“Madam,” I said, bowing low, “it was my good fortune to be of some slight service to your niece yesterday, and I have ventured to call and inquire if the shock has proved at all serious. My name, madam, is—”
“Tut, tut, boy! None of your airs and graces with me! Your name is Hughie Maxwell, and many's the time I've skelped you into good manners. Come here and kiss your old cousin, you scamp!” And without waiting for me to comply with her invitation, she threw her arms about me and discomposed me sadly enough with an unexpected outburst of weeping.
When she had recovered somewhat we settled down to explanations; questionings from her and answers from me, until at length she was satisfied on all my movements. Then came my turn, and I began with a definite object in view, but carefully guarding my advances, when she cut my finessing short:
“Now, Hughie, stop your fiddle-faddle, and ask me who 'my niece' is. You stupid blockhead, don't you know your curiosity is peeking out at every corner of your eyes? 'My niece' is Margaret Nairn.”
“A relation of Lord Nairne?”
“No one would count her so save a Highlander; they are from the far North, not the Perth people; but don't interrupt! Her mother and I were school-mates and friends somewhat more than a hundred years ago. I have had the girl with me in Edinburgh and Paris, and when I found she was doomed to be buried alive with her father in their lonely old house in the Highlands, and neither woman nor protector about, I took her, the child of my oldest friend, to my care, and at no time have I been more thankful than now, when the whole country is set by the ears. We are in London masquerading as 'Mistress Grey and her niece,' as her only brother, Archie, an officer in the French service, is mixed up in this unfortunate affair, and it is probably only a matter of time until he gets into trouble and will need every effort I may be able to put forth in his behalf. No, you have not come across him, for he was on some secret mission; and it is possible he may not have set foot in Scotland at all. We can but wait and see. Now that your curiosity is satisfied, doubtless you are longing to see the young lady herself; but let me warn you, Master Hughie, I will have none of your philandering. Margaret is as dear to me as if she were my own daughter born, and I may as well tell you at once I have plans for her future with which I will brook no interference.”
“May I ask, cousin, if your plans include M. de Trincardel?”
“My certes! But it is like your impudence to know my mind quicker than I tell it. Yes, since you must know, a marriage is arranged between them, and I have pledged myself for Margaret's fitting establishment. There it is all, in two words; and now I am going for the young lady herself. See that you congratulate her.”
Do not imagine that her conditions cost me a second thought, nor the declaration of her future intentions a pang. My cousin was a woman, and as such was privileged to change her mind as often as she chose, and I was still young enough not to be worried by the thought that some day I might not be the one called upon to step into her comfortable shoes. As for the Vicomte, he must play for his own hand. So I awaited with impatience the appearance of my fair supplanter.
She was much younger than I had supposed, not more than sixteen; but if I had been mistaken in her age, I had not over-estimated her beauty. Her hair was really the same rich amber-colour that had awakened my admiration; her forehead was broad and low; her eyes between hazel and gray, with clear, well-marked brows; her nose straight and regular; and her mouth, though not small, was beautifully shaped, with the least droop at the corners, which made her expression winsome in the extreme. Her face was a little angular as yet, but the lines were good, and her slightly pointed chin was broken by the merest shadow of a dimple. She was taller than most women, and if her figure had not rounded out to its full proportion, her bearing was noble and her carriage graceful.