Though his soul shrank from doing so, Florian could not resist taking Shafto into his confidence about this unexplainable event; and the latter acted astonishment to the life!
Was the locket thus returned through the post in obedience to her father's orders, after he had probably discovered the contents of it?
But Shafto demolished this hope by drawing his attention to the tenor of the pithy scrap of paper, which precluded the idea that it had been done under any other influence than her own change of mind.
'Poor Florian!' sneered Shafto, as he prepared to take his departure for Craigengowan; 'now you had better proceed at once to cultivate the wear-the-willow state of mind.'
Florian made no reply. His ideas of faith and truth and of true women were suddenly and cruelly shattered now!
'She has killed all that was good in me, and the mischief of the future will be at her door!' he exclaimed, in a low and husky voice.
'Oh, Florian, don't say that,' said Shafto, who actually did feel a little for him; and just then, when they were on the eve of separation, even his false and artful heart did feel a pang, with the sting of fear, at the career of falsehood to which he had committed himself; but his ambition, innate greed, selfishness, and pride urged him on that career steadily and without an idea of flinching.
After Mr. Kippilaw's remarks concerning how the face of Florian interested him, and actually that he bore a likeness to the dead Major—to his own father, in fact—Shafto became more than desirous to be rid of him in any way. He thought with dread of the discovery and fate of 'the Claimant,' and of the fierce light thrown by the law on that gigantic imposture; but genuine compunction he had none!
'Well,' he muttered, as he drove away from the hotel with his portmanteau, 'I must keep up this game at all hazards now. I have stolen—not only Florian's name—but his place, so let him paddle his own canoe!'
'I'll write you from Craigengowan,' were his parting words—a promise which he never fulfilled. Shafto, who generally held their mutual purse now, might have offered to supply the well-nigh penniless lad with money, but he did not. He only longed to be rid of him—to hear of him no more. He had a dread of his presence, of his society, of his very existence, and now had but one hope, wish, and desire—that Florian Melfort should cross his path never again. And now that he had achieved a separation between him and Dulcie, he conceived that Florian would never again go near Revelstoke, of which he—Shafto—had for many reasons a nervous dread!