may I not earn some money
for us both ? Life without work must be very dull."
" When you are my wife, you will see such things
are impossible," said Wilton, laying aside the sketch,
and drawing her to his side on a little, hard, horse-
hair, lodging-house sofa. " I have so much to say, so
much to urge on you, I hardly know where to begin."
2l6 RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD.
Whereupon be plunged into a rapid statemept of
his plans, his hopes, his strong conviction that, calmly
and dispassionately considered, her position and his
own rendered an immediate marriage absolutely and
imperatively necessary. She had no one to consult,
nor any protector to rely upon save himself, and the
sooner he had a legal claim to be her protector the
better. As to himself, no one had a right to interfere
with him ; nevertheless, there was an old man, a rela
tive, who might make himself disagreeable if he had
time. After marriage, all objections, interference, or
meddlings, would be useless.
"I have a favorite sister to whom I shall write
at once," concluded Wilton, " but she is away in
Canada. So, dearest, why should we submit to the
discomfort of needless delay ? I shall have a renewal
of leave, but only for a couple of months, part of which
must be spent in effecting an exchange into some regi-
ment in India, or going there. You see there will be
little left for the honeymoon. What do you say to
this day week ? "
Wilton felt the hand he held suddenly tighten on
his with a quick, startled pressure.
" Yes," he went on ; " there is no possible objec-
tion. You have been at least three weeks in this
parish, which is, I believe, the legal requirement
There is, then, no impediment ; and, though it seems
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
217
very like urging you to take a leap in the dark, you
must either trust me altogether or throw me over.
We are too peculiarly situated to perform the cold-
blooded ceremony of cultivating each other's acquaint-
ance ; we must do that, as I believe all people really
do, after rather than before marriage. Besides, I am
so desperately afraid of your melting away out of my
grasp, as you had nearly done just now, that I am
determined not to lose my hold."
** Listen to me," said Ella, drawing away her hand
and pressing it to her brow. " You mentioned a rela-
tive to whom your marriage might be painful. Do you
owe this old man love and respect ? I think, if you
do, it is hard to those who 0^ they ought to be con-
sidered to find an utter stranger preferred."
" Lord St. George has not the shadow of a claim
on my love or respect," returned Wilton, rising and
pacing to and fro ; " and if he had it would not influ-
ence me. Now that you have really consented to be
my wife, nothing save death 'shall come between us."
There was in his voice, and look, and gesture,
such fire and resolution that a sudden sense of being
in the presence of something stronger than herself
thrilled Ella with a strange fear and pleasure. She
closed her eyes, and her hands, that had clasped each
other tightly, relaxed as she felt her life had passed
from her own keeping into another's. Wilton, who
2i8 RALPH WILTOX'S WEIRD.
had paused opposite her, saw how deeply she was
moved.
"Look at me, Ella!" he exclaimed, taking her
hands in his " look at me ! You are too nobly frank
to hesitate as to a day sooner or later in tlie fulfilment
of your promise."
She turned to him ; and, with a wistful, earnest
look straight into his eyes, said, in a low, firm voice :
" So be it ! I will keep my word when and where
you like."
Two days after, Major Moncrief, who had only
seen Wilton once for a few minutes in the interim^
awaited him by appointment at Morley's, where they
they were to dine.
"Why, what the deuce are you so desperately
busy about ? " asked the major, as Wilton hastily
apologized for not having been ready to receive his
friend.
"Oh, I have a hundred things in hand. I have
had to 'interview' my lawyer, and then I have been
with Box and Brushwood about exchanging into a
regiment under orders for India and but the rest
after dinner."
" Why, what are you up to now ? " replied Mon-
crief, but not in the tone of a man that expects a direct
reply.
Dinner passed very agreeably, for Wilton was in
I
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, 219
brilliant spirits. Not for many a year had Moncrief
see him so bright.
" I believe this is the same room we dined in the
day you started for Monkscleugh, and had the smash ?"
observed Moncrief, as the waiter, having placed dessert
on the table, left the friends together.
"It is," said Wilton, looking round. "That is
rather curious ; and I remember your saying, ' I must
dree my weird.' Well, Moncrief, I have dreed it, and
I asked you here to-day to tell you the history, and
receive your blessing or malediction, as the case
may be."
Setting down his glass of port untasted, the major
stared at his friend with an air of dismay and bewil-
derment
" Courage, man ! " continued Wilton, laughing at
his consternation ; " I am not in debt only in love,
and going to be married on Thursday next."
" To be married ! You who could not oblige
your pleasant relative, Lord St. George, because of
your invincible objection to lose your liberty ? "
" Well, the liberty is gone long ago ; so my only
plan is to surrender at discretion, or, rather, without
discretion. You remember a young lady we met at
Brosedale the lassie, in short, whom I picked out of
the snow ? "
*^What! that pale-faced, dark-eyed little girl
k
220 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
young Fergusson's companion or drawing-mistress?
Why, she was scarcely pretty."
"Just so. Well, I am going to marry her on
Thursday. Will you come to the wedding ?**
Wilton had poured out a bumper of claret as he
spoke, and, with a slight, defiant nod, drank it ofi!
By 1 " exclaimed Moncrief, who did not
generally use strong language ; " I am astonished,
when did you decide on this preposterous piece of
foolery ? "
" I put things in train last December, but the
date was not decided till two days ago."
" Ha I I thought I smelt a rat just before I left
Glenraven ; but I never dreamed of anything so seri-
ous. You are the last man I should have accused of
such idiotic weakness. Who is this girl ? '*
*' I do not know."
" Who was her father ? "
"A political adventurer, I believe; but I really
do not know."
" Who are her friends ? "
" She has none."
" And, my God ! Wilton, are you going to link
yourself for life to a woman you know nothing about
who may have a murderer for her father and a har-
lot for a mother who may be an unprincipled adven-
turess herself, for aught you know ? "
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, 221
" Go on," said Wilton, calmly. " I know you
have a good deal more to say, and I am quite pre-
pared to hear it."
" Can you be such a besotted blockhead at this
time of life, after having got over the wild-goose
period, and not so badly either ; when you have just
been offered your first good chance, when a sensible
marriage is so important, as to throw every consider-
ation to the dogs for a madness that probably a
month or two will cure, and leave you two-thirds of a
lifetime to eat your heart out with useless regret?
You know I do not pretend to despise women, or to
talk cynical rot about them ; they are generally good,
useful creatures, and deucedly pleasant sometimes ;
but, God bless my soul, lad I they are of no real im-
portance in a man's life. It is very essential to
marry the right sort of girl, I grant that is, a well-
bred, healthy, good-looking lassie in your own grade
of life, you will bring a good connection to back up
your children ; but to rush into matrimony down-
right legal matrimony with a creature that scarcely
knows who she is herself, because, indeed, you think
no other * she ' in creation so likely to suit you, is a
pitiable piece of lunacy. Come ! in the name of
common-sense, of self-respect, be a man ! Tell me
how you stand with this girl, and let me see if I can't
get you out of the scrape.*'
i
I.
