But how about that absurd will and the settlement of the money?
CHAPTER XI.
EVELINE'S SUITOR.
'Verily,' says a writer, 'we miss our opportunities, and live our lives as if they were all to come twice over; not as if each passing sunset brought us nearer that day when the pulse must cease to beat, and the heart with all its emotions must be stilled for ever.'
Olive was now experiencing the truth of this to a certain extent.
She had been—in spite of herself—touched by Allan's earnestness, and on retiring to her room her first act was to have his neglected gift—the little silver idol—the bequest of the grateful subadar—duly installed on a pretty Swiss bracket, and next morning she determined to discover why his manner, after their return from Dunsinane, had been so marked and disagreeable to her, even if she should take the initiative, and have to recur to the conversation which ended so abruptly on the preceding evening.
She entered the breakfast-room full of the subject, and dressed—so far as lace and blue ribbons went—in a most attractive and coquettish morning costume; but Allan was not there—he was at the stables, no doubt, or at the kennel. How tiresome men were, she thought.
'Good morning, Olive darling! how charming you look—I must positively give you a kiss!' exclaimed the not usually effusive Lady Aberfeldie, touching the girl's cheek with her lips.
The last to appear at the breakfast-table was her husband, who entered with a note in his hand, and an expression of surprise on his face.
'Here is a strange thing, Eveline,' said he to Lady Aberfeldie. 'Tappleton has just brought me this note from Allan——'