Though a day for parting—for a separation involving distance, time, and no small danger to one—was inexorably approaching, Finella was very happy just then, with a happiness she had never known before, and with a completeness that made life—even to her who had known London for a brilliant season—seem radiant. She had been joyous like a beautiful bird, and content, too, before the renewal and fuller development of her intimacy with Vivian Hammersley; but she was infinitely more joyous and content now. ''Twas but the old, old story' of a girl's love, and in all her sentiments and all her hopes for the future Vivian shared.
The beautiful dreams of a dual life had been partly—if not fully—realised through him, who seemed to her a perfect being, a perfect hero: though he was only a smart linesman, a handsome young fellow like a thousand others, yet he possessed every quality to render a girl happy.
Shafto felt that Hammersley had quite 'cut the ground from under his feet' with Finella, as he phrased it; and hating him in consequence, and being a master in cunning and finesse, wonderfully so for his years, he resolved to get 'the interloper's' visit to Craigengowan cut short at all hazards, and he was not long in putting his scheme in operation.
The lovers thus were not quite unconscious of being watched by eyes that were quickened by avarice, passion, and jealousy; yet, withal, they were very, very happy—in Elysium, in fact.
Finding that Hammersley had suddenly become averse to gambling, after a long day among the grouse, Shafto strove hard to lure him into play one evening in the smoke-room.
Hammersley declined, aware that Shafto was remarkably sharp at cards, having become somewhat efficient after years of almost nightly play in the bar-room of the Torrington Arms at Revelstoke.
Shafto's manner on this evening became almost insulting, and he taunted him with 'taking deuced good care of such money as he had.'
''Pon my soul, young fellow, do you know that you are rather—well—ah—rude?' said Hammersley, removing his cigar for a moment and staring at the speaker.
'Sorry, but it's my way,' replied Shafto.
'Perhaps you had better make that your way,' said Hammersley, his brown cheek reddening as he indicated the room-door with his cigar. Then suddenly remembering that he must preserve certain amenities, and as guest—especially one circumstanced as he was secretly—he pushed his cigar-case towards Shafto, saying—'Try one of these—they are Rio Hondos, and are of the best kind.'