I
i:
|!
1
!
I
i
222 RALPH ll'ILTO.VS WEIRD.
" Have you quite done? " asked Wilton, leaning
back in his chair without the slightest symptom of
irritation.
" I have."
*'Then hear me, Moncrief! I do not dispute a
syllable you say. It is all unanswerable just what I
should say myself to another fellow on the brink of
such a leap in the dark. Don't suppose I am blind
to the apparent folly I am about to commit But I'll
do it ! Nothing can hold me back ! I shall not at-
tempt to explain to you the sort of fascination Ella
Rivers has had for me from the first moment we met ;
it would be speaking an unknown tongue, even if I
could put it into language. But if her people were
all you picture, by Heaven ! I do not think I could
give her up. Foolish lunatic ^besotted as you choose
.to think me, I have full faith in the woman who will
be my wife before five days are over. There ! Con-
sider the question * to be or not to be ' settled. Pity
my idiotic folly as you will, but do not discard your
old proUg^, I want your advice on one or two
points."
" But, Wilton, I must '' began the major.
" Don't," interrupted Wilton. " Remonstrance is
sheer loss of time and breath ; if you persist, I will
leave you to finish your port alone."
Moncrief succumbed, though with an ill grace, and
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
223
Wilton proceeded to lay the question of exchange into
a regiment already in India, or one about to proceed
there, before his ancient mentor, and gradually drew
him into better humor, especially as he noted that Wil-
ton's professional ambition was by no means dulled or
engulfed by the tide of passion that swept him away
in another direction.
" Well, I never thought I should find you looking
forward contentedly to a life in India," said the major,
after a long and animated talk, anent the/r^^and cons
of Wilton's views ; ** you used to long for a stake in
the 'old countries"
" Yes ; but that was because Lord St. George put
it into my head. Now, that is at an end."
" Ah ! just so this infernal marriage I What do
you intend to do with him, eh ? "
" I have not given it a thought or, rather, scarcely
a thought. I will marry first, and decide after. I
tell you candidly, Moncrief, when first I made up my
mind to risk everything, rather than part with Ella, I
bad a stupid, cowardly idea of a private marriage ;
but I soon gave that up ; it was too deucedly ungen-
tlemanlike ; and then Ella would despise even a
shadow of double-dealing ! No ; when we are mar-
ried, and I have time, I will write to the old viscount,
and"
"By George! this is too bad," cried the major,
i
224
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
getting up and pacing the room in an agony. " For-
tune, and fair prospects, and and everything flung
overboard, for the sake of a white-faced bit of a girl
that you would forget in two months if you made the
first stand. It's like giving up drink or cigars ; the
first week is the brunt of the battle ! "
" Don't talk blasphemy," returned Wilton, stern-
ly ; " nor waste time and breath."
" Well, well ! " resumed the rebuked major ; " look
here, do not be in too great a hurry to write to the old
peer. I met St. George Wilton to-day ; he told me
Lord St George was down at Brandestone, and very
shaky ; perhaps you had better not write to him till
the honeymoon is over. O Lord I won't you be
ready to cut your throat when you get his answer I
But I trust he will die, and leave you the property in
the meantime."
"He will not do that," said Wilton, gravely.
But, tell me, what is St. George doing in .town ? I
hate that fellow instinctively."
" Oh, he was only passing through en route to join
some * Lord knows who ' at Cdwes, to cruise somewhere
in his yacht, and Where are you going ? "
" Why, you will not take any more wine, and, as I
have not seen Ella to-day, I thought I would just run
down and bid her good-night. Come with me, old
fellow, do ! rd take it as a real bit of good-fellowship;
J^ALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, 225
she would be so pleased. You may as well submit to
the inevitable with a good grace."
"Go with you to see this ahem ! fascinating lit-
tle witch ? Not to get the step IVe been waiting for
these seven years."
IS
s
226 RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD.
CHAPTER X.
THE extremely sudden and unorthoaox character
of Ella's nuptials was a source of irritation, not
to say dismay, to the worthy Mrs. Kershaw. She
took, upon the whole, a desponding and distrustful
view of human nature ; and, instead of meeting Ella's
smiling, blushing account of Colonel Wilton's visit
and her engagement to him, with effusive s)'mpathy,
she had nodded her head and knitted her brows, asked
a dozen questions, and received the replies in ominous
silence ; at last spoke as follows :
" Well, I hope it's all right " (the " hope ' in
italics), "but it's curious very curious. Are you
quite sure he is Colonel Wilton ? "
"Yes."
" How do you know ? ''
" Because he was frequently at Brosedale, and
known to Sir Peter Fergusson."
'* Ay, to be sure, that's true I I suppose it's to be
a private marriage. We must see that it is quite cor-
rect, for, high or low, a wife has her rights. What did
he say about going to church ? "
RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD, 227
" Oh ! I scarcely know ; something about my having
been three weeks in the parish, and "
" Did he ? " returned Mrs. Kershaw ; a more sat-
isfied expression stealing over her face. " That looks
like business, only I trust and hope he has not a wife
already."
" What a fearful suspicion ! " replied Ella, shud-
dering, while she smiled. " He was looked upon as
an unmarried man at Brosedale, for I remember that
Donald remarked that Miss Saville could find time to
amuse him now, because Colonel Wilton condescended
to visit him, and that he would be a peer, a nobleman,
one day."
" A peer ! a lord ! well, I never I Of all the queer
turns, this is the queerest. Still, I would like to make
sure that there is no hitch nowhere. But, bless your
heart, no gentleman or nobleman would go to church
with a girl unless he was all square."
. " I must trust him utterly, or not at all, he said.
I do trust him," said Ella, softly, to herself, "even as
he trusts me." She was sitting on the hearth-rug,
gazing dreamily at a small but bright morsel of fire
held together by fire-bricks.
" Trust is a word I never liked," observed Mrs.
Kershaw, who was sitting bolt upright in an easy chair.
" Ready money, in everything, is my motto ; still, I
must say, this gentleman seems straightforward." Mrs.
230 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
that the pretty little ears they were destined to adorn
had never been pierced.
" It is no matter,*' said Ella, taking his hand in
both hers, " I should rather keep them, just the very
things you thought of, than let them be changed !
You like me for his sake now ; you may yet like me
for myself."
To this the major gravely replied that he did not
doubt it, and watched her with observant eyes during
the ceremony. The keen old soldier was touched
and impressed by the steady composure of her man-
ner, the low, clear music of her firm tones. It seemed
to him as if she had considered the value of each vow,
and then took it willingly ; he was surprised when the
service was concluded, and he again took her hand to
find that, although outwardly calm, she was trembling
from head to foot.
