Leslie Colville and Sir Redmond were not, however, though we have said it, 'friends.' Their natures were too dissimilar for that; they were merely acquaintances, and, like some other guests, had met for perhaps the first time at Craigmhor.
Both were—to the casual eye—unexceptionable in manner and appearance; but Colville's nature and disposition were open, manly, candid, and genuinely honest; while those of Sir Redmond, whose baronetcy dated from 'yesterday,' were crooked, selfish, and secretly prone to many kinds of dissipation and evil. He had gone through the worst curriculum of both that the worlds of London and Paris can furnish. His very eyes and lips, at times, told as much.
Discovering speedily that Leslie Colville resented any loose or slighting remarks concerning the young ladies at Birkwoodbrae, and that he still more would be disposed to resent any attentions on his part towards them, though why or wherefore seemed very mysterious, Sir Redmond Sleath contrived to pay more than one visit, and to bestow more than one attention in secret, at least unknown to Colville; he, a sly Englishman of the worst type, conceiving that the other was only a 'sly Scotsman,' with views of his own, as he himself had.
On the pretence of bringing books, music, flowers, and so forth to the sisters, but more particularly Ellinor, Sir Redmond had found his way to the little villa rather oftener than Dr. Wodrow, and still more than the latter's son, would have relished. Hence, one day when Robert came to Birkwoodbrae, he saw the wished-for ferns he had gone so far and so lovingly to procure—not planted in her little fernery, but—lying dead, withered, and forgotten in a walk of the garden.
Robert Wodrow made no remark on this, but the neglect seemed somehow to tell a bitter tale to his heart.
CHAPTER V.
THE DUNKELD FAMILY.
'Ah, London is the true place for life! One exists only in the country, but in London we live!' exclaimed Lady Dunkeld.
'You are right, my Lady Dunkeld!' exclaimed Sir Redmond Sleath; but life in London had for him some elements to his listener unknown—or, if so, not cared for—flirtations with pretty actresses, dinners to fast fair ones at the 'Star and Garter,' cards, billiards, pool, and pyramid, all very nice things in their way, but ruinous if carried to excess, even by a bachelor of Sir Redmond's means.
'I agree with you also, mamma,' said her daughter; 'but what is it to be—a ball, or dinner-party, or a garden-party we must give, if not all the three?'