“It rests all in your hands, Sir,” gravely answered the lover. “Shall I call Miss Johnstone down now to have you express your consent and sign these papers in the presence of the General?” Major Hardwicke saw his enemy weakening, even as a child.
“Yes, yes, anything, only get her away out of my sight—out of my life!” groaned the broken old miser, whose sin had found him out. “But, you’ll keep all this from Douglas—the story of a father’s disgrace? I did it all for Hugh!”
“The family honor is mine, now, Sir! I will save your niece all suffering!” stiffly replied the Major, as he boldly mounted the stair. Captain Anstruther led Andrew Fraser aside. “I had the papers drawn up at once so that you would not be humiliated in public by your obstinacy, and General Wragge will now witness them. He has offered the hospitalities of his family to your niece until she is made a wife.”
“I am ready,” tremblingly said Professor Fraser, and in haste a singular group soon gathered in the library. A notary and the magistrate entered with due professional decorum.
And then, Captain Anstruther, addressing the executor, in the presence of the gray-bearded old General, repeated the words of voluntary resignation and surrender of all rights as guardian over Nadine Johnstone, first taking his written consent to the marriage. There was not a word spoken as the trembling old scholar hastily signed the papers presented to him. Then he turned to the sweet woman clinging to Major Hardwicke’s arm. “I’ll be thankful to ye if ye leave my home to me in peace, as soon as ye can! Janet Fairbarn will be my representative!” With a last glance of cold aversion at Hardwicke, he bowed to the Commander of the forces, and then tottered across the hall to his study, when the tall form of Alaric Hobbs hovered at the door.
“My dear child,” kindly said the old veteran General, lifting her trembling hand to his lips, and bowing reverently, “Let me be, this day, your father, as you are soon to be born into the service. Here, Major Hardwicke, I give her to you to keep against the whole world, if the lady so consents.” Nadine’s answer was an April smile, when her lover clasped her hand, and then she hid her blushes on Hardwicke’s breast.
“Take me away forever from this horrible prison-house,” she whispered.
“Mrs. Wragge’s carriage will be here at four for you, and we will have a little dinner en famille at seven, Miss Nadine, for you,” said the happy General, as he jingled away, his dangling sword, jingling medals, and waving white plume, making a gallant show. It was truly “an official capture.”
“Now,” whispered Captain Murray to Hardwicke, “I will clear out with Anstruther, and at once deliver over the unlucky jewels to him to be sealed up and deposited with General Wragge until the Viceroy’s orders are received. I’ve a cablegram that Ram Lal has been arrested.
“And I fancy Miss Nadine will be astonished at seeing two new faces at the dinner table. Let Simpson and the maid at once pack all her belongings, for we can not trust her with this old wreck of humanity. He is half crazed already. I will cable and write to Douglas Fraser that ‘ill health’ forces the old gentleman to at once give up his trust. Now, I belong, in future, only to Mrs. Eric Murray, of the Eighth Hussars. I throw up my job as an all-round Figaro!”