They returned to Mrs. Kershaw's house, where
that excellent housewife had provided a comfortable
and appetizing luncheon the major having the honor
of escorting her back. " I can tell you, sir," he used
to say in after-years, when recounting the episode,
** I felt devilish queer when I handed the landlady into
the brougham and took my place beside her. If she
had been a buxom widow, or a gushing spinster, I
could have stood it better ; but she was such a metal-
lic female ! her hair curled up so viciously, and there
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
231
was such a suspicious, contemptuous twist in her nose,
as if she was perpetually smelling a rat, that I was
afraid to speak. to her. I know I made an ass of
myself. I remember saying something about my
friend's good luck, thinking to propitiate her, but she
nearly snapped my head off, observing that time
would show whether either of them was in luck or not."
The luncheon, however, was duly appreciated by
the mollified major, Mrs. Kershaw herself, and, we
regret to add, the bridegroom, who was in radiant
spirits. There was something contagious in his mood
something inspiriting in the joy that rioted in his
bright brown eyes even Mrs. Kershaw lit up under
his influence, and for awhile forgot the suspicious
character of the human race. But the repast was
soon over. Wilton was anxious to catch the tidal
train, and Ella went obediently to don her bonnet and
travelling-gear.
^* Look at this, Moncrief," said Wilton, when they
were alone, holding out a miniature in a slightly-faded
morocco case ; " it is a picture of Ella's father."
Moncrief scrutinized it with much interest. An
exquisitely painted portrait, it represented a dreamy,
noble face, dark as a Spaniard, with black-blue eyes,
closely resembling his daughter's, a delicately-cut,
refined mouth, unshaded by moustache, and a trifle too
soft fpr a man ; the turn of the head, the whole bearing
232 RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD.
more than conventionally aristocratic, picturesquely
grand.
" There is no question about it, Wilton, this man
looks every inch a gentleman. Have you any idea
who the mother was ? "
" Not the most remote. I do not think Ella has
an idea herself ; she says she had a charming picture
of her mother, but it disappeared soon after they came
to London, and she has never been able to find it
She has a box full of letters and papers up stairs, and,
when we return, I shall look through them and try to
trace her father's history, just to satisfy my sister and
yourself. Ella will always be the same to me, ances-
try or no ancestry."
" By-the-way,where are you going ? " said the naajor.
*" Oh ! to Normandy to a little out-of-the-way
place within a few miles from A , called Vig^res.
There is very good salmon-fishing in the neighborhood,
and we shall be quiet."
" When shall you be back ? "
" I cannot tell ; I suppose I must not take more
than six weeks' holiday."
, " Well, I would not write to old St. George till you
come back."
** I am not sure about that ; I ''
" Here is Miss I mean Mrs. Wilton," interrupted
Moncrief.
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
233
With sweet, grave simplicity, Ella offered a parting
kiss to her husband's friend. Mrs. Kershaw stepped
jauntily to open the door. A hearty hand-pressure
from Moncrief, whose rugged countenance was sor-
rowfully sympathetic, and the newly- wedded pair were
away.
" Won't you step in, sir, and take another glass
of wine ? " said Mrs. Kershaw, with startling hospital-
ity, to the uneasy major, who felt in comparative
captivity, and by no means equal to the occasion.
'' No ; I am much obliged to you," said the major,
edging toward the door.
" A little bit of pigeon-pie, or a mouthful of cheese,
or a drop of stout to wind up with," persisted Mrs.
Kershaw. " You may say what you like, there's noth-
ing picks you up like a drop of stout."
" No, I thank you ; nothing more."
"I hope everything was to the colonel's satisfac-
tion ? " resumed Mrs. Kershaw, with an angular smile.
" He would have been hard to please if he had not
been satisfied," returned the major, with grovelling
servility ; and, taking up his hat, tried, by a flank
movement, to get between the enemy and his line of
retreat.
" I am sure he is a real gentleman, and knows how
to behave as sich. It is a pleasure to deal with lib-
eral, right-minded people, what isn't forever haggling
234
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
over sixpences and shillings. But, between you and
me, sir, though I am none of your soft-spoken, hum-
bugging sort, I never did meet the match of Miss Ella
Mrs. Wilton, I mean she is that good and steady,
a wearin' of herself to the bone for any one that wants.
And for all the colonel's a fine man^ and a pleasant
man, and an open-handed man, if ever he takes to
worriting or bla'guarding, I would help her through
the divorce-court with the last shilling that ever I've
scraped together rising early and working hard ; you
mind that."
With these emphatic words, Mrs. Kershaw flung
the door suddenly wide open, and the major, bow-
ing, hastily shot into the street, with a rapidity more
creditable to Mrs. Kershaw's eloquence than his own
steadiness under fire.
RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD.
235
CHAPTER XL
OH ! the bliss of those early days ! The strange
sweetness of their new companionship! The
weather, too, was propitious balmy ^nd mild, though
spring was yet young, with unutterable freshness and
hope in its breath and coloring. The delicious sense
of safety from all intruders ; the delight of being at
home with Ella ; of winning her complete confidence.
Never before had Wilton tasted the joy of associating
with a woman who was neither a toy nor a torment,
but a true, though softer, comrade, whose every move-
ment and attitude charmed and satisfied his taste^
and whose quick sense of beauty, of character, and of
the droll sides of things, gave endless variety to their
every-day intercourse.
Theirs was no mere fooFs paradise of love and
kisses. Sketching and fishing, the days flew by.
Wilton had decided that the little inn at Vig^res was
too noisy and uncomfortable to be endured, and Ella
had found lodgings in the house of a small proprietor,
who sometimes accommodated lovers of the gentle
craft, and, moreover, found favor in the eyes of the
236 RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD,
landlord and his bright-eyed, high-capped Norman
cook and house-keeper, her fluent French and knowl-
edge of foreign housewifery exciting admiration and
respect. It was a straggling, gray-stone edifice, just
outside the village, with a very untidy yard behind,
and a less untidy garden in front, where a sun-dial, all
mossed and lichen-covered, was half buried in great,
tangled bushes of roses and fuchsias ; on this a large,
scantily-furnished salon looked out, and beyond the
garden on an undulating plain, with the sea and
Mont St. Michel in the blue distance, with a dark
mass of forest on the uplands to the south a wide
stretch of country, ever changing its aspect, as the
broad shadows of the slow or quick-sailing clouds
swept over it, or the level rays of the gradually length-
ening sunset bathed it with the peculiar yellow, golden
spring light, so different from the rich red tinge of
autumn. Winding round the base of the abrupt hill
on which Vigeres, like so many Norman villages, was
perched, was a tolerably large stream, renowned in the
neighborhood, and, though left to take care of itself,
still affording fair sport. It led away through a mel-
ancholy wood and some wide, unfenced pasturage, to
the neglected grounds of a chateau, with the intendant
of which, Wilton, aided by Ella, held many a long talk
on farming, politics, and every subject under the sun.
