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 ZA'' THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 CHAPMAN & HALL, Limited, 11, HEXEIETTA 8T. 
 
 COVENT GARDEN. 
 
 1881. 
 
 [All Kiffhlx 7-eserver'.] 
 (Late 193 Piccadillt.)
 
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 CLAY AND TAYLOK. PBINTERS.
 
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 DEDICATED 
 
 ^ie Uloinpanion6 in JVrmei, 
 
 _J PAST AND PRK:SKXT, 
 
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 (—' WITH WIIO.M HAVK IJKK.V ril'KXT 
 
 THE HAPPIKST TIMES OF HI.S LIFE, 
 
 THE AUTHOiJ
 
 AMAT. 
 
 " Vouchsafe to those that have not read the story. 
 That I may prompt them : and of such as have, 
 I humbly pray them to admit the excuse 
 Of time, of numbers, and due course of things, 
 
 -^o Which cannot in their huge and proper Hfe 
 
 N^^ Be here presented." 
 
 M Chorus, King Henry V. 
 
 i 
 
 ^^ 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 PKOLOGUE. 
 
 "Those that come to see only a show, and so agree the play may 
 pass." — King Henry VIII. 
 
 The civilized world was aghast. 
 
 England was presenting the happily rare spectacle 
 of a peace-loving, though essentially warrior, people 
 suddenly plunged into the throes of what was at once 
 a mutiny, a revolt, and a war of Race and Religion. 
 
 Still occupied in counting the cost and staunching 
 the gaping wounds of the Crimean struggle, she did not 
 at first recognize the gravity of the crisis. But as it 
 intensified, she flung herself with all her latent martial 
 vigour into the breach, up which nations as individuals 
 are now and then obliged to rush, if they would follow 
 the path of honour and of duty. 
 
 Who can tell what the result might have been had 
 such a cyclone of fiendish cruelty and slaughter swept 
 over us in the somewhat nerveless state into which we 
 had drifted after the long Peace and the hachis feast 
 of 1851? 
 
 B 2
 
 4 AMAT. 
 
 Gradually aroused, and braced by such soul-stirring 
 passages as ' Alma,' ' Balaklava,' ' Inkerman/ which 
 were barely added to our glorious battle-roll, England 
 found once more that if her position and destiny be 
 proud beyond question, they impose obligations which 
 she must fulfil in the spirit and to the letter, or sink, 
 as her enemies would wish, by a narrow-minded, self- 
 abasing policy, into another Holland.
 
 AMAT. 
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 " What's your name, Sir? Of what condition are you, and 
 of what place, T pray ? " — Falstaff. 
 
 The *' limited mail " is gliding into tne crowded 
 and bustling railway- station at Perth. It is 
 nine o'clock on a brilliant morning at the 
 beginning of August, and the occupants of a 
 saloon-carriage are preparing to employ the 
 half-hour at their disposal in the discussion of 
 the excellent breakfast which greets the jaded 
 Southron, who fancies he already begins to feel 
 returning vigour, in a sharpened appetite, pro- 
 duced perhaps by an abnormally early dinner 
 the evening before, and the crisp fresh air of the 
 hills, through which he has passed since crossing 
 the border.
 
 b AMAT. 
 
 Let us join the party as they get ready to step 
 on to the platform. 
 
 " Well ! I am glad that's over, Eila. The rest 
 of our journey is through scenery which even 
 you, I think, will admit has few equals. How I 
 envy you the first impressions ! " says a tall, strik- 
 ingly handsome girl, who, as the debutante of 
 the season before, had first taught men, and even 
 women, to add to their natural stature by the 
 adventitious aid of a park-chair, to catch a passing 
 glimpse of one so fair. 
 
 " I have already found it charming, Clarice. 
 Ever since we left Carlisle I have been drinking 
 in the air and beauty of the country, which you 
 know is quite a terra incognita to me," enthusias- 
 tically assents Eila Trevor, in some respects the 
 antithesis of "the Beauchamp," her nearest and 
 dearest neighbour in Clayshire. Equally tall 
 and graceful in figure, she adds to the beauty 
 of the brunette all the sparkling vivacity and 
 savoir faire which a motherless girl living much 
 in foreign capitals seldom fails to acquire. Here 
 and there the Love-god may have brushed her
 
 AMAT. 7 
 
 with a wing, but, so far as known, no dart of 
 his has yet touched her heart, which is true, 
 open, and pure as the most fastidious English- 
 man can desire in his wife. 
 
 " Come, dears ! We must be quick. There 
 is not too much time, and, with such a crowd as 
 there seems to be this morning, breakfast here 
 cannot be done au grand galop. Besides, the 
 Highland Railway waits not for an unknown 
 Sassenach," says Mrs. Beauchamp, in her not 
 very remote day a beauty of the rarest order, 
 as she leads the way with Colonel Trevor, the 
 picture of a cavalry officer, while her husband, 
 who owes his early rank of General to the excep- 
 tional advantages of the Guards, lingers behind 
 to give some directions for the transfer of their 
 personal impedimenta. 
 
 Full as the room is of divers sorts and nation- 
 alities, the entrance of our party is followed by 
 that electric feeling which the sudden appear- 
 ance of distinguished - looking people often 
 creates. 
 
 As they move down the side to the table
 
 8 AMAT. 
 
 whicli has been reserved for them, one hears : 
 " Mon Dieu ! mais qu'elles sont belles." 
 
 " I say ! I guess that's quality, that 'ere ! " 
 " Devilish good style ! — know them surely ? ". 
 
 " Ach ! Himmel ! " from another, who however 
 feels that further admiration is not permissible 
 when such viands are before him. 
 
 The running fire at length reaches a table 
 where are four young fellows, whose fresh hand- 
 some faces, quiet gentlemanly air, and manly 
 bearing, stamp them as soldiers of the best type. 
 
 Hungry, as the healthy ought to be at their 
 age, they have hitherto been too busy in follow- 
 ing Dugald Dalgetty's famous advice to pay 
 much attention to what is passing around them. 
 But the guttural German's ejaculation makes 
 them look up, and in an instant they spring 
 to their feet with all the gladsomeness of voice 
 and look which an unexpected meeting with 
 pleasant friends calls forth even from those 
 generally undemonstrative. 
 
 " Mrs. Beauchamp ! " " Charlie ! " "I am so 
 very glad to see you, Clarice." '* How fortunate.
 
 AMAT. y 
 
 General ! " " How are you, Colonel ? " " Quite 
 refreshing this, Miss Trevor ! " — may be heard by 
 the envious lookers-on, who are more or less com- 
 pelled by the cross fire of animated questions 
 and answers to interrupt again their hurried 
 meal. 
 
 Settling down to their adjacent tables, the 
 interchange of information goes on, and the 
 curious, who are never above reading the direc- 
 tion on one's gun-case, or listening to what in 
 a thousand cases can have no possible interest 
 for them, learn that Charlie Grant, Ian Mac- 
 donald, Fergus Cameron, and Eonald Elliot, four 
 Captains in the Eed Highlanders, are also on 
 their way to Charlie's home on the west coast. 
 
 " Of course you are going to Amat ? " is Mrs. 
 Beauchamp's first question, beaming across to 
 him, whom she has known since the days of long 
 clothes. 
 
 " Yes, happily ! " replies Charlie, with a rapid 
 glance at her daughter. " The Colonel let us 
 four have a month's leave, and we rushed up last 
 night • by the Great Northern. You know the
 
 10 AMAT. 
 
 * Cygnet ' meets us at Inverness, and we take 
 the Campbells on from Fort William." 
 
 " That's capital ! We'll join forces now then. 
 There's plenty of room for all in the private 
 carriage your father has sent down for us," says 
 the General, as they rise in obedience to the 
 inexorable bell, and the Doric accents of the 
 porter's summons. 
 
 While they file out of the room, the heightened 
 colour and flashing eyes of the younger ladies, 
 in striking contrast to the languid insouciance of 
 their entrance, betray to an observant French- 
 man, himself a passed master in the art of 
 pleasing le beau sexe, what is yet hidden from 
 those most concerned.
 
 AMAT. 1 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " What would'st thou write of me, if thou should'st praise 
 me ? " — Besdemona. 
 
 As the train bowls along near the old coach-road 
 at a pace which in no way interferes with its 
 associations, every turn reveals yet greater 
 beauties, recalls more stirring memories, from 
 the first glimpses of the Tay, lookiog across to 
 Scone, and the view to the right at Murthly, 
 where Lowland and Highland scenery, each per- 
 fect of its kind, first meet and struggle for 
 supremacy in the mind of the appreciative 
 traveller. 
 
 But a 'little further, and the ancient cathedral 
 of Dunkeld is beneath, nestling its grey ruins 
 at the foot of the pine-clad hills, which seem to
 
 1 2 AMAT. 
 
 form an impenetrable barrier to the north. The 
 broad, swiftly-running river, the varied greens 
 of birch-trees, whin - bushes, golden broom, firs, 
 ferns, and waving grasses, the Franco - Scottish 
 architecture of the chateau -like houses filling 
 the basin on each well-chosen site, all combine 
 to form a picture which may not easily be 
 forgotten. 
 
 Near here it was that, answering to the far- 
 seeing policy of a great statesman, and to the 
 call of their own martial instincts, the Red 
 Highlanders first mustered some hundred years 
 ago. 
 
 Winding through the Pass of Killiecrankie, 
 with its thundering torrent and precipitous sides, 
 the General marvels afresh how the gallant 
 Dundee could have forced his way against such 
 foes, to find only the grim enemy of all waiting 
 for him, in the shape of a silver bullet from the 
 firelock of a superstitious but keen-eyed Celt. 
 
 Beyond, as if repenting of her fierceness and 
 bewailing the tragically obscure end of so noble 
 a soldier, Nature softens, and the smiling
 
 AMAT. 13 
 
 Strath, with its rich promise of harvest and 
 plenty on either side of the still majestic river, 
 is filled with a picturesque people, seeking by 
 their industry to wring from an unwilling soil 
 their daily bread. Cattle of that small breed of 
 rich red, cream, dun, and black colours, which 
 add so much to the foreoround of Highland 
 pictures, and, last though not least, perhaps the 
 men of Athole, in their striking kilted uniform, 
 on their way to their Chief's gathering at Blair. 
 
 Leaving to the right the Castle, speaking in its 
 lofty grimness of the hard blows and bitter feuds 
 of the fighting past, one feels, as the Bruar is 
 crossed, and the bleak hills which separate the 
 shires of Perth and Inverness rise up in gaunt 
 forbiddinor masses, that the invader had need of 
 all his hardihood to penetrate yet further north. 
 
 For some twenty miles on nothing may be seen 
 but tumbling waters, brown heath, and barren 
 hills, scathed and riven by wintry blasts and 
 raging torrents, until, with a graceful inclin- 
 ation, as of introduction, the skilful engineer 
 brings you to Strath Spey.
 
 14 AMAT. 
 
 Sweeping along its further bank you gaze 
 across the famous river to the lofty Cairn Gorm 
 range, and you do not wonder that the men and 
 women have ever been famous for their fighting 
 and their dancing powers. The dwellers in such 
 a district must needs be of classic mould. 
 
 Suddenly the eye is struck by a distant, 
 familiar, yet unexpected sheen. 'Tis the fair 
 blue sea, flecked it may be with white crests, 
 and brown - sailed herring - boats — each, like 
 pretty women of varied types, setting off the 
 beauty of the others — and gilded at the southern 
 edges by the stretching yellow sands of Nairn ; 
 while far away to the north, range beyond range, 
 lie the hills of Ross and Sutherland, tinted by 
 their purple heaths, the green and yellow grasses, 
 the atmospheric lights and shades, till it seems 
 as if sweet nature, in her most artistic mood, 
 had let her brush run wild in perfect harmony 
 of colour and of form. 
 
 Turning to the setting sun, the glistening 
 spires of Inverness appear to rise from the hill- 
 girthed waters as if fair Venice had bethouejht
 
 AMAT. 15 
 
 herself of fresh beauties wherewith to deck her 
 charms, and had hastened hither. 
 
 There may be worse places for a ttte-a-ttte 
 than a railway-carriage, even though that be a 
 saloon, and those in it reach the mystic number. 
 Presently, overcome by the languor which keen 
 air and rapid travelling so often produce, Mrs. 
 Beauchamp is wrapped in the sleep that follows 
 a night of doubtful rest, while the General and 
 Colonel Trevor are joined by Ian and Fergus, 
 who look upon the morning pipe as a thing not 
 lightly to be neglected. Thus, while the train 
 proceeds as if unwilling to hasten through such 
 scenery, opportunity paves the way, and Eila 
 learns from Eonald, of whom she has some very 
 pleasing memories, how it is that he also is en 
 route for Amat. 
 
 And Clarice ? As she gazes, listens, and finds 
 the well-known, long-loved panorama has not lost 
 its charms, while the honey-laden moments fly, 
 as they are apt to do when beauty hears the 
 voice which stirs yet soothes. 
 
 The good tobacco, the freshening air, the
 
 1 6 AMAT. 
 
 shifting view, were never more enjoyable. And 
 as they lounge in the balcony of the carriage, 
 which Lord Amat, sailorlike, has made a model 
 of compact comfort, the General and his com- 
 panions indulge the tendency to gossip which 
 the narcotic often breeds. 
 
 " It was a rare bit of luck, General, our getting 
 leave in time to meet you here, and the yacht at 
 Inverness ; but it was a near thing. Just as we 
 were starting the news of the outbreak at Meerut 
 came in, and the Cliief was rather doubtful 
 about letting us go, for, if it spreads, as they 
 seem to fear, I suppose there will be a lot of us 
 sent out in a hurry." 
 
 " It's very possible, Macdonald. By the 
 telegrams in the ' Courant ' this morning, things 
 look serious, and there are several regiments 
 under orders already." 
 
 " Well, we must make the most of our time," 
 answers Ian, cheerily. " I long to have a spell 
 at Amat again ; — I don't know any better place 
 all round." 
 
 "You may well say that," Colonel Trevor
 
 AMAT. 1 7 
 
 remarks. " He himself is one in a thousand, 
 and Lady Amat is charming, while the whole 
 surroundings are as one might expect from such 
 a host and hostess." 
 
 "Yes," enthusiastically says Fergus, whose 
 ancestral acres are only separated from theirs by 
 Loch Eil. " There are few so handsome or so 
 pleasant as she is. No wonder Byron devoted 
 himself to the Greeks if there were many of her 
 type." 
 
 " Amat was quite as romantic in his way, but 
 it is not every one who would get so satisfactorily 
 out of such a difficulty as he found himself in, 
 out there." 
 
 " How was it, General ? I have often longed 
 to know, but hardly liked to ask." 
 
 " Ah ! It's an old story now, though at the 
 time it made rather a stir in the North, when 
 you were of the smallest. While the old lord 
 was alive, Amat was kept pretty tight, I fancy ; 
 anyhow he wasn't much at home, and, like most 
 sailors, was rather inflammable. 
 
 " Landing one day from the ' Diamond,' of 
 
 VOL.-l.
 
 18 AMAT. 
 
 which he was then in command, with only his 
 henchman, Hamish Grant, as an escort, he was 
 carried off after a sharp resistance by some Greek 
 brigands who had been watching him while he 
 shot. 
 
 " They hustled him away quickly, and set a 
 price of a hundred thousand drachmas on his 
 head. While that pretty stiff figure was being 
 arranged, he managed to fall so desperately in 
 love with the old chief's daughter, who tended 
 his wounds, that he found himself doubly a 
 captive, and at last cut the knot by winning her 
 hand instead of losing his head. 
 
 " Nothing loth, Alekos, who after all had been 
 a true patriot in Byron's day, and looked upon 
 levying contributions from wealthy Giaours as 
 commendable rather than reprehensible (he was 
 only, perhaps, a hundred years behind the times 
 and habits of these Highland gentry), gave him 
 his blessing. He evidently had very good inform- 
 ation ! In the mean time Amat's father died, 
 thinking his son was killed, and Athens was 
 delighted by the sight of the handsome English
 
 AM AT. 19 
 
 lord's wedding with the lovely Zoe. He left the 
 service, and was not heard of for a couj)le of 
 years, until they appeared at Court, and took 
 London by storm — which was not wonderful, 
 for her beauty was marvellous, and her manner 
 pronounced charming, as we all know it to be." 
 
 " A romance indeed," says Ian. 
 
 " Yes, and so catching that the next autumn 
 Mountgerald and Hendon actually went out to 
 Constantinople, bought two of the prettiest 
 Greeks they could find — married, and took them 
 to Paris to finish their education — but, somehow, 
 it was rather a failure. The most careful copy 
 rarely possesses the attractive qualities of the 
 orisfinal." 
 
 C 2
 
 20 AM AT. 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 " Our castle's strength will laugh a siege to scorn." — Macbeth. 
 
 One of the few old houses in the Highlands 
 deserving its title of castle, Amat shows little 
 the ravages of time, while it escaped those of 
 "the '45." 
 
 Standing on a shoulder of one of the great 
 outlying buttresses, with which earth seems to 
 bid defiance to her constantly warring foe, the 
 ocean, it seems the very embodiment of a chief's 
 stronghold, built when men had to trust to their 
 own hand to keep what they loved and valued, 
 or yield them to those who were mightier. 
 
 No one can approach it, even in these days of 
 luxurious travelling, without thinking of "what it 
 must have been to get there in the old times,
 
 AMAT. 21 
 
 when the Black Mount was tenanted, not by 
 millionnaires, but, by those whose claymores drew 
 the cheques, rarely dishonoured ; when Glencoe 
 had no better means of communication with the 
 South than such rude tracks as the cattle-hoof 
 or the skin-clad foot of the clansmen might have 
 worn on the hill, or the half-dried bed of the 
 Dochart could afiford. 
 
 From the plateau on which the castle stands 
 the wondrous beauty of the scene, like that of 
 Lucerne from the Schweitzerhof, fills the eye, and 
 then the heart of the true lover of nature ; until 
 the overflow of surcharged feeling dims the sight, 
 and poor humanity, drawn heavenward, has some 
 faint glimpse, it may be, of the exquisite which 
 lies beyond in Eternity. 
 
 Fitting Chatelaine, Lady Amat is too much a 
 woman of the world to let four young men — (even 
 though one be her only son ; and is it not written 
 how mothers jealously, though fruitlessly, try to 
 guard their male ofl'spring against the wiles they 
 know so well ?) — devote themselves to the 
 delights of salmon-fishing, deer-stalking, grouse-
 
 22 . A MAT. 
 
 shooting, and yachting in the Western Highlands 
 without providing such other pleasantly human- 
 izing accessories as they had longed for, vainly, in 
 the East. 
 
 Thus, then, come also the Campbells — Lady 
 Alice and her two daughters, Olive and Julia — 
 each with a good deal of experience, and beauty 
 of the world and the devil, of which they well 
 know how to make the most. 
 
 Their comparative poverty is the result of an 
 imprudent marriage with " handsome Colin," the 
 scapegrace son of a cadet of the Ducal house, 
 who, persuading his cousin that love would pro- 
 vide the difference between the moderate income 
 of his entailed Argyleshire property and the 
 expenditure of an extravagant couple floating 
 transcendentally down the centre of the stream 
 of London life, succumbed quickly to the humili- 
 ating consequences of his selfishness, and left 
 her to continue the battle of life alone. 
 
 A long minority and a commission in the 
 Fusiliers enabled the only son, Archie, to enter 
 life with prospects which his Eton schoolmates
 
 AMAT. 23 
 
 declared would not be jeopardized by a too great 
 care for others. 
 
 It had long been a dream of Lady Alice's to 
 mate the handsome, dark-eyed, Julia with her 
 cousin Charlie ; and, ignorant of any serious 
 obstacle, she has gladly seized the opportunity 
 now afforded to further her plans. 
 
 Julia herself is nothing loth, though a romantic 
 tendresse for a certain blue-eyed Austrian attache, 
 whom she had enslaved the winter before in a 
 dullish country house, did threaten a difficulty 
 which gave v/ay on a comparison of ways and 
 means. 
 
 Olive, too, is of the darkly handsome type, and 
 not ignorant of the necessities of the world she 
 lives for. 
 
 The party promises to be charming ; but, like 
 the comj:tonent parts of a deadly explosive, while 
 as units they may be comparatively harmless, 
 combined what may not be the effect of a spark 
 from the dangerous hand of Eros ? 
 
 The younger ones, at least, may ignore the Past. 
 The Present, is it not enough ? For the Future,
 
 24 AM AT. 
 
 is it needful that they should follow the ancients, 
 and remind themselves by any hideous memento 
 that even as they grasp the cup of pleasure 
 its contents are being changed by the Great 
 Alchemist ? 
 
 It is the morning after the party has assem- 
 bled — one of those, so glorious iu mountainous 
 countries, filling us with such a keen sense of the 
 pleasure of merely living, that one is tempted to 
 wonder how anything could have had the power 
 to worry us into that utter weariness of existence 
 which now and then overwhelms even the most 
 philosophical. 
 
 As they come through the hall to the terrace 
 on the western side of the castle, where, in the 
 cool shade, the artistic proclivities of Lady Amat 
 declare themselves by the arrangements of an aJ 
 fresco breakfast, each one exchanges congratu- 
 lations on having such a perfect day for the 
 expedition in the yacht, which lies like a swan, 
 pluming her feathers as she shakes out her snow- 
 white canvas on the fair blue water far away 
 below their feet. For it is getting on in the day,
 
 AM AT. 25 
 
 and the impatient skipper flings out such signals 
 as he knows will be duly interpreted by those 
 whom his ever-handy glass has quickly detected 
 on the heights above. 
 
 " Mother ! " at last says Charlie, who has 
 already been on board and sympathizes with 
 the reluctance of Hamish to lose any of the 
 breeze. " How soon do you think you could all 
 be ready ? If we are to be back by nightfall we 
 should be off without much loss of time." 
 
 " I know of old, Charlie," says Lady Amat, 
 with a caressing smile, " that as soon as you see 
 that sign of Hamish's you are as wdld as a young 
 hawk to be off ; but, what do you say. Aline ? 
 Shall we saunter od, and leave him to bring the 
 others ? They will soon overtake us." 
 
 " That will suit my powers of locomotion 
 admirably, for I don't think I can find my way 
 down those cliffs without a considerable allow- 
 ance of time, and help, which perhaps we may 
 find at the hands of the Cavaliers of our own 
 day ? " replies Lady Alice, turning with an arch 
 glance in her bright eyes to her ci-devant
 
 26 AM AT. 
 
 admirer, Lord Amat, who, somewhat weakly 
 perhaps, had never confided to his devoted, but 
 tant soit peu jealous, wife, the tender passages of 
 earlier days, which had been so suddenly and 
 unexpectedly nipped in the bud by the handsome 
 Colin's rapid and successful wooing. 
 
 With his ever-kindly courteous bow, he replies, 
 as he meets her expressive look, 
 
 " I had already promised myself that pleasure, 
 Aline ! The General will take Milady under his 
 charge, and, as Colonel Trevor will remain to 
 keep order and bring up the rear with the young 
 folks, I propose to myself once more to guide you 
 safely down the Raven's Walk, which has so many 
 pleasant memories for some of us ! " 
 
 " I shall be delighted, Amat, and as Trevor is 
 never happy out of sight of his Eila, if he fancies 
 there may be a difficulty, we can leave him with 
 an easy conscience. I confess I am burning to 
 be on board the old ' Cygnet ' once more, and to 
 grasp your faithful Hamish by the hand again." 
 
 " Agreed ! Let us be ofi". Charlie, and you 
 other boys, take care, and give a good account
 
 AM AT. 27 
 
 of your charges when ^oii report yourselves," 
 And with a laughing nod he leads the quar- 
 tette down the steep and somewhat dangerous 
 descent to the cove at the foot of the cliffs, where 
 the yacht swings at single anchor, with a slowly 
 shortening cable. 
 
 Hardly have they disappeared in the birch 
 wood, which clothes the rugged surface nearly 
 to the bottom, when the Beauchamps and Eila 
 Trevor, privileged by their late advent the night 
 before, are seen coming through the hall by the 
 love -quickened eyes of Charlie, who, hastening 
 to Mrs. Beauchamp (how craftily even the most 
 guileless lover tries to win to his side the mother 
 of the girl he hopes to take from her !), says, 
 " Ah ! we almost beo^an to fear that vou were 
 too overcome with the fatigues of your long 
 journey to undergo possible buffetings to - day. 
 But Hamish assures me we shall only have ' cats- 
 paws,' and for once I think we may believe him 
 in that respect, as well as the glass, which now 
 most appropriately says ' set fair.' What do you 
 think ? "
 
 28 AM AT. 
 
 " About the weather, Charlie ? It looks so 
 promising that I venture to prophesy we shall 
 have a charming expedition if we don't try 
 Hamish's patience too far. We are quite ready. 
 So is Eila, and here, you see, ' the Campbells are 
 coming.' 
 
 " No, thanks ! We breakfasted ages ago. 
 Coffee, the secret of which could only have been 
 learnt in the East, cold» salmon, and such straw- 
 berries ! — with cream we certainly cannot beat 
 even in Clayshire, — all were provided by your 
 dear mother's thoughtful care in our own old 
 suite of rooms so that we might rest to the utter- 
 most. We saw you come up from the ' Cygnet ' 
 some time ago, and, anticipating your impatience, 
 ' clapped on all sail,' as Hamish would say. And 
 here we are, not very late, I hope ? " 
 
 " Bravi ! Signorini," cries Charlie, saluting his 
 cousins as they step on to the terrace in all their 
 bravery. 
 
 " We are left with strict orders to be good 
 and quick ; and, if you will, we may at once 
 gratify our inclinations and sense of duty.
 
 AM AT. 29 
 
 Colonel, will you lead the way with Mrs. Beau- 
 champ ? Konald, guard Miss Trevor with your 
 life. Julia, I can assure you Ian has been count- 
 ing the minutes until you could continue your 
 amusing account of the ' happy day ' you spent 
 on board the ' Clansman ' with the tourists from 
 Oban. Fergus, you can have no difficulty in 
 allaying any fear my cousin Olive has in pass- 
 ing the Eobber's Cave on the way down ; and I," 
 he continues, as he turns with a glance full of 
 tenderest meaning to Clarice, "will bring up the 
 rear with the baggage. You know," he adds 
 sotfo voce to her, " it is the most cherished part 
 of every expedition I " 
 
 As they thus pair off, and move across the 
 terrace, the tout ensemhh is very striking. 
 
 Is it truth, or national vanity, that makes 
 one think that in the short drive from Charing 
 Cross to — say — Park Lane, one sees more bright, 
 beautiful, loveable women, more stalwart, clean- 
 looking, reliable men, than in a months sojourn 
 in any other capital in Europe ? 
 
 The Russians, thanks to their terrible climate.
 
 30 AMAT. 
 
 which grills them in summer, and in winter 
 necessitates the ever - abominable flue and the 
 exclusion of fresh air, have no complexions. A 
 semi-oriental taste still lingers. Debarred by 
 custom, inclination, and circumstances from the 
 out-door habits which might counteract its evil 
 effects, they indulge in a mode of life which 
 quickly ages and destroys their looks, of which 
 a few beautiful examples in foreign parts may 
 incline the ignorant to imagine that all of the 
 race are similarly gifted. 
 
 Those who have been much in Berlin will 
 agree that its inhabitants are not of a more 
 classical type than the surroundings of that 
 very prosaic city. Homely, thrifty, most kindly 
 as they are, one would not hurt by a single 
 word tlie feelings of a people with whom we 
 have too much in common not to admire ; but 
 though (especially the Brandenburger or Pome- 
 ranian) gifted much with thews and brains, one 
 would nf)t go to the banks of the Spree for a 
 Helen or an Adonis. 
 
 In Vienna we do indeed find many charming
 
 AMAT. 31 
 
 women and gallant chivalrous men ; but — and 
 there is a great but — to an Englishman in search 
 of a wife or a son-in-law there is somethings 
 wanting that he would not like to miss in either 
 of these relations. 
 
 Italy and the Peninsula each sufler from 
 peculiarities, the result of climate and of race; 
 so that it is with somewhat of relief that we 
 find ourselves in the less' impassioned, though 
 amorous, " Capital of the World." Gay, light- 
 hearted, clever, full of that chic and the thou- 
 sand and one powers which grace and arm the 
 Parisienne for the life she loves so well, the 
 typical Englishman feels, even when he is most 
 her slave, that there is a scenic efi"ect, an 
 unreality, which, though it has its temporarily 
 dazzling charm, carries with it an antidotal philter 
 which prevents him from bringing his amour to 
 the grand test of matrimony. The Gaul himself 
 has many excellent points, but somehow he does 
 not impress us much with the idea of power, 
 physical or mental. Speak we of the mass ; of the 
 exceptions there are many and brilliant examples.
 
 ?.-7 
 
 AM AT. 
 
 Let US walk down Piccadilly about six o'clock 
 on an afternoon near the Derby week. Shall we 
 not see by the score women and men of whom 
 our friends at Amat are but types ? — though, we 
 confess, good ones, very. 
 
 As in the majestic evolutions of a fleet the 
 divisions are led by the commanders, who in. 
 themselves speak of the heroic past, so do the 
 gallant Colonel and 'Mrs. Beauchamp irresistibly 
 impress one with the unmistakeable sense of a 
 history, not the less interesting that as yet it is 
 unwritten. 
 
 Mrs. Beauchamp — a Maid of Honour soon after 
 our Sovereign Lady, the very best that ever wore 
 a crown, came to the throne — had lived a favourite 
 at Court, until, following the example of her 
 beloved mistress, she yielded to the impassioned 
 entreaties of the young Equerry, and became his 
 wife. 
 
 The guardsman's usually rapid promotion gave 
 him an opportunity for a high stafl" appointment 
 under Lord Hardinge, and the Sikh campaign 
 taught the young wife and mother one of her
 
 AM AT. 33 
 
 earliest and hardest lessons, as she waited for the 
 varying news in Calcutta, with a heart at times 
 too faint for hope, and yet too unversed in bitter 
 woe to believe the tidings which after " Feroshah " 
 had reached the trembling ' City of Palaces.' 
 
 With shattered limb and health, the Beau- 
 champs gladly found themselves once more at 
 home, and with thankful hearts were not less 
 able to enjoy aU that means to the returned exile 
 that they had risked much from a sense of duty. 
 
 Colonel Trevor's great sorrow had been Mrs. 
 Beauchamp's also — for his young wife, whom he 
 had wooed, married, and lost some twenty years 
 before, had been her greatest friend, — and when 
 the too short year of wedded bliss came to such 
 an untimely end, it was to her and her husband 
 that he had instinctively turned for those soft 
 touches of gentle sympathy which first help to 
 close the smarting wound. 
 
 And yet with all his long-borne grief — perhaps 
 because of it ? — there was ever such a kindly 
 expression on his handsome face, that as his tall, 
 well-knit, soldier-like figure stood here and there 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 34 AM AT. 
 
 in ambassadorial salons, or wandered through 
 the well-known world, there was many a winsome 
 glance shot at him which would have conveyed 
 much more than sympathy had he been willing. 
 
 His daughter Eila takes after his height, and 
 her mother's beauty. Clad in tenderest fawn- 
 colour, from dainty hat to neatest bottine, her 
 raven hair, sparkling eyes, and dazzling teeth 
 need only the rose of Provence, which she accepts 
 from Ronald as they pass through the flower- 
 garden, to complete his conquest. 
 
 Poor Elliot, impressionable as devoted to the 
 fair, he is never out of misery. To be so would 
 be no happiness to him ! From his earliest days 
 he has flirted with his young nurse, his dame, 
 his sister's governess, her sweetest friends ; but 
 withal in such a fashion that none was ever 
 heard to say a word against his silvery tongue, 
 ^ais deep blue eyes, or caressing manner, each and 
 all of which had been quite their own for the 
 time being. 
 
 The light straw hat and yachting kit do not 
 make his oval face and active figure less at-
 
 AM AT. 35 
 
 tractive to tlie appreciative Eila, and so tliey 
 follow on. 
 
 Julia, at first half inclined to resent her 
 cousin's arrangement of the party, relents when 
 she sees Macdonald's approving look as she stands 
 clad in picturesque accordance with the scene. 
 And, as he moves across, one quick comprehen- 
 sive glance convinces her that, although he is 
 , for the day a sailor, in his native garb he would, 
 with his well-cut features and sinewy limbs, be 
 not less striking. 
 
 Olive, never an advocate for the similarity of 
 dress which some sisters afi'ect regardless of 
 diversity of feature, complexion, or form, ever 
 studiously avoided appearing in anything like 
 Julia's. In this case her Tyrolean hat, grey 
 home-spun, and crimson kirtle, add another 
 feature to the group, while it has its own 
 distinctive charms, as Cameron's eyes are most 
 expressive in admitting. 
 
 Never has he seen, he thinks, anything more 
 svelte ; even though from boyhood, with instinctive 
 devotion to the sex, he had taken every oppor-
 
 36 AM AT. 
 
 tunity to study the various specimens as they 
 flitted by od the well-known beaten track at 
 Corpach. 
 
 Tall and straight as an arrow, with the long 
 swinging stride of the man accustomed from his 
 youth up to the heather and the kilt, his broad 
 shoulders, narrow flank, and clean limbs would 
 yield him an income as a model. Add the dark 
 chesnut hair and aquiline features peculiar to 
 the West Coast, and no wonder Olive is well 
 satisfied with the soldier laird of Benquoich 
 as a playmate. 
 
 Having given his final orders to be sent to the 
 forest for the next day's stalking, Charlie is able 
 at last to turn to Clarice, whom in exercise of his 
 seignorial rights he has reserved for himself. 
 
 Morgan's last efibrt in light blue serge, fitting 
 like a glove to the willowy figure, is appropri- 
 ately topped by the ' Cygnet's ' emblematic straw, 
 from under which her perfect features, violet 
 eyes, and wavy hair form an oval picture which 
 our friend Charlie longs, yet hardly dares — to 
 hope to make his own.
 
 AMAT. 37 
 
 Does the tell-tale eye betray him ? Clarice 
 does not ask it twice, but satisfied with its first 
 love-bearing story she swiftly seeks, as is the 
 manner of her sex and aofe, to flee from what she 
 has longed to know. 
 
 " We must hurry on, Charlie, or we shall find 
 Lord Amat as impatient as Hamish, and already 
 I think mamma and Colonel Trevor may be 
 wondering why we are not with them." 
 
