‘All this is vain and useless. Get up, and listen to reason. That you are my—my father, I have now not the slightest reason to doubt. Your knowledge of the name, of the annual sum sent, is sufficient evidence; if these facts were not ample, the resemblance of feature is to me at this moment, as doubtless to our good friends here, unmistakable. Fate has brought about this meeting, why, I dare not question. You are too excited to listen now’—here the old man made as though he would burst in with a torrent of imprecations on the childish absurdity of the speaker—‘but we shall meet again before I leave for India.’
‘May we niver meet again on God’s earth! ’Tis yerself that’s to blame if this divil’s blast gets out. Sure the Benmohr gintlemen and Mr. Churbett won’t let on. Mr. Wilfred’s close enough. Kape your saycret, and divil a soul need hear of the sell ould Tom gave ye. My sarvice to ye, Major!’
Here the old man mounted and devoted his energies to the cattle. Wilfred moved forward, by no means sorry that the strange scene had concluded.
‘Look here, Effingham, I will ride on to The Chase and make my adieus; as well now as another time. I return at once to India. You understand my position, I feel sure.’
He rode forward with a more upright seat, a firmer hand upon his bridle-rein, and that stern lighting of the eyes that may be seen when, and when only—
Bridle-reins are gathered up,
And sabres blaze on high,
ere each man spurs to the death feast, wherein his own name has, perchance, been sounded on a shadowy roll-call by a phantom herald.
Hamilton urged his horse alongside of the Major and held out his hand. Their eyes met as each wrung the proffered palm. But no word was spoken. Argyll and Churbett rode slightly ahead. Before long they reached the gate of The Chase, which, with its peculiar fastening, their horses began to know pretty well, either sidling steadily up or commencing to gambade at the very sight of it, in token of detestation, as did Grey Surrey.
‘It seems odd that I shall perhaps never see this house again,’ said Major Glendinning, slowly and reflectively. ‘I was beginning to be very fond of it, and had made up my mind to buy a place for a stud farm and settle near it. But why think of it now, or of anything else? “What is decreed by Allah is decreed,” as saith the Moslem. Who am I to complain of the universal fate?’