These rambles had an inexpressible charm a
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
237
mingled sense of freedom and occupation. Then the
repose of evening, as night closed in ; the amuse-
ment of watching Ella at her work or drawing ; to
lead her on to unconsciously picturesque reminis-
cences ; to compare their utterly different impres-
sions and ideas for Ella was not self-opinionated ;
though frank and individual, she was aware her con-
victions were but the echo of those she had heard all
her life, and she listened with the deepest interest to
her husband's, even while she did not agree. These
pleasant communings were so new to Wilton, so dif-
ferent from all his former experience, that perhaps
time has seldom sped on so lightly during a honey-
moon. Ella was utterly unconventional, and yet a
gentlewoman to the core, transparently candid, and,
if such a term can be permitted, gifted with a noble
homeliness that made affectation, or assumption, or
unreality of any kind, impossible to her. Whether
she made a vivid, free translation from some favorite
Italian poet at Wilton's request, or took a lesson
from him in tying flies, or gave him one in drawing,
or dusted their sitting-room, or (as Wilton more than
once found her) did some bit of special cooking in
the big, brown kitchen, while Manon looked on, with
her hands in her apron-pockets, talking volubly, she
was always the same quiet, earnest, doing h^r very
best, with the inexpressible tranquillity of a single
238 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
purpose. Then the shy tenderness and grace of her
rare caresses the delicate reserve that had always
something yet to give, and which not even the terrible
ordeal of wedded intimacy could scorch up these
were elements of an inexhaustible charm at least to
a man of Wilton's calibre.
It was evening the evening of a very bright, clear
day. Wilton had started early on a distant expedition,
with a son of their host for a guide, and had returned
to a late dinner. It had been too long a walk for
Ella to undertake, and now she sat beside her hus-
band under the window of their salon, in the violet-
scented air of an April night, as it grew softly dusk.
Wilton was enjoying pleasant rest, after just enough
fatigue to make it welcome, and watching, with a lazy,
luxurious sense of satisfaction, the movements of
Ella's little deft fingers, as she twisted some red ribbon
into an effective bow, and pinned it upon an edifice
of lace, which Wilton could not quite make out.
" What can that thing be for, Ella ? You are not
going to wear it ? " he asked, at last.
" Wear it ? Oh, no ! It is for Manon ; she
begged me to make her a Parisian cap. I advised
her to keep to her charming Norman head-dress ; but
no I Monsieur le Cure's house-keeper has a cap from
Paris, and Manon is not to be outdone ; so she gave
RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD,
239
me the lace, and I contributed the ribbon. Do you
know, this lace is very lovely ? Look at it."
" I suppose it is ; but I am glad to find yoii admire
lace ; I was afraid you were above dress."
*^ Indeed I am not ; but I always liked I had
almost said loved lace. I would prefer lace to
jewels, if the choice were offered me. And then a
hat or a bonnet is a source of joy, if they suit me."
" And we have been here nearly a month "
" A month yesterday," observed Ella, softly, with a
happy smile.
" Time passes quickly in paradise," said Wilton,
leaning caressingly toward his companion. " But, I
was going to say, we have been here a month, and you
have never had a chance of shopping. It is a dear
delight to shop, is it not ? "
" I do not know," replied Ella, laughing, and turn-
ing her work to view it on all sides. " I never had
any money to spend in shops."
" I should like to see you under fire I mean in
temptation. Suppose we go over to A for a day
or two ; that is the nearest approach to a dazzling
scene we can manage t "
" As you like ; but, dear Ralph " looking wist-
fully out over the garden " I love this place, and am
loath to take even a day firom the few that remain to
us here. I suppose we must soon leave for London ? "
240
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
" You would like to stay here always ? "
" No," returned Ella, *' certainly, not ; stagnation
would not suit either of us, though I deeply enjoy this
sweet resting-place. It will soon be time to move on."
" We have a fortnight still before us, so we will run
over to A to-morrow. Our host can lend us his
shandrada?iy with that monstrous gray mare, to drive
over there. I know you expressed a great wish to
sketch some of those picturesque old towers as we
came through, and you shall buy some lace if you like.
I have had so much fishing that I shall come back
with renewed zest after a short break."
" Yes ; I should greatly like to take some sketches
in A ; but, as to buying lace, do you know we
spend a quantity of money here I am astonished and
shocked to think how much ? '*
" Then I am afraid I have been a very extravagant
fellow, for I do not think I ever spent so little in the
same space of time before. But, talking of money
reminds me I must write to Lord St. George. I have
forgotten all about him all about every one except
you, you little demure sorceress 1 *' /
"Do not forget him, if he is old and a relation." V.
" Well, I will write to him to-morrow. It is not ^-
much matter ; he will never see my face again." i
** Because you married me ? "
\
RALP^H WILTON'S WEIRD.
241
" This is really a very picturesque place," said
Ella as they strolled through the principal street of
A ^ and ascended the plateau, once adorned by a
cathedral, *' but, after all, there is more cheerfulness
in English scenery. I miss the gentlemen's seats, the
look of occupation, the sense of life that springs from
individual freedom. Tyranny and want of cultivation
these are the real * phantoms of fright.' "
" Yes ; we have never mistaken license for liberty
in England," returned Wilton, with genuine John-
Bullism.
" Thanks to your early training," said Ella, smil-
ing ; " but if for centuries you had never been allowed
to stand or walk without leading-strings, supports,
restraints on the right hand and on the left, and had
then been suddenly set free, with all accustomed stays
wrenched from you, do you think you would not have
stumbled and fallen like your neighbors ? "
" True, O queen ! but why did not our neighbors
begin to train themselves in time ? They are of dif-
ferent stuff; there lies the key to the puzzle."
" And in the might of circumstance," put in Ella.
" You can never thank Heaven enough for your insu-
lar position ; but there is something in race."
" No doubt of it. Look at this man coming
toward us ; you could never mistake him for anything
but a Briton."
16
242
RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD,
" No, indeed ! " exclaimed Ella ; " and '* drawing
a little near to him " is it not your cousin, St George
Wilton?"
" By Jove ! you are right, Eila. What can bring
him here?"
The object of their remark was facing them as
the colonel ceased to speak.
"Ralph Wilton Miss " St. George stopped
himself in his exclamation, and then continued, raising
his hat with a soft but meaning smile, ** I little thought
I should encounter you in this remote region ! "
" Nor I you," returned Wilton, bluntly. " Mrs.
Wilton and I have been staying near this, at a place
called Vigeres, where there is very tolerable fishing,
and drove over this morning to look at this old town.
What brings you so far from the haunts of men ? '*
" The vagaries of an old woman, if it be not too
irreverend to say so," replied St. George, raising his
hat again with profound respect as his cousin pro-
nounced the words " Mrs. Wilton." " I have an
aged aunt who, for some inscrutable reason, chooses
to mortify her flesh and spare her pocket by residing
here. I never dreamed I should meet with such a
vision of happiness as Mrs. Wilton and yourself in
this fossilized place.'*
There was just a slight, significant pause before
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
243
the name " Mrs. Wilton/' which caught her husband's
ear, and it sounded to him like a veiled suspicion.
