She shrewdly suspected, of course, that Finella's coldness to Shafto was due to the influence of their late guest Hammersley, though she never could have guessed at the existence of the wedding-ring and diamond keeper he had entrusted to her care; but she failed to understand the terms on which her 'grandson' was with her companion, Miss Carlyon, and, though there was nothing tangible or reprehensible, there was an undefined something in their bearing she did not like.
Sometimes when talking of Devonshire, of Revelstoke, of the old town of Newton Ferrars, the dell that led to Noss, of the Yealm, the Erme, and the sea-beat Mewstone as safe and neutral topics, the girl seemed affable enough to him, for memories of her English home softened her heart; but when other topics were broached she was constrained to him and icy cold.
Was this acting?
To further the interests of Shafto by keeping him and Finella isolated and as much together as possible, Lady Fettercairn did not go to London and thus seek society. Fashionable folks—unless Parliamentary—do not return to town till Easter; but Lord Fettercairn, though a Representative Peer, cared very little about English and still less about Scottish affairs, or indeed any interests but his own; so, instead of leaving Craigengowan, they had invited a few guests there—men who had come for rod-fishing in the Bervie, the Carron and the Finella, with some ladies to entertain them, thus affording the girl means of avoiding Shafto whenever she chose.
The stately terrace before the house often looked gay from the number of guests promenading in the afternoon, or sitting in snug corners in wicker chairs covered with soft rugs—the ladies drinking tea, the bright colours of their dresses coming out well against the grey walls of the picturesque old mansion.
Among other visitors were the vinegar-visaged Lady Drumshoddy, and Messrs. Kippilaw, senior and junior, the latter a dapper little tomtit of a Writer to the Signet, intensely delighted and flattered to be among such 'swell' company, believing it was the result of his natural brilliance and attractions, and not of respect for his worthy old father, Kenneth Kippilaw.
The latter—a rara avis, scarce as the dodo and his kindred—was intensely national—a lover of his country and of everything Scottish; an enthusiast at Burns' festivals, and singularly patriotic to be what is locally termed a 'Parliament House bred man.' Thus the anti-nationality or utter indifference of Lord Fettercairn was a frequent bone of contention between them; and so bitterly did they sometimes argue about Scotland and her neglected interests, that it is a marvel the Peer did not seek out a more obsequious agent.
'Like his uncle, the late Master of Melfort, Mr. Shafto must go into Parliament,' said old Mr. Kippilaw; 'but I hope he will make a better use of his time.'
'What do you mean?' asked Lord Fettercairn coldly.
'By attending to Scottish affairs, and getting us equal grants with England and Ireland for public purposes.'