His responses had been brief, and he had ventured on few remarks, aware that little would escape unnoticed; thus he had been somewhat silent, while Sir Paget's easy-going old roadster ambled between the horses of himself and Eveline, going pace for pace, Sir Paget's head at each jerking forward in turtle fashion.
The trio still remained together when seated on the grass at luncheon, for neither of the gentlemen were disposed to quit the side of Eveline, whose colour might have been noticed to heighten at a question Sir Paget asked Cameron, of whom he certainly had a certain jealousy.
'Where does your property of Stratherroch lie, Mr. Cameron?'
'In Inverness-shire.'
'Ah!—mountainous, of course—good shooting for those who care for such things—not that I do. Is the land very remunerative now?'
'To others—not to me,' said Cameron, a little bitterly. 'A fair inheritance would be mine, Sir Paget, were Stratherroch unencumbered. My father was a wild fellow in his day—as what Highland laird is not? How some acres were mortgaged in succession, how others went in toto, heaven only knows—I don't. The estate is at nurse now; one day it will be mine again—but not for years; and I was too long foolishly sentimental about it.'
'How?' asked Sir Paget.
'I thought I would rather that the manor-house fell to ruins than pass, even temporarily, into the possession of strangers—of others than a Cameron; and now, by Jove! it has been for years occupied by one Jones Smithson, of Manchester.'
'Whose rental is clearing it?'
'Yes; and meantime I have little more in this world than my claymore and commission in the Black Watch,' said Cameron, with a somewhat hollow laugh and a swift, sad glance at Eveline; while Sir Paget smiled complacently as he thought of the balance at his bankers, and the fat, unfettered acres that lay round Slough-cum-Sloggit.