" Where are you staying ? " he asked.
" Oh, at the Hotel du Nord. My aunt wishes the
pleasure of a visit from me, but declines to put me
up."
" We are just going to dine at your hotel," said
Colonel Wilton, "and will be very happy if you will
join us."
St. George accepted his cousin's invitation with
his best air of frank cordiality. It was a very pleas-
ant dinner ; nothing could be more agreeable than
the accomplished attache. His tone of cousinly cour-
tesy to Ella was perfect; his air of well-regulated
enjoyment positively exhilarating. Wilton never
thought he should like his kinsman's society so much.
Even Ella warmed to him comparatively, and, though
more disposed to listen than to talk, contributed no
small share to the brightness of the conversation.
At last it was time to undertake the homeward
drive to Vigeres, some four or five miles up and down
hill. While waiting for the remarkable-looking ve-
hicle in which the journey was to be performed, St.
George Wilton found a moment to speak with, his
cousin alone.
" And it is a real bona fide marriage, Ralph ? "
" Real as if the Archbishop of Canterbury had
244 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
performed it, with a couple of junior officers to
him."
St. George was silent, and affected to busy hit
in preparing a cigar. Not even his trained
control could enable him to command bis voice
cientjy to hide the enormous contempt that su
piece of frantic insanity inspired.
" So very charming a person as Mrs. Wilton,"
he at last, blandly, " may well excuse the imprud
of a love-match ; but let me ask, merely that I
know how to act, is it an open as well as a bona
marriage? I mean, do' you wish it concealed
our friend Lord St. George, because "
"Certainly not," interrupted Colonel Wilton.
have not written to inform him of it, for he has
my last letter some months unanswered, and I dit
think he cared to hear from me ; but, as it is pos
he may fancy I intended to make a secret o
marriage, I will write to him to-morrow."
" It is not of much importance," said St. Gei
checking the dawning of a contemptuous s:
" Whatever view he takes of the subject will be i;
cal to your interests. Suppose I were to call i
him and explain matters .' I start for London to-
row morning."
" I will not trouble you," said Wilton a little st
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD. 245
and Ella, appearing at that moment in the door-way,
the conversation took a different turn.
" Draw your cloak closer, Ella," said her husband,
as they proceeded homeward under the soft silver of
a young May moon at the sober pace which was their
steed's fastest ; " there is a tinge of east in the wind.
I began our acquaintance by wrapping you up, and I
see I shall always be obliged to make you take care
of yourself."
"I take care of myself now^^ she replied, nestling
nearer to him. " I did not think your cousin could
be so agreeable," she continued.
" Nor I," said Wilton, shortly.
* Yet/' resumed Ella, " I can never banish my
first impression of him."
"What was it?"
" That he could always keep faith in the letter and
break it in the spirit ; that he could betray in the most
polished manner possible, without ever committing
any vulgar error that law or society could fasten
upon."
" Upon my soul, you have made a very nice esti-
mate of the only member of your new family with
whom you have come in contact. And where, pray,
have you found such well-defined ideas of treachery ?
I did not think there was so much of this world's lore
in that pretty little head. How did you learn it ? "
246 RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD.
" Ah, treachery is a thing I have often known !
The wonder is, as my father used to say, that, where
so many powerful temptations surrounded us, poor
political outcasts, so few proved false."
**Yet you have not learned to be suspicious,
Ella ? "
" Heaven forbid ! No one who is really true at
heart ever really learns to be suspicious."
Wilton fulfilled his intention the following day,
and wrote a short, simple account of his marriage to
Lord St. George, regretting that he should be a source
of disappointment to him, and stating that he, of
course, held him quite exonerated from any promise,
implied or not, respecting his property.
It was quite a relief to him having accomplished
this. He had now cut himself adrift from all chances
of social preeminence ; it remained to work up in bis
profession, and his thoughts naturally turned to India.
Great changes, civil and military, were pending there ;
his own services had been recognized by men high
in office ; already the breath of the outer world had
somewhat withered the loveliness of his Arcadia it
was time for him to be up and doing.
"Ella! come here, darling. I am afraid we must
go back to London and common life next week ; so
let us rnake an expedition to Mont St Michel to-
morrow. How does the tide serve ? "
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
247
Three or four happy days were spent in visiting
the strange fortress-prison .and Old-World pictur-
esque little town of Granville ; in delicious rambles
and abundant sketching. Ella was absolutely excited
by the wealth of subjects, all of a new character to
her, which offered themselves for her pencil. But
Wilton had exhausted his slender capacity for repose,
and, having thoroughly enjoyed himself, was once
more longing for active life.
The day but one after their return from this brief
expedition, a letter reached Wilton from the family
solicitor. He had been out smoking, and talking of
farming with the landlord ; and Ella remarked, as he
took the letter, that he exclaimed, as if to himself,
" From old Kenrick ! what can he want ? " His
countenance changed as he read : and then, throwing
down the letter, he cried, "I wish to Heaven I had
written to him before ! He has passed away, doubt-
ing me ! "
"Who?" asked Ella, trembling with a sudden
apprehension of evil.
" Poor old St. George ! the old man of whom I
have spoken to you." a
" Your marriage has not broken his heart, I trust ? "
" No ; I am not sure he had a heart to break. But,
Ella, you have turned pale, my own darling ! Do not
torment yourself; the living or dying of every one
248
RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD,
belonging to me can never affect my happiness with
you ; you are worth them all to me. But this letter
here, read it." And, passing one arm round her,
Wilton held out the letter for her to peruse. '* You
see/* he continued, " Kenrick (he is Lord St. George's
solicitor and the Wiltons* solicitor generally) says he
has died suddenly without a will. I am his heir-pre-
sumptive and nearest of kin the only person entitled
to act or to give directions. We must, therefore,
start for London to-morrow. I will see Monsieur le
Proprietaire, and settle with him at once."
Ella sighed, and cast one long look out into the
garden, where the bees were humming and the first
roses blooming, and away over the variegated, map-
like country beyond, with its distant, dim blue line of
sea a farewell Ipok at the scene where she had tasted
for the first time in a somewhat sad existence, the
divine cup of full, fresh delight ; then, holding her
cheek to her husband's kiss, gently disengaged herself
and went away to prepare for turning over a new leaf
in the book of life.
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
249
CHAPTER XII.
" T^HERE is not the slightest use of making any
* search for a will. I know there is none.
Lord St. George made me carefully destroy the last
one he had executed only the day before his death.
Indeed, he had given me instructions to draw up
another so exceedingly inimical to your interests that
I determined to be as slow as possible in carrying
out his intentions. Now, his death intestate has
left everything to you, Colonel Wilton I beg par-
don, my lord."