 " So soon ! Well, after all the fuss I made to 
 get them under way I suppose we must make 
 haste, but another time ? " 
 
 " We should get up earlier, Charlie," and with 
 a merry laugh, she springs down the steep path, 
 ai^d bids him follow.
 
 38 AM AT. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " Though the seas threaten they are mercifuL" — Ferdinand. 
 
 It needs not a very practised eye to recognize the 
 old blue jacket's hand in everything appertaining 
 to the 'Cygnet.' Trim and taut — in herself a 
 model fore-and-aft schooner — there is a smartness 
 in the men and the way all is done which charms 
 the ladies as it does the soldiers, both loving 
 discipline and its natural results, yet for very 
 different reasons. 
 
 With a little of the affectation to which the 
 old professional is so prone, Hamish has manned 
 the side-ropes, and given a seamanlike and most 
 hearty welcome to each of the party as they 
 sprang on board and saluted. -^ 
 
 Hardly has the last of the laggards quitted
 
 AMAT. 39 
 
 the stern-sheets of the clingy when she is hang- 
 ing to her davits, and the 'Cygnet' is bowling 
 along Loch Eil with every stitch of canvas 
 set. 
 
 It is aofreed that after the fatio-nes of their 
 long trajets from the south, nothing could be 
 pleasanter than to spend the shimmering day 
 lazily on board, drinking in the beauty of the 
 ever-changing landscape as they speed along 
 without an effort, and thus realizing the very 
 essence of the poetry of motion. 
 
 The day, the scene, and the immediate actors 
 are indeed well suited. As may have been 
 gathered, natural beauty is no new thing to any 
 of them, but, as is often the case when the 
 feelings are deeply moved, for a few minutes 
 after they are settled down on board a great 
 silence falls on them, and each may well think 
 of the past and the future more than the present, 
 as that quickening but indefinable sense born 
 of looking on earth's fair views steals over 
 them. 
 
 But Hamish's quick words of command as
 
 40 AMAT. 
 
 they thread their way among the herring-boats 
 break the spell, and, falling into groups, their 
 thoughts become less ethereal, and the conversa- 
 tion flows apace. 
 
 With a very natural tendency, the seniors find 
 themselves disposed together on the seats, plaids, 
 and skins which have been arranged for them, 
 the younger ones electing to stroll to and fro in 
 pairs, after the manner of their kind, while now 
 and then they join forces, or the elder ones, as 
 they gossip in the shade. 
 
 Already Eila is beginning to find that Ronald 
 Elliot's practice has made him very perfect in the 
 somewhat dangerous task of pleasing. 
 
 Happily her experience is sufficiently exten- 
 sive to enable her to hold her own in the 
 seductive game, which ceases to be amusing only 
 when it becomes too serious, unless it's meant ! 
 And they toss the ball from one to other in that 
 light and easy mode which only adepts can 
 maintain. 
 
 At first the fair Julia is incensed at her 
 cousin's manifest preference for Clarice ; but,
 
 AMAT. 4 1 
 
 never averse to keeping her hand in if the 
 subject were worthy, finding that for the moment 
 he is hopeless, she does not allow the main object 
 of her visit to Amat to interfere with a perfect 
 enjoyment of such mental honey as lan's hand- 
 some eyes and ready tongue are now lavishing 
 upon her. 
 
 Possibly, all sweetness as it is to her appetite 
 for admiration, she thinks it may contain a 
 wholesome acid for Charlie, if he would but 
 see it. 
 
 Olive, ever practical, met Cameron in town 
 frequently, and is by no means indisposed to 
 make the most of such an opportunity of finding 
 herself yet further on the way towards being 
 the lady of Benquoich. 
 
 As for Charlie, he has been on short rations 
 more than once, but never has he huno^ered or 
 thirsted as he longs for the time when he may 
 test once for all the depth and breadth of 
 Clarice's love. They have known each other 
 from early days, and with growing years some 
 tenderness has sprung naturally into evidence ;
 
 42 AM AT. 
 
 but he knows enougli of women to feel that her 
 very frankness in showing it makes what he now 
 craves for yet more doubtful. 
 
 But poor Clarice has long found out in the 
 dreary days of anxious war how dear he is to 
 her, though now, when his love-lit eyes and 
 every action tell her that all she wants may 
 indeed be hers, it seems as if she cannot do 
 enough to keep him from the point at which so 
 many aim. 
 
 Lady Alice is too good a tactician to allow 
 Charlie's opportunity to remain long unassailed, 
 and soon she skilfully waylays him, on the plea 
 of their having met so little since he returned 
 from the Crimea, and makes him sit beside 
 her. 
 
 Tall, dark, and distinguished-looking, with a 
 soft and winninor manner, when she chooses to 
 use it, Lady Alice is a perfect embodiment of 
 the steel Move with its traditional linino^. 
 
 Hard necessity, following grievous disappoint- 
 ment, has taught her many bitter truths in the 
 lonely, loveless struggles which have disfigured
 
 AMAT. 43 
 
 Ler widowhood. Eaeli of these has only added 
 to the determination with which she has taught 
 herself and her daughters that all is fair in the 
 game which ends in marriage, provided it be a 
 satisfactory one. In their early days she fixed 
 on her old love's son as the parti of all others 
 for her Julia, and until now she has seen no good 
 reason to doubt that with judicious treatment 
 her plan will bear good fruit. But, thorough 
 woman of the world, she is much too wary to 
 spread her net before her prey. Besides, she 
 loves the lad for his own sake, as well as his 
 father's, and she relies on the influences w^hich 
 come of contiguity and good looks, while she 
 would be less than mother did she think Julia's 
 charms less potent than those of the more 
 retiring and statuesque Clarice. 
 
 As he throws himself on the plaid at her feet, 
 Charlie says, 
 
 *'Ah ! it's a long time, Cousin Aline, since we 
 first sailed together on these waters ; but I have 
 never seen them, or the surroundings," he adds, 
 with a suggestive smile on his handsome face, as
 
 44 
 
 AMAT. 
 
 he glances on the varied beauties grouped on 
 either side, " in such perfection as to-day." 
 
 " Perhaps ! And yet you must have seen 
 much in the last three years that is very 
 different, if not more beautiful." 
 
 " Yes ; but at their best things foreign only 
 made one think more longingly of the far North. 
 Few things in their way are lovelier than the 
 views about Aloupka, where the Woronzows 
 built their charmingly bizarre mixture of Tartar 
 and Byzantine styles which we so carefully kept 
 unharmed ; but when one had exhausted every 
 adjective of admiration, there was still a void as 
 we gazed across the bright blue sea to the 
 Caucasus, and hungered for but one good look 
 of Ben Nevis, instead of Elbruz or the Tchadir 
 Dagh." 
 
 " ' Nostalgia,' I think the learned call that 
 form of mental disease," says the General, with 
 a wicked twinkle in his eye. "It is strange 
 how all Highlanders, whether they be Scots, 
 Swiss, Circassians, or Ghoorkas, crave in other 
 lands for the barren, rugged hills which saw
 
 AM AT. 45 
 
 their birth, and yet do not seem to have attrac- 
 tion enough to keep them chained to their sides." 
 " We generally want most what we can't 
 have," remarks Lord Amat. "Necessity drives 
 many men abroad ; but some countries are like 
 the women to whom our thoughts fly back 
 throughout our lives — we can never forget that 
 their beauty smiled on our earliest heart-throbs." 
 Lady Alice glances at him quickly, but his 
 eyes do not respond to hers, as he looks across 
 the hills, and then turns them on his wife. 
 
 " Was it not over there," asks Olive, pointing 
 up the Loch, " that the Prince had so many of 
 his adventures, and proved to the uttermost the 
 loyalty of the men, to say nothing of the 
 devotion of the ladies ? " 
 
 " Ah ! for that," replies Charlie, " we must 
 defer to Fergus, whose great-grandfather was 
 'out' on the right side in 'the '45,' and who 
 can. hardly look upon a Campbell or a Grant 
 with much patience, if you touch upon the topic 
 seriously." 
 
 " Nonsense, Master ! we did what we could,
 
 46 AMAT. 
 
 and would do it again under the same circum- 
 stances. You Whig clans thought you were 
 right ; perhaps you were, in a sense ; but if we 
 had been all together, then the memory of CuUo- 
 den would not be what it is," and the fiery blood 
 of the Camerons, sweeping through his veins as 
 he speaks, seems to throw around that magnetic 
 influence which comes from strong men of 
 passionate yet concentrated feeling. 
 
 Olive, who has hitherto looked upon him as 
 simply a pleasant, rather good-looking, young 
 soldier, is agreeably startled ; and, as she lies 
 under her mother's wing, catching the play of 
 fierce emotion in his strongly-marked features, 
 pictures to herself what an influence a few such 
 men might have in the history of a throne and a 
 kingdom. 
 
 " No doubt," remarks Trevor. " In that case 
 the day might have been less disastrous, or even 
 the other way, but in the end discipline and 
 organization must have told." 
 
 " Possibly, Colonel," answers Macdouald ; 
 "though we have some traditions which point
 
 AMAT. 47 
 
 the other way. But we threw our chance to the 
 winds when we turned our backs on London. 
 A few marches more and we might have ^ad 
 the ill-gotten gains of the Lombard Street Jews 
 transferred to the glens up here." 
 
 " Hallo ! " laughs the General, waking up as 
 Hamish makes it "eight bells;" "do you boys 
 wear the black cockade or a white one ? This 
 air of yours, Amat, seems provocative of more 
 than an appetite. Let us be thankful we can 
 indulge it and enjoy this too classic scenery 
 without having to cross claymores with these 
 fierce Jacobites. They are ' kittle cattle ' at 
 times. Milady. I once saw a red-haired sub- 
 altern from Strath Glas pursue an unhappy 
 Sassenach round the mess-table, and drive his 
 dirk through the door at him as he escaped, 
 because he fancied his dignity had in some 
 measure been touched." 
 
 " Heavens ! General Beauchamp," exclaimed 
 Lady Amat ; " why I thought they did that 
 sort of thing only in mj- unhappy country." 
 " My dear Zoe," says her husband, " you must
 
 48 AM AT. 
 
 not take all they say au pied de la lettre. Tliis 
 strong air has got into their unaccustomed heads, 
 perhaps. Let us steady them by a little prosaic 
 food ; and, since the sun is over the foreyard, 
 shall I lead the way with Aline to that much- 
 maligned but ever-acceptable meal, which we call 
 luncheon, but which our forefathers loved as 
 dinner ? " 
 
 " Thanks, Lewis. Excellent as was our break- 
 fast, I already feel quite ravenous, and for the 
 moment," as she archly places her hand on his 
 arm, "certainly would not chauge places even 
 with Flora Macdonald/' 
 
 As they sit down, Charlie manages so well as 
 to put himself next to Clarice, whose thoughts, 
 tinged by the looks and words which have 
 escaped him since they met at Perth, have been 
 weaving strangely-pleasing patterns in the web 
 which fancy is ever laying before the love- 
 stricken. 
 
 **What an age, Clarice, it seems since we 
 were on board the old ' Cygnet ' together ! 
 All the pleasure of my home-coming last year
 
 AMAT. 49 
 
 was lost since you were not able to be with 
 
 US. 
 
 " Eeally, Charlie ? " she answers archly. " But 
 I was sorry too," she adds, in a lower tone, seeing 
 him look a little hurt ; "we could not possibly 
 leave Homburg just then, as mamma was so ill; 
 and afterwards we went to Florence for the 
 winter, so that I have never yet been able to tell 
 you how very anxious we felt all the time you 
 were in the East. Oh ! I do trust there will be 
 no more wars." And, as the memory of all that 
 she has suffered in thinking of his dangers comes 
 back on her, she cannot help letting her eyes 
 convey very much of what she feels to the 
 expectant ones drinking in every sign of the 
 emotions which are filling her heart. 
 
 "It is like the sweetest of the old times to 
 have you here again. Would that we need 
 never leave it 1 But you will not ? Until " 
 
 " Charlie ! " suddenly interrupted Lady Alice, 
 who, from the other end of the table, has not 
 been unwatchful of his manoeuvre, or over- 
 pleased with his manner towards the fair Clarice ; 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 50 AM AT. 
 
 *' would you mind bringing me down a plaid ? 
 I feel the drauglit rather on these rheumatic 
 shoulders, and I have a dread of doctors up here, 
 or at least of those whose chief prescription 
 seems to be whiskey by the bottle, like that old 
 man in Islay." 
 
 " And yet there may be worse physic, Aline," 
 says Lord Amat, with a smile, which in an instant 
 after seems frozen on his face, as the cry he has 
 so often heard comes ringing on their horror- 
 stricken ears — " Man overboard ! " — followed im- 
 mediately by the quick, hoarse commands to 
 bring the yacht up into the wind, let go the 
 ever-ready life-buoy, and lower away the gig, 
 always kept prepared. 
 
 Springing to their feet, every one is on the 
 point of rushing on deck. But though he feels, 
 with that instinct which so often bids us too 
 truly prej)are for the worst, what may be in store 
 for him when he gets there. Lord Amat, with 
 the calmness born of practice in command and 
 danger, brings them all in a second to their 
 senses.
 
 AM AT. 51 
 
 " Pray be seated, ladies all. Beauchamp, 
 Trevor, look to them. They can do no good on 
 deck ; they only impede. Follow me, boys ; " 
 and with a bound he is half way up the hatch- 
 way. 
 
 'Tis too true ; Charlie has gone overboard. 
 
 Reaching over to get the plaid that Lady Alice 
 wanted, he did not see the boom, which, 
 swinging at the instant of the tack, had swept 
 him off the deck. The helmsman's cry brought 
 Hamish to the spot in time to see him sink like 
 lead. Three orders given in as many seconds, 
 and he too was struggling with the waters and 
 King Death for the young life of one whom he 
 loved not less than his own four sons. 
 
 Those only who have witnessed such a scene 
 by day, can realize the awfully helpless feeling 
 produced by seeing how the way the ship has on 
 carries her from the drowning man. 
 
 As Lord Amat and the others reach the deck, 
 they rush to the side in time to see the gig 
 already in the water, and, some hundred yards 
 beyond, old Hamish battling with the tide, as 
 
 E 2 
 LIBRARY 
 UNiVCRSITY OF ILLINOIS
 
 52 AMAT. 
 
 with some tiling in his grasp he strikes out for 
 the buoy. 
 
 " Thank God ! he has got him," cry they all 
 together. 
 
 " Pull, Donald ! Alastair ! as you never pulled 
 before," shouts the unhappy father, as he recog- 
 nizes poor Charlie's form in the grip of 
 Hamish. 
 
 But they need no such exhortation. Is not 
 the Master their foster-brother, who has ever 
 been less of lord than kinsman to them from 
 their earliest days ? And their father too ! Caii 
 he, clothed and burdened as he is, maintain his 
 strength and hold ? 
 
 And as their hearts are riven by these thoughts, 
 the stout ash oars bend to their terrific strokes, 
 until the anxious lookers-on fear yet another evil 
 — a broken blade. 
 
 A few more seconds, and with all their efforts 
 they might have been too late. 
 
 " Your boat-hook, Angus Mohr," cries Hamish 
 to the bowman, as with racing speed they crash 
 down towards the buoy, on which poor Charlie's
 
 AMAT. 53 
 
 lifeless body lies now across, while his rescuer 
 treads the water. 
 
 With what tender quickness they lay him in 
 the boat, and, turning back, pull harder than 
 before, if that be possible. 
 
 " Saved ! saved ! " rings down to them below, 
 while yet their terror-stricken hearts have hardly 
 realized the fearful danger to one who, but a few 
 short minutes gone, as men count time, had been 
 as they were. 
 
 Yet Lady Amat, not unused in earlier days to 
 looK at death, has not lost her wits or sense of 
 need of preparation. With the aid of Mrs. 
 Beauchamp, who too has seen something of the 
 rougher side of life, her cabin is got ready, 
 blankets are made hot, and stone bottles filled 
 with boiling water. So that by the time Charlie's 
 dripping body is carried down below the others 
 have been got away, and no precious time is lost 
 in doing all they know to restore the animation. 
 For long they persevere with all the patience 
 and the skill they can command, but at last it 
 seems as if indeed he is gone beyond recovery.
 
 54 AMAT. 
 
 " Hoist the signal of distress ; perhaps that 
 steamer may have a doctor on board," suggests 
 Eonald, who has been a misera.ble and helpless 
 spectator of his best friend's terrible accident, 
 
 " Ay, ay, sir," cries Hamish, shaking the salt 
 water from him like a spaniel, and but little 
 affected apparently by his exertions ; " she'll pe 
 shure too haf some poddy tat weel pe goot for a 
 seek maun." 
 
 Hardly has the signal been shaken out, when 
 the steamer, which is bound for Fort William, 
 alters her course, and bears down upon them. 
 
 A few hurried words of explanation and com- 
 miseration, and presently one of those to whom we 
 all turn at some period of our lives, for ourselves 
 or those dear to us, as if they hold the gates of 
 life and death, is standing by Charlie's side. 
 
 Rapidly examining and questioning, he quickly 
 perceives the true cause and extent of the harm 
 done. 
 
 " He is only stunned, my lord ; the suspended 
 animation is even now beginning to return, and, 
 persevering with the remedies you have already
 
 AM AT. 00 
 
 employed, I do not think you need have much 
 fear of grave consequences. But if you like I 
 will remain with you." 
 
 His light baggage is speedily transferred, and 
 the ' Cygnet,' spreading her wings, flies home- 
 wards under the freshening breeze, as if she too 
 rejoices, and cannot too quickly take the beloved 
 Master back to the nest he has so nearly deserted 
 for ever.
 
 56 AMAT. 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 " The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day is crept into the 
 bosom of the sea." — Captain, in K. Henry VI. 
 
 Thanks to the thoughtful skill of the doctor, 
 who turns out to be a well-known London 
 physician on his way to Dunrobin, the yacht is 
 not back at her anchorao;e before Charlie's senses 
 return, and, though much shaken, he recognizes 
 those about him without difficulty. 
 
 Lady Alice's kinder and better nature had 
 suffered tortures in thinking why she had sent 
 him so nearly to his death ; but — alas ! that it 
 should be so — the more worldly side of her 
 character resumed its ascendancy, as it too often 
 does with us all, when the strain of anxiety was 
 removed.
 
 AM AT. 57 
 
 The fearful dread when they learned that it 
 was their bright and loved companion who was 
 on the brink of eternity, the sickening suspense 
 as they heard the shouts to the men in the boat, 
 the intense relief when the cry of " Saved ! " 
 brought instantaneous joy, were common to all 
 on board ; but who can picture the shades of 
 feeling with w^hich the mother and Clarice 
 listened ? 
 
 Watching the poor girl, whose features recorded 
 only too plainly all the agony she was passing 
 through, the heart of the scheming woman of 
 the world had hardened once ag^ain when, unable 
 to support the sudden reaction from despair, 
 Clarice sank to the floor, unheeded for the 
 moment, as Charlie was brought below. 
 
 " So ! " she soliloquized, when at last she helped 
 her to a sofa ; " it has got so far as this, has it ? 
 Things look ill for Julia's chance, then, unless 
 some change should come about. But how ? " 
 
 Seldom does the brightest morning fulfil its 
 promise. Who would recognize the merry party 
 who only a few hours ago came off so joyously
 
 58 AM AT. 
 
 in the groups of silent anxious friends wlio with 
 much solicitude wait for Charlie's landinsf ? 
 
 As they wend their way slowly up the steep 
 ascent behind the stalwart boat's crew, who, 
 slinging him in a hammock, are quickly at the 
 Castle, Ronald Elliot attaches himself to Clarice, 
 whose most expressive silence has touched him 
 greatly. 
 
 " What a splendid old fellow Hamish is, Miss 
 Beau champ. Had he not jumped at once, just 
 as he stood, I doubt if we should have seen dear 
 old Charlie affain. As we got on deck we 
 saw him dive, — it seemed an age until he re- 
 appeared, and we could see he had brought him 
 up. But," he adds, in a lighter tone, seeing 
 that she is unable to talk quietly of it yet, " he 
 must be more of a sea-otter than most of these 
 Western Highlanders generally are, for few men 
 could do so much even unencumbered with their 
 clothes." 
 
 " Ah ! Captain Elliot, if it was trying for you 
 to see, how much more terrible it must have 
 been for his poor mother below, paralyzed with
 
 AM AT. 59 
 
 fear, and forbidden to hope she could stretch a 
 finger out to save him ? We women can do so 
 little, I always think, in times of peril. " 
 
 " Yet only half the work was done when he 
 was brought on board. If it had not been for 
 the forethought which prepared everything, and 
 the loving nursing he has had since, it would 
 have gone very hard with him, I fancy. If we 
 had been blessed with many such gentle hands 
 and ready comforts in the East, a goodish lot of 
 fellows would not be lying there now." 
 
 As was his object, Clarice's thoughts are 
 diverted from the present anxiety for the 
 moment, as they fly back to the horrors of the 
 first dread winter, when every mail seemed to 
 bring fresh tidings of trials and disaster. 
 
 " Yes," she said ; " even out of that great 
 mass of suffering grew a blessing, since it has 
 taught us anew the old lesson of the good 
 Samaritan ; and that women may indeed work 
 in the widest sense to alleviate pain instead of 
 remaining at home only to weep." 
 
 " Ah ! It was marvellous to see many of
 
 60 AM AT. 
 
 those delicate-looking ladies — whose first impulse 
 one would think was to faint at the sio;ht of what 
 made strong men nearly sick — how they braced 
 themselves up and went through the hideous 
 ordeal of nursing wounds in the over-crowded 
 hospitals at Scutari. Yet there are men of the 
 old school who say that the undoubted mitigation 
 of the horrors of war is not altog-ether an unmixed 
 
 o 
 
 advantaoe." 
 
 " Show me any one good which may not, by 
 perverted minds, be so discredited, and it may 
 be worth w^hile to listen to such an argument. I 
 believe a foundation has been laid which will 
 not only go far to rob war of one of its greatest 
 horrors, but will give women, in the happily more 
 extended times of peace, a field for sympathetic 
 labour for which many have long craved." 
 
 " Speaking generally, I agree with you," says 
 Elliot ; " but I confess I do not think I should 
 like any one very dear to me to enter such a 
 mission." 
 
 " Like all men ! " retorts Clarice with a faint 
 smile. " You would freely accept the attentions
 
 A MAT. 61 
 
 of all the rest of the sex provided you could keep 
 your own women under lock and key ! " 
 
 " No, no ! you do me injustice there, really. 
 I meant only that there is much, very much, 
 that a woman, especially a refined one, must 
 find repugnant when she leaves the shelter of 
 her own home and goes out to face the rougher 
 side of life, which is inseparable from attempts 
 to close the wounds, material and moral, to 
 which her altered daily existence will surely 
 expose her." 
 
 "But there are many men who, I am told, 
 are as sensitive and gentle as we are supposed 
 to be, though brave as lions and firm as rocks 
 in hours of trial. Are we so very different ? I 
 think your argument is not quite sound — though 
 1 fear that, as a rule, Kingsley's touching words 
 will remain true to the end." 
 
 When they reach the Castle the cheering news 
 is sent down from the sick-room that the doctor's 
 diagnosis is correct, and that in a day or two the 
 Master may be about as well as ever. 
 
 Hamish had quietly followed to hear the last
 
 62 AMAT. 
 
 report before turning in. The quick eye of the 
 doctor, as he descends to the hall, catches sight of 
 him standing on the terrace in the gloaming. 
 
 " Ah 1 Lord Amat, from what I hear, nothing 
 but the quick presence of mind and cool courage 
 of that magnificent old ' Salt ' could have saved 
 you this day from a terrible sorrow." 
 
 "Yes, doctor; he has done for my son what 
 some five-and-twenty years ago he did in another 
 way for me. Such deeds cannot be repaid. I 
 could not even if he would let me. You have 
 spoken to him ? No ! " 
 
 Turning to a window he calls, " Hamish." 
 
 In a moment the noble old man enters. 
 
 With a simple dignity he quickly crosses the 
 hall, and bending one knee he seizes and kisses 
 Lord Amat's hand. 
 
 "'Tis well," he speaks in Gaelic. "The seer 
 was right. But the third time 'twill not be my 
 Lord, nor the Master, nor myself, who will be 
 called, but my Duncan." 
 
 Ere they can recover their surprise or stop him 
 he is gone. But the doctor, who is much im-
 
 AMAT. 63 
 
 pressed by the incident, makes a note thereof, 
 as Lord Amat interprets for the benefit of the 
 ignorant. 
 
 " My dear fellow," says Colonel Trevor, taking 
 him by the hand with that true grip which 
 betokens all that in most other lands is gro- 
 tesqued by unmanly kisses; "you know how 
 1 congratulate you — and if heroes are of their 
 mother's fibre your boy should win a baton. 
 I never saw more nerve and promptitude of 
 action than Lady Amat showed to-day throughout 
 the trying time you left her in my care." 
 
 " Good friend," is all the answer ; but the eye 
 speaks what the tongue, with the reserve natural 
 to Englishmen, does not give vent to. 
 
 Somewhat done up, the ladies are not sorry 
 to follow the example of their hostess, who had 
 retired early to her room. 
 
 As they hand their candles to their especial 
 friends, the three young soldiers may express 
 by tender look or gentle pressure more than is 
 heard, but, at any rate, when the Castle regu- 
 lation silver coggie of nightly porridge and cream
 
 64 AMAT. 
 
 is being discussed, with other matters, in Eila's 
 room, there is that light in the eyes of the fair 
 ones as they talk over the events of the day, 
 which, perhaps, it is as well for the peace of the 
 younger smokers that they cannot see. 
 
 " That was a near thing for Charlie," says 
 Fergus, after they have sat for some minutes in 
 uncommon silence, while the fragrant cloud floats 
 soothingly about them. 
 
 " Yes, by Jove 1 If Hamish had been a trifle 
 less quick all round he must have gone, I fancy." 
 
 '' What is his history ? He seems a rare old 
 ' Salt,' and is as good as he looks, I should think, 
 General." 
 
 " You are right there, Elliot ; he is no ordinary 
 man. But that Amat is a peer, their lives have 
 run in very similar grooves. They shared the 
 same milk in their infancy ; they grew up to- 
 gether. When Amat went to sea, Hamish joined 
 the service with him, and was soon shoved up 
 the ladder, thanks to his education, smartness, 
 and good looks. When that scrimmage took 
 place in Albania, of which I told you the other
 
 AMAT. 65 
 
 day, he fought like a lion beside him, and saved 
 his life at the expense of that scar you see across 
 his forehead. Afterwards, when the old lord 
 died and they settled down at home, Hamish's 
 wife helped to rear Charlie, for Lady Amat 
 never was very strong after she came to this 
 country, so that the fostering tie has endured 
 for two generations. And, as you have seen, 
 the devotion is not confined to one or either 
 side." 
 
 " Yes, no doubt of that. When Charlie came 
 to us he brought with him the finest recruits the 
 Light Company have had for many a day in two 
 of Hamish's sons." 
 
 " Ah ! " remarks Trevor, " if the powers that 
 be would only study common sense and human 
 nature a little more, they might overcome some 
 of the difficulties for the army which are looming 
 in the near distance with high wao^es and the 
 spread of education." 
 
 " Any news from India, General ? ' asks Ian. 
 
 "There is that," he answers, somewhat so- 
 lemnly, laying down the Times, " which I fear 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 AMAT. 
 
 will add many a heartache to the thousands 
 already bleeding. 
 
 " We shall have to pnt out all our strength 
 to stop the progress of this insurrection, or it Mall 
 master us. It's strange that the native prediction 
 should be working towards its own fulfilment." 
 
 " One would have thought our experience in 
 the last two or three years would have taught 
 us the folly of reducing our strength. The Joe 
 Hume school of economy has much to answer for ; 
 the savings its doctrine produced were swallowed 
 up a thousand times in the extravagant efforts to 
 force hastily the strength which time and experi- 
 ence alone can bring to eff"ective maturity. Truly, 
 despotism has some advantages as well as consti- 
 tutional government. However, perhaps, better 
 the devil you know than another ! What is the 
 prophecy you were speaking of, Beauchamp ? " 
 
 " Oh, I heard it out there long ago. I wonder 
 you didn't. The natives declare that John 
 Company will come to an end a hundred years 
 after Plassey, Should that be so, their time is ■ 
 nearly up. But if India does change hands,
 
 AMAT. 67 
 
 there are many who will regret the much-abused 
 ' Kumpani Behadur,' — though the pagoda-tree of 
 Fame don't shed rupees as it used to do." 
 
 " It's not a bad school for soldiers anyhow, 
 Beau champ," says Trevor, *' The Sikhs in our 
 time gave us as hard a job to win our spurs as 
 one might wish. And, if these Bandies be 
 fairly led, you boys may find your work cut 
 out for you. I suppose you'll go before 
 long ? " 
 
 " I got a letter just now from the Adjutant," 
 answers Cameron. " He tells me that Sir Colin 
 saw him for a few minutes as he flashed through 
 Dover the other night, and I gather from what 
 he hints that we and several other regiments are 
 to follow him as quick as may be. But there 
 we are again ! under our strength through 
 giving a hundred and fifty of our best men to 
 the Sutherlands, when they sailed for China 
 last month ; and to make up our numbers we 
 shall have to take a lot of strangers ignorant 
 of the traditions of the regiment and its officers. 
 It's maddening when one thinks that not long 
 
 F 2
 
 ()8 AM AT. 
 
 aofo we had twelve hundred men in the ranks, fit 
 to go anywhere and do anything." 
 
 "Ay, sent adrift to save a few hundreds, 
 when thousands are wasted annually on clerks 
 and others who do little heavier work than read 
 the morning papers, mend their pens and their 
 errors. I wish I had the power, I would under- 
 take to provide an army twice as efficient, at less 
 expense than ours costs now." 
 
 " How would you do that, Elliot ? " asks the 
 General with a smile. 
 
 " Do away first, Sir," replies ' Paul,' so called 
 because of his adventures in many parts, " with 
 that very expensive article, red tape ; it swaddles 
 in futile extravagance the mind of every one it 
 touches. But," stopping abruptly, "when I get 
 on this subject I am, like a clock lately wound 
 up, bound to go till run down. A book would 
 hardly hold all I could say about it." 
 
 " I know," agrees Ian, " But you and I will 
 be somewhat thicker in the girth and thinner in 
 the thatch ere we see anything done that will 
 stand wear. We'll go on tinkering and pottering
 
 AM AT. 69 
 
 until some fine day we are caught in our self- 
 satisfied slumber by some wide-awake enemy who 
 knows our weak points, and how to hit us. 
 Then who will cry out ' peccavi ' ? " 
 
 '' I have just come from Charlie," says Lord 
 Amat, entering the billiard -room. " He is 
 wonderfully better, and actually talked of going 
 to the hill to-morrow. That, I think, is impos- 
 sible. However, I have made arrangements for 
 you boys to go ; and as you know a very early 
 start is necessary, if you want to be back to 
 dinner by canonical hours, I would recommend 
 your turning in soon. Fergus, will you command 
 in our absence ? " 
 
 After they had gone, turning eagerly to his 
 old friends, he says, " Tell me, what is this I 
 hear about their regiment going out ? Is it 
 likely r' 
 
 " More than that," answers the General. " I 
 do not see how it can be otherwise. As far as I 
 can gather, every man that may be spared must 
 go, and quickly, if they wish to keep India. 
 There will be none too many, Amat." ,
 
 70 AMAT. 
 
 " God's will be done ! But how am I to break 
 it to his mother ? Her anxiety during the 
 Crimean business nearly killed her ; but from 
 India what ages of suspense she must endure ! " 
 
 " It is terribly hard, I know," says Trevor ; 
 " especially just when you have got him back ; 
 but, as I saw to-day, she has plenty of the right 
 metal, and will bear bravely if struck fairly. Say 
 nothing to-night, but in the morning, when you 
 are both less unstrung than you must be after 
 such a day as this, break the news to her, lest it 
 come suddenly, when she may feel it crushingly." 
 
 " Yes, that is my dread."
 
 AMAT. 7 1 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 " I take thee at thy word ; call me but love, and I'll be new 
 baptised." — Romeo. 
 
 At breakfast next morning they are all reassured 
 as to Charlie, by his mother's cheerful replies to 
 their various inquiries, of which none are sweeter 
 to her than that of Clarice, whose prime favour- 
 ite she has been since her childhood, when the 
 Beauchamps began their annual visits to the 
 Castle. 
 
 " Yes, dear. The doctor says there is not a 
 trace of fever left, and if he will only keep quiet 
 for a day or so he will suffer no ill effects from the 
 blow, or his immersion. Of course he laughed 
 at the idea of his going to the hill to-day, but 
 promises he may come down to luncheon if he
 
 72 AM AT. 
 
 beliaves himself as an invalid," replies the happy 
 mother, with a smile which shows the anxiously- 
 watchful Trevor that his friend has not yet told 
 her of the too probable contingency of the party 
 being broken up at any moment. 
 
 Happily the post arrives in the evening only, 
 so there is not the usual chance of an unguarded 
 exclamation in the perusal of the correspondence 
 conveying suddenly the fearful blow he knows 
 the news will be to her. 
 
 As if reading his mind, Lord Amat says, " I 
 thought it better to send the youngsters to the 
 forest early this morning. When Charlie knew 
 they were gone he reconciled himself quickly 
 enough to his temporary imprisonment, which I 
 dare say we can manage to make little irksome 
 to him," 
 
 " That reminds me," says Lady Amat, " that 
 we must send over to Fort William for the 
 Doctor's luggage. I have persuaded him to sta}^ 
 a few days, though he declares that as far as 
 his patient is concerned he might go at once." 
 
 " We are in luck, then," remarks the General ;
 
 AM AT. 73 
 
 " for, off duty, there is not a more agreeable fellow 
 anywhere." 
 
 "This is too charming a day to spend at 
 home though, if I mav make such an unhostess- 
 like speech, as I must stay behind. Will you 
 devise some plans, Lewis ? A pic-nic to Clach 
 Mohr might catch the stalkers on their way 
 home, though rather late perhaps ; and if you 
 care to make yourself and the drag useful, you 
 might drive over for the luggage, and get the 
 letters a little earlier." 
 
 As they rise from the breakfast-table Lady 
 Amat begs no one will sacrifice themselves on 
 her account, unless Mrs. Beauchamp thinks she 
 can spare Clarice to stay at home with her ? 
 
