'Welcome back, my boy!' exclaimed Sir Piers next day, when his son appeared (but alone) at Eaglescraig; 'why have you been so long in writing me? Why do you come thus suddenly? and where is your baggage? But how well you are looking; and, by Jove, you have a beard like a Brahmin!'
'I have a long story to tell you, sir, about all my adventures: one in particular, that may take some time to tell——'
'Then keep it till after dinner: let us have it with the Chateau Margaux,' said Sir Piers, laughing; and being timidly willing to delay till the last moment the revelation that was inevitable, his son—even with the sweet face of her who, at that moment, was alone in his memory—was glad of the little reprieve.
Anxious to make a good impression, he made a more than usually careful toilette in his own old and familiar room; but when he took his seat at table, the presence of Tunley and the servants, and also of John Balderstone, who had dropped in on business, and whom the baronet had pressed to remain, precluded all reference to his secret for a time, till the cloth was removed, the dessert laid, the decanters ranged in rank-entire before the host, and Tunley was told he might withdraw till rung for.
'And now for your story, Piers,' said the elder Montgomerie: 'the claret stands with you.'
'I must first drink to you, and congratulate you on your promotion,' replied his son.
'Yes, I am full colonel now, Piers, and may fairly hope to be a lieutenant-general some of these days. But now for the story,' he repeated uneasily; 'I suppose John Balderstone may hear it?'
'Of course, sir,' said Piers, coughing nervously, and twice draining his large green claret-glass to gain time, while he felt that his colour came and went, and his father's keen eyes were fixed upon him with equal scrutiny and affection.
Young Piers glanced at the stately table, with its massive plate, glittering crystal, rich wines and luxuriant fruit, and thinking with joy of her who would be the presiding goddess there to-morrow, told his narrative in a manly and honest manner, yet not without some trepidation of tone, while his father sat bolt upright in his chair, staring at him with a face expressive of rage, incredulity, and absolute grief, as if he felt that his only son and heir had gone mad. Worthy John Balderstone also looked scared and bewildered.
'And now, sir,' continued the son, despite the terrible frown that deepened on his father's face, 'I have told you all, except my darling's name.'