"I will win her in spite of herself," he went on, muttering the words half-aloud: "I will make her love me whether she will or no. She may fight and she may struggle, but she shall be mine after all. And before very long. Before the month is out, shall I say? Before Brian and her brother come home at any rate. They are expected in February. Yes—before February. Then, Kitty, you will be my wife."
He smiled as he said the words, but the smile was not a pleasant one.
He did not sleep much that night. He had lately grown very wakeful, and on this night he did not go to bed at all. The servants heard him wandering about the house in the early hours of the morning, opening and shutting doors, pacing the long passages, stealing up and downstairs. One of the maids put her head out of her door, and reported that the house was all lit up as if for a dance—rooms and corridors were illuminated. It was one of Hugo's whims that he could not bear the dark. When he walked the house in this way he always lighted every lamp and candle that he could find. He fancied that strange faces looked at him in the dark.
Confusion and distress reigned next day at Netherglen. Mr. Luttrell had taken upon himself to dismiss one or two of the servants, and this was resented as a liberty by the housekeeper, who had lived there long before he had made his appearance in Scotland at all. He had paid two of the maids a month's wages in advance, and told them to leave the house within four-and-twenty hours. The household had already been considerably reduced, and the indignant housekeeper immediately announced her intention of going to Mr. Colquhoun and inquiring whether young Mr. Luttrell had been legally empowered to manage his aunt's affairs. And seeing that this really was her intention, Hugo smiled and spoke her fair.
"You're a little hard on me, Mrs. Shairp," he said, in dulcet tones. "I was going to speak to you privately about these arrangements. You, of course, ought never to go away from Netherglen, and, whoever goes, you shall not. You must be here to welcome Mr. Brian when he comes home again, and to give my wife a greeting when I bring her to Netherglen—which I hope I shall do very shortly."
"An' wha's the leddy, Maister Hugo?" said the housekeeper, a little mollified by his words. "It'll be Miss Murray, maybe? The mistress liked the glint of her bonny een. 'Jean,' she said to me; the day Miss Murray cam' to pay her respects, 'Jean, yon lassie steps like a princess.' Ye'll be nae sae far wrang, Maister Hugo, if it's Miss Murray that ye mak' your bride."
"It is not Miss Murray," said Hugo, carelessly; "it is her cousin, Miss Heron."
Mrs. Shairp's eyebrows expressed astonishment and contempt, although her lips murmured only—"That wee bit lassie!" But she made no further objection to the plan which Hugo now suggested to her. He wanted her not to leave Mrs. Luttrell's service (or so he said), but to take a few weeks' holiday. She had a sister in Aberdeen—could she not pay this sister a visit? Mrs. Luttrell should have every care during the housekeeper's absence—two trained nurses were with her night and day; and a Miss Corcoran, a cousin of the Luttrell family, was shortly expected. Mr. Colquhoun had spoken to him about the necessity of economy, and for that reason he wished to reduce the number of servants as much as possible. He was going away to London, and there would be no need of more than one servant in the house. In fact, the gardener and his wife could do all that would be required.
"Me leave my mistress to the care o' John Robertson and his wife!" ejaculated the housekeeper, indignantly.
Whereupon Hugo had to convince her that Mrs. Luttrell was perfectly safe in the hands of the two nurses—at any rate for a week. During that week, one or two necessary alterations could be made in the house—there was a water-pipe and a drain that needed attention, in Hugo's opinion—and this could be done while the house was comparatively empty—"before Brian came home." With this formula he never failed to calm Mrs. Shairp's wrath and allay her rising fears.