 With ill-repressed chagrin. Lady Alice sees 
 this consented to, without the power of altering 
 an arrangement which must assuredly throw into 
 dangerous propinquity the two people whom she 
 wishes so much to keep asunder. 
 
 Accordingly she and General Beauchamp 
 arrange to go with Lord Amat on his coach, 
 while all the others and the doctor, who, in
 
 74 AMAT. 
 
 addition to liis many pleasant talents, is a first- 
 rate botanist, are to make their way to Clach 
 Mohr ; the younger ones devoutly hoping their 
 party may be increased ere the day comes to an 
 end. 
 
 The afternoon is getting on when Charlie 
 manages to find his way downstairs. His mother 
 has told him how the party have disposed them- 
 selves, and, as she has gone to her own room to 
 write, he is not surprised to find Clarice sitting 
 alone, from her attitude somewhat pensive, in 
 the library. He lingers a moment or two as he 
 enters, for something tells him he may venture 
 now, if ever, to ask her love ; and yet if failure 
 follows, as well it may, what will the colour of 
 his life be hereafter ? 
 
 Looking up at the sound of his footstep, she 
 hastens at once, with a glad smile, to meet him. 
 
 " Charlie ! Is it really wise of you to come 
 down so soon ? You are feeling better 1 The 
 doctor said you would not suffer long ; but oh ! 
 when I think of that awful cry, and then the 
 knowledge that it was you who were struggling
 
 AMAT. / 
 
 in the water — most mercifully we did not know 
 how helplessly — it seems almost miraculous that 
 you are now here, so " 
 
 Sinking into a low chair beside her, he takes 
 her hand, as he says in tones of passionate 
 tenderness : 
 
 '•' At last ! Clarice. I dare not run the risk of 
 any more such blows as Fate so nearly dealt me 
 yesterday. In the flashing seconds before I lost 
 my head my thoughts flew back to you, and the 
 last was, ' Why have I never told her my love ? ' 
 You have guessed it ! I was trying to do so 
 when Cousin Aline sent me on deck. And now, 
 darling ! — may I not call you so ? — you know I 
 have loved you always, from the time when I 
 first learned how fascinating it was to try and 
 fathom the meaning of those sweet, bewildering 
 eyes. If I had not known it before, the dreary 
 days of the past two years of separation would 
 have taught me what my life without you will 
 be. Have I dared to hope overmuch ? Were 
 those sweet bygone times, which gave me cour- 
 age to wait, only vain dreams ? or did you feel
 
 76 AMAT. 
 
 and think of them as I did ? Sweetheart — 
 darling — tell me. Have I been all this time in 
 a fool's paradise ? or may I seize — at last — the 
 happiness I have hungered for so long ? " 
 
 But not a word comes from the averted 
 lips. 
 
 Half-frightened at her prolonged silence, his 
 arm steals round her softly, and, drawing her 
 gently tow^ards him, at last she turns her head. 
 
 He needs but little more. Her face, though 
 deadly pale, is lit up by the ineffable happiness 
 of given and accepted love — of that true metal 
 which once coined is never debased, or exchanofed 
 for anything less sterling if the recipient be 
 worthy. 
 
 Nearer and nearer he draws down her loveli- 
 ness, until, at lastj his lips touch hers in all the 
 ecstasy of that first long burning kiss of jDassion- 
 ate devotion, which is never so freely given as 
 by the apparently cold, proud woman, who loves 
 once but for aye. 
 
 For a few seconds she lies thus in his arms, 
 while she whispers :
 
 AMAT. 77 
 
 "So you have loved me, Charlie, all the time 
 like this ! Shall I tell you that I often wondered 
 if you did, or if it was only my vanity which 
 prompted me to think it might be so ? When 
 you were in the Crimea, sometimes I had a sort 
 of glimpse of my own feelings, but never until 
 now did I know how dear you are to me. 
 Yesterday indeed showed what my life would 
 be without you." 
 
 " Then, sweetheart, we must think what we 
 can offer Cousin Aline, for it seems to me that 
 but for her you would have evaded the question 
 until, in my despair, I might have prostrated 
 myself at the feet of her Julia." 
 
 " Charlie ! But seriously, do you know I am 
 not altogether sure that Lady Alice will approve 
 of this arrangement of yours. Have you had 
 any passages with her daughter, sir ? " 
 
 " On my honour, no ! What can suggest such 
 a thing to you ? " 
 
 " I can't say ; except that I have once or twice 
 caught your cousin's eye fixed on me with no 
 very friendly expression, while it seemed to me
 
 7 8 AMAT. ' 
 
 that every now and then she manoeuvred with 
 an object." 
 
 " Ah ! that's a way women of her time and 
 kind of life get into ; but, whatever she may 
 think, nothing can ever now come between us. 
 You know I am not given to promiscuous admir- 
 ation. Besides 1 never had the wish, and lately 
 little opportunity, to fritter away in desultory 
 skirmishes what 1 knew I must reserve to carry 
 such a stronghold as your great, proud heart." 
 " Tani mieux ! But how about Julia herself? " 
 " I am very sure she can have no cause to 
 think I have ever been more than cousin to her ; 
 and, if I am not mistaken. Master Ian is very 
 likely to dispute any attempt to interfere with 
 his pretensions in that quarter, where I know he 
 has certainly been much tpris since they met at 
 Ascot. It was at the same time that ' Ottle ' 
 made such an impression on the tinder-like 
 Fergus, when we all went over from Aldershot. 
 It was quite as much for their happiness, poor 
 moths, as my own pleasure, that I brought them 
 up here."
 
 AMAT. 79 
 
 " Upon my word ! I had no idea you were 
 such an intriguant. Is Captain ElHot also 
 included in your little arrangements ? I fancy 
 he is already ' flattened ' by ma belle Eila, and I 
 am inclined to think she is not ill-pleased with 
 him. At which I do not wonder," she adds, 
 with a blushing smile. 
 
 " Ah ! He is a dangerous boy, Paul. Like 
 his great namesake, he can be all things to all 
 women. He has not been trying his hand on 
 with you, has he ? " This in a slightly anxious 
 tone. 
 
 " I think him very good-looking, Mr. Othello, 
 
 and ' vastly agreeable,' as old Lady William 
 would say ; but, you know," with a mischievous 
 laugh, " you have given him but small oppor- 
 tunity of trying anything on with me ! " 
 *' Mechante I "
 
 so AM AT. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " What is this' forest called? " — Scroop. 
 
 To get to the forest from the castle is a compara- 
 tively easy matter, as things go, but it necessi- 
 tates an early start ; and at six o'clock, Ian, 
 Fergus, and Ronald find themselves on the hill 
 ponies which are to take them as far as the 
 shieling of Clach Mohr, some ten miles ofi", at 
 the head of Glen Rua. 
 
 As they ride along the ascending path in that 
 keen mountain air, redolent of the combined 
 odours arising from the dew-besprinkled earth, 
 the dripping birks, the scented gale, the golden 
 broom, the ever-sweetest briar, they cannot but 
 draw rein sometimes to look back at the extend - 
 ino; view. At first the old castle, nestlinor, as it
 
 AMAT. 81 
 
 seems, in the soft birch woods, with its grim grey 
 walls and rugged outlines, lies at their feet. Yet 
 lower, and the ' Cygnet ' sleeps with folded wings 
 on the still blue water, which but yesterday had 
 so nearly overwhelmed their comrade in its fatal 
 depths. Beyond, the hills, which to two of them, 
 at least, speak of times and deeds that need no 
 echo, — Lochiel ! Glencoe ! What Cameron or 
 Macdonald can look on them without that 
 stirring of the soul which men call by different 
 names ? 
 
 " This is pleasanter, Paul, than shivering in 
 the trenches or on picquet from that hideous 
 hour before daylight which everybody knows is 
 so exactly the attacking one that no one so 
 employs it." 
 
 " Yes ; and, as usual when the Fates, kindly 
 or otherwise, order me out of my lair on such a 
 morning as this, I wonder how any one can be 
 such a pig as ever to stay later in it. Early 
 rising must be demoralizing. What superior 
 beings we feel as we look upon the castle, and 
 think of all the drones slumbering in their cells ! 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 AM AT. 
 
 Why are they not drinking in this glorious air ? 
 which, excuse the Sassenach simile, is like the 
 best champagne, dry and exhilarating, but not 
 intoxicating." 
 
 ''Hark to him, Fergus! The Lowland loon, 
 aptly comparing himself to the unclean animal, 
 can think of nothing but his trough, even when 
 he professes to be most romantic. Were ' the 
 Trevor' but here, how poetically he would have 
 quoted — shall we say declaimed ? " 
 
 " Shut up, Glencoe ! or there may be a Mac- 
 donald less presently, and move on ; or that 
 ' royal ' the old lord is so anxious one of us should 
 get will not be gralloched to-day." 
 
 Arrived at the shieling, a charming forest 
 lodge, built of and lined with pine wood, from 
 the old natural firs,, many of which still remain 
 scattered here and there, like ancient giants, in 
 the glen, they attack, with all the zest produced 
 by early rising, mountain air, and vigorous youth, 
 the scalding porridge and thick cream, the fresh 
 broiled salmon, and tender venison steaks, which 
 old Kirsty knows so well how to provide.
 
 AMAT. 83 
 
 After that the pipe, par excellence. 
 
 And, as they stretch full length upon the 
 purple, blooming heather, enter Rory Ross. 
 
 With his clean-cut features, hawk-like eye, 
 tall, lithe, and sinewy, he is a splendid type of 
 his clan. Bred in the Balnagowan Forest, he 
 came, a lad, to Lord Amat, with whom he has 
 been for many years, and now knows every 
 inch of ground and stag of note for miles 
 round. 
 
 Like all his school, his manners are more 
 perfect than his English. Lifting his bonnet 
 with the air of a prince, he says : 
 
 " Gut mornen, shentlemens. His lordship 
 orders tat we must na pe late to-daay ; an' 
 when Benquoich is reddy we will pe moven." 
 
 "All right, Rory," says Fergus, springing to 
 his feet; "but we have not drawn lots yet. 
 Here, Paul, are three bits of grass. The puller 
 of the longest from my hand goes to stalk in 
 Corrie Voe, the shortest takes Cairn Dubh, and 
 the other such luck as the Loch Corr beat may 
 give. By Jove ! you've got the Cairn. In this 
 
 G 2
 
 84 AMAT. 
 
 hot weather the biggest stags are sure to be on 
 the tops, but you've a tidy climb before you, so 
 I'd be off. You take Hector Fraser there ; and, 
 — a word in your ear, old chap, — as you have 
 never been out stalking before, don't let him have 
 all the fun. He is as keen as mustard, knows 
 the ground better than any fox or eagle in the 
 forest, and will bring you, if it be possible, within 
 shot of any stag you may spy, but when he has 
 got you there he has a trick of making those who 
 will stand it bury their heads in the heather 
 while he gazes his fill at the beast, and then, 
 when perhaps it has begun to move, he will 
 shove the rifle into your hands with an adjura- 
 tion, happily in Gaelic, which may or may not 
 result in a snap shot and much discomfiture. 
 Good luck ! and, mind, we meet here at six, or as 
 near that as may be." 
 
 Nothing loth, Ronald goes off at score, fol- 
 lowed, for the time, by Hector, a ghillie, and a 
 brace of deer-hounds. 
 
 " At that pace, Ian, he won't be long doing 
 his four miles ; and as you have got Corrie Voe,
 
 AMAT. 85 
 
 into which he may move some deer, I would not 
 lose any time either." 
 
 " Good ! But the wind is easterly. It is still 
 early. I am not a Gordon Gumming, so if I — " 
 
 " Which, being interpreted, signifies that after 
 satisfying the blood-thirsty instincts of Donald 
 Bain by a simple stalk up wind, you mean as 
 speedily as possible to bask in the warmth of the 
 charming Julia's eyes. I know the sort of feeling. 
 As long as one's head don't go, it's the pleasantest 
 thing out. You know Glach Mohr is a favourite 
 expedition of our hostess, and I should not 
 wonder on our return here to find " 
 
 " Fergus, it seems to me a fellow - feeling 
 makes you wondrous kind ! Is there no chance 
 of the slender Olive straying so far ? " 
 
 " Stranger things have happened. ' Quien 
 sabe,' as the scorpion says. Take Donald, or 
 Rory if you will, and let us be moving, or 
 they'll think we have shot so many Cossacks we 
 care little for the nobler animal." 
 
 " Thanks. I'll stick to Bain ; we know each 
 other's ways. I fear you have drawn badly
 
 86 AM AT. 
 
 in Loch Corr, but the day is young — au 
 revoir^ 
 
 " Now, Rory," says Fergus, as Macdonald goes 
 off round the shoulder of the hill with the long 
 swinging step of a man to the heather born ; 
 " what do you think of my chance to-day ? " 
 
 " 'Deed an 'deed put 'tis no ta pest pate at al, 
 at al, whativer ; put too pe shurelee she did na 
 saw since a long time sich a het simmer ; an ta 
 puir pastes er jist wild wi ta meedjees. She's 
 thinken Benquoich uU no pe haven ta ferry 
 worrst pate after al. She wass spyin last necht, 
 an she did saw ta mickle staig gae down by ta 
 loch, an maybe Benquoich uU pe shuten him 
 tis day whativer." 
 
 " At Loch Corr last night ! Rory, Rory, why 
 did you not tell me this sooner, and I would 
 have given Captain Elliot the chance ? " 
 
 " 'Deed put she wass thinken o' tat ; put maype 
 ta Capten he wud na shute sa weel ass Ben- 
 quoich." 
 
 " "Well, well, 'tis too late now ; besides, he 
 drew his lot, and as far as that goes it may be
 
 AMAT. 87 
 
 the best yet. Which end of the loch was it 
 at, Kory ? " 
 
 " It wass dune py ta sooth said tat she did 
 saw him last necht too pe shurelee." 
 
 " Then we shall have to look sharp, Rory, for 
 if Captain Macdonald sends any deer out of 
 Corrie Voe, they'll be sure to disturb that side of 
 Loch Corr." 
 
 And away they stride, with the air of men 
 who, having something weighty on their minds, 
 are determined to bring it to a satisfactory issue, 
 if that be possible, without delay. 
 
 After about an hour's sharp walking, Kory, 
 who keeps in front, suddenly throws himself on 
 his face, a manoeuvre which Fergus appreciates 
 too well not to follow instantly. 
 
 Cautiously the old stalker pulls out his glass 
 and spies long and carefully. At last without 
 a word he passes it back to Fergus, who has 
 waited patiently, knowing how keenly he enjoys 
 every detail, except the final one, to which 
 custom has in some degree blunted him. 
 
 " Yes, I see him, Rory ; at least he is a ' royal,'
 
 88 AMAT. 
 
 and a big one. But what a place of safety lie 
 has put himself into ! " 
 
 While he yet speaks something seems to dis- 
 turb the stag, for he rises, and brushing either 
 flank with his antlers, he shows himself in all 
 his glory. Undoubtedly it is the one they 
 seek, long famous. 
 
 Although fully a mile off and up wind, they 
 instinctively speak in whispers as they lie watch- 
 ing him for half-an-hour or more while he feeds 
 away from them. At last he lies down again 
 about a hundred yards from a burn which runs 
 into the loch from the south. 
 
 " Hoich ! tat weel do ferry wel, Benquoich ; 
 put we maun pe ferry queeck whativer." 
 
 In a few hurried words the plan on which 
 they decide is, to fall back about half a mile, get 
 round to the south side of the ridge which lies 
 between Corrie Voe and Loch Corr, and striking 
 the top of the burn near which the stag is now 
 lying, follow its course until they get within 
 range. 
 
 There are several difficulties in the way which
 
 AM AT. 89 
 
 make them feel anything but confident of 
 success. 
 
 At any moment Ian, who happily had gone 
 to the south side of Corrie Voe, may move some 
 deer out of it, and, by no uncommon ill-luck, 
 right over the ridge sufficiently near to disturb 
 their stag. Again, they have at least half-an- 
 hour's sharp walking before they can reach the 
 burn ; it would be no discredit to the best of 
 stalkers if they take the wrong one out of the 
 half-dozen which furrow that face ; and lastly, in 
 their enforced absence from view of the stag, he 
 may move into fresh ground, possibly down 
 wind from them as they descend towards the 
 loch. 
 
 Fortunately the east wind has drawn the deer 
 generally towards the top of the corrie, and as 
 the ground is very rough, they manage to get 
 along a little below the ridge without stumb- 
 ling upon anything, until Rory, looking over it, 
 beckons to Fergus, and with a rush they find 
 themselves in a slight hollow, which, as it gathers 
 water, gradually deepens and widens until the
 
 90 AMAT. 
 
 burn, now shrunk by the summer droughts to a 
 gentle rill, in winter flings itself into the loch a 
 foaming torrent. 
 
 Frequently, as they slowly and noiselessly 
 progress, Rory stops to spy, but nothing can be 
 seen. Has he gone ? Have they taken the 
 wrong burn ? The suspense is terrible. But 
 Kory will not be hurried. He may be gone ? 
 Rory does not think so ; but for the alternative, 
 implying an ignorance of the ground ! 
 
 Fergus, silenced if not convinced by the 
 noiseless argument, follows on ; until at last his 
 thoughts are somewhat rudely interrupted by 
 Rory, who, slightly above, seizes him by the 
 collar of his jacket and throws him on his back. 
 Looking up he sees Rory lying flat, with a light 
 on his face which tells him much. 
 
 At last, when it seems impossible for Fergus 
 longer to bear the trickling cold of the drip from 
 the peat hag which falls from the edge, runs 
 down his back, and soaks his kilt as he lies in the 
 arrested water, Rory ventures to move forward, 
 and taking ofi" his bonnet, raises himself inch by
 
 AMAT. 91 
 
 inch over the top of the small brae which hides 
 them. 
 
 Following suit, Fergus, crawling on his stomach, 
 gains a similar position, and, guided by Rory's 
 finger, sees, about two hundred yards from 
 where they lie, the object of many a fruitless 
 stalk. 
 
 Only the year before, Charlie himself after four 
 hour's hard work had just got within shot, and 
 Rory was grimly calculating how they could get 
 him home, when an old cock grouse sprang up, 
 crowing loudly, at their feet ; in another moment 
 the stag was bounding down the hill, and the 
 bullet flattened on a stone an inch or so above 
 his shoulder. 
 
 Even Rory's veteran hand trembles now a 
 little with suppressed excitement, as he takes the 
 rifle out of its cover and draws back the bolts. 
 
 " Diaoul ! " he mutters, as he looks in vain for 
 a better chance. No strategist could have taken 
 up a safer position than the wary stag. 
 
 On the edge of a small plateau, he commands 
 a view of nearly the whole basin of Loch Corr.
 
 92 AMAT. 
 
 At his back is a large boulder, which conceals all 
 but his shoulders and his splendid head. 
 
 If they go lower down, the eddy from the 
 abruptly rising ground on the other side of the 
 burn may carry back their wind to him. If 
 they whistle to make him move, such an old 
 stager may with one bound put himself in 
 safety over the edge of the ground on which he 
 .is lying. 
 
 There is nothing for it but to try and hit him 
 between the shoulders as he is. No one knows 
 better than Fergus how often such a shot is 
 missed, even by the best men. 
 
 Old hand as he is at this kind of thing, twice 
 he puts up his rifle and takes it down again. 
 
 " If I miss him, Rory 1 " 
 
 " She w^ass mony a time wi Benquoich, an 
 niver did she saw Benquoich mak wan mees 
 whativer." 
 
 What a thing it is to know the gallery is 
 with you ! 
 
 Fergus holds his breath, pulls himself together, 
 and then the trigger. Not a move ! The stag
 
 AMAT. 93 
 
 lies there as unconcerned apparently as if he 
 scorned to notice either noise or bullets. 
 
 " Tat's na cannie ! Pless me ! Put she wass 
 thinken tat ta pal struck fair to pe shurelee. 
 Thry wance mor, Benquoich." 
 
 Again the rifle cracks, but with a similar result. 
 
 Superstitious as all Highlanders, stout-hearted 
 as they are, Fergus and Rory look at each other 
 with blank and somewhat anxious faces ; but, 
 practical as ever, Rory quickly loads, and giving 
 Fergus back the rifle, says — 
 
 " 'Deed an if ta paste pe sleepin, maype 
 Benquoich caun shute him closer ; " and, suiting 
 the action to the word, they crawl warily but 
 rapidly down the hill, at every yard fearing to 
 see him gallop off". At last they reach the very 
 boulder-stone and look quietly over. 
 
 Still lies the stag as when they saw him first. 
 
 But Rory's practised eye more quickly guessed 
 the truth. The ' Pritchett ' had made no blunder. 
 The first ball had struck him full on the spine 
 just between the shoulders, the second only 
 an inch aside ; and death had been so instan-
 
 94 AMAT. 
 
 taneous that the noble head alone had moved a 
 little and rested on the heather. 
 
 " Tat's ferry goot, Benquoich ; a ferry prettie 
 paste, an weel shute tu, whativer," is all that 
 Fergus heard at that moment of quick revulsion 
 which comes to many of us when we see the 
 life-blood we have spilt for love of sport. 
 
 In a few minutes Rory is busy with the neces- 
 sary duties of the gralloch, and after pulling 
 the stag into a hollow, covering him up with 
 some long heather, and tying a handkerchief to 
 his head to keep the eagles and the foxes off, is 
 ready for another stalk. 
 
 Not so Fergus. 
 
 " Rory, I'll kill no smaller stag to - day. 
 There is not a finer in the forest. Go back to 
 the shelling, and send a pony to fetch this home, 
 I'll bathe in the loch and then follow you."
 
 AMAT. 95 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " But what is tlie sport, Monsieur? " — Touchdone. 
 
 As the day wears on, Mrs. Beaucliamp, the 
 Campbells, Eila, her father, and the Doctor make 
 ready for their picnic at Clach Mohr. 
 
 Not without grave misgiving does Lady Alice 
 leave the coast clear for the descent of the 
 enemy. No one knows better than she how 
 easily hearts are caught and held after such 
 a scene as they had gone through the day before. 
 
 However, bowing to the inevitable for the 
 moment, and wise enough to provide herself as 
 far as possible with more than one string to her 
 bow, she has given Julia the cue, and is pre- 
 pared to take events as they present themselves, 
 with the resolution and resource of a thorough 
 general.
 
 96 AMAT. 
 
 Thus then the party starts, shorn of its due 
 proportion of attendant cavaliers, but some of 
 them at least devoutly trusting in a brighter 
 disposition ere they return. 
 
 As they mount the glen in picturesque file, 
 while the stalwart kilt - clad ghillies add the 
 element of life which the surrounding scenery 
 alone requires, there comes over them that joy- 
 ous sense of existence which the combination 
 of mountainous country, glorious weather, and 
 pleasant companionship seldom fails to produce. 
 
 Arrived at the shieling, the more prosaic 
 demands of nature assert themselves, as they 
 always do on such occasions, somewhat loudly. 
 
 Be it the unaccustomed exercise or the gener- 
 ally protracted hour, there is ever a gusto 
 with which al fresco meals are attacked which 
 the aldermanic banquetter may sigh for in vain. 
 
 The Doctor, armed with the necessary equip- 
 ment, speedily thereafter goes in quest of sundry 
 additions which he hopes to make to his col- 
 lection. 
 
 Mrs. Beauchamp and Colonel Trevor, reclining
 
 AMAT. 97 
 
 under some magnificent old birch trees, are 
 watching the saltatory efforts of the salmon at 
 the falls below them, in that state of beatitude 
 so commonly accompanying the hour and the 
 fulfilment of its pleasant duties. 
 
 Eila, Julia, and Olive, grouped together in the 
 shade of the huge granite boulder which gives 
 the Celtic name, " Big Stone," to the lodge, sit 
 on the sweet short turf and gossip, while they 
 sketch divers portions of the lovely panorama 
 before them. 
 
 " I didn't know, Eila, that you had met any 
 of Charlie's regiment before." 
 
 " But little more, Julia. Papa took me into 
 their hospitable tent at Ascot, and several were 
 introduced. The only one who made any im- 
 pression was Captain Elliot." 
 
 " And that an agreeable one, I fancy ! " says 
 Olive, with a laugh, 
 
 " Yes," admits Eila, her colour rising a little. 
 " He is very nice, and in addition to his unde- 
 niable good looks, he has that charm of manner 
 which one associates more with the Austrian." 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 ' AMAT. 
 
 '' Ah, if our men would but waltz as they do," 
 acquiesces Julia. ''It is such a bore to be either 
 bumped against every one in the room, have 
 one's dress torn to shreds, or sit, nearly as inane 
 as many of the men look who stand in the 
 doorways, while Mrs. A., B., or C, makes all the 
 running." 
 
 "My dear Julia," says Eila emphatically, 
 " never fancy for a moment that you can com- 
 pete with a married woman who chooses to lay 
 herself out to please promiscuously. She can 
 afford to say and do so many things more or less 
 risque ; the limit may be defined by the com- 
 plaisance or experience of her husband, or the 
 strength of her own head and heart. The genus 
 is developing rapidly, and the next generation of 
 girls will follow hard on their footsteps unless 
 men change, which is not likely ; for — though a 
 pursuing animal by nature, he rather likes being 
 run down sometimes." 
 
 "I don't wonder," murmurs Olive, sympa- 
 thetically ; " it must save such a deal of trouble ! 
 But who have we here ? " as some one approaches
 
 AM AT. 99 
 
 in the distance. " All, it's Roiy ; such a hand- 
 some man, my dear, but provokingly obscure in 
 his dialect. Even his Gaelic is not like that of 
 these parts. I wonder who he has been with ? 
 Rory ! " she calls out, as he is passing on 
 towards the stables. 
 
 " Goot tay, leddies," he says, lifting his bonnet 
 as he draws near. " 'Tis a ferry long time tat 
 she wass na hearin tat ta leddies wass na comin 
 tu ta Norrth, whativer." 
 
 " Yes, Rory, we have not been here for a year 
 or two, but I have not forgotten how you taught 
 me to catch trout in Loch Craggie. Do you 
 think we could do anything in the boat there 
 this afternoon ? " 
 
 " Tu pe surelee, Mees Cawmill. Benquoich 
 hass pin afFter shutin ta mickle staig dune pye 
 Loch Corr, an she wass jest goin tu sen tapownee 
 tu ta Loch tu pring ta paste tu Clach Mohr. 
 Benquoich," he adds, with a slight movement of 
 the muscles of his mouth, " wass na oroin tu 
 stalk anny mor whativer ; Benquoich wass comin 
 pack tu Clach Mohr." 
 
 H 2
 
 100 AMAT. 
 
 " Oh ! that's delightful," says Julia, while 
 Olive keeps a discreet silence ; "we shall have 
 some one at all events to help us in the boat. But 
 wonders will never cease ! Is that Captain Elliot 
 that I see swinging down the hill over there ? " 
 
 "To pe surelee, Mees Cawmill ; maybe ta 
 Captin ees wantin tu fesh in Loch Craggie." 
 This with perfect gravity. 
 
 And in a few minutes Ronald is giving an 
 account of his proceedings. 
 
 Of course Hector Fraser had taken his own 
 way, as Fergus had warned him, and twice, 
 Ronald, who was by no means an indifferent 
 shot, though without much experience beyond a 
 smooth bore, had missed badly in the excite- 
 ment of suddenly seeing a stag, for a moment 
 stately and erect, a true monarch of his glen, 
 and the next instant bounding down the hillside 
 with antlers flung back, flying for dear life from 
 his most dreaded foe. 
 
 At last in a third stalk Hector, partly seeing 
 the cause of this, brought Ronald quietly and 
 steadily up to a very fair stag.
 
 AMAT. 101 
 
 • 
 
 Taking a deliberate aim lie thought, unknown 
 to Hector, he would add to the certainty by 
 resting his rifle on a rock. Of course it threw 
 high, and to his horror he saw the stag go away 
 unhurt, while at some distance beyond lay an 
 unhappy hind shot through both haunches ! 
 
 " After that I felt I had better come home lest 
 a worse thing might befall me," says Ronald, 
 with a cheery laugh, less perhaps the result of 
 true philosophy than of seeing the good things 
 kind fate had provided to compensate for his lack 
 of skill or luck. 
 
 Hardly have they ceased laughing with him, 
 when Fergus strides across the glen, and being 
 congratulated on his success, deplored Rory's 
 reticence in the morning, which robbed Ronald 
 of the chance. 
 
 " My dear fellow, I should have missed him 
 to a moral, or smashed his antlers, or committed 
 some infinite atrocity which could only have been 
 atoned for by my permanent residence at the 
 bottom of the loch." 
 
 "Well, talking of that, we were meditating
 
 102 AMAT. 
 
 an endeavour to catch some of the lovely Loch 
 Craggie trout when we were surprised by your 
 nppearance. It is not often," says Olive, with a 
 quick look at Eila, " that the forest is deserted 
 so early in the day ! " 
 
 "Nor often," replied Fergus, bowing low, with 
 intention, towards her, *' that the loch is so 
 favoured. Let us try, Paul, to do honour to the 
 occasion, and fill a basket to be remembered hence- 
 forth. The wind has gone round to the west ; 
 there are some clouds coming up, and in an hour 
 or so if we don't find the fish asking to be caught 
 by such hands, you may call me a cockney." 
 
 " I should be more tolerant of the species at 
 Greenwich, Wimbledon, Richmond, and other 
 places where they make themselves so obnoxious, 
 if they would only look and dress like you ! " 
 thinks Olive, as she glances at his glowing face 
 and stalwart figure. 
 
 Rory, having sent ofi" a pony and ghillie for the 
 stag, is already on his way with several others to 
 Loch Craggie, wdiich is within a stiffish mile of the 
 Lodge.
 
 AMAT. 103 
 
 This little loch, in its way a perfect gem, is 
 richly set in old red crag, green woods, and 
 purple heather, the edges serried by tiny bays, 
 whose pellucid depths show the varied- coloured 
 gravels, which, tossed by winter storms, form 
 shelving banks in brilliant contrast to the grey, 
 black, and rocky islets, where the sea-gull and 
 the wild duck hatch their young in almost 
 primeval peace. 
 
 Perched as it is some two thousand feet above 
 the sea, the view is lovely, and few go there 
 on summer days who do not carry away sweet. 
 memories of a landscape nearly perfect of its kind. 
 
 The trout, too, are famous for their size, beauty, 
 and excellence. Imbued apparently with a 
 spirit befitting such a birthplace, they give more 
 sport with light tackle than many a lordly but 
 sulky salmon. 
 
 With the wisdom of the sailor who knows the 
 danger of a boat, Lord Amat insists on ladies 
 always having a large one, in which they may 
 move about without the risk of, or dans^er 
 attending, an upset.
 
 104 AM AT. 
 
 Pulled by four oars, the whole party find 
 themselves ere long in that part of the loch which, 
 Rory knows, will be most likely to yield good, 
 and, what the fair sex likes above all things, quick, 
 sport. 
 
 '' I think," says Fergus, " it may save some 
 possible loss of time and temper if only two 
 fish together — one at each end of the boat. It 
 is not easy to prevent casting at the same 
 moment if there are more, and then the results 
 are tragic ! If I may, I will endeavour to show 
 Miss Olive how to wile the biggest trout. Per- 
 haps, Paul, Miss Trevor will allow you to choose 
 her flies ? " 
 
 "■ And I ? " inquired Julia, coquettishly. 
 
 '' Ah," replied Pergus, "if you would but sing 
 something, what could we wish for more ! " 
 
 " What shall it be then — Romantic, Aquatic, 
 Celtic ? " 
 
 " Why not the three in one ? " suggests Ronald. 
 " What more appropriate than a water-kelpie's 
 ode ! " 
 
 " In Gaelic ? "
 
 AM AT. 105 
 
 " Oh, no," said Eila. " It may be tlie oldest 
 language in the world, but I cannot think a love 
 song could sound soft in it." 
 
 "Would you prefer an English one?" asked 
 Ronald, with a tender inflection in his lowered 
 voice. 
 
 " That would so much depend upon the sere- 
 nader," replied Eila, turning her great soft eyes 
 full upon him, suddenly, in such a way as makes 
 even his practised heart beat fast, and his pulses 
 throb quickly with a sensation he had not known 
 since he found himself enthralled by his first 
 enchantress. 
 
 " On the whole," says Julia, not unobservant 
 of this byplay, and feeling herself somewhat 
 out of it, " I think I shall defer any attempt to 
 charm you or the fishes by my unaided voice." 
 
 " May we hope then for a duet a little later ? " 
 suggests Fergus, somewhat wickedly ; " the ab- 
 sent deerslayer has rather a fine voice ! " 
 
 " That will depend upon circumstances as yet 
 unforeseen, but even I can tell you that my 
 sister will not get her first fish before Miss Trevor
 
 106 AMAT. 
 
 if you are not more rapid in the selection of your 
 cast." 
 
 " So ? " says Eonald, as he hands the rod to 
 Eila. 
 
 " Now if you are ready, and we are to make a 
 basket, remember to cast alternately down wind, 
 and then, keeping your bob-fly skipping on the 
 top of the water, bring your line gradually round 
 through the trough of it, not across the ripple. 
 Strike the moment you see the fish break the 
 surface, but not too quickly, for their mouths are 
 as soft as their flesh is firm." 
 
 " A fair start and no favour I " remarks Julia, 
 as she reclines luxuriously in a nest of plaids, 
 while her shapely hand dabbles in the water. 
 
 " Excellent, Miss Trevor," cries Ronald a 
 minute after, as a fine trout dashing at her tail- 
 fly, a small " John Scott," is hooked by a skilful 
 turn of her wrist, and, stung by the pain as well 
 as the surprise, darts ofi" taking line from the reel 
 like a fresh run grilse. " Keep up the point of 
 the rod ; let him go, but not too freely ; he will 
 soon stop. Now wind up quickly, and bring him
 
 AM AT. 107 
 
 near the boat. Ah, he's gone ! No, he must 
 he well hooked. Don't be too hard on him 
 though. By Jove ! he's a good trout. Give me 
 the landing-net, Rory. Now then, gently. This 
 way a little, please ; hang it ! is he off ? No ! yes ! 
 ah ! there he is at last. First blood, Fergus, and 
 a splendid fellow. Five pounds if he's an ounce. 
 Isn't he, Rory ? " 
 
 " 'Deed put she's no sayin, Captin, tat she 
 ever did saw a mickle bonnier troot in ta loch, 
 w^hativer." 
 
 " Ah," said Benquoich, stroking his mous- 
 tache, " it's like your luck, Paul ; always first." 
 
