'The report of a pistol that night in the cavalry barrack announced that the Hussar had shot himself—that is all! And this is the "young man of the period" whom my father's confiding simplicity has made a welcome guest for some weeks back at Dundargue, and thrown into the society of my sister and Olive! But I shall fully open his eyes the moment our visitor is gone.'
But it was rather a pity for his own sake that Allan did not 'open' Lord Aberfeldie's eyes a little before that event, and such being the character of Mr. Hawke Holcroft the reader may feel less surprised at some of the things we may have to record of him ere long.
CHAPTER XV.
THE CARPET-DANCE, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.
Though somewhat of the nature of an impromptu affair, the 'carpet-dance' partook of something of a more important kind. Many guests were invited; the ladies were in semi-toilet and the gentlemen in evening dress: but the great dancing-room at Dundargue was decorated to perfection by the care of Mr. Tappleton, the butler, the housekeeper, and gardener, with the rarest plants, flowers, and ferns the conservatories could produce, disposed in China and Japanese jars on pedestals and marble console tables of the time of Louis XIV., at whose court a Lord Aberfeldie had once been ambassador.
The fete had been brought about by the two fair cousins as a farewell treat to the last of their present guests, who were departing—Ruby Logan, Stratherroch, and—Mr. Holcroft!
Greatly to Eveline's relief, Sir Paget was gone, but, as if to worry her further, Sir Paget left for her—with Lady Aberfeldie—a letter referring to his admiration and regard for her since the last season in London, and with it a handsome diamond necklet—the sight of which in its fragrant Russian-leather case she loathed—with the hope that she would accept and wear it, in token that she was holding out brilliant hopes to him when 'they met in town again.'
Eveline flatly declined to accept and wear the jewellery, so, to her intense annoyance, it remained as yet in her mother's hands. She was 'biding her time.'
The wealthy suitor had attained a battered middle-age, while Eveline was still in the glory of her youth. True, but he had both wealth and rank to offer, for though she was an 'Honourable Miss,' he was a baronet, and so far as his love went, if it came late in life, it was, nevertheless, a kind of overmastering passion.
The new emotions of her heart caused Eveline to reflect more than perhaps she had ever done before. It seemed but yesterday since she and Olive conned their tasks and practised their scales together under the eyes of a governess; since they had gathered bouquets of wild flowers from the clefts of the rocks of Dundargue, and made fairy caps of rushes and harebells by the burnside; happy children both; but how miserable she was now that she was on the verge of womanhood, and had learned to love and to hate; for she loved Evan Cameron, and hated—yes, and she blushed as she admitted it to herself—she did hate that smiling and rubicund old interloper, Sir Paget.