Finella had just told this tale to Dulcie when a valet rode past the gate and entered the lawn by another with the post-bag for the house. From this Finella took out a newspaper—one of the many it contained—and with eager eyes the two girls scanned its columns for the last news from Zululand, and simultaneously a shrill exclamation, which made the man turn in his saddle as he rode on, escaped them both.
The paper contained a brief telegraphic notice of the conflict at the laager of Ginghilovo, and with it the following paragraph:
'Captain Vivian Hammersley, of the unfortunate 24th Regiment, led a squadron of Barrow's Mountain Infantry; and having, with the most brilliant gallantry, pressed the flying foe much too far, had his horse shot under him, and was in danger of being instantly assegaied by several infuriated savages, who were driven off and shot down in quick succession by Sergeant Florian MacIan, who mounted the wounded officer on his own horse and brought him safely into the lines, for which noble act of humanity and valour he is, we believe, recommended for promotion by Captain Barrow, of the 19th Hussars, commanding the Mounted Infantry, and by Lord Chelmsford. The fatal day of Isandhlwana has made many commissions vacant in the unfortunate 24th Foot; and we have no doubt that one of them will be conferred upon this gallant young sergeant.'
'Oh, Dulcie, let me kiss you—I can't kiss your Florian just now!' exclaimed the impulsive Finella, embracing her companion, whose eyes, like her own, were brimming with tears of joy and sympathy.
Hammersley had received a wound of which no details were given; and that circumstance, by its vaguity, filled the heart of Finella with the keenest anxiety. Oh, if he should die believing what he did of her, when she had been and was still so true and loyal to him!
The intelligence rather stunned her; and for some minutes she remained paralyzed with dismay. She was powerless, with all her wealth, to succour in any way her suffering lover, and no resolution could shape itself in her mind. He might be dying, or already dead, for the fight had taken place some days ago—dying amid suffering and misery, while she remained idly, lazily, and in comfort amid the luxuries of Craigengowan. Even Dulcie failed to console her; and declining to appear at the breakfast-table, she took refuge in her own room, with the usual feminine plea of a headache.
'Florian, poor dear Florian! so good, so brave, so fearless!' said Dulcie to herself aloud; 'how glad I am he has achieved this, for her sake!'
How sweet and soft grew her voice as she uttered the name of the lost, the absent one, while an hysterical lump was rising in her throat, and Shafto, who had seen the paper and knew the source of this emotion, looked grimly in her face, with twitching lips and knitted brows.
'I have no chance,' thought he, 'with these two girls—either Dulcie the poor or Finella the rich. Yet why should I not contrive to bend both to my purpose?' was his evil afterthought. 'Well,' said he aloud; 'you have seen the news, of course?'
'Yes, Shafto,' replied Dulcie in a low voice, while her tears fell fast.