 " Well," retorts Ronald laughing, " Miss Camp- 
 bell has two on now ; land them for her, if you 
 can. They are the liveliest little beggars I ever 
 saw." 
 
 It's true ; but he does it, deftly. As was pre- 
 dicted, the breeze freshens, the clouds come up, 
 and a gentle summer shower brings the trout to 
 the surface, ravenous for their evening meal. 
 Almost as quickly as they can strike and play 
 them, the fair anglers, with the assistance of their
 
 108 AM AT. 
 
 mentors, catch their fish ; and by the time they 
 land, three large baskets containing as much as 
 so many ghillies can carry home, show the result 
 of their united skill. 
 
 " Yes ; they are indeed fine trout," says 
 Ronald, as they leave the boat ; " but I never 
 make such a remark without thinking of the 
 terrible blunder I made once." 
 
 " AVhat was that ? " asks Eila. 
 
 " An old friend of mine — he was well on for 
 seventy, with some fifteen thousand a year — was 
 fascinated by a girl, uncommonly good-looking 
 she was too, who threw over the poor fellow she 
 was engaged to when old Dreghorn appeared on 
 the scene. They were on their honeymoon tour 
 when I came across them one Sunday at the 
 Trossachs. He introduced me to his blushing 
 bride, of whom I had never heard before, and 
 insisted on my dining with them. As they seemed 
 slightly bored with each other, I appeared to be 
 rather appreciated, until the unhappy speech 
 which has been a sort of nightmare to me ever 
 since.
 
 AMAT. 109 
 
 " With a metaphorica] flourish of trumpets the 
 waiter staggered in with a large fish, boiled whole 
 if you believe me, and put it on the table. 
 Naturally we all said, ' What a splendid fish ! ' 
 But I, not content with such a prosaic remark, 
 thinking I was going to say something rather 
 smart, added, ' Ah ! yes, but I have always 
 remarked that the finest salmon are caught with 
 a golden hook ! ' 
 
 " Poor Dreghorn ! — he didn't live a year after 
 — glanced at me reproachfully in a manner I 
 could not understand ; but she looked Juliet 
 transformed into Lady Macbeth on the instant. 
 In vain I cracked my choicest jokes, and I 
 left them early, saddened but still unenlightened. 
 In the morning I got a note from him — only 
 three lines — they were enough : 
 
 " ' My dear boy, we are off. Her name was 
 Salmon.' " 
 
 "Ah ! " says Fergus, as their laughter sub- 
 sided, " I have remarked whenever I have had 
 the misfortune to come across honey-mooning 
 couples that they are morbidly sensitive. Per-
 
 no AM AT. 
 
 liaps the excessive amount of sweetness they 
 imbibe impairs their digestions, and therefore 
 their tempers. I would almost as soon inter- 
 fere with a ' belling ' stag in October as plunge 
 into the domesticity of a newly-married pair. 
 The wisest man of my acquaintance took away 
 his bride in a yacht, and was no more seen until 
 they had settled down into the normal state 
 of blissful married life." 
 
 " Yes," rejoined Ronald, who is not over- 
 burdened with this world's gear ; " it is wonder- 
 ful how easy the chariot of existence rolls along 
 if the axles be but golden." 
 
 "And yet, judging from daily experience, 
 that does not prevent its upsetting, when, 
 perhaps, the results are more disastrous than if 
 the occupants were content with a less Sybaritic 
 style of travelling through the world," says Eila, 
 whose experiences of the discomforts of life are 
 confined to the shortcomings of a courier, or the 
 whims of an exacting femme de chamhre. 
 
 " So much depends upon the charioteer, my 
 dear Eila," says Julia, with an air of superior
 
 AMAT. Ill 
 
 wisdom ; " I have seen people tumble over and 
 go on again in a little with perfect equanimity." 
 
 " Yes ; if their skins be thick, or their bones 
 tough as Jack Mytton's, such a fall may do some 
 good ; but as a rule," observed Fergus, senten- 
 tiously, " I think there are few who are not 
 shaky ever afterwards." 
 
 " It's not always the pace that kills ; often one 
 gets over a difficult place by it," says Eonald. 
 " When I was driving our coach to Ascot one 
 day I was horrified in the middle of the pitch 
 below ' the Wheatsheaf ' to see a drunken fly- 
 man suddenly dart out from a cross road, con- 
 cealed by Scots firs, right under the leaders. 
 The lady in the box beside me, a cool hand as 
 you may imagine, said, * I think I can catch that 
 branch.' The next instant, instead of the smash 
 we all expected, I saw the plucky flyman, horse, 
 and trap disappear in the ditch on our left. He 
 couldn't have done more had his name been 
 Curtius." 
 
 "What was it? What became of him, Cap- 
 tain Elliot?"
 
 112 AM IT. 
 
 " All ! who knows ? I can only record his self- 
 devotion ; it was impossible to pull up at the 
 pace we were going, with the crowd behind us, 
 
 but from the cheers we heard I fancy he fell 
 soft, as the inebriate generally do." 
 
 " Bad examples, both, of reckless driving," 
 says Ian, with unusual bitterness in his tone ; 
 " it was your usual luck that saved a crash. The 
 flyman had only his own neck to think of, but 
 you had at least one lady on board, to say 
 nothing of the grub and liquor of a hundred 
 expectant fellows. It all comes of overdoing 
 the pace. It don't matter then how much 
 'gilt' the axles may be at the start, they're 
 bound to fail you, and then you'll find fifty 
 outsiders you never thought or heard of abusing 
 you." 
 
 " Captain Macdonald takes things au grand 
 serieux sometimes, apparently," says Eila to 
 Ronald, as after this the fishing party tails off", 
 and they find themselves nearing the shieling 
 in front of the others. 
 
 " It's a way he has. Good fellow as ever
 
 AMAT. 113 
 
 was ; there are more things locked up in him 
 than any of us have yet got at. He has a griev- 
 ance like most, perhaps, but it's not so often 
 near the light as he brought it just now." 
 
 Eila muses as she steps firmly yet daintily 
 along the slightly-worn track in the heather, 
 while Ronald, sometimes on one side, now on 
 the other, gives her the helping hand which 
 the exigencies of the ground demand. 
 
 Does she fancy at times that he retains his 
 hold a second longer than is absolutely neces- 
 sary ? Is she displeased ? Who can tell ? 
 
 Suddenly she says, " You must have been 
 very thankful that the drag did not upset when 
 you had such a precious load ! " 
 
 Does Ronald smile as he reflects for an instant 
 before answering ? " Yes ; you may fancy what 
 my feelings were when I tell you that she — " 
 
 But the sentence is never finished, for Kirsty, 
 darting out, overwhelms them with the news 
 that Lady Amat has been taken suddenly and 
 dangerously ill, and that the Doctor, happily 
 caught, has gone off" in haste to the castle.
 
 114 AMAT. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " Good news or bad, that thou com'st in so bluntly?" 
 
 King Richard III. 
 
 The glorious weather, the charming scenery of 
 the drive into Fort William, the cheery company, 
 the sensations inseparable from sitting behind 
 four good horses handled by an artist, all com- 
 bine to dissipate the somewhat bitter thoughts 
 with which Lady Alice had mounted the box, 
 and they have not gone far ere she philosophic- 
 ally trusts to the chapter of accidents preventing 
 that opportunity which she feels will bring 
 about a situation she will find hard to overcome. 
 Picking up the Doctor's luggage left by the 
 steamer. Lord Amat drives on to the Post-ofl&ce, 
 coming from which they meet his local factor with
 
 AM AT. 115 
 
 a face expressive of dolorous importance, while 
 he holds the Inverness Courier in his brawny 
 hands. 
 
 Pulling up to ask the news, Lord Amat says, 
 " What's the matter, McPhee ? You look as 
 if something terrible had happened," 
 
 " Ah, me Lorrd, I'se fearin' it ull no be guid 
 tidings for yer lorrdship, or me leddy. They're 
 sayin' the master's ridgemint's orrd erred to 
 Injer at wance," 
 
 " Good God ! is it so really ? " he ejaculates, 
 as, handing the reins to the General, Lord Amat 
 descends rapidly from the box. Taking the 
 paper, he reads only too certain confirmation 
 of the rumour which had already spread ; and 
 when they get the letter-bag, the various official- 
 looking letters addressed to his son and his 
 friends leave no room for doubt that they are 
 under orders. 
 
 It is an anxious drive home, and all his 
 thoughts are directed to how he can best break 
 the news to his wife. 
 
 " I wish, Beauchamp, I could have managed to 
 
 I 2
 
 116 AMAT. 
 
 drop a hint of what you said last night; but 
 poor Zoe was so taken up by our boy's accident 
 that I could find no good opportunity of pre- 
 paring her for what 1 fear is now inevitable, 
 though any might have been better than some 
 chance now conveying suddenly this terrible 
 news to her." 
 
 " I would lose no time further in telling her, 
 Amat ; ill tidings fly fast, as we know too well." 
 
 The afternoon is not far spent when they 
 return, and, taking his friend's advice, Lord 
 Amat hurries at once in search of his wife. 
 
 But a little time before she, having finished 
 her correspondence, came down to the library 
 where she had left Clarice. 
 
 It needed no mother's eye to take in the true 
 meaning of the tableau which met her glance as 
 she came into the room. 
 
 Por a moment the pang of maternal regret, 
 which comes on such occasions to the most 
 unselfish, was very keen, but in another minute 
 she recognized all the joy of having such a 
 daughter ; and when Clarice, hurrying forward,
 
 AMAT. 117 
 
 threw herself into her extended arms, each knew 
 that no words were needed. 
 
 " Mother, dear," said Charlie, " you see I 
 have given you a daughter, and, in spite of the 
 old saying, 1 shall not be the less your son that 
 she has promised to be my wife." 
 
 " My blessed boy, if you are half as good a 
 husband as you have been a son to me, our 
 Clarice will be very happy. But you have 
 known him, dear, for long, and," with a quiver- 
 ing smile lighting up her sweet face, " I need 
 not descant upon his merits. Great as they 
 are in his mother's eyes, naturally, I could not 
 have wished him a worthier or lovelier wife, 
 my darling child." 
 
 While thus they are talking with full hearts 
 in this new-found happiness, Lord Amat enters. 
 
 Usually somewhat formal and precise, a dis- 
 ciplinarian, as many sailors are even on shore, 
 but most kind, there is something startling in 
 his hurried gait and excited manner as he ap- 
 proaches them ; not the less so, that he, not- 
 withstanding his own preoccupation, catching
 
 118 AMAT. 
 
 from the attitudes of the group a glimpse of 
 the possible relations now existing between 
 them, feels the difficulties of the task before him 
 harder than he had anticipated. 
 
 But with an eifort he pulls himself together, 
 and after a few words of affectionate greet- 
 ing, sajs, " Charlie, my boy, there are some 
 unpleasant-looking official letters for you in 
 the hall. 1 hope they don't mean a curtail- 
 mmt of your leave ; shall I fetch them for 
 you { 
 
 " Oh, no, Lairdie ; 1 can no longer pretend to 
 be an invalid, as dear Mum will tell you," says 
 Charlie, with a conscious laugh, grasping his 
 father by the hand ; " but before we go — for I 
 will carry off Clarice with me, if 1 may — 1 must 
 present my promised wife to you. Will you not 
 love her as a daughter ? " 
 
 " So ! yes, indeed, my dear," taking her in his 
 arms ; " I will for your own sweet sake, as well 
 as for his, and that of my best and oldest friends 
 — who 1 hope will know how gladly you are so 
 welcomed. Take her to them, Charlie, and say
 
 AMAT. 119 
 
 you have already got our blessing ; 1 don't think 
 they will deny her to you." 
 
 Happy as is the mother, the wifely instinct 
 has penetrated all the well-sustained effort, and, 
 when they are at last alone, Lady Amat, put- 
 ting her hand on his arm, says piteously : 
 
 " What trouble has come upon us, Lewis 
 mine ? " 
 
 For answer he could only take her to his 
 heart at first, and try to stem the current of her 
 too accurate forebodings. 
 
 " I know not, love ; at least I cannot say. The 
 news from India are not good, and I fear more 
 troops will have to go." 
 
 " Ah ! how sad for those whose kin are among 
 them. Are there any that we know, dear ? " 
 
 " Yes, my darling, many." (How oan I tell 
 her ?) 
 
 " Who ? Any that we care for much ? " 
 
 " There are indeed." (This is torture !) 
 
 " What ! ah, God ! — tell me, it is not our 
 boy ! " — clutching at him convulsively ; and as 
 the terrible truth dawns upon her, less from his
 
 120 AMAT. 
 
 words than the tone of his voice, the expression 
 of his face, she seems to slip from his grasp, and 
 sinks to the floor a shattered wreck of the 
 bright, beautiful, happy mother she was a few 
 short moments before. 
 
 Once more, ere the sun had set again, the 
 Castle is steeped in sorrowful anxiety, and each 
 one counts the minutes as they speed, while the 
 beloved chatelaine lies unconscious, waiting for 
 the aid so happily at hand through her own 
 kind and hospitable nature. 
 
 At last it comes, though meanwhile poor 
 Charlie and his father find it hard to bear the 
 agonizing suspense, so trying to those who watch 
 the beloved suffer, unable to relieve or do any- 
 thing but offer spasmodic prayer. 
 
 The practised eye and ready knowledge of the 
 doctor soon see what has worked the ruin. 
 
 " Paralysis, my Lord ; but do not be alarmed. 
 I do not think there need be apprehension of 
 more than possibly severe prostration and it may 
 be a temporary, partial loss of power. Her 
 ladyship's constitution I take to be sound, and,
 
 AM AT. 121 
 
 with the careful, constant nursing she will have, 
 her recovery is, under God, only a question of 
 time. But tell me, what gave her such a shock 
 as this ?".... 
 
 " Ah ! and he must go, of course. This is 
 indeed grave. How are we to guard against a 
 recurrence of the blow ? I should warn you 
 frankly that a second stroke, coming quickly, 
 mio^ht be fatal." 
 
 o 
 
 " I'm sure I cannot tell. He must rejoin 
 before the res^iment sails. If he goes while she 
 is still unconscious his absence may provoke 
 another shock, while even if he could remain 
 here the sight of him mioht recall the mental 
 agony from which she is now suflFering." 
 
 " What orders have been received then, my 
 Lord ? " 
 
 " They are directed to join within forty-eight 
 hours. It takes half of that to get to Ports- 
 mouth from this, so they must leave to-morrow 
 evening at latest." 
 
 " Well, let us hope for the best. I have seen 
 one night of perfect rest and quiet work wonders.
 
 122 AMAT. 
 
 You may ensure these here, I think. Lady Amat 
 must be tended with the greatest watchfulness, 
 and in the morning we may be better able to 
 shape our course." 
 
 It is sad indeed for the just adopted daughter 
 to see one whom she had loved always, but 
 how much more now that the tie between them 
 is acknowledged, thus prostrated by the news 
 which has come upon her own newly -found 
 happiness with such cruel swiftness. 
 
 But one grief helps to drive away another, 
 and as she sits and watches by her Charlie's 
 mother, the sorrow at his sudden departure is 
 deadened by the deep anxiety she feels for the 
 result of this alarming illness. 
 
 Poor Clarice is no Stoic. She has loved 
 Charlie more or less all her life, and has hardly 
 yet tasted the joy of knowing she is beloved 
 in turn. But she is a soldier's daughter, and, 
 brought up in a school where duty takes the 
 first place, she is ready to part with him at its 
 call, trusting, as she has not in vain before, that 
 it may still be well with him in the dangers
 
 AMAT. 123 
 
 which she cannot ignore, though she tries to 
 comfort herself by thinking they will not be 
 so great as those he has recently passed safely 
 through. 
 
 As for Eila, Julia, Olive, it would be diflBcult 
 to say with what feelings they hear the cause of 
 Lady Amat's seizure. 
 
 Eila feels she cannot measure by any ordinary 
 rule such a man as Ronald Elliot. She has not 
 seen enough, and yet perhaps too much, of him 
 to be able to form an unbiassed opinion of the 
 qualities without which she thinks she is not one 
 to give away her heart entirely. Still, as she 
 looks back from the beginning of their acquaint- 
 ance, and the rapidity with which they have 
 advanced to a more intimate interchange of 
 deeper thoughts and feelings, she cannot help 
 admittinor to herself that no one she has ever 
 met before possessed that indefinable charm 
 which pervades the man of a woman's inmost 
 preference. And yet she has seen not a few. 
 
 Olive's more impulsive heart, uncontrolled by 
 any worldly necessity, has ere this gone out of
 
 124 AMAT. 
 
 her own safe keeping, and it is with a tearful 
 expression, a somewhat tremulous lip, that she 
 says, " Good night " for the last time — -may it be 
 for ever ? — to the handsome, chivalrous -hearted 
 Fergus, who has realized her day-dream of all 
 that is desirable in a husband. 
 
 Julia, " so light and so careless," as a devoted 
 Coldstream used to call her, is, to say the least of 
 it, sorry that Ian is going ; but if it were not 
 that the fact means Charlie's departure also, she 
 would, as her habit is, easily console herself; 
 comforted moreover by the satisfactory feeling 
 that, for once at all events, she would be able 
 to combine pleasure with duty. 
 
 As for Lady Alice, she recognizes once more 
 the vanity of worldly schemes, and again the 
 kindly nature, which lies down below the crust 
 engrained upon it by the hard knocks and 
 struggles of her daily life, asserts itself, and she 
 becomes at once the comfort and mainstay of 
 the stricken husband and household.
 
 AM AT. 125 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 '• When the angry trumpet sounds alarm, and dead men's cries 
 do fill the empty air." — Waricick. 
 
 To the young soldiers themselves the order is 
 neither unexpected nor unwelcome. They would 
 naturally prefer service against a worthier foe ; 
 but the duties of the modern legionary lie in all 
 parts of the known world, and if he is to gather 
 laurels he cannot say at whose cost they may be 
 won. 
 
 As they assemble in the smoking-room for 
 what they know must be the last time for many 
 a long day, if not for that infinite span which 
 man's imagination vainly endeavours to grasp, 
 the thoughts of all are naturally full of the 
 events of the day.
 
 126 AM AT. 
 
 " They must have made up their minds to 
 send us in a great hurry," says Eonald, blowing 
 a cloud as he throws himself back in the easiest 
 of chairs ; " it was only the other day we gave a 
 lot of volunteers." 
 
 " Yes, Paul, and Hugh Baillic writes that we 
 are already threatened with an irruption of fine 
 fellows whose Irish brogue and Cockney chatf 
 would hardly fit the kilt." 
 
 " Trust to the chief to make that right," says 
 Ian. " If there's one thing he's keener about 
 than another it is the absurdity of having men 
 of one country dressed in the garb of another. 
 That's why he never would allow the undeniable 
 good qualities of the Zouave, though I agree 
 with him so far that they are much overrated 
 in some respects. Discipline the}^ don't know 
 as we read the word ; and though undoubtedly 
 hard hitters, I don't think they would stand a 
 heavy pounding from a determined enemy." 
 
 " For that," says Fergus, " give me the much- 
 abused Turk. I'll back him to stand more neg- 
 lect, and fight better at the end of it, than any
 
 AMAT. 127 
 
 soldier in the world. Feed him, arm him, lead 
 him as we could, and there is nothing possible 
 to man he would not do." 
 
 "It is as well, perhaps, for their neighbours, 
 then," remarks the General, " that their pachas 
 and officers generally are so effete." 
 
 " Possibly, sir ; for with all his undeniable 
 good qualities as a soldier, our late enemy the 
 Russian owes but little to the care of his officers. 
 He marches for ever and fights till he drops or is 
 ordered to the rear, and as for pain he certainly 
 bears it better than any fellow I ever came 
 across. After the heavy cavalry charge at Bala- 
 clava we advanced over the same ground, and 
 while we were halted for a few minutes I saw 
 one of the enemy lying on his back with his 
 head split almost in two. Seeing his eyes open, 
 I poured a little brandy down his throat, think- 
 ing to drown his terrible pain. Fancy my 
 astonishment when he rose to his feet, and, 
 clasping his hands tight over his head, he stag- 
 gered away to the rear ! " 
 
 " He must have been a toughish fellow that ;
 
 128 AMAT. 
 
 but after what happened to me to-day in the 
 forest my old ideas of the vulnerable parts of 
 any animal are quite upset," says Ian. 
 
 " Ah 1 what became of you ? If we had not 
 known you were very capable of taking care of 
 yourself we might have thought you had come 
 to grief when you did not turn up by a decent 
 hour." 
 
 "I found everything in Corrie Voe worth 
 Sfoing for was at the east end, and that means 
 some six miles of toughish walking. So the day 
 was getting on before I settled to my work ; and 
 then there were so many stags, big and little, 
 that I began to despair of having a fair chance 
 of a good head. At last I spyed a ' royal ' that 
 was well worth having, and, after a long stalk, 
 I got a crack at him. I suppose I am out of 
 gear ; anyhow my ball went high, just over his 
 shoulder, and I had to give him another as he 
 was moving off. Over he went, and I was begin- 
 ning to load when I saw him stagger on to his 
 feet. As Donald was gone towards Loch Corr 
 to see what had made the deer move somewhat
 
 AMAT. 129 
 
 suspiciously early in the day, I had no one with 
 me, so I ran up to his side as he tottered down 
 the hill. Presently his legs went faster, and I 
 had to double to keep up with him. I dared 
 not stop to load ; so there we were running a 
 veritable race for life, in which every minute he 
 appeared to get stronger, while my powers of 
 keeping up with him became weaker. I don't 
 know how long this went on ; but at last, when 
 it seemed as if I must give it up, he stopped 
 short, reeled, and fell dead. AVhen I gralloched 
 him I found the ball had gone clean through 
 the lower part of the heart I 
 
 " I had fairly lost Donald, so all I could do 
 was to tie a white handkerchief to my rod, shove 
 it into the heather, and smoke till he might find 
 me with his glass, which at last he did ; but it 
 was nearly ten before I got in here." 
 
 " It was well, Macdonald, that it was only a 
 stag you had to deal with," says Trevor. " When 
 I was in India for a short time I shot a good 
 deal of bifj game, and met with more than one 
 warninor of the danger of taking for granted 
 
 o o o ~ 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 AM AT. 
 
 that the beast was dead. As you will all be 
 there probably some little time, perhaps it won't 
 bore you young fellows if I tell you my first 
 adventure with a tiger. It has its moral, or I 
 wouldn't inflict you with it." 
 
 " Do by all means, Colonel. Ever since I read 
 the ' Tale of a Tub,' and how a chap was carried 
 off by a tiger, which he shot as he went along 
 on his back, I have longed to find myself in the 
 jungles." 
 
 " Well, it's a bit of a yarn, so you had better 
 light a fresh weed, though I fear we shall not see 
 our host or Charlie here to-night. 
 
 " It was not long after I had landed in India 
 that I found myself marching through a district 
 in Rohilcund. 'Twas during the cold weather, 
 about the middle of January, and, rather bored 
 with camp life, I used always to go out, as soon 
 as I could after the tents were pitched, with my 
 shikari on a pad elephant, which carried my 
 small battery — a double-barrelled Purdey and 
 a Joe Manton, also excellent in throwing a ball 
 up to eighty yards. In fact, for close work in .
 
 AMAT. 131 
 
 a jungle give me a smooth-bore rather than a 
 rifle. It IS handier for a quick snap shot, and, 
 as you know, in comparing the wounds, it seems 
 to strike with more stunning effect. 
 
 " At that time of year the jungle is green, the 
 country full of water, and one does not look for 
 tigers until the heat begins to dry up the grass 
 and the pools ; but 1 was always keenly hoping 
 to come across one, and rather stupidly said one 
 night at mess 1 wished I might kill my first 
 single-handed, at which I was chaffed a good 
 deal, being only a cornet. 
 
 " However, one day I went out as usual, and 
 had not gone far when I wounded a magnificent 
 cheetul — a spotted deer, very much like our 
 fallow, except that his horns are not palmated. 
 Seeing he was hard hit I slipped off the elephant 
 and told the shikari to follow me. After tracking; 
 him for some time I thouo^ht I heard it moan- 
 ing not far off, so pushing through some high 
 jungle I found myself in a sort of glade about 
 fifteen yards long ; but at the other end of it, 
 mstead of the cheetul, was a splendid tigf^r ! 
 
 K 2
 
 132 AMAT. 
 
 " I can see him now as he stood in a gleam 
 of sunshioe, his head towards me and his tail 
 lashing his sides, as he emitted the muttering 
 sound I had so mistaken. 
 
 "Instinct made me at once bring my rifle to the 
 present, and, sighting him behind the shoulder, I 
 was just going to pull when I saw that in my 
 hurry to follow the deer I had not loaded the 
 right barrel, which I had fired at it. 
 
 " I knew enough of the tenacity of life in the 
 feline tribe to be aware it was madness even at 
 that distance to trust to one barrel. So keeping 
 my eye fixed firmly on the tiger's, and briuging 
 the rifle down as quietly as I could, I put my 
 hand gently behind me for the Joe Manton 
 which the shikari carried. In vain I moved my 
 hand from side to side ! — I dared not speak or 
 even whisper. But at last it dawned upon me 
 that the gallant native had not cared to remain 
 in such a neighbourhood ! What was I to do ? 
 
 "Again I brought the rifle up, and pressing my 
 finger steadily on the trigger, in another half 
 second the fate of one of us would probably have
 
 AMAT. 133 
 
 been sealed, when I remembered that my rifle 
 had a standing sight for one hundred yards, and 
 that I had more than once found it throw too 
 high for immediate results at near shots. This 
 
 o 
 
 decided me ; but how was I to get out of his 
 presence ? All the time the magnificent brute 
 kept his eye on me, and I felt that if I turned 
 my back to him he would be upon it in a 
 bound. 
 
 " At last, in a state bordering on fascination, I 
 moved one foot slowly to the rear, then the 
 other, and thus inch by inch retreated, as from 
 royalty, until I found myself close to a fairly big 
 tree. There I was safe ; and hurrying off to 
 where I had left the elephant, I found the shikari 
 and mahout in affected fears of my safety. 
 
 " Seizing the Joe Manton, with anything but a 
 blessing, I hastened back to the glade, thinking I 
 should arrive at a more satisfactory conclusion 
 this time. But he too had thought discretion 
 the better part, and was gone. 
 
 " Of course when I got back to camp and told 
 the story against myself I was unmercifully
 
 134 . AMAT. 
 
 roasted ; but from all I saw afterwards I think 
 the chances were too much ao;ainst me." 
 
 " I don't think, Trevor, you would have been 
 here to tell the tale if you had fired," says the 
 General. " I remember when I was out there 
 hearing of two fine young fellows coming to an 
 untimely end from over-confidence. They were 
 ' grifi'ens,' as they used to be called in those days 
 — why I never could make out — and were marcli- 
 ing up country to join their regiment, when the 
 head man of a village near their camp came and 
 implored them to kill a man-eating tiger who 
 was the terror of the country round about. 
 
 " Of course they were only too pleased, and 
 turned in that night thinking of the sport they 
 were to have in the morning, poor boys. 
 
 " As soon as the daylight broke they were off", 
 escorted by the villagers, who came to see the 
 death of their terrible enemy. 
 
 "They were not long in finding the brute, 
 who broke cover and charged down upon them 
 at once. They were on foot — they had never seen 
 a tiger in their lives, except in a menagerie —
 
 AM AT. 135 
 
 but they waited for him, and as he came on they 
 gave him all four balls in his chest. Still he 
 closed on them, as they stood, brave fellows, 
 shoulder to shoulder, without a thought of turn- 
 ing, and in his death-spring he fell on both the 
 poor lads. 
 
 " When the natives summoned courage enough 
 to approach, they found all three dead ! " 
 
 "A game lot the trio must have been," was 
 lan's remark as he took a pull at his whisky-and- 
 seltzer to wash down something in his throat. 
 " All our sport from fox-hunting, deer-stalking, 
 and salmon-fishing downwards, is very good in its 
 way ; but with the exception of a small spice of 
 risk in the first, minimized by a good horse and 
 knowledge of country to the hardest men, — who, 
 by the way, come least often to serious grief, — it 
 is altogether too one-sided to be anything like 
 what our ancestors used to call ' the mimic 
 war'." 
 
 "You will have some. of the real thing before 
 long," says Trevor ; " and, after that is over, 
 when you have had a turn in the Terai and
 
 136 AM AT. 
 
 Thibet, you will wonder how so many are con- 
 tent to pay large sums to slay deer and grouse 
 at home, when for a smaller outlay they might 
 see a new world, and taste the invigorating 
 delights of mortal danger. Until then no man 
 •can be said to have lived." 
 
 "I agree with you, Colonel," says Ronald. 
 " From my earliest days I meant to carry a 
 sword, like all my folks before me, but I often 
 wondered how I would face the whistle of a 
 bullet. When it came I confess I was surprised. 
 The first time one sits at the covert side in all the 
 swagger of one's own mount and new red kit 
 can never be forsjotten. The first waltz with 
 one's affinity is a thing of itself. But of all the 
 thrilling first experiences there is none that can 
 compare with one's hapteme de feu. At least 
 most think so, I faiLcy." 
 
 " Not a doubt of it. Every man is the better 
 for being shot at, and few can go through a 
 campaign without thoughts which better them 
 in after life. Our neighbours make a vast 
 mistake in assuming it to be necessary to
 
 AMAT. 137 
 
 prove a man's courage. My experience is that 
 there are few cowards, except under physical 
 disability." 
 
 " Ah ! more than one hero has suffered tem- 
 porarily from doubts as to his love of the 
 ' villainous saltpetre,' " says the General, lighting 
 his candle as he rises to turn in. " But there 
 are other dangers in India. Let me give you a 
 parting bit of advice. It's borrowed, I confess, 
 from Sam Weller's father, ' Beware of the 
 widows ' — I mean the grass ones — in the 
 Hills." 
 
 "I fear," adds Trevor, as they all follow his 
 example, " I can give you only what may be a 
 more prosaic but not less necessary caution. 
 Shoot tigers or snipe in the hottest weather 
 rather than drift into drinking brandy-and- 
 water and playing unlimited loo all day. You 
 may get a sun-stroke or your liver cooked, but 
 you will never be so wrecked physically and 
 morally as by gambling. If you win you may 
 be the ruin of some poor wretch, whose father, 
 mother, sisters, wife, children, must go into the
 
 138 AM AT. 
 
 gulf also ; while if you lose you may find the 
 sunshine of your life gone irretrievably. Try, 
 my dear fellows, to lead a high life, not a fast 
 one. All hill men will tell you that it is not so 
 very much harder to climb than to descend, if 
 you set your mind to it — ' A stout heart to a 
 stae brae.' In a word, ' think high, live low,' 
 and you will be always fit for duty, whatever 
 happens."
 
 AM AT. 139 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way 
 comes." — 2nd Witch.' 
 
 The next morning breaks on an anxious and 
 sorrowful house. The Doctor is the first to enter 
 the sick-room. To his delight, but not alto- 
 gether to his astonishment, he finds Lady Amat 
 sensible and calm. 
 
 " Ah ! Doctor, I am afraid to think how I gave 
 way yesterday. But truly the shock was very 
 sudden. It seems as if the anxieties we suffered 
 during the Crimea were hardly over. Only two 
 days ago our boy was all but drowned before my 
 eyes. He was given back to us by a merciful 
 Providence ; he had just added to my supreme 
 happiness by giving me a daughter, than whom
 
 140 AM AT. 
 
 no better could I have cliosen to be his wife, — 
 you have heard ? — and it is dashed to the 
 ground by this terrible order." 
 
 " Pray, Lady Amat, don't dwell on this subject 
 just now. I know how painful it must be to 
 you. In some way, possibly, the separation you 
 dread may be averted." 
 
 " Impossible, Doctor. Though the last of his 
 House, he must go. Upon none of his Race has 
 malice been able to throw an aspersion. I have 
 seen what ruin to a man's fair fame and happi- 
 ness the misdirected love of a mother or a wife 
 has worked. You wonder at my strength of 
 mind to-day ? I am not surprised. Do you 
 believe in visions ? " 
 
 " There are too many well-authenticated cases 
 of such things for me to doubt the fact," replies 
 the Doctor cautiously, as he scans closely the 
 excited face of his patient. " I myself have 
 experienced that which cannot be explained by 
 any knowledge we have at present." 
 
 " Well, then," says Lady Amat, sinking back 
 on the pillow, while a look of satisfaction steals
 
 AM AT. 141 
 
 over her wore face, " you will perhaps under- 
 stand and sympathize with what I am now going 
 to tell you. 
 
 " Towards morning I suddenly recovered the 
 consciousness I appear to have lost when my 
 dear husband broke the news of our son's 
 approaching departure. Instantly there came 
 over me that sense of there being some other 
 presence in the room, which I cannot explain." 
 
 " I understand," interjects the Doctor, now all 
 attention, for this promises to bear on what is 
 rather a hobby of his, 
 
 " At first, dazed with weakness, and willing, if 
 1 could, to ignore what might be, to my already 
 fevered imagination, portentous of further sorrow, 
 I made no effort to analyze what this was. But 
 gradually the mists, as it were, rolled away, and 
 I saw what has, you may think strangely, given 
 me such comfort and strength as to enable me to 
 seem to you just now, what I ought in truth to 
 be, if descent goes for anything — a very Spartan 
 mother. 
 
 " A tall veiled figure approached the foot of the
 
 142 AMAT. 
 
 bed there, and seeing my attention, was fixed, 
 pointed with intense significance towards that 
 arras, which conceals the door to the turret. 
 
 " As I looked, the tapestry seemed to fade away, 
 and 1 saw my boy's regiment going into action. 
 In the distance were strange features of land- 
 scape which I recognized as typical of an Eastern 
 country. Presently I saw one of his men dart 
 forward in front of him, and then fall back as if 
 dead. Lifting in his arms the man who thus 
 seemed to have shielded his life, my son showed 
 me the face of his foster-brother Duncan, whose 
 father, Hamish Grant, saved him but two days 
 ago from drowning. 
 
 " The scene changed, and I saw Charlie attacked 
 by several men, clothed in white with green 
 turbans, whom he was keeping at bay with his 
 own single sword. At his feet lay others, and 
 one or two of his soldiers. Suddenly a sergeant 
 in his regiment appeared to come to his rescue 
 and slew two ; but, alas ! a third seemed by one 
 stroke of his curved sword to sweep the sergeant's 
 head from his shoulders ! In the ghastly face, as
 
 AMAT. 143 
 
 it rolled at his feet, I recognized Evan, the eldest 
 son of Hamish, who joined with Charlie when he 
 got his commission. 
 