So spoke Mr. Kenrick a grave, well-bred, exceed-
ingly professional man as Wilton sat at the opposite
side of his knee-hole table in the well-known office
of Kenrick and Cole, Lincoln's Inn Fields, the morn-
ing after his arrival in London.
" No ; I prefer being Ralph Wilton still. I sup-
pose I need not adopt the title if I do not like.*^ We
must remember, Kenrick, that poor St George's
daughter may be still alive, and may have a host of
children.'*
" That is certainly possible, though it is a possi-
i
250 RALPH IVILTOX'S WEIRD.
bility I had wellnigh forgotten. Forgive me for
saving so, but I heartilv wish vou had been a little
less impetuous. Six weeks' patience would have seen
you possessed of ample means to support your title,
and free to choose a wife where you liked/'
" Ay ; but who could foresee the course of events ?
I could not have acted a double part with the poor
old man, nor could I have postponed my marriage.
In short, there is no use in discussing the question ;
tell me what Lord St. George said when he sent for
you."
" I found him," replied the lawyer, "looking ter-
ribly ill, although, as usual, accurately dressed and
quite composed. I had. by his directions, brought
with me the will he had executed a few months ago
a will bequeathing everything to you, Colonel Wilton.
His first question was, * Have you heard that my heir
has selected a wife at last ? ' I replied I had not ;
and he went on to say that you had at first concealed
your marriage, but, having met Mr. St. George Wilton,
and thinking concealment no longer necessary, you
had written to him. He showed me your letter, and
said he had a visit from your cousin, who gave him a
true version of the affair, with much more that was
not flatteringj and need not be repeated. He then
made me destroy the will in his presence, and gave
me instructions to prepare another, by which he
RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD. 25 1
bequeathed his large property to the Foundling Hos-
pital, adding a grim jest as to the probability of some
of his own grandchildren profiting by the bequest. I
must say, however, that he seemed principally affected
by the apparent attempt to conceal your marriage."
" That was never my intention," said Wilton, much
disturbed, while he walked up and down. " But I wish
to Heaven T had written to him at once ! The fact is,
I knew that I had cut myself off from him completely
by my marriage, and thought it little mattered when I
announced it. Then I forgot to write."
" And most things, probably," said Mr. Ken rick,
with a grave and slightly compassionate smile. " The
next morning my late client was found by Saunders
his man, who has been so long with him lying pla-
cidly on his bed, but life was quite extinct. He must
have been dead some hours."
" I cannot tell you, Kenrick, how confoundly sorry
I am to have caused him this annoyance ! "
" His heart had long been in a very weak state,"
continued the lawyer, scarcely heeding the interrup-
tion ; " and his death was certainly painless. It
remains to discover his daughter's children."
" Or herself," put in Wilton.
"She is dead I feel sure of that. I perfectly
remember my father mentioning to me the terrible
species of exultation with which Lord St. George
J
252
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
beard that his only child was no more. That must be
twenty years ago. I am under the impression that
she left no family. If so, I shall be pleased to con-
gratulate you, colonel, on a noble inheritance."
Wilton took another turn to and fro. " I have
never been used to wealth or finery," he said. "If I
could dispense with the title, I should not care much.
Tell me does nothing hang on to the coronet .? "
" Well, I believe the rent of one farm ; barely four
hundred a year. But the house in S Square
belongs to you. It was one of the * bad ' viscount's
purchases ; and though the late lord's father paid off
the various mortgages with which it was loaded, he
never alienated it from the direct line."
" So much the better for me. And nov, Kenrick,
lose no time in taking proper steps to discover the
daughter's children."
"I will, of course ; but I have a strong idea there
are none."
"Why?" asked Wilton.
" Because we should have been sure to have heard
of them. The father a needy foreigner, by all ac-
counts would never have resisted the temptation to
dip his fingers into such well-filled pockets as those of
Lord St. George ; and the application would have been
through us, or referred to us. No, I cannot help think-
ing Madame or Mrs. de Monteiro left no children."
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, 253
" And I cannot help thinking she has. When is
the funeral to take place ? "
" The day after to-morrow. Meantime, had you
not better take up your residence in S Square ?
The house is yours, and probably everything in it."
" No, Kenrick ; I could not stand the house, nor
could Mrs. Wilton, I am sure. I shall remain at the
hotel where we now are. After the funeral we must
examine the poor old man's letters and papers ; we
may find some clue to the real heir among them."
Meantime an outline of the story began to be told
at the clubs and dinner-tables, now throbbing with the
convulsive life of the season.
To the older members of society the name of
Wilton had once been familiar, but Ralph had little
beyond regimental renown and a high reputation at
the Horse Guards. Now, however, that he was sup-
posed to have inherited the estates as well as the title
of Lord St. George, relatives and* connections gath-
ered round him '* thick as leaves that fall in Val-
ambrosa."
Ella was at first bewildered, as well as surprised,
at the numerous cards and polite inquiries for Lord
and Lady St. George, until Wilton unfolded the whole
history for her enlightenment, and expended some bad
language on the annoyance of being thus saddled with
a title he could not support. Still he was sufficiently
254
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
I
I
alive to the necessity of his position to insist on his
wife's supplying herself with proper and fashionable
mourning at the most select milliner's he could find
out. The result delighted him and appalled Ella.
The garments were certainly becoming, but never in
her simple life had she seen so much money paid for
clothes.
The operation of examining the papers and letters
of one lately alert and ready to defend the privacy of
his inner life is full of mournfulness. Even when the
deceased has been neither well known nor loved, there
is deep pathos in the silent appeal of death. All the
secrets of the now empty " prison-house " lie bare and
at the mercy of a successor, who may be the last to
whom the released tenant would have exposed them.
Although Ralph Wilton was far from being a senti-
mentalist, he felt this keenly when, assisted by Mr.
Kenrick, he proceeded to examine the late viscount's
escritoire, and various caskets, cabinets, and jewel-
cases, in hopes of finding some trace of his possible
successor. There lay, in profusion, the graceful
trinkets bestowed with lavish hand on his wife and
child, exquisite enamels, carved onyx clasps and
brooches, costly fans, old-fashioned bijouterie all the
beautiful artistic trifles which accumulate in an ancient
and wealthy family. The more important jewels were
of course kept at the bank, but quantities of valuable
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
255
nothings were scattered about the rooms n\iniatures
of fair women and lovely children, and one beautiful
face in every stage of development, from an infant
peeping out from its rich surrounding of lace and satin
to a stately, gracious demoiselle in court dress. These
portraits were all in rooms and cabinets the most dis-
tant, dust-covered, and evidently rarely opened. All
bore somewhere about the frame the initials E. L. A.,
sometimes plain, sometimes entwined in a monogram.
"These are all portraits of Miss St. George," said
the lawyer, in the law tone they both unconsciously
adopted. " You can scarcely wonder that such a
marriage should almost have driven her father mad.
He hardly thought royalty good enough for her."
