"What the deuce does it all mean?" they asked of one another.
"What is up, Ruthven?" asked Logan seriously; "is there anything wrong? Your father dies, leaving you a fine old estate totally unencumbered—a deuced deal more than we can say for many old estates—and you sell off your horses, dogs, and so forth——"
"How do you know it is unencumbered?" asked Roland, with some sharpness of manner. "It is loaded—heavily loaded, indeed!" he added, bitterly, as he thought of the long-hidden will.
"Are you going in for a new excitement—that of being poor?"
"Oh, Hector, you don't know who it is you chaff! Are the Darnels in Montreal?" he asked, after a pause.
"Yes;" I saw la belle Aurelia yesterday in busy Paul Street, close to the Hôtel-Dieu; I knew her at once by the long glossy ringlet, the suivez-moi—come-follow-me-lads—that hung down her back."
"How your tongue runs on, Hector!"
"Pardon me; I forgot that you were hit in that quarter."
"Positively, Hector, I'll punch your head."
"A fellow always makes a fool of himself about some girl or woman at some time, and it is your case now, though I must admit that Aurelia Darnel is one of the most attractive girls I have seen, and does credit to your taste, Roland. Now that you are Laird of Ardgowrie you'll make great running in that quarter."