 " Horror-stricken, yet fascinated, I still gazed. 
 
 " Once more the tapestry was imbued with life ; 
 but this time it was the dear old castle which 
 first met my eye. 
 
 " Looking along the terrace I saw a man, 
 swarthy and bearded, walking with my Clarice ; 
 as they came towards me his manner seemed 
 strangely tender to one who had promised to be my 
 son's wife, while hers to him was no less painful 
 to me. At last their liugering steps brought 
 them near enough for me to recognize in him at 
 last my boy ; and with a cry of exceeding joy 
 I called out, ' My son ! my son ! ' 
 
 " Clarice was by my bedside in a moment, 
 rejoicing in my return to consciousness, and 
 soothed me so with her cool hand and gentle 
 voice that I quickly fell into a deep quiet sleep, 
 from which I have but a short time awakened." 
 
 " You have told this to no one else, Lady 
 Amat 'i "
 
 144 AMAT. 
 
 " No ; I waited until I had seen you ; besides, 
 I have hardly had time or opportunity since I 
 awoke." 
 
 " Did Lord Amat tell you what Hamish Grant 
 did and said the night before last, when we 
 returned from the yacht ? " 
 
 " No. "What happened ? " 
 
 " We were all in the hall, when I saw Hamish 
 standing on the terrace, and I attracted Lord 
 Amat's attention to him. Coming in when he 
 was called, he crossed over, kissed your husband's 
 hand, and saying a few words in Gaelic; hurriedly 
 left the castle. In interpreting this, Lord Amat 
 conveyed the impression that Hamish had saved 
 his life in days gone by, and that a man gifted 
 with second sight predicted the death of his son 
 for yours. This dream or vision of yours is 
 certainly startling in its apparent confirmation." 
 
 " Oh, Doctor, it does seem heartless, selfish, 
 superstitious to a degree, to take comfort through 
 such means and sources ; but I cannot tell you 
 how firmly I believe that Charlie will return to 
 us as I have told you."
 
 AM AT. 145 
 
 ''' There are many things that men do not 
 understand now ; perhaps never may in this 
 world," gravely says the Doctor, who is more 
 impressed by his patient's tale than he cares to 
 admit, even to himself. " Far be it from me 
 to throw doubt on your belief, or the comfort 
 you derive from it. On the contrary, I have 
 myself experienced that which goes far to con- 
 firm your own impression ; but I cannot, as a 
 practical man of the world, say to you, ' Eely 
 upon such things ; ' and my professional position 
 bids me warn you against placing credence in 
 what may prove a cruel deception after all. Lady 
 Amat." 
 
 Stretching out her poor wan hand, she says, 
 " What a comfort it has been to me to be able 
 to speak to you thus ! Something whispered to 
 me at once that you would sympathize witli me. 
 I could not have told my husband, still less 
 Charlie. You will mention it to no one ? " 
 
 " Not to a soul, Lady Amat. And now that 
 your mind is calmer, let me see what we can do 
 towards building up your strength again."
 
 146 AM AT. 
 
 It may be imagined with what relief Lord 
 Am at finds his wife so much more tranquil and 
 resigned than he had dared to hope. 
 
 Turning to the Doctor as they go down-stairs, 
 he says, " You are indeed a physician beyond all 
 guerdon ; but if thanks for a life, priceless as you 
 may imagine this dear one is to me, can take a 
 sufficiently tangible shape, you have but to tell 
 me. 
 
 " Ah, my Lord," says the Doctor, not unused 
 to rapturous gratitude at the moment of relief, 
 to be followed by unpaid indiflference as the 
 feeling fades, but giving his Celtic host full and 
 deserved credit for his emotional thanks, " I told 
 you last night that rest and quiet might work 
 wonders — as indeed they have. You must give 
 more kudos to nature, and less to me. I am very 
 happy to find how well able Lady Amat is to 
 look facts as they are in the face. She has 
 already told me she is quite resigned to her son's 
 immediate departure." 
 
 " You are a magician, sir! " says the astonished 
 husband, wringing his hand for a moment as he
 
 AM AT. 147 
 
 stops and looks at the calm, uueraotional, kind- 
 hearted, but necessarily secretive, medico. " It 
 was indeed a merciful thing you were here." 
 
 " For that, my Lord," he replies, bowing 
 solemnly, " thank God and your own hospitality, 
 which prompted you to keep me as a guest when 
 my services, such as they are, were unneeded." 
 
 " Ah, Doctor, we do not know how often we 
 entertain an seels unawares." 
 
 L 2
 
 148 AMAT. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " You shall be more loving than beloved.' 
 
 Soothsayer, Antony and Cleopatra. 
 
 The feelings with which they meet at breakfast 
 are strangely mixed. We all complain at times 
 of the convenances, when the shoe pinches our 
 particular sin or whim of the moment, forgetting, 
 perhaps, that without them the machinery of 
 society would come to a standstill — or be de- 
 stroyed from want of the necessary lubrication. 
 Now, thanks to long-imposed habit, each con- 
 ceals, with more or less success, from the others 
 the emotions which are more deeply stirred than 
 they confess to themselves, as they think of all 
 that lays against their ever so meeting again. 
 It is a relief when they adjourn to the terrace,
 
 AMAT. 149 
 
 and, grouping themselves perhaps in greater con- 
 sonance than had been possible at breakfast, are 
 able to look and speak more freely to each other 
 the thoughts of which their hearts are full. 
 
 Clarice, pale and worn with her night of 
 anxious watching, never looked more lovely in 
 Charlie's eyes than when they walked together to 
 the farther end, and sat gazing, in that silence 
 which is so eloquent, across the deep blue waters 
 to the distant western hills. 
 
 How often in the days to come will she not sit 
 and think, until, by the very intensity of her 
 longing, she brings him back in all but bodily 
 presence ? 
 
 Will he, can he, in the time that lies before 
 them, ever forget the long-loved one and the 
 simple, earnest words which seal their troth ? 
 
 But now, in the living present, as they look 
 into each other's eyes, and study every linea- 
 ment as if they would fain imprint them on the 
 loving, quivering heart which rebels against the 
 agony it silently endures, they gradually imbibe 
 that anodyne which happily comes to many in
 
 150 A MAT. 
 
 the hours of trial, to deaden what woidd other- 
 wise be insupportable. 
 
 The old clock on the middle tower has rungr 
 out more than one chime ere a word has crossed 
 their lips, and yet what volumes of meaning 
 have been conveyed by the tender hand-clasp, 
 the humid, love-filled eyes ? 
 
 At last he speaks. Does she recognize in the 
 hoarse, constrained accents the usually liquid, 
 tender voice of her beloved ? " It is hard to 
 leave you in this way, my Clarice. For your 
 sake, darling, I could almost wish I had not 
 fettered you ; and yet, selfish as men ever are, it 
 would have been harder still to have left you 
 uncertain whether your love was mine or not." 
 
 " Charlie, dear I " she says, turning to him with 
 her face pale and sad but for the love -light in 
 her eyes and a faint blush, as of the earliest 
 summer rose, rising with the thoughts her words 
 call forth ; " you don't know a true, loving, 
 woman's heart if you think that I would not 
 rather thus have the right to share at least 
 your thoughts. I may now tell you how terrible
 
 AMAT. 151 
 
 it was, after I found you were so dear to me, to 
 have to conceal my thoughts, and feel that after 
 all I might be no more to you than, if so much 
 as, a dear cousin ! " 
 
 For answer he clasps her to his heart, fiercely, 
 passionately, almost to her hurt, as if he would 
 defy all power to take her from him ; and then, 
 recognizing his impotency, his thoughts fly away 
 to the time, so quickly striding upon them, 
 when there will be nothing but a memory — a 
 thing impalpable, daily growing weaker, paler 
 — and he pleads against it. " You will wait for 
 me, Clarice ? God alone knows how or wdien I 
 may return. May you not be tempted to think 
 of another, far more worthy of you in every way, 
 in the possibly long, weary separation which 
 may be in store for you ? " 
 
 She nestles in his arms ; her eyes, her lips 
 meet his, and then she says in a low, firm, clear 
 voice, whose bell-like tones echo aorain and aojain 
 in his lonely heart during the night-watches of 
 the future : 
 
 " I have loved you, Charlie, and none other,
 
 152 AMAT. 
 
 not even for a passing moment, all my life. 
 Think you I will not wait ? I am yours 
 now, yours only, and for ever. Can I say 
 more { 
 
 Is he satisfied ? — as once more he drinks in 
 every detail of her pure and loving face, ere he 
 answers : " No, my owm, I do not doubt your 
 strength and faith ; it is my own unworthiness ; 
 but come weal, come woe, I will trust you with 
 my happiness until you give it back to me." 
 
 " That will never be, Charlie, for it is mine 
 too now, and I cannot part with it," says Clarice, 
 passionately, while there comes to her a feeling 
 of perfect security and safety. Her head sinks 
 again on his shoulder, and a look which he 
 never forgets steals into her eyes as he bends 
 down to seal on her lips the plighted love of 
 all their young lives. 
 
 Fergus finds little difficulty in persuading 
 Olive to follow the example Charlie had set ; 
 and, as they wander through the birch woods 
 below the Castle, he pours out his tale of manly 
 love to the not unwilling ear of the susceptible
 
 AMAT. 153 
 
 girl, whose heart has already gone out of her 
 safe keeping. 
 
 As they walk together she knows, yet shrinks 
 from, what he is going to say. Her head is 
 averted, yet her ear is eager to catch the first 
 notes of the love-song by the voice she has 
 learned to listen to with such strange pleasure. 
 Her colour comes and goes, and her heart beats 
 loudly as she steals a quickly withdrawn glance 
 at the firm, handsome face, the tall, soldier-like 
 figure, to which her own dark beauty and slender 
 form are such a complement. 
 
 , What makes Fergus, who does not know what 
 physical fear can mean, prolong the silence in 
 which they pace side by side, while a crowd of 
 memories jostle each other in the confused state 
 of mind to which he is so unused ? Will she 
 have to hustle him over his first fence, as did 
 the sporting young lady whose bashful admirer 
 remained speechless till she gave him a lead ? 
 
 " Olive," at last he says, suddenly stopping 
 and taking both her hands with a somewhat 
 nervous manner, which does not diminish his
 
 154 AMAT. 
 
 charm for her, " I fear it is a very selfish tiling 
 to do ; a man placed as I am now should not, 
 perhaps, ask a girl like you to say if she loves 
 him well enough to wait to be his wife, until 
 his return, God knows when, from where he is 
 going; but I cannot help it, I must tell you 
 how inexpressibly dear and lovaljle you have 
 become to me. It is impossible for me to leave 
 you without knowing if you care enough to give 
 me the promise of all I want so passionately. 
 Will you, darling — my dearest ? " and his voice 
 sinks into the softest music, as, emboldened by 
 her silence, his words pass from the commonplace 
 into the region of most fervid love. 
 
 For answer all that Olive gives is contained 
 in a dark, loving, lustrous eye, charged to the 
 brim with a tearful yet most tender gladsome- 
 ness, which electrifies the inexperienced Fergus 
 as it turns full upon his agitated and expectant 
 face. 
 
 The next instant he is kissing the upturned 
 lips with all the passion of a love ardent and 
 enduring as is that of the man who, full of
 
 AM AT. 155 
 
 romance and self-respect, has kept it waiting in 
 its purity for the woman who fulfils his ideal. 
 
 '' Alas ! my Olive, that we should find this 
 out so late ! " murmurs the lover, who a few 
 moments before professed to be content to wait, it 
 mjoht be for years, for the opportunity he seizes 
 now with both hands, and yet asks for more ! 
 
 "Monsieur!" exclaims the blushing girl, "it 
 seems to me it could not well have been much 
 sooner ! What would you ? You ask for an 
 inch, aud incontinently take nearly two ells," 
 as she glances down her tall, budding, beautiful 
 figure which he has so rapturously clasped in 
 his arms. 
 
 " I fear you must wait until your return 
 covered with further decorations, and the right 
 to convert your claymore into whatever may be 
 the equivalent of a ploughshare in those dear 
 hills of yours," looking across Loch Eil towards 
 Benquoich. But she grows pale as the womanly, 
 loving heart, overcoming the natural shyness 
 of the moment, recognizes the danorers he miist 
 go through, the weary, anxious time of separation
 
 156 AM AT. 
 
 ere this love-dream may even hope to be real- 
 ized. " You will not be over-daring ? You will 
 think what it must be for me to know you are 
 exposed to many and great dangers. I have 
 heard of you, how you seemed to bear a charmed 
 life ; but remember, please, sometimes, that .it 
 is not now altogether your own ; " and as she 
 speaks she lays her hand upon his arm in a 
 tender, caressing way, which tells Fergus more 
 even than her words and looks that he has 
 indeed won her heart. 
 
 Fergus is intoxicated with the sudden draught 
 of happiness presented to his lips, the complete- 
 ness of the victory in the first attempt he has 
 made to win the heart of a woman, though from 
 his earliest days he has been devoted to the sex. 
 Yet he does not lose his head, as winding his 
 arm round her he presses her yielding, clinging, 
 shapely figure in a long, lingering, passionate 
 embrace, ere he says : 
 
 "As far as a soldier may, my beloved, I will 
 guard what is yours now. Please God, the 
 bullet is not cast, nor the sword forged, that
 
 AMAT. 157 
 
 will come between you and me. Give me a 
 little Lit of that curl I liave so often madly 
 longed to touch ; it shall rest on my heart till 
 I come home to claim you for my own, and 
 may prove a better charm against evil than 
 many a so-called relic. My old nurse Elspeth 
 foretold that T would marry a dark-eyed witch, 
 whose name was of the sunny south." 
 
 " We must be going, Fergus ; my mother must 
 know this before you leave ; and then, what 
 remains for us who are left behind but to weep 
 and pray ? " For a moment she verges on the 
 borderland of hysterics ; her highly sensitive, 
 over-wrought nerves are strung to the utmost 
 tension ; and, as her eyes wander over her 
 newly-acquired betrothed, she wonders at her 
 own strength and the calmness with which at 
 last she resolutely tramples down her threaten- 
 ing weakness, and adds, " Come ! " — but as they 
 go back to the Castle it seems to both that every- 
 thing is changed, for the glamour of their new- 
 born joy is thrown over even the most prosaic 
 of the surroundings.
 
 158 AM AT. 
 
 Poor Ronald, hard hit as he is, can say nothing 
 to the girl who has tied him to her chariot- 
 wheels ; he can only wait and hope that the day 
 may yet come when he may find himself free 
 to go to her, and decUire his love. 
 
 Still, as they stroll to and fro, and see the 
 outward and visible signs of happy understanding 
 on either side, it is impossible for him to repress 
 a sigh. 
 
 " Captain Elliot is somewhat triste this morn- 
 ing," says the coquettish Eila, as they lean over 
 the western parapet, and she flirts her fan with 
 all the languid grace of a daughter of Spain. 
 
 "It is not easy, Miss Trevor, for one who is a 
 waif and a stray on life's great ocean, to feel 
 himself drifting out of a haven of such hap- 
 piness as this has been to me without the coming 
 of thoughts which may well call up regrets, use- 
 less, it's true, but not the less saddening." 
 
 Softened at once by his striking a note which 
 is echoed with such sympathy in her own heart, 
 she says, with a timhre of tenderness in her voice 
 which thrills through him again and again, "I did
 
 AM AT. 159 
 
 not think, or I would not have been so thought- 
 less. Forgive me; I am too used to making light 
 of the gravest occasions, and it did not strike me 
 that you are one to take life otherwise than as 
 it comes, with much equanimity." 
 
 Ronald's eyes flash a response to her tone 
 which she accepts without analyzing ; but it 
 seems to her very sweet, though as the words 
 follow there seems to be a subtle change in 
 everything which makes life so much less worth 
 living for than it was but a few seconds before. 
 " It would have been a very true estimate only 
 a short time ago, but you know how quickly 
 circumstances alter cases, arid T confess I do 
 not recognize myself this morning as the same 
 who came here so lately ; who the alchemist has 
 been, time, which trieth truth, alone will show. 
 I dare not, cannot say more now, but if I am 
 spared to see you again, when less tongue-tied 
 by cruel Fate, may I hope to find you have not 
 forgotten one who has been only too happy 
 here ? " 
 
 " If my best wishes and sincere sympathy for
 
 160 AM AT. 
 
 all you may desire can avail they are most gladly 
 yours," says Eila, softly ; as her eyes assume a 
 far-away look, from which Ronald, with all his 
 experience in tender passages, can gather nothing 
 but a sentiment which may mean little, it would 
 be dangerous or foolish to reckon on as much. 
 
 " In a little while 1 must bid you farewell, 
 formally; forgive me if I tear myself away now. 
 I cannot stay without saying more than I ought," 
 cries Ronald, suddenly ; and taking her hand, 
 which now hangs listlessly by her side, he im- 
 prints one hasty, impassioned kiss upon its soft, 
 smooth skin, and hurries away, without venturing 
 to look into the eyes he has learned to know are 
 very hard to resist. 
 
 Eros seems rampant in the precincts of the 
 Castle this morning. In another part of the 
 grounds is yet a fourth couple who appear to 
 take an interest in each other. 
 
 " It strikes me," says Ian to Julia, as they 
 saunter up and down, "that our friends are 
 pairing in a manner which is very suggestive. 
 Poor Charlie ! I know he has been hopelessly
 
 A MAT. 161 
 
 gone in that quarter ever since I can remember. 
 As for Paul, it is his normal condition ; but 
 Fergus I when men of his stamp go in for that 
 kind of thing it is a very serious matter. I 
 would give a good deal to know how he ap- 
 proaches the subject ; a proposal an hour or two 
 before a fellow goes, on active service, to the 
 other side of the world must be rather nervous 
 work, don't you think '? " 
 
 Julia shrugs her shoulders with the sio-nifi- 
 cance of a Frenchwoman : " That would depend 
 a good deal on the amount of experience on both 
 sides. If a man were very much in earnest, I 
 fancy it would not be difficult to convey that 
 impression to a sympathetic listener ; and yet 
 people make strange mistakes at times. A great 
 friend of mine refused a man she was devoted 
 to because, while he was struofaling through the 
 agony of a proposal, he yawned. She found 
 out afterwards, quite by accident, from the wife 
 to whom he transferred his injured affections, 
 that he always did gape whenever he heard a 
 donkey bray."
 
 162 AMAT. 
 
 " Poor man ! Forgive me if I reflect on your 
 friend by saying that he evidently narrowly 
 escaped yawning for the rest of his life." 
 
 " You are severe." 
 
 " Perhaps ; but I think you must agrc^e with 
 me that many people rush into the state which 
 may mean as much unmitigated misery as un- 
 alloyed happiness (I don't believe in either 
 extreme myself), without gauging the character 
 upon the nature of which depends their future 
 joy or sorrow. Were it possible, I would suggest 
 tentative arrangements. I am certain that if 
 people knew they were on their trial much of the 
 unhappiness of the first few months of married 
 life would not exist. And then the habits of 
 self-control, and the desire to please the other, 
 would have become so strong that the definite 
 settlement of the contract would follow in the 
 majority of cases." 
 
 " Novel ! to say the least of it ; but how w«^uld 
 you deal with the minority ? There would be 
 some difficulty, it seems to me, in reverting to 
 the status ante quo."
 
 AMAT. 168 
 
 " Yes ! TLere lies the stumbling-block. Were 
 it not for that, which perhaps might be got over 
 by mutual concessions, my theory would have so 
 many disciples in practice that there would soon 
 be left only such misogamists as myself." 
 
 As lan's looks and manner are not quite in 
 keeping with that profession of faith, the fair 
 Julia, whose experience is not limited, finds some 
 food for thought while they sit down and watch 
 the fleeting glories of the brilliant autumn day, 
 which sinks deeper into their memories than 
 either would admit to be possible. 
 
 M 2
 
 164 AMAT. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, and spit upon my 
 Jewish gabardine." — Shylock. 
 
 It had been Lord Amat's first impulse to go down 
 and see his son off, but the aU^rmingly sudden 
 illness of his wife made him abandon the idea. 
 So the last farewells are spoken in the Castle, 
 which has witnessed within and around its walls 
 so much that goes to make up the sum of human 
 grief. 
 
 Then they are gone ! And those who are left 
 have but to bear, with such fortitude as they can 
 summon, the harder part which falls to the lot of 
 those who wait for tidings from the actors in the 
 great drama of life. 
 
 Heartwrung as they well may be, the young
 
 AM AT. 165 
 
 soldiers would not be worthy of the name did 
 they not speedily shake off the natural gloom 
 which accompanied them at first. But soon their 
 usual buoyancy of spirits is restored by the 
 physical fact of motion, and the exciting prospect 
 of active service. 
 
 Thus while those left behind are still plunged 
 deep in sorrow and care, which the circumstances 
 attending the sudden disruption of the happy 
 party have created, the four, who have been so 
 Jately the life and soul of it, are joining their 
 regiment so apparently free from anything like 
 unhappiness that their depth of feeling might 
 well be misjudged. 
 
 How they are welcomed can only be known by 
 those who have experienced the ties which bind 
 so closely men who have faced together death 
 and privation, shared purse and pleasure, with 
 as little thought of self as is compatible with 
 weak human nature. 
 
 As they rush into the ante-room, after their 
 twenty-four hours of continuous travelling, they 
 are greeted with joyful shouts.
 
 106 AMAT. 
 
 " G]ad to see you back, gentlemen," says the 
 Colonel, an excellent fellow off duty and out of 
 barracks, but of the quarter-deck school, who 
 think that there are few commanding officers who 
 can afford to sink their position when in " war- 
 paint," however much they may relax the reins 
 under the genial freedom of the mess of a good 
 regiment. " I knew you would be here to the 
 moment, though the temptations you were ex- 
 posed to were very strong, I hear ! But Forbes 
 there can never get over that message of Mac- 
 pherson's last winter from the wilds of Badenoch, 
 when at the end of his leave a letter came from 
 him saying that all communication was stopped 
 by the snow, and therefore he could not join ! 
 One of the many proofs that we are not less Irish 
 than our ancestors, eh, Lachlan ? " 
 
 " Yes, Colonel, that was an unlucky shot of 
 mine. It never struck me you would conclude 
 from the arrival of the miserable document that 
 I could have put in an appearance also. But Til 
 be wiser another time ! " 
 
 '' Thanks, sir," says Charlie, as he shakes hands
 
 AMAT. 167 
 
 with the Chief. " We came away by the first 
 mail we . could manage after we got the order. 
 My father told me to say how sorry he was not 
 to come down and see the regiment before it 
 sails, but my poor mother is very far from well, 
 and he didn't like to leave her. So he begs the 
 acceptance of a fifty-gallon cask of ten-year-old 
 [slay, which he thinks may help to remind you 
 all of him on the other side of the water. And 
 lie is going to send some grouse the moment the 
 ' Twelfth ' breaks legitimately." 
 
 " Very kind, I am sure, Grant. Good whisky 
 is infinitely safer than brandy aiiy where, though 
 I don't advocate the use of either in a hot climate. 
 As to the grouse, I doubt our eating them here, 
 for the ships have arrived to take the rest of us. 
 You know half the regiment sailed this morning ! 
 The head-quarters and flank companies go in 
 the ' Emu,' a steamer of doubtful reputation I 
 hear ; and the ' Seagull/ a clipper, takes the 
 remainder. We shall all be ofi" before the week 
 is out." So saying, the Colonel, who foresees that 
 the younger ones are likely to keep it up, goes
 
 168 AMAT. 
 
 off to his quarters witli a genial " good night " to 
 everyone, more especially, as was his kindly 
 wont, to the unhappy sub. whose attempts on 
 parade that morning to fill the place of one of 
 the absent Captains had not been very successful. 
 
 Much as they like their Chief, there is a sense 
 of relief when he departs, and they settle down 
 to compare notes all round, and haver over the 
 immediate past, present, and future. 
 
 " It's an ill wind that blows no one any luck," 
 says Hugh Baillie, as they begin to discuss the 
 grilled bones, poached eggs, and anchovy toast 
 which he thinks the occasion warrants. " We 
 got Huntly away in the 'Hotspur' out of the 
 reach of his too attentive friends, the Jews. 
 But it was a tight fit. How those fellows find 
 out everything, the devil, or some needy clerk in 
 the War Office, only knows. They got wind 
 that his company, thanks to the Colonel's ready 
 kindness, was transferred to the ' Hotspur ' 
 instead of waiting for the ' Seagull,' and one of 
 them was heard declaring, by my old faithful, 
 that he should never leave the country. It was
 
 AM AT. 169 
 
 no use of course appealing to Shylock, hungry 
 for his flesh, so we tried poor old ' Phil ' for 
 unofiicer-like conduct in ' spending half-a-crown 
 out of sixpence a day,' and sentenced him to 
 be reduced to the rank and pay of a pioneer for 
 " twelve hours. Of course 1 went down with them 
 to the dockyard, and could hardly contain myself 
 as we went out at the gate here. For several 
 yards there was a double row of ' bums ' ready 
 to pounce upon him. I don't know, by the way, 
 if they can take a fellow out of the ranks. As 
 the men went through the rascals, they poked 
 their huge noses into their faces until T wondered 
 the honest, debtless ' Jocks ' didn't knock them 
 down. 
 
 " However, they could see nothing of Phil, who, 
 bearded like the Pard, and carrying a huge axe, 
 was half way down the street as a pioneer in 
 front of his own company — perfectly unrecogniz- 
 able even by his mother. In their despair they 
 came up to me, when they found themselves at 
 the dockyard-gate still unsuccessful, and were 
 not allowed to enter.
 
 170 AMAT. 
 
 " ' That was Captain Huntly's company ? ' one 
 fellow asked. ' Certainly,' 1 said. ' Why did 
 he not go with it ? ' whines another. ' Possibly,' 
 I answered, ' they knew better than I ; but I 
 could oive them a bit of information. He had 
 been tried the day before for getting into debt, 
 and his commission was taken from him ! ' We 
 did pro tern. Their howl of baffled rage reached 
 the head of the column, as it turned on to the 
 quay, and I could see old Phil in the distance 
 forget 'his assumed position, and, to the intense 
 horror of the Quartermaster- General, wave his 
 axe triumphantly, high in the air ! " 
 
 " Bravo, Hugo ! — you are ever ready for a 
 friend in need," says Ian, who, with but little 
 left of his ancestral acres, managed to enjoy life 
 more than most fellows, and yet never owed a 
 farthing. 
 
 " Yes, he is, by Jove ! He has just got me out 
 of a scrape with the ' Beaks,'" says Frank Fletcher, 
 who rejoices in the name of the " Weasel," by 
 reason of his small person and general aptitude 
 for getting out of difficulties.
 
 AMAT. 171 
 
 *' How was that, boy ? " asks laD, with whom 
 he is a great favourite. 
 
 " You know Rubenstein, of course ? — the 
 fellow who is always bothering us to buy 
 marvellously cheap diamond rings which the 
 Duchess of Blanqueland has commissioned him 
 to sell at a great sacrifice to pay her losses at 
 whist or ecarte ? Well, he came into my room 
 the other morning just as 1 was getting out of 
 my tub, without so much as saying, •' by your 
 leave ! ' That riled me a bit, but I only shied 
 my sponge in his face, and told him to wait 
 outside till I was more clothed, and in my 
 right mind. 
 
 "Presently he came in again, beastly civil. As 
 the governor had paid all my debts last week, 
 and I have a cool monkey to my credit at Cox's, 
 I thought I'd play my fish, who certainly has led 
 more than one poor devil a dance in the last few 
 weeks. 
 
 " He began: 'Sorry you're going, sir, in such a 
 hurry. Must be very inconvenient ; hardly had 
 time to get in your arrears of rent. You had
 
 172 AM AT. 
 
 better get rid of all this lumber,' pointing to my 
 Lares, &c. 
 
 " ' Yes,' I said ; ' but who's to buy ? There 
 will not be a " soldier-officer " left in England 
 soon at the rate they are packing us off, and a 
 barrack-room kit is not likely to be much in 
 demand by the successful grocer who grudges me 
 the wretched five-and-threepence a day which 
 helps to give him the tranquillity amidst which 
 he sands his sugar. However, to business ! 
 How much shall I say, Moses, for this splendid 
 chest of drawers, brass-bound, Bramah locks, 
 secretaire and portable cases complete ? ' 
 
 " ' Couldn't give you more than thirty shil- 
 lings, sir ; quite a drug in the market, sir.' 
 
 '' ' Told you so, Moses. What, then, for this 
 magnificent camp-bedstead, mattress, valise and 
 fittings complete ? ' 
 
 " ' It would be dear, sir, to me at one pound, 
 sir. 'Pon my word, sir. Don't be angry, sir. 
 Couldn't go no higher, sir.' 
 
 "To make a long story short, the rascal offered 
 me a good deal under a tenner for the whole of
 
 AM AT. 173 
 
 the kit I was going to leave behind. I took it 
 so quietly that he thought he had done me, and 
 pulling out a bundle of notes was offering me 
 one, when I said, leaving the room, ' Before you 
 pay for the lot you had better make sure you 
 have got them,' and locked the door. 
 
 "My faithful, suspecting something was up, 
 looked out of the kitchen as I went by, and in a 
 few moments I had arranged my Caudine Forks. 
 
 " In the rookery, you know, we have a few pets 
 of the fancy ; and presently there was drawn up 
 as nice a double line of ferocious bull-dogs as 
 any timid man would like to w^alk between. 
 Then I told MacGregor to open my door, and I 
 went down to breakfast. 
 
 " In a few minutes there was an awful row, 
 and we heard shrieks of terror mingled with cries 
 for mercy, yells of laughter, and roars of ' Oh ! 
 de dawgs 1 de dawgs ! ' ' Guard, turn out ! ' 
 ' Murder ! ' ' Fire ! ' All this was the unhappy 
 Jew, who, assailed in rear by the fiery MacGregor 
 armed with a mop and a pail full of water, 
 fancied himself being torn to pieces by the dogs,
 
 1 74 AMAT. 
 
 which I took care to chain up so as to leave hint 
 a clear run of twelve inches. However, I supr; 
 pose he didn't measure his distance as accurately 
 as Forbes would, and his lower garments suffered 
 considerably, if his legs were not touched. 
 
 " At last he escaped. And in half-an-hour or 
 so a, posse comitafus, if not the high sheriff, armed 
 with a writ of error, habeas corpus, or some 
 other legal engine of w^ar, demanded my 
 miserable person. 
 
 " Hugo, of course, escorted me, and, ecpally of 
 course, in a few of his dignified words of explan- 
 ation he directed the offended majesty of the 
 law to the wretched Jew, who found himself 
 arrested on the spot, and wdll probably dream 
 of me, or Front de Boeuf, for some time to 
 come." 
 
 " Well done ! But take care, my ' Weasel ' ; 
 some day you'll be caught to a moral. How is 
 it though that you are here ? Your company 
 sailed in the ' Hotspur.' " 
 
 " Exactly ; but w^hile you centurions were 
 disporting yourselves on your native heaths
 
 AMAT. 1 7 5 
 
 others had to do your work, so I was left behind, 
 worse luck." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 " Because I shall have to go with the head- 
 quarters ; and you know the old tradition, that 
 our colours are never to land in India. Well, it 
 rims a ^ood chance of being fulfilled, for I hear 
 the ' Emu,' to which they and we are to be 
 entrusted, has such a bad character at a place 
 called 'Lloyds' that she cannot be insured, and 
 no decent sailor will go in her. Voila tout ! but 
 you'll hear all about that in the morning. Your 
 colour-sergeant, MacTavish, is quite resigned to a 
 watery grave, and the men are so full of it that 
 they are laying in large supplies of neat whisky, 
 so that there may be no trouble in mixing their 
 grog." 
 
 "Nonsense, boy. I suppose the Admiralty 
 know what they are about. They don't pick up 
 old colliers and send them down here as trans- 
 ports without overhauling them. And as for the 
 sailors. Well, I have got a score of men from 
 the Lews in the grenadiers alone who would
 
 176 AMAT. 
 
 work most ships of the ' Emu's ' class out of a 
 difficulty." 
 
 " But there's the rub," says Baillie. " I 
 believe that there has been such a demand for 
 transports, and the urgency is so great, that the 
 Admiralty have been obliged to shut their eyes to 
 a good deal." 
 
 " Well," says Ian, stretching his seventy-four 
 inches of toughish fibre, " I am not born to be 
 drowned, if I know it. Let's sleep and think 
 over all this the ' Weasel ' has tried to cram us 
 with."
 
 AMAT. 177 
 
 CHAPTEK XIV. 
 
 " Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of 
 barren ground — I would fain die a dry death." — Gonzalo. 
 
 It is little more than three years since the Red 
 Highlanders sailed for Turkey. Yet what a 
 change is there among them. More than half 
 no longer answer to their names. Grant, Mac- 
 donald, Cameron, Elliot, then beardless ensigns, 
 are now captains. But, as they parade in the hot 
 August morning when the Queen comes over to 
 bid them " God speed," he would be one very 
 hard to please who could find much fault with 
 the appearance of the grave purposelike men 
 who know they are going whence, in the 
 ordinary chances of war and climate, but a small 
 proportion can return as they are now setting 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 AM AT. 
 
 forth. He would be a yet worse judge of 
 character if he mistook the absence of visible 
 excitement or enthusiasm for anything like 
 disinclination. The Scot always makes up his 
 mind to die before going into action, and his 
 religion does not cherish such pleasing fancies of 
 the hereafter for the fallen warrior as that of the 
 Mahomedan. Let those who have fought along- 
 side him say whether they would prefer him to 
 oe friend or foe. 
 
 And so they sail out of the historic harbour, 
 with that strange mixture of apparent indiffer- 
 ence affected by the veteran, and effervescent 
 feeling ill-repressed by the younger soldier 
 going abroad for the first time ; but not before 
 a huge box of grouse arrives from Amat, in 
 time to be discussed with many a backward 
 thought, as visions of the heathery hills they 
 well may never see again rise up before them. 
 
 Ian has ascertained, by personal inquiry at 
 Lloyd's agency, that the character of the ' Emu ' 
 and of her crew is not first - rate. He and 
 Charlie, therefore, quietly divide the seafaring
 
 AMAT. 179 
 
 men of their companies into watches, so that 
 they are ready for an emergency if it should 
 arise. 
 