" What, in Heaven's name, made her throw her-
self away on a foreigner ? " exclaimed Wilton. " How
could she be so mad ? "
" Hum ! " said Mr. Kenrick, dryly ; " imprudent
marriages are always incomprehensible, except to
those that commit them."
Wilton looked up for a moment, with a flash of
indignation in his quick, brown eyes, which, passing
rapidly away, gave place to a good-humored smile.
" You are right," said he ; " no outsiders can quite
judge the force of our unreasoning reasons. You had
better dine with us to-day, and let me present you to
Mrs. Wilton."
256
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
" I imagine she expects you to present me to Lady
St. George."
" You are mistaken. She is utterly indifferent to
titles more indifferent than I am ; but you will dine
with us ? "
" I shall be most happy."
But they sought in vain ; no trace existed of the
viscount's erring daughter after the period of her dis-
graceful marriage. Of private correspondence very
little remained, and it was decided to advertise for the
information they wanted.
" Let us have some talk with Saunders," suggested
Wilton j "he was so much with Lord St George that
he may be able to give us some clue to what
we want."
The serious-looking valet was therefore summoned,
and the lawyer shortly explained to him the state
of affairs.
" I believe there was an application of some kind
made to my lord respecting his daughter," said he,
slowly and reflectively ; " but it was a long time back
nearly three years ago."
*' Tell us what you know about it," said Wilton.
"It was in the summer time, just before we left
for Scotland that year, and my lord was not very well,
when one morning the hall-porter called me and said
there was a foreign gentleman wanted to see my lord
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, 2$y
about a picture. I knew he expected one or two he
had bought in Italy, a few weeks before, to be sent
after him the only thing he seemed to care ^bout
lately was art ; so I went and spoke to the gentleman
for, though he was a queer-looking customer, he did
not seem a common fellow. He spoke a sort of bro-
ken French, and said he was Italian (I can speak
French, but not Italian,) and added that he had called
to see Lord St. George about a picture. So, as he
seemed quite fit to speak to my lord, I went and
told him. He says, * Show the fellow up.' I did so,
and left them together. I waited outside, in case my
lord should want me, and presently I heard them
thundering at each other in Italian not that my lord
spoke very loud, but there was -that in his voice as
would make any mam jump. Presently he rang very
sharp ; I went in and found him half-raised in his
chair, holding on by the sides as if he would dig his
fingers into them, as white as marble, and his eyes
blazing fire. There was some torn paper lying at his
feet, and a picture in an open case on the floor at a
little distance. The foreign chap," continued the valet,
warming into naturalness, " was standing looking at
him with a dark frown on his face the sort of mur-
derous scowl those Italians can put on and I went
close up between them, lest he might draw a knife.
* Turn this scoundrel out ! ' says my lord ; * and mark
17
258
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
I
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him, Saunders ; if you ever find him loitering about
the place, hand him over to the police 1 ' With that
the foreigner gave an odd sort of smile, and said a
few words in Italian, hissing them through his teeth.
My lord^s face changed as he listened, but he waved
his hand toward the door ; and the other, with a deep,
low bow, walked out. My lord had a sort of fainting-
fit, and I was a good deal taken up with him, but I
kept the picture, thinking the Italian might come back
for it j but he did not I think it is a miniature of
my lord's daughter, for it is very like all the other
portraits."
"But the pieces of torn paper," asked the lawyer,
quickly "did you not by accident see if anything
was written on them, and what ? **
** Well, sir, as I was picking them up, I did see
that the writing was English, though a foreign-looking
hand; but all I could make out was, 'Your only
daughter's only child so soon to be an orphan.' Then
my lord fainted away ; and when I looked for them
again the stupid girl had swept them up* I can bring
you the picture, if you wish."
" By all means," said Colonel Wilton ; and the
man left the room. " I wish to Heaven," he contin-
ued, " he had kept the letter instead of the picture !
We have portraits enough of the unhappy girl ; the
letter might have put us on the track of the heir or
KALPH WILTON'S WEIRD, 259
heiress. Do you think this Italian was the hus-
band ? "
" Di Monteiro was, I believe, a Spaniard ; but Saun-
ders might mistake Spanish for Italian ; and then the
statement in the letter, * the only child of his daugh-
ter so soon to be an orphan ' that might be by the
death of either father or mother. But, no ; it is quite
twenty years since the mother died."
Here the return of Saunders interrupted the law-
yer's conjectures.
" This is the picture," he said, unfolding it from
some silver-paper in which it was carefully wrapped.
The case of dark-purple leather had a foreign look ;
on opening it a lovely face, most exquisitely painted,
appeared. It was unmistakably the same as that so
frequently represented in the deserted chambers of the
mansion ; but changed and saddened and spiritualized
in expression.
. "This is very beautiful," said Wilton, looking
long and earnestly upon it. " Though evidently the
same face as the others, there is something familiar to
me in it which the others have not. I can fancy a man
daring a good deal for such a woman as this ! How-
ever, it brings us no clue. We must consult some of
these wonderful detective fellows and try what can be
done by extensive advertising. You must now feel
satisfied that my poor cousin has left an heir or
heiress."
26o RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
" Heiress, I trust," replied Kenrick. " A foreign
Bohemian, with the recklessness of poverty, and per-
haps Communist principles, would be a terrible repre-
;) sentative of the house of Wilton ; a woman would be
less dangerous."
" Nevertheless, quite as objectionable, unless
caught very young ; and, according to your account
she must be past twenty. However, we can do no
more to-day ; and, by Jove, it is nearly six o'clock !
Mrs. Wilton was to have met me in Kensington Gar-
dens on her return from a visit at Notting Hill. I shall
be scarcely in time to meet her. We dine at seven-
thirty, and shall have the pleasure of seeing you ? "
" I shall be most happy ; I am very anxious to
have thehonor of making Mrs. Wilton's acquaintance."
** Well, then, will you be so good as to take charge
of this picture ? I see you have your inevitable black
bag, and it is rather large for my pocket. Pray, bring
it with you this evening. My wife is a true artist, and
will be charmed with it."
In these days of pressing occupation, it .was a rich
treat to Ella and Wilton to have an hour or two
uninterruptedly together. A visit to some of the
art-exhibitions, to the opera, or to a good play, was
sufficient to brighten whole days of comparative lone-
liness. Ella was eminently reasonable. She never
r;
\-
1
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD. 26 1
tormented her husband to know why he was not in
time, or indulged in querulousness if he was compelled
to break an engagement. She knew he regretted it
as much as she did, and was satisfied.
On this occasion she had waited patiently, sitting
under a tree near the Bayswater Gate for nearly a
quarter of an hour before the sight of her husband's sol-
dierly distinguished figure, approaching rapidly, made
her heart leap for joy.
" I am late I but I could not help it. And what
have you been doing ? How is the benevolent Mrs.
Kershaw ? "
" Very well, indeed ; but a little indignant because
we did not take her * drawing-rooms,' which were
vacant when we came to town, instead of going to be
cheated, as she says, * up and down ' at a hotel.'*
" And what did you say .^ " asked Wilton, drawing
his wife's hand through his arm as they strolled
toward town.
" Oh ! I told her you had so much to do, that
Melina Villas was too far away. But, O, dearest
Ralph, I really think dear old Diego must have called
there while we were in Normandy. Mrs. Kershaw
was out, unfortunately, but the servant described a
* tall, black-looking gentleman, who had very little
English.' He asked first for Mrs. Kershaw, and then
for me. Now, no one could ask for me but Diego."
I
I
Pi
262 RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD,
" And, my darling, what is Diego like ? is he a
gentleman ? " asked Wilton, rather doubtfully.
" Yes, certainly, a gentleman ; but not like you.
He wears a velvet coat it is charming when it is
new ; but he has not always money, then it gets
shabby ; I have seen it broken at the elbows j and he
has a felt hat, oh ! such a beautiful hat at first ^but
I fear he sleeps in it sometimes, for it gets much bent.
J But, when Diego has his purse full, and new clothes,
he is lovely ! I have sketched him when they were
new, and mended them when they were old. He is
handsome, like a Salvator-Rosa brigand. You would
think he could kill ; and he is really as gentle and
simple as a child. You are much more fierce your-
self, Ralph " looking up lovingly into his eyes, with
very little fear in her own. " How I should like to
j I see him again ! *' she continued ; " if we meet, you
must ask him to dinner."
Wilton laughed heartily.
** If we do meet, I shall ; but he will be a curious
guest. Let us have our distinguished cousin, St
George, to meet him."
*' Would it annoy you, Ralph, to have poor Diego
to dinner ? "
" No, love ; but don't ask him to live with us, I
could not stand that."
" Nor I," said Ella, quietly.
I'
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RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD.
263
Talking pleasantly, they enjoyed the sunshine of a
lovely afternoon, till Wilton, looking at his watch,
declared they would be late for dinner, and hailed a
hansom.
It was very gratifying to Wilton to observe the
effect produced by Ella on the sedate Mr. Kenrick,
who was an old-young man. Her unconsciousness
of self gave her a high-bred composure ; her perfect
freedom from provincialism the result of having
acquired English almost as a foreign tongue an air
of refinement, and her natural, simple readiness to lis-
ten, only caring to speak when she really had some-
thing to say, gave a charm to her conversation which
greatly impressed the cool, hard- headed man of busi-
ness. However blind love may be, no man, unless
below the average of intelligence, is so hoodwinked
as not to see when other men think he has a good
excuse for his imprudence or not.
The gentlemen did not sit long after Ella had*
left them, and, on joining her, Mr. Kenrick observed,
*^ I have brought the picture, Colonel Wilton, as it is
your pleasure to be so called."
And he handed a small parcel to Wilton, who,
opening it, said, " Look at this, Ella."
She was cutting the leaves of a book which Wilton
had bought that morning, and, looking up quickly
264 RALPH niLTOX'S WEIKD.
exclaimed, " Ah ! how good of you ! you have found
ray picture for me. Where did you find it?"
*' Your picture ! what do you mean ? " he asked.
" The picture of my mother, which was lost."
" You are under some mistake. I do not think
you ever saw this before."
"I have seen it all my life; it is my mother's
picture."
" Your mother s ! '* exclaimed Wilton and the
lawyer together ; '* impossible."
" Yet it is so. If you raise the frame here, at the
side, you can take it out of the case, and you will find
her name at the back Elizabeth Louisa Adelaide di
Monteiro mine is formed from her initials of her
Christian name."
The lawyer and Wilton eagerly obeyed, and found
the inscription as she had described.
" This is very extraordinary ! " exclaimed Wilton.
" It appears, then," said Mr. Kenrick, " that, by a
rare accident, you have married your own cousin, and
Lord St. George's heiress. The title and estates are
united."
** How ? What does he mean ? " asked Ella.
** Tell me, Ella, was Monteiro your father's name ?"
" Yes, one of them. His mother was a wealthy
Spanish lady, his father an Englishman. He was
partly brought up in Spain, by his mother's people, in
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD. 265
her name ; he was early an orphan, and, I imagine,
very extravagant. Afterward, when immersed in poli-
tics, he found it more useful to use his father's name of
Rivers. He was peculiarly averse to mention my
mother. I never knew her family name. Her picture
was always a sacred thing. My father, who might have
been a great artist, painted it himself. Now, tell me,
what do your questions mean ? "
Whereupon Wilton, holding her hand in his, told
her, as shortly as he could, the strange story of her
mother's marriage and disappearance; of the dis-
pleasure of her grandfather at his (Wilton's) disregard
of his wishes in the choice of a wife ; of the consequent
destruction of the will, and the difficulty in which he
and Mr. Kenrick found themselves as regarded the
next-of-kin ; with a running accompaniment from the
lawyer touching the nature, extent, and peculiarities
of the property inherited by the obscure little heroine
of Wilton's railway adventure.
" All this mine, which ought to have been yours,**
said Ella, when they were at last silent ; " or, rather,
yours through me I do not seem able to understand
or take it in."
She pressed her hand to her brow.
^ Dearest, you believed in me, and loved me, when
I was desolate and poor, and utterly insignificant;
now I am thankful that I can bring you wealth ; but
k
266 RALPH WILTON* S WEIRD.
oh ! I gave you most when I gave you my whole
heart ! "
Extract of a Utter to Viscount St. George, y'm
Major Moncrief th Rifles,
" I shall certainly be with you on the 12th, if noth-
ing unforeseen occurs. I feel exceedingly curious to
see you in your new home^ and to thank Lady St.
George personally for the plenary absolution she has
so kindly extended to me. I confess myself guilty of
the cold-blooded worldliness you lay to my charge,
while I acknowledge that few men have had a better
excuse for a piece of extraordinary imprudence. If
we were mere bundles of high-toned emotions, sym-
pathies, and aspirations, marriages on your system
might answer ; but, being as we are, much more
animal than spiritual, more self-seeking than sympa-
thetic, is it wise to act on the impulse of a temporary
brain or blood fever, which puts a certain set of
fancies and desires in violent action for a time, only
to be overtaken and swept away by the everlasting
flow of every-day wants, ambitions, and motives,
which always run their course, however excitement
may blind us ? But I am growing too profound for an
old soldier; the upshot of the argument is that I
stand to my opinion in a general sense ; your extraor-
dinary luck in no way touches it. But I most warmly
RALPH WILTON'S WEIRD. 267
rejoice in your good fortune ; and, though I greatly
regret your quitting the old regiment, I am not
surprised that your new position necessitates the step.
Yours is no common story ; and I little thought, when
I was * taken prophetic * the day you * interviewed '
poor old St. George, that so fair a lot would be the
ending of * Ralph Wilton's Weird.'
" Always your sincere friend^
" A. MONCRIEF."