 The morning of the eleventh day sees them 
 with a ten-knot breeze bowling into St. Vincent 
 at the Cape de Verde Islands. 
 
 To avoid the horrors of coaling, and to stretch 
 their legs after such unaccustomed confinement, 
 nearly every one but the unhappy fellows on 
 duty rushes on shore to pursue the metallic- noted 
 Guinea-fowl in his sandy haunts ; but as a rule 
 the bags return emptier than on starting. 
 
 As they come off they are delighted by seeing 
 one of the huge wooden steamers of the West 
 India Mail line alongside, and yet more sur- 
 prised when they find the band has gone on 
 board in consequence of a touching appeal in 
 Portuguese, which being interpreted, runs thus : 
 
 " English Officers, 
 
 " Some ladies from the Brazils on 
 their way to Lisbon, hearing that you have 
 music on board your ship, have prayed in your 
 
 N 2
 
 180 AM AT. 
 
 absence that it might come and break the 
 tedium of this long voyage. Should the fatigues 
 of the chase leave you sufficient energy to fol- 
 low it, the pleasures of the dance may reward 
 
 J) 
 you. 
 
 Nothing loth, they go. The spacious poop of 
 the ' Tamar,' lit up with Chinese lanterns and 
 screened with flags, makes a charming tropical 
 ball-room ; while a score or so of dark-eyed 
 ladies of varied charms, arrayed in white muslin, 
 beat time impatiently with their feet. 
 
 The good-natured captain acting as master of 
 ceremonies, in a few minutes the scene becomes 
 a lively one, for, though most have got their sea- 
 legs well set, every now and then an exceptional 
 roller comes in and sends them all down to 
 leeward in laughing^ confusion. 
 
 At first it seems hard to see how acquaint- 
 ance can ripen in the absence of a common 
 language, but the eye speaks when the tongue 
 fails to convey any meaning, and it is not long 
 before there are evidences of rapid progress
 
 AM AT. 181 
 
 between the warm-hearted dauo-hters of South 
 
 o 
 
 America and their newly-found friends. 
 
 ■ Happily for the peace of the latter the laws of 
 light on board ship are inexorable, and the first 
 ball at St. Vincent comes to an end ; but not 
 before the " Weasel " is caught offering, in most 
 emphatic pantomime, his audacious little heart 
 to a fascinating brunette, whose husband has the 
 awkward bad taste to resent his ignorance of her 
 pre-occupied state. A judicious word or two 
 from the captain puts this right ; and it is with 
 much display of handkerchief that the two ships 
 steam away from each other next morning. 
 
 After this the voyage promises to be as 
 monotonous as Dr. Johnson imagined life on 
 board ship to be, when he described it as a term 
 of imprisonment with the contingent capital 
 punishment of death by drowning. 
 
 But one night, when south of the Cape, there 
 comes a change. What the mutineers proposed to 
 themselves never was ascertained. It must have 
 been evident to them that the soldiers would not 
 take their part against authority, and if they did
 
 182 AMAT. 
 
 not they could by mere weight of numbers have 
 hustled them overboard. This, however, did not 
 prevent the crew refusing to go aloft one night 
 when a heavy squall struck the ship as she was 
 struggling in the famous rollers. 
 
 It was a very near thing, for the ' Emu ' was 
 a good deal out of the water, having consumed 
 much of her coals, provisions, and water, and, 
 not being stiff at the best of times, she was all 
 but turning turtle as she got into the trough of 
 the sea. 
 
 Happily Charlie was on deck, or the colours 
 would probably have gone to the bottom, verify- 
 ing prediction, with all on board ; but, trained 
 as he had been all his life by yachting in the 
 wild weather so prevalent on his own west coast, 
 he recognized the danger at once and was equal 
 to it. 
 
 While the mutinous crew and indignant ship's 
 officers are glaring at each other, and the fate of 
 every one hangs in the balance, he takes the 
 command, and in quick, resolute tones, which 
 tell those who did not know it that he is as
 
 AMAT. 183 
 
 good a sailor as soldier, gives the necessary 
 orders. 
 
 His colour-serjeant Evan Grant, Hamisli's son, 
 is always on watch with him, and, thanks to his 
 father's teachinor, knows the boatswain's duties 
 as well as the use of the whistle they had the 
 foresight to obtain before leaving Portsmouth. 
 
 " All hands on deck," he pipes, as the wind 
 howls through the rigging, the sails blowing 
 nearly out of the bolt-ropes, the ship heeling on 
 her beam-ends till the copper shows and the 
 seas break clean over her. 
 
 " Lower away," and. the united watches of 
 sailor -like soldiers, who have been quietly 
 warned and drilled for such an emergency, have 
 the ship safe ere many know the peril she has 
 passed through. 
 
 But a brief time further elapses before the 
 mutineers are surrounded, driven below, and put 
 in irons, while Charlie and his crew work the 
 ship. 
 
 The captain, for a time speechless with anger 
 at his men, terror at the almost inevitable
 
 184 AMAT. 
 
 catastrophe through their disobedience of orders, 
 and astonishment at the way in which the " lob- 
 sters " do the work so much better than his owd 
 lubberly, mongrel crew, soon recovers himself, 
 and, while others breathe more freely, rushes 
 up to Charlie, saying : 
 
 " By Harry, sir, you've saved the ship ! I 
 never thought it was in any of you fine gentle- 
 men or soldier officers to do such a thing ! 
 Where the blank did you learn it ? Well, 
 you've got a crew and the command of the ship, 
 which is more than I have ; " and the unhappy 
 man, nearly oflf his head, is about to dive 
 below, when Charlie stops him, saying : 
 
 " No, no, captain, that won't do ! Every man 
 to his trade. You would make a mess of my 
 company in a week, though you might march 
 past with them and impose upon the outsiders. 
 Take these fellows of ours, with the Colonel's 
 leave, under your command, until you have 
 brought your men to their senses or get into 
 port. You'll find they know more than many 
 of the so-called A Bs, some of whom are better
 
 AMAT. 185 
 
 able to box a horse than a compass, if all tales 
 of the Baltic fleet be true." 
 
 The skipper is glad enough, when his profes- 
 sional heckles smooth themselves, to get such 
 substitutes ; and things go cheerily enough, ex- 
 cept to the malcontents below, who probably felt 
 they had made rather a mess of it, and sought 
 some way of altering the state of things, which 
 took an inconvenient form one night when it was 
 least expected. 
 
 The cry of " fire ! " is not a pleasant one to 
 be awakened by, anywhere, whether it be in an 
 ordinary way, or when one is high up in a strange 
 house, or in a railway carriage ; least of all with 
 a large quantity of powder on board a ship a 
 thousand miles from the nearest land, with boats 
 enough for on4y about one-third of those who 
 hear it. 
 
 It "is in the middle watch, which Ian is keep- 
 ing with his grenadiers, when going his rounds 
 he smells the pungent odour. 
 
 The " alarm " at once brings every man to his 
 post, and the military rapidity and precision
 
 1S6 AM AT. 
 
 with which the engine-hose are attached, and the 
 water begins to play on the point of danger, 
 again rather astonishes the Captain, accustomed 
 only to the merchant-seaman's style of work. 
 
 With infinite zest the Highlanders drive gallon 
 after gallon into the lower fo 'castle, where the 
 crew are confined, and have originated the fire, 
 probably with the idea that they would at once 
 be released. 
 
 Half suflfocated, almost drowned, and wholly 
 frightened by the unexpected combination of the 
 two elements most dreaded between decks, the 
 rascals are allowed by their commander to yell 
 for mercy some time after it is evident that they 
 will not be hoisted by their own petard, ere he 
 gives the word to stop the engines. 
 
 Thoroughly cowed, they give no further trouble, . 
 for, as the Irish first officer grimly says, "By 
 japers ! sir, they've taken all their water at a 
 gulp. It's murderin dhry they'll find their bread 
 for the rest of the voyage." 
 
 The seventy- fourth day of their life on the 
 waters is coming to an end when the look-out
 
 Ajviat. 187 
 
 mail sings out, "Sail a-liead I " — and before long 
 the smart man-o-war-like brig of the pilot service 
 is alongside, sending on board those who are to 
 take the ' Emu ' up the difficult and dangerous 
 passage of the Hoogly from the Sandheads. 
 
 As they steam along, the pilot, who turns 
 out a queer fish, delivers his budget of Indian, 
 and European news to the surrounding group, 
 who have been shut out from the world for the 
 fifth of a year. 
 
 Slight built, sun-burnt, unmistakably a gentle- 
 man, there is a gleam in his eye, a set expression 
 ill the thin lips and determined jaw which those 
 have who habitually look very closely into the 
 face of death, and, from the familiarity, treat 
 him with contempt. 
 
 " Yes, Colonel, Delhi has fallen, but you are in 
 good time ; Lucknow is besieged by the rebels, 
 and much of the country is in a state of insurrec- 
 tion. It will take as many fine fellows like 
 yours as old England can send out in a hurry to 
 get things straight again." 
 
 As soon as it begins to darken, the steamer
 
 188 AMAT. 
 
 comes to an anchor, and brandy with water goes 
 to the pilot. 
 
 " I say, Colin," observes the "Weasel " to one 
 of his brother subs., "that's the fourth go of 
 what he calls ' brandy-pawnee ' w^hich has disap- 
 peared down his cinder-like throat in a very 
 short space of time." 
 
 " Ah ! I have heard one gets to like the sickly 
 stuff out here. I suppose it's that which in- 
 flames his imagination. He's the nearest thing 
 to Munchausen I ever came across in the flesh. 
 Did you hear him tell that yarn on the bridge 
 about his figrht in the water with a shark and a 
 tiger ? " 
 
 " No ; but I can imagine its being rather 
 tall." 
 
 " I am afraid I can't do justice to it, but as 
 far as I can remember I will give it you in his 
 own words : 
 
 " ' I was among the Sunderbunds out there one 
 day when I felt so done up with the heat that I 
 couldn't help jumping overboard ; but as I knew 
 there were a lot of sharks about, I strapped a
 
 AM AT. 189 
 
 knife round my waist. Hardly had I struck out 
 when I saw one coming at me. It was soon 
 over. I can assure you nothing is easier with a 
 little practice and nerve.) Fancy nerve, "Weasel," 
 after a prolonged course of brandy-pawnee at 
 the rate of sixteen per hour !) I waited for him, 
 and, when he made his rush, turning on his 
 back as they always do at the last moment, I 
 dived below him, giving him the kukari, a 
 Goorka knife I always carry on such occasions. 
 This was repeated a few times, and then it was 
 finished — at least as far as he was concerned ; 
 but as I was making my way back, I saw the 
 head of a tiger swimming in my direction, 
 attracted of course by the smell of blood in the 
 water. I was clear of where it was floatinof on 
 the surface, so I waited until he had passed, and 
 then, with a few rapid strokes, I was upon him 
 and drove my knife into his spine just between 
 the shoulders. He sank without a strus^gle, and 
 I returned heated rather than cooled by my 
 bathe'." 
 
 "What a pity Lundy of the Wellingtonians
 
 190 AMAT. 
 
 isn't on board ! He is bard to beat in that Une. 
 But does he keep on drinking at this rate ? " 
 
 " No ; I have made careful enquiries of the 
 leadsman, who humbly imitates his leader, and 
 he declares he draws the line at thirty-two 
 brandy-pawnees a day, beginning only when the 
 anchor drops ; after which he turns in, and will 
 be as fresh in the morning as you saw him when 
 he came on board ! " 
 
 " Happily for us ! I hope I sha'n't dream of 
 him. Conceive at the end of the year having got 
 through ninety dozen of brandy to your own 
 cheek ! I wonder what the chief thinks of 
 him ! " 
 
 As they steam against the increasing current 
 next morning, there are many glances of enquiry 
 among those who have heard the pilot's yarns and 
 seen his capacity for strong waters. 
 
 Presently they have an example of his way of 
 getting out of a difficulty. The boats on the 
 river increase in number as they go up, but one 
 look at the lithe figure in its snowy white ducks 
 on the bridge is enough for them all, and they
 
 AMAT. 191 
 
 give the ' Emu ' a wide berth as she steams 
 among them. 
 
 At last, when nearing the dangerous shoal 
 called "James and Mary," a large native boat 
 wdth some fifty people in it is seen passing 
 rapidly down and across her course. The men 
 in the bows shout to the natives, who, seeing 
 their danger, paddle with unwonted vigour — but 
 too late ; in spite of appeals and protestations 
 the pilot will not divert his course by a hand's- 
 breadth. 
 
 There is a crash, a smothered chorus of yells 
 from the water, a fierce suppressed groan from 
 the excited soldiers on board, and, dashing over 
 the di'bris, the steamer leaves half a hundred 
 wretches struefoling in the water. 
 
 " What would you, gentlemen ? " he says after, 
 wards, when he is rather hotly questioned. 
 " Had I gone to right or left at that moment the 
 current would have caught us broadside on ; iu 
 an instant we would have touched the shot], 
 and the next would have found the 'Emu' a 
 wreck as quickly as the ship whose fate names
 
 192 AM AT. 
 
 the sandbank. I don't think many on board 
 could get as easily ashore as those niggers you 
 are so careful of. They can swim like otters." 
 
 " By Jove ! he has method in his madness," 
 mutters the " Weasel " to his chum, as in the 
 distance they see the black specks on the river- 
 side. 
 
 Silent, if not convinced, the Colonel is not 
 sorry when he finds himself alongside the Ghaut, 
 and the voyage safely over.
 
 AMAT. 193 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 " thou bloody prison, fatal and ominous to noble peers." 
 
 Harl Rivers 
 
 Walking up and down the deck for the last 
 time before disembarking, the Weasel says, " It 
 is devilish odd, Paul I Here have I been swear- 
 ing at this rotten old tin-kettle of a ship for 
 nearly three months, ever since I first heard her 
 name. In her we have certainly faced more 
 than the ordinary ' perils of the sea.' Her cap- 
 tain has checkmated us in every attempt at fun, 
 whether it was flying a kite, fighting a main of 
 cocks from the hen-coops, or playing leap-frog 
 round the decks, because it interfered with the 
 way of the ship ! his puritanical ideas ! or the 
 feelings of the binnacle ! And because there is 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 AMAT. 
 
 not the remotest chance of ever seeing her again, 
 I feel quite down in the mouth ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " says Elliot, throwing away his cigar 
 as the men prepare to fall in for their last 
 parade on deck. " Perhaps instinct tells you we 
 may be a good deal worse off before we are better." 
 
 " Or rather — it sounds nicer — may it not be the 
 sense of impending loss which adds to the value 
 of everything, even the meanest." 
 
 " Weasel, you have been reading ? " 
 
 " No ; I look upon that as a waste of life, 
 besides being a kind of larceny." 
 
 " What 1 the sun has already touched the 
 boy's head?" 
 
 " Not a bit, most noble Fergus. Fools spend 
 time in writing, and wise men suck their brains. 
 When you have invented a process by which 
 thought can be produced on paper as quickly 
 as it evolves, I may join the first lot." 
 
 " And the other ? " 
 
 " Well, some one must dig up the potatoes, I 
 suppose. I am content to find them a la maitre 
 cChoieir
 
 AM AT. 195 
 
 " This gets serious, Paul." 
 
 " A three months' voyage has much to answer 
 for if it has brought our Weasel to philosophy." 
 
 " You are wondrous kind, my Captain. We 
 never love so much as when we fear our inamorata 
 is going to throw us over. But be easy. I 
 promise to look a greater fool than I am until 
 the real one joins — competitive examina- 
 tions must produce some splendid specimens 
 shortly." 
 
 " They'll find it hard to turn out anything 
 better all round," said the somewhat stolid 
 Fergus, admiringly, as the Weasel leaves them 
 with an air which would secure him the role of 
 jeime premier on any stage. " Perhaps it's as 
 well he don't read ; eh, Paul ? " 
 
 " He might know too much for some of us ! " 
 laughingly answers Elliot. "But I fancy we'll 
 all have to go in for something of the sort before 
 long, or make room for others who can, and will. 
 Ink stays better than pipe-clay." 
 
 As they march across the Maidan to Fort 
 William in the pleasant October morning, with
 
 196 AM AT. 
 
 the first faint sense of a freshness in the air, the 
 blood of many an exiled Scot is stirred by the 
 old familiar airs of his native land. And the 
 fair ones, who are riding, hasten to look yet more 
 closely at the picturesque soldiers, who, bronzed 
 and weather-beaten, carry in their faces as on 
 their breasts the evidence that they may well 
 be relied on in the hour of need. 
 
 To most of the natives the uniform is one of 
 strange significance, and it is speedily accepted 
 as a fact that the Queen has sent out these fierce- 
 looking women in short petticoats to avenge the 
 slaughtered ones at Cawnpore. 
 
 It is not easy for the practical Highlanders to 
 understand seeing the Governor-G-eneral escorted 
 by a party of unarmed Cavalry, and the sentries at 
 Government House with ramrods only in their 
 hands ! But everything seems anomalous, from 
 the detention of troops in Calcutta while the 
 strain up-country is almost more than the 
 struggling forces at Cawnpore and Lucknow can 
 contend with, to the flood of letters from home 
 which greets those happy enough to have good
 
 AMAT. 197 
 
 correspondents, while they themselves have been 
 unable to write a word. 
 
 Charlie needs all his self ■ possession to accept 
 with outward calm the budget which the Pipe- 
 Major hands him. Happily the writing of the 
 j&rst letter that meets his eye is that of Clarice, 
 and the absence of any tokens of woe relieve 
 him of the fears which he has hardly dared to 
 acknowledge to himself. 
 
 While he is turning them over and over, 
 unopened, in the way one does at times, Ian 
 comes to his aid with wholesome chaff. " HuUoa, 
 Master ! You handle your letters as if they 
 were the pleasant oil of our childhood. If I 
 were not sure that the simile is a very bad one, 
 I would say, ' Swallow them at a gulp.' For 
 myself, I have not even a despairing dun left to 
 bother me." 
 
 " Be grateful for the smallest of mercies, as the 
 Kirk minister was when his guidwife gave him 
 cauld skate for dinner," says the Weasel. "Here 
 am I overcome with unpalatable allusions to my 
 last hours at Portsmouth, of which a horribly
 
 198 AMAT. 
 
 distorted report seems to have reached the 
 scandalized ears of my relatives." 
 
 " The Jew will have his revenge somehow, you 
 may depend upon it," says Charlie, going off to 
 read his letters. 
 
 In every word of those which, lover-like, he 
 takes first, there breathes the tender, true-hearted 
 woman ; and he thinks with a thrill of happiness 
 what a daughter he has left with his mother, 
 who writes full of a quiet strength which 
 astonishes while it comforts him. 
 
 During their detention in Calcutta from the 
 old and never-ending story, " want of transport," 
 the Highlanders devote themselves to the agree- 
 able change which the life there affords to those 
 who have endured the voyage round the Cape. 
 
 "Are you going to the Course this evening, 
 Charlie ? " asks Ian, as they are discussing tiffin. 
 
 " Yes ; come," he replies, helping himself again 
 to the curried prawns, of whose natural history, 
 according to local tradition, they are happily 
 ignorant. " I was there last night with the 
 Colonel. It's rather fun watching the Eastern
 
 AMAT. 199 
 
 idea of Rotten Row. There is a quaint mixture 
 which makes one feel inclined to laugh, but it's 
 checked the next instant by the thoughts which 
 rise up as the carriages go by filled with many 
 so different from those we see at home." 
 
 " The Course has material advantages too over 
 our Lady's Mile," says the Weasel, emerging 
 from the depths of a tankard of iced beer. " If 
 ycu are athirst — I wonder when one isn't out 
 here ? — you can turn into a kiosk and get 
 anything you like, from ' silver top ' to hock-and- 
 seltzer." 
 
 As they walk down by the river-side they 
 cannot help contrasting the pale and somewhat 
 sad faces of the ladies with the fresh, healthy, 
 happy ones they have left so far behind. 
 
 " They have need to be poor things when one 
 thinks of the summer heat they had to endure, 
 and the horrors they heard of, with the con- 
 tingent possibilities which the alarmists were 
 never tired of anticipating," says Charlie. " I 
 was talking to one of the big civilians this 
 morning, and he said if Lord Canning had lost
 
 200 AMAT. 
 
 his head and yielded to the panic-stricken 
 entreaties which poured in upon him, there 
 would have been such an exodus as would have 
 ended in another Black Hole." 
 
 "And yet to see the quiet looks of all these 
 grades of colour, one would little suspect there 
 are the seething differences of race and religion, 
 which culminated in the fiendish outbreak that 
 has brought us out here." 
 
 "No. They tell me that the Nana was mixing 
 with all our people at Cawnpore up to a very 
 short time before the mutiny came to a head. 
 Look at that fat yellow fellow there. He looks 
 as if he hadn't a thought beyond his food, 
 though I hear he is one of the most plotting 
 of the State prisoners, whom they allow, with 
 doubtful wisdom, to go at large." 
 
 "They are a good deal like their own wild 
 animals — not bad to look at, when you get used 
 to the colour, but dangerous if you over trust 
 them," says Ian, as they turn and lean over the 
 rails while the kaleidoscopic assemblage passes 
 by. "Yes," he continues after a little, "it's a
 
 AMAT. 201 
 
 strange scene, with no parallel in the world, 1 
 should say, — the conqueror and the conquered, 
 — the Eastern and the Western, — the Christian, 
 Mahomedan, Hindoo, Parsee, sinking their most 
 antagonistic feelings on every vital point, tem- 
 poral and eternal, to a dull level of indifference, 
 to meet here for air, show, fashion. I wonder 
 if Surajah Dowlah has an idea of what is going 
 on now ? " 
 
 " Very tr5dng for him if it be so. Like most 
 who have committed great crimes, he would 
 probably feel intensely the futility of that for 
 which he suffered."
 
 202 AMAT. 
 
 CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 " On, on, ou, on, on ! to the breach, to the breach ! " 
 
 Bardolph. 
 
 " We're off at last," says the Adjutant, dashing 
 into the ante-room before mess; "the order has 
 just come for us to proceed without delay to 
 Cawnpore, and we leave at daybreak to-morrow 
 morning." 
 
 " That's good hearing, Forbes, for we have been 
 in this place too long if one can believe half the 
 reports that come down from the front." 
 
 " There's no doubt, Grant, that they have as 
 much as they can do to hold their own at Luck- 
 now and Cawnpore, but I hope we'll be in time, 
 though it will only be by hard marching." 
 
 " After keeping us doing nothing here for a
 
 AMAT. 203 
 
 week ! Oh, my poor feet ! I know how tender 
 they'll be after those many months on board 
 ship," plaints the privileged Weazel, in solemn 
 tones, which makes the Chief smile, and say : 
 
 "Put less whisky inside to-night, and rub 
 some of it on your feet, Fletcher. You will find 
 it a rare thing to harden the skin. And a little 
 soap is not bad either." 
 
 But the railway as far as Raneegunge, and the 
 well-arranged bullock-waggon train, leaves even 
 the softest little cause for grumbling or hardship. 
 
 At Allahabad comes the startling news of 
 Windham's check at Cawnpore, with pressing 
 orders for the forced march of every available 
 man. 
 
 " We must be ready in an hour," says the 
 Colonel, as he gives his orders to the Adjutant. 
 And they are. Ere the clock has struck they are 
 pushing on, with all the quiet determination of 
 their country, along the Grand Trunk Road, 
 which, broad, level, and smooth as a riband, 
 stretches like a main artery from Calcutta to the 
 frontier on the North -West.
 
 204 AMAT. 
 
 " This promises to be a stiffish job, gentlemen," 
 says the Chief, as, after marching all night in the 
 choking dust which ascends from an Indian road 
 in the dry season under the tramp of many feet, 
 the officers gather round him to discuss the 
 grateful weed and have a welcome cup of tea, 
 while the men snatch a hasty meal and such 
 sleep as they can in the brief halt that is ordered. 
 " I have sent my horse to the rear so that you 
 may not think I expect more of others than I do 
 myself. 
 
 "As I am determined to march continuously 
 until we reach Cawnpore, I have taken a hint 
 from a Russian experience I had not long ago ; 
 and, if you see that the men follow my orders 
 implicitly, I think we shall make as good a march 
 as the famous one of Crawford's Light Division. 
 
 " There will be three main halts of an hour each 
 in the twenty-four, for a meal which the native 
 cooks will prepare. The first forty-five minutes 
 will be devoted to sleep while it is being got 
 ready ; the last fifteen will suffice for the eating 
 of it and the subsequent pipe.
 
 AMAT. 205 
 
 " Every hour there will be a halt of a quarter of 
 an hour, in which the men can have ten minutes' 
 sleep, and five for a smoke, a mouthful of cold 
 tea, and a biscuit. The officers will discourage 
 the men from drinking or smoking while actually 
 marching, and will take advantage of the halts 
 to ease the footsore with the bandages and oint- 
 ment they will provide themselves with from the 
 hospital stores. 
 
 " There .will be no issues of grog until the march 
 is over. The knapsacks of the band and pipers 
 will be carried for them, so that they can play 
 alternately for five minutes every quarter of an 
 hour ; and if the men are encouraged to sing I 
 hope we shall cover the ground in time, and get 
 in fit for immediate action." 
 
 "That's a very good idea. Colonel, about the 
 music and singing; still better to stick to tea, 
 and abolish the grog when sleep has to be fought 
 against. Did you learn that when you were in 
 the Caucasus ? " asks Mackay. 
 
 "Partly, Doctor. I was going up, after the 
 war, from Taman to Tiflis with an aide of the
 
 206 AMAT. 
 
 Grand Duke ; and I found lie was so much fresher 
 than I was, after travelling incessantly for a day 
 and a night on a telega, that I watched his plan 
 of operations, — it was at every change of horses 
 to lie down full length on his back, sleep till the 
 horses were in, then eat a biscuit or sandwich, 
 swallow a cup of tea, and smoke a cigarette ; after 
 which he seemed to be a new man. Following 
 his example, I can assure you I was fresher at the 
 end of the third days' jolting over the roadless 
 country in a springless, backless, seated cart than 
 I was the first night. And I can quite believe 
 his story that he travelled without a halt from 
 the Caucasus to St. Petersburg, and was able to 
 enjoy a ball at the Winter Palace the night he 
 delivered his despatches." 
 
 "Ah, sir," says the Weasel, "I fear we shall 
 have no dancing at the end of our trajetj^ 
 
 " You will have more serious work than that, 
 my boy, when we get in ; but what is the matter 
 with your face ? " 
 
 " Nothing, sir ; only a too intimate acquaint- 
 ance with the butt-end of a rifle. After that
 
 AMAT. 207 
 
 halt in the middle of the night, which was so 
 pleasant that I would have given a month's pay 
 gladly to have had another hour's sleep, I accom- 
 plished the feat of walking and dozing at the 
 same time, but the result was, I am afraid, a 
 severe loss of teeth." 
 
 " We shall have to give you a more appropriate 
 name. Weasel," says Charlie, " if you get caught 
 napping in that way ; but stick to it. I saw a 
 young bugler going all night better than most of 
 my company." 
 
 " That's it," answers the youngster, as he cocks 
 his bonnet and rejoins his men. " ' Multum in 
 parvo ' is a good deal better than the other 
 side up, but when it's applied to one's crea- 
 ture comforts the theory is better than the 
 practice." 
 
 The severest trial comes to an end at last, and 
 brings without fail compensation to those who 
 have cheerfully and manfully borne it, as the 
 Highlanders find when at last they reach the 
 longed-for camping-ground ; though ere the last 
 mile is covered more than one strong man is seen
 
 208 AMAT. 
 
 to break down temporarily under the tremendous 
 strain he may endure but not master. 
 
 Halting for a few minutes to pull themselves 
 together, the satisfaction which comes of a suc- 
 cessful struggle with privation steals over them, 
 and few looking at them would think they are 
 at the end of an extraordinary march. 
 
 While they are thus standing there runs 
 through them a shuddering question as the head 
 of a long straggling train of carriages, carts, 
 dhoolies, elephants, camels and horses ap- 
 proaches. 
 
 It is the siege - worn remnant of sick and 
 wounded men, women, and, alas ! how few, 
 children from Lucknow, wending their weary, 
 painful way under escort towards that home upon 
 which so many may never cast their longing 
 eyes. 
 
 From a litter as it passes comes the feeble 
 enquiry from a wounded man, " What High- 
 landers are these ? " 
 
 "The Red, sir," answers the Piper, proudly, 
 saluting the wasted, eager officer as he leans out.
 
 AMAT. 209 
 
 *' xA.li ! my brother is in the Camerons," says 
 the disappointed invalid, as he falls back with all 
 the fretfulness of the sick. 
 
 While the ghastly column goes by, a poor lady 
 clasps her fatherless babe, survivor of a once 
 happy family, as she says half aloud, while she 
 gazes at the strong eager men grouped on either 
 side, "Oh, if these had been with us, how differ- 
 ent it mioht have been ! " 
 
 How small the world is ! Suddenly, as a 
 carriage of more pretension to conventional ap- 
 pearance than anything else in the sad assem- 
 blage is going past, a startlingly cheery voice calls 
 out, " Why, Charlie ! who would have thought it 
 possible ? " 
 
 Somewhat amazed, Charlie springs forward, 
 and, ere he quite knows how, finds himself 
 embracing a remarkably pretty cousin, whose 
 existence he had temporarily forgotten. 
 
 " Amy ? Impossible I " he exclaims, as he 
 draws back somewhat doubtfully, and gazes at 
 the face which an Indian climate, coupled vvdth 
 the horrors and pri/ations of the past four 
 
 VOL. 1. p
 
 210 AM AT. 
 
 montlis, has paled and refined into one of 
 exquisite beauty. 
 
 " Then pray, sir, explain your conduct," she 
 retorts with a laugh, which is echoed by the 
 Weasel, a keenly attentive witness of the episode. 
 " Have you so completely and quickly forgotten 
 Amy, your playmate and pupil in many a 
 pleasant, if mischievous, holiday ? " 
 
 " Forgive me. I had indeed not remembered 
 that I might see you out here ; but how could I 
 recognize the little girl with rather red hair in 
 the—" 
 
 " Pray don't finish what I fear would end 
 in a doubtful compliment," she interrupts, with 
 a bewitching moue^ as she affects to put her 
 hands to her ears, which has the double eff'ect of 
 also showing the appreciative Weasel how shapely 
 they are. " I know I am looking a terrible ' Guy ' ; 
 but if you had an idea of all we have gone 
 through," she adds with a painful sigh, which 
 seems to bring back with it memories of infinite 
 sorrow to her lovely eyes, "you would not be 
 surprised if I looked aged and hideous as one of
 
 AMAT. 211 
 
 the Cawdor witclies. Alas ! we are going on, 
 and I must say ' Good-bye.' To think we should 
 have met thus, and' for a minute only ! God 
 bless you, Charlie ! Take care of yourself, as far 
 as you can ; you will find my husband some- 
 where with the Chiefs staff, and he will tell you 
 all we have had to suffer." 
 
 " Addio, then, Amy," says Charlie, recovering 
 himself, and wringing her small white hand which 
 has found its way back to his. "Shall we meet 
 again i 
 
 " I hope so, and perhaps before very long. I 
 must go to Calcutta to get rigged out, and will 
 probably stay there till the hot weather, when, 
 if I can, I'll come up to the Hills to be nearer 
 Harry. Fare thee well, dear coz." 
 
 And thus part two who meet once more by 
 such strange accident, little thinking of the 
 weaving of the web which is to surround and 
 entangle their lives. 
 
 Attracted at an Inverness meeting by the 
 appearance and attentions of the soldier-like 
 Colonel Gardenne, Amy Macrae fancied her 
 
 P 2
 
 212 AMAT. 
 
 heart had gone with her head three years or so 
 before, when she married the only man she had 
 ever deemed worthy of comparison with her 
 handsome cousin ; who, however, be it frankly 
 said, had never thought matrimonially of the 
 fascinating girl who, though very much to him, 
 w^as always overshadowed by Clarice's queenly 
 beauty. 
 
 Yet, without imputation upon his loyalty, it 
 cannot be denied that he casts after the now 
 most fair Amy looks and thoughts of admiration 
 which she could not have won from him when 
 last they met. While she, as the column moves 
 aw^ay, ponders on the strange chance which has 
 brought up from the inmost depths a vision of 
 possible happiness, which *she had thought long 
 buried out of sio^ht when she first came to know 
 and feel how Clarice filled every thought of the 
 heart she would have given everything to call 
 her own.
 
 AM AT. 213 
 
 CHAPTER XYII. 
 
 " O mistress mine, where are you roaming ? " 
 
 Clown, Twelfth Night. 
 
 As the autumn wears on Lady Amat's health 
 improves so much that at last she consents to 
 accept the Beauchamps' invitation to spend 
 Christmas at Champ Royal, one of Queen 
 Elizabeth's favourite Burys which she had given 
 in a fit of generosity to the handsome ancestor 
 of the General. 
 
 Never since the night of her visions has Lady 
 Amat been able to look at the arras in her room 
 without a strange feeling of comfort mingled 
 with horror, which makes her less willing than 
 was her wont to meet the morning salutation of 
 the faithful Hamish, who rarely fails to greet
 
 214 AMAT. 
 
 lier with. aD inquiry, as yet easy for her to 
 answer, touching the news from India. 
 
 Thus it is that the Amats find themselves 
 staying with the Beauchamps when the news of 
 Charlie's arrival at Calcutta reaches England. 
 
 * Notwithstanding the increasingly grave aspect 
 of affairs, the detention of the loved one from 
 the actual scenes of action lulls them into a 
 state of comparative tranquillity of mind, which 
 enables them to enter into such Christmas 
 festivities as is the custom of the Clayshire 
 county folk to indulge in. 
 
 Standing in a fine old park, the trees of which 
 suggest the thought that the virgin queen may 
 have spent many a happy day in the shades of 
 their primeval-looking branches, Champ Eoyal 
 is an almost perfect specimen of the best homes 
 of her time. 
 
 As if to refute the commonly accepted, but 
 false, impression that it is a county of feverish 
 marsh and considerable plainness of feature, the 
 picturesque old house rears its many gables and 
 turrets to a height of about four hundred feet
 
 AMAT. 215 
 
 above the sea, tlianks to the swelling ridge from 
 which it looks over many a fair mile of well- 
 timbered country, wooded only enough to satisfy 
 the lover of sylvan landscape without destroying 
 the hopes of the fox-hunter. 
 
 At a distance from the house which prevents 
 the suggestion of damp, runs round on three 
 sides the moat which, in bygone days, the ab- 
 sence of Yarmouth smacks, and of the punctual 
 if torpid Great Eastern, had made a necessary 
 means of providing for the frequent demands 
 of Catholic fasts. 
 
 On the south side is laid out an exquisite 
 Italian garden, owing much to the travelled and 
 cultivated tastes of Clarice and her mother. 
 
 For neighbours there are not a few of those 
 types which England alone, we think, can show. 
 
 Cultured scholars, who at Eton or Harrow had 
 not thought it all boating or cricket, and at 
 Balliol or Trinity used their opportunity so 
 well that when the world of pleasure lay before 
 them they preferred to devote their talents to 
 the service of their country. For mates, have
 
 216 AMAT. 
 
 these not chosen the daughters of men who, a 
 generation before, had done likewise ? 
 
 Daughters there are too, who, though they 
 may not all equal Clarice, the acknowledged 
 -beauty of the county, are admirable planets of 
 so fair a moon. 
 
 The sons, are they not ever absent when they 
 are wanted at home, until a stranger might well 
 ask if none are grown in these parts ? Yet in 
 the House, at the Bar, in the Services, they are 
 making their way to the front in a manner 
 whicli needs no further reply to the croakers 
 who suggest the deterioration of the coming 
 race. 
 
 At that charming distance which precludes 
 too great an intimacy with those who ma)^ not 
 be quite consonant with one's tastes, and affords 
 such a pleasant excuse for asking your friends to 
 come to you for days instead of the few even- 
 ing hours, is Saxbury — the almost palatial seat 
 of the Trevors, the last of whom is the fair Eila, 
 whose mother's premature death has made it, 
 until of late, but a little-frequented home.
 
 AM AT. 217 
 
 Hoping to keep at bay the dread anxiety 
 which hovers so near her daughter, Mrs. Beau- 
 champ has filled her house for the Christmas 
 week ; including among her guests the Trevors, 
 Lady Alice Campbell's son Archie, in the 
 Fusiliers, and two others of that pleasant lot — 
 Montie Drummond and Victor Murray — who 
 have already seen enough of " the Beauchamp " 
 and " the Trevor " not to be insensible to their, 
 personal and pecuniary charms ; which latter, 
 strange to say, are not exaggerated by the 
 vulgar. 
 
 As the three young Guardsmen settle them- 
 selves in the comfortable break for the lonofish 
 drive before them from the small country station, 
 the single-handed porter grips his well-earned 
 tips while he wishes them a happy Christmas, 
 and mutters as they drive off, " That's tha sort 
 oi loikes allers tu see. More especial 'bout thay 
 toimes. Hansum be uz hansum du, an they be 
 roight gude at boath, says oi." 
 
 " Well, Archie, what have you been up to this 
 autumn ? They say Charlie Grant has been
 
 218 AMAT. 
 
 cutting us all out with ' the Beauchamp ' in that 
 northern den of his," says Montie Drummond, 
 who, not long back from an expedition to Fin- 
 land, has an idea of his friend's game, and likes 
 getting a rise out of him. 
 
 " Some people say, hear, and believe any- 
 thing," replies Campbell, coming freely, as he 
 settles himself back in a corner, for he is not 
 over pleased to find others may have heard of 
 an obstacle to his plans which he means to 
 overcome. " There's nothing in it. They have 
 known each other for years, and when he went 
 off to India in a hurry the Beauchamps stayed 
 on at Amat to cheer up the old people. But if 
 rumour is to be believed, Vic," turning to 
 Murray, " your shrine has been worshipped with 
 considerable ardour by Konald Elliot, who can 
 give points to most men and beat them at that 
 game." 
 
 "If I thought old Trevor would give his 
 daughter to a penniless captain in a marching 
 regiment I might feel alarmed," says Murray, 
 stroking his black moustache with much com-
 
 AM AT. 219 
 
 placency, as lie mentally compares liis contiDgent 
 Dukedom with the meagre position, present and 
 prospective, as far as he knows it, of his possible 
 rival. 
 
 " In any case," says Drummond, shrugging 
 his shoulders, " you two can make all the 
 runnino; now without much fear of intrusion, 
 for they can't be into Lucknow and back again 
 yet aw^hile, and there's always the chance of a 
 friendly bullet giving you a help." 
 
 " My dear boy, you don't know how an acci- 
 dent of that kind cuts the other way sometimes. 
 Look at Reyas and Bridgerout — the moment 
 they came home half-a-dozen women were wild 
 to marry them, legs or no legs! No; our best 
 friends in such a case would be sympathetic 
 ladies in the Hills, where Satan finds such mis- 
 chief still for idle hearts to do, if Arthur Gough 
 is to be relied on ! He says that after the Sikh 
 business the wounded warriors up there were in 
 much greater need of ice than they had ever 
 been in the Plains." 
 
 Meanwhile, in happy ignorance of the free and
 
 220 AMAT. 
 
 easy way they are being discussed, Eila, who has 
 not seen Clarice since they parted at Amat in 
 September, is enjoying a gossip with her in the 
 privacy of a sanctum never invaded but by her 
 mother and her intimates. 
 
 As there is a meet handy in a day or two, 
 Eila and her father have ridden their hunters 
 over ; and, as she lies stretched on the wolf-skin 
 in front of the fire, her svelte figure shows every 
 line of its perfect form, while the rich brunette 
 beauty of her oval face glows with the efi'ects of 
 exercise in the bracino^ air, o-ivinof fresh light to 
 her large, liquid brown eyes, and a yet lovelier 
 tinge to her clear, soft skin. 
 
 After discussing the welcome cup of tea, and 
 every topic but that which lies nearest to their 
 breasts, which each has avoided though she knows 
 well that the other reads her thoughts as accu- 
 rately as her own, Eila, looking steadily into the 
 fire, and throwing as much indifference into her 
 tone as if she were asking the date of the next 
 eclipse, invisible at Greenwich, says, " What 
 news, my Queen ? "
 
 AM AT. 221 
 
 Clarice, to wliom the luxury of a tea-gown lias 
 not yet been divulged, is, happily for her reputa- 
 tion for sang froid, shielding her fair face from 
 the too ardent logs by a cunning contrivance of 
 white lace and blue satin, which contrasts well 
 with the thick clinging folds of a ruby velvet 
 peignoir ; she flushes for a moment vehemently 
 at the question, and then with returning pallor 
 calmly answers : 
 
 " None, dear, since they reached Calcutta. 
 Charlie's last letter is dated from there, but says 
 they may march up-country at any moment." 
 
 " Had they a good voyage out ? " 
 
 " A very quick one, apparently, considering 
 all things. They had several escapes from fire 
 and shipwreck, and he tells me now that before 
 they sailed many expected they would never 
 reach India." 
 
 A quick, sharp sigh, the white nervous hand 
 closing involuntarily the fan with which she 
 has been playing, tell Clarice the old, old tale 
 without looking at Eila's face, which is working 
 with irrepressible emotion.
 
 2.22 AMAT. 
 
 There is a silence which seems to endure for 
 hours, while each thinks of the past and the 
 possible future. 
 
 Clarice, with the right to build her chateaux 
 where she will, falls to dreaming of the happi- 
 ness she believes in store for her ; but Eila has 
 no such wonderland of joy to wander in, and, 
 when at last a spark from the crackling beech- 
 wood wakes them from their reveries, Clarice finds 
 her weeping ! Silent, great, large drops, which 
 like those that presage the thunder-storm, are 
 not the less momentous that they come from 
 an apparently clear sky in which has hitherto 
 been all bright and happy sunshine. 
 
 In an instant she is on the rug beside her, 
 and at the first touch of her lips Eila turns 
 and is folded in her caressing arms, Slabbing 
 like a child whose heart would break in its first, 
 great, young grief. 
 
 " Eila 1 " at last she says, as the shapely head 
 sinks on her bosom, with the sigh of relief that 
 comes to those who at last find the touch of 
 sympathy which is needed to unlock the skeleton- 
 holding cupboard.
 
 AMAT. 223 
 
 " Oh, Clarice ! — it's weak, I know, and perhaps 
 unmaidenly, to care, still more to betray it as I 
 am doino^ now, for one who has not given me 
 the right to think he will ever be anything to 
 me ; but he is so true and noble in his nature, 
 I feel sure that he was silent for some good 
 reason which he would have explained had time 
 permitted. You know how events crowded them- 
 selves into those few happy days at Amat, 
 where I thought they would have rolled into 
 weeks, and we ! " 
 
 " Yes, indeed I do ; but perhaps it was because 
 I was so occupied with my own thoughts," 
 Clarice says with a blushing, happy smile, " that 
 I did not know what wild work was goinor on 
 around until after they had gone ; though Charlie 
 did give me a hint. Poor Olive is more than 
 flattened by her handsome Fergus ; and even the 
 practical Julia seems to regret her Giant more 
 than she likes to confess. Tell me, dearest, if 
 you will, how it was with you ? " 
 
 " I hardly know. It came with a sort of 
 rush. We met for the first time at Ascot, and
 
 2:24 AMAT. 
 
 I could not help being struck by his charming 
 face and caressing manner, which seemed to 
 grow more welcome each time we saw each other 
 during the rest of the season, and when he came 
 to Amat he appeared to seek to j)lease me in a 
 way I felt to be genuine ; and yet ! " — she breaks 
 off with a sigh that speaks volumes, and looks 
 wistfully at Clarice, whose face expresses the 
 deepest sympathy and interest. 
 
 " And yet ! He said nothing before he left ? " 
 " Yes ! No ! Not quite. On that terrible 
 morning when the hills looked more lovely than 
 ever, and all Nature seemed to bid us live in the 
 present for to-morrow we die, he walked with 
 me on the terrace, and said what made me feel 
 he was tied by something which prevented his 
 tongue confirming what his eyes had so often 
 declared. But he led me to hope that when he 
 came back he would be more free, and that he 
 trusted I would not then have forgotten him." 
 
 " My dearest ! But this is very serious. 
 You don't think he is fettered in any way that 
 would prevent his asking you to be his wife ? "
 
 AMAT. 225 
 
 "I do indeed, or I have mucli mistaken his 
 meaning." 
 
 " Surely then, you cannot think of him ? " 
 
 " Yes," repHed poor Eila, burying her face in 
 her hands as she turns away instinctively at the 
 suggestion; "only the more I fear, I cannot 
 help it. I must own it to you, for it has been 
 eating into my heart all these weary weeks since 
 he left so abruptly, as if he would fain unburden 
 himself, and yet dared not." 
 
 " What makes you think then that he will be 
 less reticent if you meet again ? " 
 
 " I don't know ; but there was that in his face 
 as he looked into my eyes which no man could 
 assume who was playing a woman false. On 
 the contrary, I would say, if it were not too 
 flattering a hope, that it was from some high 
 rather than unworthy motive he was silent." 
 
 " You must be very sure, darling," says 
 Clarice, touched beyond words with the j^athos 
 of her reply, and taking her extended hand in 
 both her own. " How gladly I would help and 
 comfort you, but I can only now say, wait and 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 2.26 AM AT. 
 
 hope. I too think he is not one to play 
 an ignoble part. If he has conveyed the im- 
 pression you speak of, cherish it, and be confident 
 that as time trieth truth, so does trial purify, 
 as it often strengthens, love. Come ! I know 
 you may think it's easy to bear another's 
 troubles, but don't be downcast by the necessity 
 of waiting. That at least I share with you. 
 Remember the old motto at Penshurst, ' Tout 
 vient d point d qui pent attendre! " 
 
 But while she speaks, her own eyes fill as she 
 thinks of all that may happen to those so ex- 
 posed to perils, the real magnitude and nature 
 of which she happily cannot conceive. 
 
 " Thank you for your hopeful thoughts. I 
 know it's foolish to give way as I did just now, 
 but I could not help contrasting our comfort 
 and luxury with all they may be going through. 
 But you have given me what I want most, a 
 confidante. Now, perhaps, sometimes we can talk 
 over the future ; and if you have any tidings 
 from Captain Grant, you will let me know, won't 
 you ? "
 
 AMAT. 227 
 
 " I will do more. In my next to Charlie, I 
 will tell liim that as I am interested in Captain 
 Elliot, I hope he will never omit to let me hear 
 of him when he writes." 
 
 ''Ah, darling, that is kind indeed. But don't 
 you think he may imagine there lies a thought 
 beyond ? " 
 
 " Who can tell ? " says Clarice gaily, seeing her 
 more cheerful ; " it's quite possible that they put 
 up their letters to auction as Captain Marry at's 
 middies did, but I don't think Charlie will allow 
 any of mine to become the property of another. 
 Come, and I'll show you your old room, for 
 we dine earlier to-nio;ht as the roads are so 
 heavy, and we have quite ten miles to get to 
 Knebstowe." 
 
 As they assemble before dinner in the quaint 
 dark old gallery — which by Mrs. Beauchamp's 
 fancy is kept dimly lit until their return through 
 it to the saloon, reserved for state occasions 
 such as this — each is occupied in conjecturing 
 who the new-comer is ; for, to please the younger 
 ones in the country who have never seen a 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 AMAT. 
 
 masquerade, it has been decided that this, to 
 celebrate the silver wedding of the popular 
 M. F. H., shall be a fancy ball. 
 
 Mrs. Beauchamp, one of the beauties of her 
 day, looks every inch a queen in the dress of her 
 ancestress, Katherine Parr, — who was not the 
 least favoured of the fickle Harry's bewitching 
 spouses. 
 
 Clarice's reluctance to go having been over- 
 come by her mother's arguments, she has routed 
 out of an old mail, which belonged to her 
 grand-aunt when at the court of St. Petersburg, 
 a Gallician dress that the old lady herself had 
 worn in her young days to the immense admira- 
 tion of the first Alexander. 
 
 Certainly the discerning taste of that gallant 
 emperor would not have disadvantageously com- 
 pared the niece with the first wearer, who, 
 Rumour said, had made such wild but unrequited 
 work in the inflammable organ which by courtesy 
 was called his heart. 
 
 Eila's dark beauty could hardly be enhanced 
 by any dress she chose. Yet the critical
 
 AMAT. 229 
 
 Victor Murray, as he presses forward to make his 
 bow, cannot but admit that he has never seen 
 her more fitted for conquest ; though, as far as he 
 is concerned, that is already over. There remains 
 but to know what terms she may accord him ; 
 for, self-complacent as he may seem to others, he 
 is well aware that she has never given him the 
 slightest token of more than a well-ordered, 
 mutually amusing, camaraderie, based on such 
 social field-days as London crushes, a Goodwood 
 meeting, and Cowes afford. 
 
 The other ladies of the party have not drawn 
 very heavily on their imaginations ; but, invested 
 with the halo of temporary beauty, produced by 
 powder, patches, and rouge, are well content to 
 accept such unoccupied devotion as Montie 
 Drummond and the other unattached young men 
 may place at their disposal. 
 
 The General's handsome face and figure are 
 well set forth by the ancient dress of the Cold- 
 streams, to which the three younger Guardsmen 
 give fitting pendants in the uniform of the 
 Fusiliers of the same period.
 
 230 AM AT. 
 
 Lord Amat's tartan, as a Chief of "tlie '45/' 
 carry the minds of more than one of the party 
 back to a very different scene ; and Colonel 
 Trevor, as a horseman of Ligonier, looks the heau 
 ideal of a cavalry officer of the olden time. 
 
 Thus, as they file down the long gallery, the 
 coup dUceil is well worthy of the house and its 
 surroundings. 
 
 Never did Lord Victor Murray feel less 
 inclined to value his social rank than when he 
 finds its exigencies separating him for the time 
 by immeasurable dinner-table space from the 
 object of his present suit. 
 
 Archie Campbell, more immediately fortunate in 
 his humbler distancefrom'thesalt,' devotes himself 
 to the entertainment of the fair Pole, who, ignorant 
 of his designs, is w^ell content to accept him as 
 a cousin and dear friend of her beloved Charlie. 
 
 Did we but know to how little of personal 
 advantages or attainments we are indebted for 
 the apparent success on which we are so apt to 
 plume ourselves, what pitfiiUs dug by our own 
 vanity we might avoid !
 
 AMAT. 231 
 
 " I was very sorry not to be able to join 
 your pleasant party at Amat this autumn, Miss 
 Beaucbamp," says Arcbie, as tbey range tbem- 
 selves at tbe dinner-table, " but for once duty 
 was inexorable, and I bad instead tbe doubtful 
 felicity of bearing from my sisters of all your 
 doings." 
 
 "You speak generally or personally, Colonel 
 Campbell ? " asks Clarice, witb a laugb, not 
 altogetber an easy one. 
 
 " Cela depend! But it must bave been a bore 
 ratber for you younger ones wben tbe gay 
 Cbarlie and bis friends bad to leave so sud- 
 denly," be says witb intention as be looks calmly 
 into ber eyes. 
 
 " Ab, yes," replies poor Clarice, paling some- 
 wbat under tbe suggestive tone, and feeling as 
 if be bad suddenly tbrown cold water down her 
 back. " It was a terrible sbock to bis dear 
 motber ; but sbe recovered wonderfully. How 
 well sbe is lookins; to-niorbt: isn't she?" castincr 
 an affectionate glance in the direction of Lady 
 Amat ; who, in a picturesque Greek costume and
 
 232 AMAT. 
 
 the congenial society of lier husband's old friend, 
 the General, is more like the happy bride he had 
 carried off some five -and -twenty years before 
 than he has seen her look for lonor. 
 
 " I can imagine what a blank their departure 
 must have made ; but perhaps it's as well. 
 Charlie is an impressionable young dog, and" 
 — looking across- at Eila, playing havoc with a 
 sixth-form boy, who, in all the glory of his first 
 evening pink with powder and black tights, is 
 blindly following the seductive path he so sud- 
 denly discovered when she turned upon him the 
 electric light of her too fascinating eyes, and 
 talked to him as if he were already a man — " our 
 fair friend over there might have made my 
 volatile sister's hand not quite so certain as she 
 fancies." 
 
 ''I hardly understand or follow you," some- 
 what indignantly retorts Clarice. " I have known 
 Captain Grant for many years, and I do not 
 think he is at all what you seem to imply, — that 
 detestable thing, a flirt, — if such a term can be 
 applied to anyone worthy to be called a man."
 
 AMAT. 233 
 
 " Oh, pray dou't tliink I implied anything 
 derogatory to Master Charlie. He is a very 
 good fellow — de absentis nil nisi honum — all I 
 meant was, he is not one to lose an opportunity 
 of worshipping if his devotion is likely to be 
 rewarded. There was a certain cousin, poor 
 girl ! — whose young affections he was supposed to 
 have blighted and driven into marrying a man 
 old enough to be her father, who carried her off 
 some few years ago to India, where, by the way, 
 they are likely enough to meet if the Sepoys 
 have spared her. Then there was — " 
 
 " Pray spare me a catalogue of your cousin's 
 love tales as you detail them. Colonel Campbell," 
 says Clarice, with a flashing eye and quivering 
 lip, which tell him all too much, as he calmly 
 accepts the explosion he had partly counted on. 
 *' I thought that sort of thing w^as only done 
 by the weaker sex." 
 
 A man of less experience might be discomfited. 
 Not so Campbell. He is too well practised, and 
 knows every shade more or less of the character 
 of those women in whom he is sufficiently in-
 
 234 AMAT. 
 
 terested to study. Having, therefore, sown the 
 seeds he means to germinate for his ulterior pur- 
 pose, he laughs and says : " Are we not masquer- 
 ading^ to-nio;ht, Mademoiselle ? In the time of this 
 coat," glancing at his sleeve, " men were nowhere 
 if they did not take every advantage of their 
 opportunities ; but let us forget the period of our 
 garments, and discuss the more absorbing topics 
 of the day ; " and, gliding easily into the channels 
 he knows so well, it is not long before Clarice, 
 listening to his pleasant nothings, is more than 
 half inclined to believe he has been only playing 
 a part — though there was that in the tone of 
 what he said which leaves an impression to return 
 again with redoubled force in days to come, as 
 he intends. 
 
 Bored as are most of the men by the long 
 drive, except the Eton boy, who is looking for- 
 ward to his promised waltz with Eila as only 
 those can appreciate who remember how they 
 huno-ered for their first dance with their first 
 divinity, they feel more than recompensed when 
 they get to Knebstowe.
 
 AMAT. 235 
 
 Fate has denied Frank Eversleigh and his wife 
 the blessing of children. People say it is in the 
 air ! Anyhow, they are not the only couple in 
 those parts who know not the trials of govern- 
 esses, school and college bills, the vexing ques- 
 tions of ineligibles, allowances, and the various 
 ills to which fond parents with skittish fillies 
 or wayward colts are so exposed in these days, 
 when wholesome discipline and old-fashioned 
 deference seem to be marchinsr out of sight hand 
 in hand. 
 
 So they are beloved by all the young people 
 in the county, whom they spoil, as grandparents 
 allow their second generation of offspring lati- 
 tudes they have sternly forbidden to their own 
 children. Because the pleasure thus given is 
 reflected on the donors, while the after and 
 possibly disagreeable consequences recoil on those 
 who are responsible. 
 
 AVas there a girl to be brought out, if her 
 mother was no more, or temporarily incapacitated, 
 who so glad to chaperone her as ' Lady Fan ' ? 
 Had she made an impression which it was
 
 236 AMAT. 
 
 desirable to deepen, what more natural than they 
 should meet again at Knebstowe ? Did a young 
 fellow ride straight and want a mount ? Was 
 there not always at least a kennel horse fit to 
 go, and, perhaps, not much the worse of an 
 extra gallop ? 
 
 Thus, with ample means to gratify their pro- 
 clivities, the Eversleighs kept Knebstowe and its 
 neighbourhood alive after their return from Scot- 
 land in September, until his parliamentary duties, 
 clashing somewhat with those of the M. F. H., 
 tore them away to Park Lane. As the Champ 
 Royal party, late of course, cross the fine old hall 
 they see on every side the evidences of the 
 exquisite taste for which their hostess is so famous 
 — not only in the artistic arrangements of exotic 
 plants and divers shrubs, but in the devices and 
 expedients by which the various galleries and 
 rooms branching off in sundry directions seem to 
 promise unlimited opportunities for the gratifica- 
 tion of each individual's tastes, whether they may 
 incline to the study of art, beauty, or yet more 
 carnal pleasures.
 
 AM AT. 237 
 
 " This is charming, Miss Trevor," says Victor 
 Murray, as they stop after their first round in the 
 waltz she has given him on entering the ball- 
 room. " Why don't we always live in costume ? 
 Plain people would no longer exist, and ill- 
 dressed ones could not." 
 
 "If wearing other folk's clothes would make 
 us permanently more charming it might answer, 
 but I doubt it," says Eila, who is quite aware 
 that she can afford to appear as the Lady Godiva, 
 if necessary. 
 
 "As a rule those who are here, to-nig-ht are 
 indebted to temporary aid for their appearance, 
 and could not keep up the pace. You should 
 see them to - morrow morning." Eila seldom 
 looks to greater advantage than in the freshness 
 of her breakfast toilette. Of this she is possibly 
 not ignorant. 
 
 "No. If you want everyone to be good- 
 looking and presentable you must eliminate our 
 many national faults of feature and fashion, often 
 exaggerated beyond any possible line of beauty." 
 
 " That would be a work of magnitude and, as
 
 238 AM AT. 
 
 far as I am concerned, quite unnecessary when 
 there is so much as perfect as may be," replies 
 Victor, with a meaning glance in his handsome 
 dark eyes, which turn towards her with a 
 passionate ardour she has little dreamt of as 
 existing for herself. 
 
 *' Yes ; you are right," she answers, skilfully 
 mistaking him, and looking at Clarice, who 
 sweeps by at the moment. " Is she not quite 
 lovely ? With her it never is a question of 
 occasion or costume. I do not wonder people 
 raved about her as they did last season ; but 
 happily it has had no effect upon her, as on some 
 with far less reason to be so exalted." 
 
 " For those who admire that style I suppose it 
 is about perfect," answers Victor with much 
 gravity. He is not a man to rave of one woman 
 to another. *' I confess to preferring Velasquez 
 to Rubens, though the latter, poor fellow, must 
 have gone down to his grave bewailing the hard 
 fate which gave him those huge Flemish models 
 instead of the graceful beauty of the classic 
 south."
 
 AMAT. 239 
 
 " I doubt it, Lord Victor. The taste grows 
 upon what it feeds. Eubens, I think, has given 
 ample proof of the direction in which his lay. 
 Besides, don't you always find that, while 
 mountainous, picturesque regions have inhabit- 
 ants to match, in low countries like Holland, 
 Belgium, Russia, the features of the peoples are 
 as flat and uninteresting ? " 
 
 "Possibly; for bar none the handsomest race I 
 have ever seen is bred in the Caucasus, and the 
 German or Calmuck is not fair to look at, 
 generally ; but, on the other hand, the AVelshman, 
 Scot, or Switzer, is not a striking example of 
 your theory ? " 
 
 "I don't know Wales at all. The Swiss, I 
 believe, use all their cretins, as they do their 
 glorious scenery, for show; but, if one may judge 
 by the types we saw about Amat last autumn, 
 I should say your countrymen are highly 
 favoured." 
 
 "Ah! tradition has it that many of those 
 Western Higjhlanders owe their absence of red 
 hair and hish cheek-bones to the remnants of
 
 240 AM AT. 
 
 the Spanisli Armada, who found hospitality and 
 domestic felicity with the fair ones of the coasts 
 where they were wrecked in bolting round the 
 North. Did you have any yachting when you 
 were up there ? " 
 
 " Very little ; for, as you may have heard, the 
 Master was knocked overboard the first day we 
 w^ent out and was all but drowned, so that when 
 he left. Lady Amat seemed to dread the idea 
 of any more excursions, and we had to content 
 ourselves mainly with gazing at the distant 
 views, which are quite lovely, are they not ? " 
 
 "In fine weather. But if you are not so 
 favoured the difference is then even more striking 
 than when the handsome shrew disfigures for her 
 intimates the beauty she wreaths with smiles 
 only for her more favoured, because stranger, 
 visitors." 
 
 " I fear you expect too much from Dame 
 Nature," says Eila laughing, as they turn into 
 the picture gallery which is fitted up with a 
 series of tempting retreats for those who are 
 disposed to retire from the crowded rooms.
 
 AMAT. 241 
 
 " Possibly ! but if one does not cast the eye 
 upward one is little more than a mole, as the 
 Eastern puts it. Expectation produces hope, 
 and hope by constant nursing sometimes is 
 rewarded with fruition." 
 
 "That probably depends if the object be 
 chosen without vaulting ambition. The humble- 
 minded are often rewarded when they least 
 expect it." 
 
 " Another beatitude ! Then I shall try to be 
 of that happy order. Meanwhile, do I infringe 
 the character by asking for further opportunities 
 of improving myself this evening ? " 
 
 " Certainly not, if you think they will be 
 afforded by waltzing with me. I hate square 
 dances, if my partner bores me." 
 
 "Thanks, a thousand — and for the compli- 
 ment, which, however, is rather double-edged ; 
 but here comes a rival : dangerous because of his 
 youth and consequent boldness. Boys rush in 
 where wise men fear to offer." 
 
 *'You were so good as to say I might have 
 one dance, Miss Trevor," says the graceful lad, 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 AMAT. 
 
 approaching her with that air of tiirid worship, 
 which, to the beauty sated with bold and 
 common-place admiration, is such a refreshing 
 tribute. "I fear you will not find me. a very 
 good hand at waltzing, for my sisters declare 
 they can make nothing of me. But you may 
 be less eocigeante ? " 
 
 " I will give you a trial, and a lesson perhaps, 
 Mr. Mostyn, with pleasure, on one condition, 
 that you promise not to bump me." 
 
 " I should much prefer to leave myself in your 
 hands in all things," answers the Queen's Page, 
 with a bow he has seen the great Augustus adopt 
 with much success. 
 
 " Well then, let us proceed to the school- 
 room. In the mean time, if you like, you can 
 give me an ice while you tell me what sport 
 you have been having with Lord Ongar's." 
 
 All too quickly for the enraptured boy do 
 the golden minutes fly while the last good thing 
 on the other side of the county is told in fervent 
 and graphic language to the sympathetic listener. 
 Then comes his turn, and a pause, during which
 
 AMAT. 243 
 
 she says, "Yes, that was very good for a be- 
 ginner. I fancy sisters are less forbeariog or 
 discriminating than the outside world of partners, 
 or you may be a very apt pupil ! Your time is 
 excellent ; without that no one need hope to 
 dance. Your pace is very fair, but you must 
 learn to increase and modulate it as the Austrian 
 does. And, forgive me if I sound like a ' coach.' 
 I had a brother, dear boy, at Eton too ; but he 
 died at the Redan no older than you," she says, 
 en jparenthese, with a softened eye which intoxi- 
 cates her last victim more than ever. "But, 
 don't hold your left arm out as if it were a 
 pump- handle ! Now, let us try again, and if 
 this is successful you shall have another after 
 supper." 
 
 A welter weight now, and the father of a 
 couple in the Eton eleven, Ealph Mostyn has 
 never forgotten those two dances. Is it well 
 or not that we rarely espouse our first goddess ? 
 
 Supper is laid out in several rooms ; in each 
 a different style. For the real old Tory and his 
 congeners there is the ordinary dining-room, 
 
 R 2
 
 244 AMAT. 
 
 table, chairs, butler, etc., etc., all en regie. The 
 library for the nonce is transformed into a horse- 
 shoe buffet, where the young and impetuous 
 dancers may sustain and refresh their partners 
 and themselves without the peril of losing an 
 item of the programme. 
 
 Even Eversleigh's sanctum is invaded, and 
 converted into a miniature club supper-room, 
 where devilled bones, huitres en surprise, etc., 
 may be enjoyed with the immediate cigarette 
 and perfect quiet. 
 
 But for the long conservatory is reserved the 
 arrangement which charms those most accus- 
 tomed to continental ways. Stretching along 
 the whole south front of the house, it contains 
 some fifty tables, laid only for two. The palms 
 and other shrubs are grouped in such a way that 
 each happy pair may enjoy a seclusion which 
 the well selected viands and wine-pails leave no 
 prying servant an excuse for interrupting. 
 
 It is needless to say that Archie Campbell has 
 not so wasted his opportunity as to neglect such 
 a chance as is given him by his knowledge of
 
 AM AT. 245 
 
 the little surprise which Lady Fan has prepared 
 for her younger guests. And when he asks 
 Clarice if she would like to go to the supper- 
 room she little expects to find herself virtually 
 Ute-d-tefe with one whom, however charming, 
 she instinctively begins to dread. 
 
 Too proud though to draw back, and in truth 
 somewhat inquisitive to see who else is there, 
 she suffers herself to go on in this tempting- 
 looking labyrinth ; and ere long, forgetful of 
 possible misconstructions by gossip or malice, 
 she abandons herself to the not unpleasant feel- 
 ing which rest, refreshment, brilliant wit, and 
 admiration, ardent yet discreetly veiled, from a 
 young and handsome man cannot fail to convey, 
 but under exceptional circumstances, to most 
 beautiful daughters of their trusting mother Eve. 
 
 Clarice has travelled much, and with an open, 
 cultivated mind. So has Archie, who to a keen 
 perception of the ridiculous adds the invaluable 
 charm of imparting it gracefully. 
 
 Amused and interested, it is very natural that 
 Clarice should look so in the eyes of more than
 
 246 AMAT. 
 
 one envious couple as they pass out or in, and 
 draw their own conclusions, and perhaps not 
 extraordinary therefore that the gentle ripple of 
 her laughter should swell into discordant echoes 
 hereafter in very different scenes. 
 
 Under such circumstances the hour-glass is apt 
 to stand unreversed ; and, as Archie has promised 
 to lead the cotillon, his continued absence from 
 the ball-room becomes alarming to Lady Fan, 
 who sees with chagrin the more distant guests 
 pluming their feathers for the homeward flight, 
 which once begun is so apt to be destructive to 
 the life of such a festivity. 
 
 " Colonel Drummond, have you seen Colonel 
 Campbell ? I am in despair ! It is now nearly 
 three, and the only chance of keeping these early 
 birds," looking in the direction of some unhappy 
 ones who have twenty miles or more between 
 them and restful couches, "is to start the 
 cotillon at once. I have a great mind to punish 
 him for his absence, and you for your laziness 
 in not trotting out my country girls, by ordering 
 you to take his place."
 
 AMAT. 247 
 
 " Heaven forbid ! Lady Fanny. The cotillon 
 would be ruined, and I would acquire a fatal 
 reputation for energy ; but I think," says Montie, 
 with a chuckle which is not thrown away on his 
 perceptive hostess, " I have an idea where to 
 find him. You should not have prepared such a 
 paradise without expecting to hear of some being 
 lost." 
 
 " Go then, quickly ; and, incorrigible as I fear 
 you are, absolution shall reward your capture of 
 the truant ; " and, as she turns to say good-night 
 to some who shudder at the unseemly riot of the 
 dance she is waiting to begin. Lady Fan wonders 
 who is Archie's last victim. 
 
 Meanwhile, straight as the eagle to the stricken 
 fawn, Montie makes for the bower where his keen 
 eyes had seen the pair so well-engrossed some 
 time before. 
 
 " Ah ! here you are at last, Archie ! Lady 
 Fan, the cotillon, and the enraged multitude 
 await your necessary leadership." 
 
 ''Ma foi! I had clean forgotten it. Won't 
 you do as well, Montie ? "
 
 248 AMAT. 
 
 " Quite impossible, old fellow. I should tie 
 up everything and everybody, and never be 
 asked here again. Come ! " and he vanishes. 
 
 " May I then hope for your kind assistance ? " 
 says Archie, as they rise to go, turning to Clarice, 
 who is somewhat startled on looking round to 
 see how deserted every table is. 
 
 Again unable to refuse without making more 
 of the situation than she thinks advisable, Clarice 
 puts her hand on his arm, and bows in silent 
 consent. 
 
 Well as Charlie knows her, and confident as 
 he may be of her love and loyalty, he would 
 hardly care to hear the asides as the missing, and 
 for the moment all-important, couple appear and 
 assume their duties. 
 
 When all is over and they are driving home 
 in the clear full moon which has a hateful threat- 
 ening in its brightness for those who love a 
 gallop, poor Clarice, wrapped in silence which 
 happily by the others is taken for and respected 
 as sleep, weeps some bitter tears, penitential, as 
 she thinks on the reaction of Charlie and the
 
 AMAT. 249 
 
 laughing words which reached her in the cloak- 
 room. 
 
 And so it ever is. Are we not taught to avoid 
 even the appearance of evil ? Yet how few of us, 
 judged by others and that standard, would pass 
 shriven !
 
 250 . AMAT. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 "Lord, lord, how this world is given to lying." — Falstaff. 
 
 With a due respect for his keeper's feelings, 
 as well as his pheasants, General Beauchamp 
 never commits the mistake of disturbing his 
 coverts the morning after a l^all — when the best 
 men are apt to be but tailers. 
 
 Breakfasting at noon, the wearied ones have 
 only to use a simple mechanical contrivance, 
 duly explained to the uninitiated by the careful 
 host, and at his own hour he is called and pro- 
 vided with the chota Jiazari, or little repast, 
 which the General had so appreciated in Indian 
 days, that for such occasions he transplanted it 
 to Champ Royal for the sustenance of those who 
 cannot wait till mid-day.
 
 AMAT. 
 
 251 
 
 A few good partridge drives and a dinner 
 earlier than the normal hour of eight attune the 
 nerves of those who have unfetrung themselves, 
 and make the evening after a thing of joy instead 
 of frequent weariness. 
 
 Six hours of such deep sleep as greets the 
 human owl, the douching-bath, and, not last or 
 least, the freshening cup of tea, bring all to 
 time "as fit as fiddles," so young Mostyn says, 
 when asked what he is up to by the General, 
 who has been up for hours, and, standing on the 
 hearthrug, hails each new comer with an appro- 
 priate salutation. 
 
 "The hounds meet to-morrow within easy 
 distance, and those who do not care to ride can 
 hunt on wheels," he says, when all are assembled 
 at breakfast. "For this afternoon at one, who 
 says ' No ' to a little gunning ? On Friday we 
 will shoot ' the sanctum,' when I hope the ladies 
 will favour us at luncheon, but to-day I fear that 
 silence and invisibility are essential in dealing 
 with the wily driven Frenchman." 
 
 Six active stable lads on clever "jump horses,"
 
 252 AMAT. 
 
 with a mounted keeper on eacli flank and centre, 
 armed with what look like pennon ed lances, make 
 every drive a rapid and quickly developed series 
 of most sporting shots ; and at four o'clock, when 
 the failing light brings the keenest to confess 
 he cannot see, the ten good guns have bagged a 
 hundred brace. 
 
 " That's a better way of doing it, Beauchamp," 
 says Lord Amat, as they walk home, " than with 
 an army of hulking peasants who seem to grin 
 with pleasure when they see one perishing in a 
 cold nor -easter, as they slope along with an eye 
 only to beer." 
 
 "Yes; I borrowed the idea from the 16th, 
 who used to turn out a troop sometimes, and 
 gradually surround the black buck on the Plains, 
 and then at a fair distance let slip a couple of 
 those huge hairless Rampore greyhounds. It 
 gave us always a gallop, if not venison." 
 
 "The biggest thing I ever saw in that way 
 with soldiers," says Montie Drummond, " was in 
 Bulgaria, when the Second Division was turned 
 out and beat the country for miles in a gradually
 
 AMAT. 258 
 
 converging circle. It didn't produce mucli of a 
 bag, but they thought it would keep the men's 
 minds off cholera — though in that too they were 
 disappointed, for in their thirst they eat wild 
 grapes and drank bad water, so that their last 
 state was worse than the first." 
 
 " They have a crafty way of settling bears in 
 Russia," says Victor Murray, lighting a cigarette. 
 " I was out there last winter for a month or two, 
 and shot a few, but the sport is to spear them. 
 One man I met had come to awful grief through 
 the lancewood shaft snapping at the critical 
 moment ; the brute got in upon him then, and 
 clawed his scalp off so effectually that, though 
 they managed to save his life, in their hurry 
 they put it on the wrong way ; so that in looking 
 at him you always felt you must be on the 
 wrong side ! " 
 
 " I have heard they have a way of marking 
 down the bears in the beginning of winter. Is 
 that so, Murray ? " asks the General. 
 
 " Yes ; every village has its so-called ' sports- 
 man ' who goes out when the snow falls and
 
 254 AMAT. 
 
 watches, as the bears move for their winter 
 quarters. Coming across a track they follow it 
 up until they know they are pretty near him, 
 and then make a circle. If they do not cross the 
 track again they know he is inside, of course. 
 The next day they visit the place ; if he has gone 
 they follow him, and repeat the operation. If he 
 remains quiet for a day or two they know he has 
 laid up there for the winter. 
 
 " Then they go to St. Petersburg and offer the 
 chance of shooting him to the Emperor, or, 
 failing him, some other sporting crack. For that 
 they get fifty or more roubles down, and until 
 the day of the chasse the sportsman keeps watch 
 over the dormant brute ; who is at last roused by 
 the beating villagers, who force him out in the 
 direction of the pointed guns ; but, it's an odd 
 thing, if he can charge before dropping he 
 always goes for the man who hits him. That's 
 tame enough work as I found it ; though to wait 
 the rush of a bear on one knee, as if to receive 
 cavalry, thrust the blade of your spear into the 
 horse-shoe mark in his breast as far as the cross-
 
 AM AT. 255 
 
 bar will allow, and then keep him at arm's-length 
 until he drops dead at your feet, is as good a 
 trial for a man's nerves and muscle as I know." 
 
 " It would look rather a bore though in the 
 result to look as if your head were screwed on 
 the wrong way," says handsome Archie, who 
 from his habitual coolness in the trenches used 
 to be called ' the Salamander ' by his men. 
 
 " Better that, perhaps," laughs Montie at his 
 grimace, " than have a leg which don't fit." 
 
 " In what case ? " asks Lord Amat with some 
 astonishment. 
 
 " When I joined the Bombardiers, who had 
 the happiness, you know, of being my first in- 
 structors in the art of war, they rejoiced in an 
 excellent messman whom unkind Fates had tied, 
 when perhaps unconscious of the fact, to a lady, 
 one of whose legs was cork ! It was attached 
 by a screw. If anything went wrong in taking it 
 ofi", she used to vent her wrath on her husband 
 by beating him vehemently on the head with it. 
 That might have been wholesome discipline, and 
 therefore to be upheld ; but it had unfortunate
 
 256 AMAT. 
 
 consequences apparently, for though they were 
 blessed with eleven children they all came and 
 remained bald as Egyptian vultures." 
 
 " Pah ! I don't like that story of yours, 
 Montie. It has an unpleasant moral for young 
 bachelors," says the General, as they follow him 
 to the stables to look over their mounts for the 
 morrow. " I can promise you one thing, if you 
 sit tight and handle these fairly they won't put 
 you down or spoil the beauty of yourselves or 
 your children." 
 
 " I always envy your nags, Beauchamp," 
 remarks Lord Amat, as they go down the broad 
 alley dividing the twenty ample loose boxes in 
 which they stand unclothed, with coats of satin — 
 the General's favourites, the pictures of horse- 
 flesh in the perfection of condition. " Even 
 Caligula's historical charger could hardly have 
 been better off than these." 
 
 " Ah, I like you to say that, old fellow. 
 Ridley here " — says the pleased old soldier, with 
 a jerk of his thumb towards the stud-groom, 
 whose face beams at the encomiums on his cattle
 
 AMAT. 257 
 
 which he hears on every side from the work- 
 manlike critics, as they obey that instinct of 
 cossetting the noble animal which every true 
 horseman delights in — " and I had some 
 differences at first about our ideas, but he has 
 quite come round to mine. I allow no rougher 
 language here than in my drawing-room. If a 
 horse, however good, cannot after a fair trial be 
 brought to a sense of his duty by kindness, he 
 must go. Each has a loose box, big enough for 
 a brood mare and her foal, from which they see 
 each other, and, by daylight, much that goes on 
 outside. As the stable is kept heated by water- 
 pipes they never have any clothing. Water is 
 always by them, hunting or no hunting. Oats, 
 practically, as much as they like, and in addition 
 to hay, of which they get a very limited allow- 
 ance, I grow a tender kind of gorse, the tops of 
 which are bruised and given them with carrots ; 
 the latter only on hunting mornings." 
 
 " Well, if they go as well as they look they'll 
 be hard to beat," is the general verdict as a 
 move is made for the house.
 
 258 AM AT. 
 
 Lounging about in the regions devoted to men 
 unattached, and in the enjoyment of the fragrant 
 weed, there is no more pleasant time at Champ 
 Royal than those hours which are often found so 
 dull in less favoured houses. 
 
 Thus the Greneral enabled his guests to in- 
 vigorate their minds, if they chose, as well as 
 their bodies, after the fatigues of the day, before 
 entering on the duties and pleasures of its 
 crowning event. 
 
 He was a wise Erenchman who avoided during 
 the day the company of those he was likely to 
 meet in the evening. Possibly related to him 
 of whom it is said that, when M. le Mari had 
 departed to a less injuring world, and he was 
 ill due time congratulated on the prospect of 
 settled bliss thus open to him, he objected, 
 " Mais avec qtii passerais-je mes soirees ! " So 
 Archie, with the exception of the morning 
 greeting which on her part had been somewhat 
 embarrassed, has not unskilfully avoided Clarice 
 until they meet in the white drawing-room after 
 dinner.
 
 AM AT. 259 
 
 Too wary to press the advantage lie thinks he 
 gained last night, he prefers to seem compara- 
 tively indifferent, and bides his time. It is, 
 therefore, late in the evening ere he allows 
 himself the opportunity of saying, " You hunt 
 to-morrow, Miss Beauchamp V in a tone that 
 piques her, why she cannot tell. 
 
 " Oh, yes, Colonel Campbell ; " but, strive as she 
 will, the colour comes faintly to her cheek as she 
 speaks. " I always do when the meet is so close ; 
 besides, Matching Green is one of our best. 
 While you were out Miss Trevor and I inspected 
 the horses, more especially those which are told 
 off for to-morrow, and I heard that the General 
 is going to mount you on his last favourite, 
 'Sultan.'" 
 
 " That's very good of him. I know he goes 
 like a bullet. What are you going to ride ? " 
 
 " My pet ' Alma,' which Char — , I mean 
 Captain Grant," correcting herself in some con- 
 fusion, " brought home from the Crimea. He 
 took a little time to get into the ways of this 
 country ; but now he turns at nothing, unless 
 
 S 2
 
 260 AM AT. 
 
 it be the Roden when it's fuller than I 
 like." 
 
 Not caring to pursue a subject which un- 
 doubtedly has tender associations, Archie does 
 not regret to see Mrs. Beauchamp giving the 
 signal for an early retirement. Yet, as the 
 detachment files away, Eila is not too much 
 engrossed by her boy to miss an impassioned 
 glance which tells her plainly what the unob- 
 servant Clarice has but partly surmised.
 
 AM AT. 261 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 " The game's afoot, follow your spirit." — King Henry V. 
 
 How anxiously Ealph Mostyn asks, " What's the 
 morning like, Robert ? " Has he not tried on 
 every article of his hunting-kit before going to 
 roost ? Poole, Hammond, Bartley, Maxwell — are 
 not they all pressed into the service of equipping 
 him as becometh one of hunting descent, who 
 has put away childish things and is now burn- 
 ing to show his manhood ? 
 
 " Fine morning, sir," replies the acting valet, 
 guessing the boy's feelings as he puts his shav- 
 ing-water, with a chuckle, on the dressing-table, 
 and makes a pretence of arranging things which 
 were laid out with a loving hand the night 
 before.
 
 262 AM AT, 
 
 " How's the wind ? " he asks again, fencing 
 round the question he knows he'll have to put 
 yet straighter ere he gets the answer he longs, 
 yet fears, to hear. 
 
 " Easterly, sir," is the exasperating reply, for- 
 given for the next. 
 
 " What ! frost ? " in a crescendo tone, which 
 penetrates even the heart of the tantalizing 
 flunkey. 
 
 " No, sir ; I heard Mr. Ridley say that the 
 wind was easterly with a good deal of south in 
 it," at last is wrung from the intelligent domestic, 
 who hears, as he shuts the door : 
 
 " By Jove ! the very thing," from Ralph, as 
 he springs from bed to ths inviting tub, and 
 hastens to grapple with the intricacies of a toilet, 
 than which there is not one more elaborate in a 
 man's whole life, be it for feast, fray, or wedding. 
 
 Nature had been in a pleasant mood when 
 the boy was framed, and, as he steps daintily 
 along towards the breakfast-room, more than 
 one pair of bright eyes look admiringly after the 
 handsome lad.
 
 AMAT. 2G3 
 
 What is there in a red coat, be it of soldier, 
 hunter, or even golfer, that sets the hearts of 
 men, yet more of women, beating quicker than 
 their wont, when the well-loved colour flings 
 its memory - stirring hue across the mental 
 vision ? 
 
 Got up as becometh those who look upon a 
 meet as a veritable parade, the Genera], Lord 
 Amat, Colonel Trevor, the three Guardsmen, and 
 our boy look all over like going, as they con- 
 gratulate each other on the day, and with one 
 quick glance assure themselves that if they are 
 cut down that day by any one of the others 
 it will be by an acknowledged workman who 
 knows how to put on his war-paint. 
 
 No less fitted to ride with or against them 
 do Clarice and Eila seem, when, presently to the 
 delight of all, they descend in the beautiful 
 severity of plain, unbraided habits and tightly- 
 coiled hair. 
 
 " Ah ! it was very nice of you. General," says 
 Eila, as he takes her by both hands, " to arrange 
 such a morning as this ; nothing could be better.
 
 264 AMAT. 
 
 1 could almost wish the ' meet ' was not so near 
 if it were not such a certain find. I am burning 
 to be off. I wish the hunting hours of our 
 grandfathers were kept up, and then in addition 
 to the pleasure of an early start one might 
 always hope to get home without hacking some 
 weary miles in the dark." 
 
 " That was all very well for them, Miss Eila, 
 when those who hunted lived in the neighbour- 
 hood of the pack they favoured, or for us when 
 we have only a few miles to go ; but the men 
 from Colchester or London find a seven o'clock 
 breakfast quite early enough for their modern 
 habits, I fancy." 
 
 " Very true, General ; one is so apt to be 
 selfish in hunting, you see ; though I must thank- 
 fully acknowledge that I see very little of it 
 when men so kindly give up their places in a 
 run to help me out of a difficulty." 
 
 "Heavens! who would not?" murmurs the 
 worshipping Etonian. 
 
 " But," continues Eila, smiling responsively 
 to the bov as she catches the words, "when T
 
 AMAT. 265 
 
 think of it, I feel so ashamed of spoiling their 
 sport that often I shirk a fence rather than run 
 the risk of a catastrophe and the anathemas 
 which I am always half expecting, wholly dread- 
 ing, to hear burst forth when a lady is down." 
 
 "Allow me, Miss Trevor, to be your pilot 
 to-day," breaks in Ralph, unable to restrain 
 himself any longer. " I know every inch of the 
 country. ' The leather-bottle ' is a favourite 
 ' meet ' of Lord Ono-ar's staoraers : it's bipr but 
 honest, and your mare ' Ariel ' can fly anything 
 in it ; but if you do come to grief," he adds, 
 with a pathos which makes Victor smile, " I'll 
 take care you hear no unpleasant remarks." 
 
 " Bravo ! my boy," says Colonel Trevor, lay- 
 ing a kindly hand on his shoulder, " we'll look 
 after her together ; though sometimes, I can 
 assure you, when we get into that cramped 
 
 country beyond Dud brook, I find it as much as 
 I can do to live with her." 
 
 "May I hope to do the like for you ?" Archie 
 asks, in a low voice, turning to Clarice, who is 
 looking out of the window in a fit of abstraction.
 
 266 AMAT. 
 
 " Oh no, thank you, Colonel Campbell. 
 ' Alma ' is very safe ; besides, I don't feel as if 
 I should ride much to-day ; and it would be a 
 thousand pities if you did not make the most of 
 such a mount as you will have in * Sultan.' He 
 is not very fast, but don't hustle him at first, 
 and there is not a fence or brook in the country 
 he won't take you safely over." So saying, she 
 moves quietly away in a manner that forbids 
 his following her ; and Archie bites his lips, 
 feeling that his game is harder than he fancied 
 it was at Knebstowe. 
 
 A " meet " at Matching^ Green is one which no 
 man of that side of Clayshire fails to attend, if 
 he has any love of the sport, or anything on four 
 legs to carry him there or afterwards. Many, 
 too, are those who, rather than see nothing more, 
 come on wheels or foot, and criticise or envy the 
 happy freedom and prospects of the mounted 
 ones. 
 
 Thus when the General's drag, driven by 
 Mrs. Beauchamp's brother, comes up to the 
 corner, the ladies on it find much to amuse and
 
 AM AT. 267 
 
 interest them in the costumes, demeanour, and 
 appearance of the various votaries of the chase 
 who have preceded them. Shortly after, the 
 perfect turn-out of the mounted party from 
 Champ Royal, who with their second horsemen, 
 make a small troop, adds what a man from the 
 shires might say had hitherto been rather con- 
 spicuous from its absence. 
 
 Yet they are a good lot, and hard to beat — both 
 men and horses. If the get-up of the former is 
 not always all one looks for from Melton, there 
 is plenty of grit below it, which takes them over 
 places bad to look at, worse to fall into. If the 
 nags show a bit more bone than breeding, re- 
 member the country is not light, nor the fences. 
 
 Presently some one says, " Here they are ! " 
 and trotting round the further side of the Green 
 come Frank Eversleigh and one of the best 
 packs in England. Thanks to careful breeding 
 and drafting, it would be hard to find a more 
 level lot than the two-and-twenty couple which 
 look to Stephen Hobson. 
 
 Who remembers what he was then ? How
 
 268 AMAT. 
 
 sad is tlie inevitable deterioration of everything 
 by age ! 
 
 Tiie perfection of a horseman — light in weight, 
 with a hand, seat, and nerve that few could 
 equal — in disposition as in manner, cheerful and 
 respectful, with a voice of music and an honest 
 soul, he was a servant seldom found, never 
 parted with but by death or folly. 
 
 There goes Dick Thoe, a whip who knows his 
 work well and does it better — riding like the 
 devil and falling like an angel, for he never 
 seems to hurt. 
 
 He must be a hard man who finds himself 
 able to do more than keep on terms with " the 
 Clays," when they get the line of a Roothing 
 fox on such a day as this is like to be. 
 
 'Midst the up-lifted hats and cheery saluta- 
 tions of the field, the Master gives the needful 
 law for country clocks and urgent correspondence. 
 
 "Well, Frank," says the General, riding up 
 to him ; "we ought to have a run to-day. I am 
 sure I hope so, for I have got some young uns 
 here ^vho are dying for a gallop."
 
 AM AT. 269 
 
 " No fear, General. If we don't find in Man 
 Wood — they are cutting faggots there, and be 
 hansfed to them — we are sure to do so at Brick- 
 hills ; though with the wind as it is we may have 
 only a short spin to Down Hall, which again, 
 you know, is a sure find. I say ! Ralph there 
 must look out or he'll have Victor Murray on 
 his back at the first fence." 
 
 "Trust him for that!" answers the General, 
 laughing as he sees young Mostyn adjusting 
 Eila's stirrup-leather. " He'll be better than I 
 take him for if he gets a start of the lad or 
 makes it up afterwards." 
 
 " Well, I must go and say good-morning to 
 Mrs. Beauchamp, give the drag our probable line 
 by the road, and then we'll move on." 
 
 " Hope you are none the worse for your loDg 
 drive the other night," says Eversleigh, lifting 
 his hat to the ladies as he reins in his spanking 
 weight-carrier by the coach. 
 
 " Not a bit, thanks ! How is Lady Fanny ? " 
 
 " Miserable, because her ball is over and she 
 has not heard of a single result yet ! " he says,
 
 270 AMAT. 
 
 smiling lis lie thinks of the somewhat exaggerated 
 report of the conservatory suppers which he has, 
 not unwisely, kept back from Milady's ears. " If 
 you are going to stay out you can't do better 
 than keep to the cross-roads about here for a 
 short time. We are sure to go down to Down 
 Hall, I think." 
 
 " Hounds ! Please, gentlemen ! " cries Dick, as 
 the word is given, and he leads the way through 
 the crowd towards the not very distant covert ; 
 but, as might have been expected, this morning 
 it is blank for once. 
 
 Across a few fields and they are at Brickhills, 
 a biggish wood, and hard to get a fox away from 
 for a time, but a certain find. 
 
 Without a discourtesy she will not show to 
 her father's guest and Charlie's cousin, or better 
 reason than she has to offer even to herself, 
 Clarice is fain to accept the peiits soins which 
 Archie knows so well how to show, unobtrusively, 
 it is true, but still devotedly enough to convey 
 their purport to those who are lookers-on, the 
 proverbial wise ones in every game.
 
 AMAT. 271 
 
 " I tliiuk, ]\liss Beauchamp, with the wind as 
 it is he is bound to break at that corner ; shall we 
 stay by it ? " 
 
 " If you please," she answers, with a formal 
 bow, vowing that if he does she will make the 
 pace as hot as she can for one in whom she 
 begins now to recognize an unwelcome rival of 
 her absent one. Then, feeling that she is un- 
 generous, she adds with a softening look, " Should 
 he go for Down Hall, along the bottoms, there is 
 a very ugly double ditch and bank on this side 
 of Matching Pond ; let ' Sultan ' have his head at 
 it, or you may spoil your coat." 
 
 " Thanks ! That's a fox ! " whispers Archie 
 a few minutes later, as a hound gives tongue 
 in the note so unmistakably different from 
 riot. 
 
 " Keep still ! " answers Clarice in a low tone, 
 drawing her reins quietly through her fingers. " I 
 saw him cross the ride up there just now. What 
 a splendid fellow he is I He is working for the 
 corner, as you said." 
 
 Five minutes more suspense, and the hounds
 
 27 2 AMAT. 
 
 making it too hot for him, he breaks covert and 
 is viewed away. 
 
 " Tally-ho ! Gone away ! For'ard away ! 
 away ! away ! " A few quick notes of the horn, 
 and the hounds crashing through the fence are 
 on good terms with him for some minutes before 
 many of those on the other side of the wood 
 know that they are gone. 
 
 As Dick flies down one of the rides, going at a 
 pace that tells Ralph what is up, he gives one or 
 two of his yells which very soon bring most of 
 the field to the knowledge that they have little 
 time to spare and much to make up. 
 
 Eila and her squires are not long in following 
 Clarice — keeping her place in the first flight — 
 which ' Alma's ' turn of speed and powers of jump- 
 ing give little reason to doubt will be maintained, 
 barring accidents. 
 
 As they settle down, and jump into and out of 
 the Moreton Lane, the drag party have a splendid 
 view of the hunt sweeping across the meadows 
 towards Matching Park. 
 
 *' Brava ! " cries Sir Philip, as he sees his niece
 
 AMAT. 273 
 
 take a gate in splendid form. " I had no idea 
 that 'Alma' could do timber like that. Bless 
 the girl ! She's riding jealous ! Did you see 
 how she turned to look if Campbell took it ? 
 There's no fear of ' Sultan ' if his rider means 
 business." 
 
 " Ah, well ; let us turn too, Phil, and go by 
 the Green to the Park ; there may be a check 
 there, and we shall see them again," says Mrs. 
 Beauchamp, as she looks wistfully after her only 
 child. " Her father is with her, but I hope she 
 won't be very rash, though on ' Alma ' she turns 
 from nothing." 
 
 " Don't be nervous, Eva," kindly says her 
 brother, who, unselfish as ever, has insisted on 
 giving up his own sport to work the coach, but 
 is inwardly eating his heart out as he sees the 
 men go by. " She and the old horse know each 
 other pretty well by this time." 
 
 Meanwhile the fox does not let the grass grow 
 below his feet as he makes for his point ; but, 
 just as he is entering Matching, Park he is
 
 274 AMAT. 
 
 headed by a ploughman, and taking, as the 
 sailors say, a fresh departure, alters his course as 
 if for the friendly haunts of Barnsley. Turning, 
 however, short of Thesher's Bush, his line is now 
 by Magdalen Laver, and so on nearly to ' The 
 Talbot' at North Weald, making as if for the 
 safety surely found at Ongar Park ; but, swinging 
 again to the left along the grassy bottoms, the 
 untiring fox passes Blake Hall, goes up the hill 
 and dow^n to Shelley Ford, where comes at last a 
 welcome check. 
 
 "Is this 'the flying Dutchman' ? " asks Archie, 
 as they gladly pull up for a minute. " The 
 field is getting rapidly select," looking round 
 and behind him. " There's Frank Eversleigh, 
 Hobson and Dick of course ; Miss Trevor, and 
 equally, of course, her satellites, the boy and 
 Victor Murray, with her father coming on ; but 
 I see nothins^ of the General or Drummond." 
 
 " The pace has been too good for many 
 perhaps," says Clarice, patting ' Alma's ' crest 
 affectionately, with but little breath to spare for
 
 AM AT. 275 
 
 conversation. "I am glad Eila is in it, for it 
 will be quite the run of the season if he goes on 
 much longer." 
 
 But a cast across the brook, and up the hill 
 they go again towards Forest Hall, as if lungs 
 and legs have been renewed. 
 
 " That check was much too short, Miss 
 Trevor," says Victor Murray, as they take a 
 ditch and bank into a meadow, and shove along 
 with somewhat bated strength. " I didn't think 
 they did this sort of a thing in a plough country. 
 It's like a run in a book." 
 
 " Only this has the advantage of reality," 
 grins Ealph, as he sails easily along on the other 
 side. " We have come a goodish round already, 
 and I see nothing now for him but Norwood, 
 which is not far from where we found." 
 
 " So it is," cries Eila, " for there is Fyfield," 
 pointing to the right with her whip, and the 
 next instant nearly paying the penalty for taking 
 her eyes off her tired mare, when she all but 
 comes down in a water-furrow. 
 
 T 2
 
 276 AMAT. 
 
 But tlie pace and distance are beginning to 
 tell, and more than she would be glad of a 
 second horse ; though, of course, not one of the 
 dozen that are out is within miles of them. 
 Still, beyond an occasional blunder neatly saved, 
 nothing has happened worthy of note to those in 
 the first flight, and as they follow on it seems, 
 to those behind, as if it were going to last all 
 day. 
 
 At last there comes a yawner — a big and 
 deepish ditch — a bank beyond topped by a live- 
 bound fence. 
 
 " Hold hard, Miss Beauchamp, until I break 
 a hole," yells Archie, cramming at it, but feeling 
 rather doubtful. 
 
 For answer Clarice, shooting past him, is at it 
 in a moment. But poor old ' Alma,' somewhat 
 pressed, and hustled out of time and stride by 
 her unwonted loss of temper, jumps a little 
 short, hangs on the top, while Archie reining 
 in can only wait events ; and then at last, as 
 if all conscious of their impending fate, the
 
 AMAT. Z i I 
 
 horse falls heavily, crashing back on his fair 
 mistress. 
 
 The catastrophe being inevitable, Clarice 
 swings herself out of the saddle just in time, and 
 would save herself but for the fatal habit, which 
 catchino; drao;s her down below the horse, who 
 
 now lies full length along the ditch, her dainty 
 head between his heels. 
 
 In an instant Archie is beside her, but at a 
 orlance he sees notbine: can save her if the horse 
 moves but a hoof. 
 
 " Keep quiet, for God's sake, darling," implores 
 Archie in his agony of mind. "Speak to 'Alma'; 
 he will recognize your voice, and a hunter often 
 knows when struo-o-les are useless. As soon as 
 some one comes I'll send for men and spades ; 
 but until then your very life depends upon your 
 calmness." 
 
 " I know," she faintly answers, as she shudder- 
 ingly recognizes how helpless she is. " ' Alma ' 
 won't move. It's not the first time we have 
 been down together. But do try and get his
 
 278 AMAT. 
 
 weight off my chest. I feel as if 1 cannot lie 
 under it." 
 
 " Take some of this," says the horror-stricken 
 Archie, holding his flask to her lips, "and try to 
 keep up for a few minutes. There must be some 
 one here immediately ; " but his heart goes down 
 to his boots as he sees her getting paler and 
 evidently faint, lying really in the very jaws of 
 death. 
 
 In happy ignorance of the accident, Frank 
 Eversleigh, followed by Eila and her cavaliers, 
 whose line lay more to the right, presses on 
 unheedingly, so that it is an apparent eternity 
 of agony ere, at the expiration of really only a 
 few minutes, some of the foremost of the hunt 
 jumping off" their horses are giving the contra- 
 dictory advice and opinions so lavishly and 
 kindly at one's service on such occasions. 
 
 Still lies ' Alma ' as the dead, though his open, 
 intelligent eye and distending nostril show the 
 anxious lookers-on that he is quite alive, and at 
 any moment in his efforts to release himself
 
 AMAT. 279 
 
 may crush the life out of his unfortunate rider, 
 in whom they recognize with grief the fair 
 Diana of "the Clays." 
 
 " Unless his back be broke," mutters old Hare, 
 one of the best of the many good and sporting 
 yeomen of the district, "he's sure to do some 
 harm to Miss Beauchamp. How can he help 
 it, poor brute ? Go," he adds in a whisper, " to 
 Mumford's over there," pointing to a farm not 
 far off, '' and bring a loaded gun. It's the only 
 chance for her, unless he's powerless behind." 
 
 Another gallops for men, spades, ropes, and 
 drawing-tackle from a neighbouring brick-field. 
 
 Meanwhile poor Clarice, nearly crushed to 
 death, has obeyed the most sensible of the many 
 directions given ; and, thanks to the inequality 
 and softness of the ground in the bottom of the 
 ditch and the slight protection afforded by the 
 crutch of the saddle, has inch by inch moved 
 herself into a more supportable position, but still 
 her head is most perilously near the iron hoofs 
 which gleam on either side of it.
 
 280 AM AT, 
 
 " What are you going to do with that gun V 
 she faintly asks, as incautiously it is brought 
 past her. 
 
 " Please, Miss, we maun sliule him. If his 
 back be broke he maun die, an if he doant hoc 
 caun we pul ye oot I " 
 
 " Oh, give him a chance, poor horse ! " she 
 pleads. " I love him so. Stay ! don't ! For 
 my sake, don't I I will gladly run the chance 
 of harm rather than he should suffer certain 
 death." 
 
 " Oh, Charlie ! " she says to herself, while they 
 hesitate and murmur at the awful risk, " I 
 cannot let them destroy what you have given 
 me." 
 
 " See," she presently says, as an idea strikes 
 her, " if there is not a piece of sugar in the 
 pocket of the saddle, and give it to him when I 
 speak." 
 
 With trembling fingers and quaking heart 
 Archie carries out the happy thought ; and, as 
 the faithful * Alma ' takes the proffered lump,
 
 AMAT. 281 
 
 Clarice says, " Be quiet, old man ! — quiet, quiet, 
 'Alma,' for your master's sake and mine." 
 
 Hardly does the sagacious brute seem to dare 
 to crunch the accustomed dainty as he pricks 
 his ears and listens to the caressino; tone he 
 knows so well. 
 
 So, summoning up courage for the task, four 
 stalwart yeomen, with such gentle tenderness 
 as those true-hearted men do ever show, inch 
 by inch draw forth the half-numbed Clarice, 
 while Archie shivers with almost deathly fear 
 as he strokes the intelligent horse's head and 
 prays, as he has not done since first he left his 
 mother's leading-strings. 
 
 " My God ! I thank thee," is his fervent 
 offering, as the increasing throng with one loud 
 shout proclaim her safety. • 
 
 Pale indeed, drenched through and stiff, her 
 clothes besmirched, her hair dishevelled, Clarice 
 never looked more lovely in his eyes than as she 
 comes to ' Alma's ' head, supported by kind 
 old Hare, and kneeling down beside the hors*',
 
 282 AM AT. 
 
 who looks as if he knows the crisis is now 
 passed, kisses many times his chesnut muzzle, 
 and then, most womanly, dissolves herself in 
 tears. 
 
 Half-a-dozen willing hands and spades soon 
 give him freedom for his limbs, and with a snort 
 or two and some such struggles as tell them 
 what might have been her fate, he is standing 
 on the bank w^ith trembling limbs beside the 
 mistress he has saved, if nearly killed. 
 
 Mounting presently, and trotting along the 
 road, they meet the anxious General, who, him- 
 self thrown out, is riding back to inquire what 
 had become of her. 
 
 " You have had an ugly fall, I fear, my girl ? " 
 he asks anxiously, seeing how she and ' Alma ' 
 are bemired. " You aren't hurt ? " 
 
 "No, dear father, not a bit; only a little 
 shaken. It was all my fault. I went too fast 
 at a biggish place, and he hardly cleared it ; but 
 w^e are all right, really," she adds with a brave 
 smile to re-assure him, though she feels as if the
 
 AMAT. 283 
 
 ponderous weight were still across her, and that 
 warmth and rest would be worth a ransom at the 
 moment. 
 
 " That's well, my pet ; but I think we had 
 better take you home at once, for you are looking 
 very tired, and after such a run they'll surely 
 draw towards the kennels." 
 
 " Have you seen Eila ? " asks Clarice, as they 
 jog along. 
 
 " Yes ; she, Victor Murray, and Ealph were up 
 with Eversleigh as they ran to earth at Norwood. 
 Two hours and forty minutes, they tell me." 
 
 "Ah, here they are," says the General, as 
 Eila and the others, trotting sharply round the 
 corner, come in quest of Clarice with much 
 anxiety, for the rumour which had reached them 
 did not fail to exaofsjerate the accident. 
 
 " Oh, my dearest, I am so relieved to find 
 you on old ' Alma ' ; I heard such terrible things 
 of your fall. The mildest was that in the end 
 you had both been shot," says Eila, rather 
 wildly and hysterically. " But you are sure
 
 284 AMAT. 
 
 you are not hurt ? — you look most awfully 
 done up." 
 
 " No wonder, Miss Trevor ; I can't say how 
 long she lay in the ditch under that old gentle- 
 man, who seemed to take it all in, and hardly 
 moved a muscle until she was safe. He's worth 
 his weight in any metal," says Archie, who breaks 
 silence for the first time since he lifted Clarice 
 back into her saddle. 
 
 As he speaks it flashes across her what she 
 owes to both, and stretching out her hand to 
 him, she says, impulsively, " 1 cannot thank you 
 more than him just now," but her eyes are grate- 
 ful, and he is well content. 
 
 END OF VOL. I.
 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF "-UNOIS-UnBANA 
 
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