1 
 
 (^ 
 
 ■id ^ ' 
 
 
 >" ' 
 
 A- 
 |. 'l 
 
 
 \ '• ' 
 
 ,■ ' 
 
 li. 
 
 v^- •■ 
 
 '■ 
 
 ■ 
 
 ■'i -v.. 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 i^^:^.: 
 
 * 
 
 I 
 
 !M^-: 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 .■;w;^^ 
 
 ■,,. .■. ■/ 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 r.?*.:'- 
 
 ' X 
 
 
 #: 
 
 
 
 
 ur>
 
 
 •• r 
 
 'f.'A 
 
 'V- .• ^ .. 
 
 
 
 ju^> ./f 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 ^'•'1;.% 
 
 . At
 
 INNES OF BUIRAYON. 
 
 VOL. II.
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2009 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/innesofblairavon02nnidd
 
 ONES OF BLAIRAYON 
 
 BY 
 
 COLIN MIDDLETON 
 
 IN THREE VOLmiES. 
 VOL. II. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, LIMITED, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET 
 
 1893. 
 All Rights Reserved.
 
 ?i3 
 v- Z. 
 
 ONES OF BU1RA"V0N. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ' " I may not speak, 
 And yet I will, and tell my love all plain." 
 
 So said he one fair morning, and all day 
 His heart beat awfully against his side ; 
 And to his heart he inwardly did pray 
 For power to speak.' 
 
 Some weeks after the end of term, Amy 
 and George were strolling along the great 
 elm-drive at Blairavon after breakfast. It 
 was a very hot morning in July, and as 
 they came near the river George said, 
 
 • Would you like to come on the river. 
 Amy ? It is too hot to walk. I will scull 
 you up to the Adder Pool, and we can 
 drift down mth the stream.' 
 
 VOL. II. B
 
 2 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 ' That will be glorious, George,' said 
 Amy. ' I wish Allan were here though ; 
 he comes to-morrow, his " viva " is on to- 
 day. I do hope he will do well.' 
 
 ' I wouldn't put too much faith in his 
 doing well. Amy ; he's been awfully idle, 
 you know.' 
 
 'Well, I supj^ose it doesn't matter much, 
 but I should like him to do well.' 
 
 George sculled her slowly up the stream, 
 and a wild desire seized him to throw away 
 the sculls and clasp her to his heart (he 
 would probably have upset the boat if he 
 had, but what is a trifle like probable death 
 from drowning to a young man in love ?) 
 He restrained himself, however. He had 
 made up his mind to ask her to be his 
 wife on that day, and he also had made 
 up his mind that he would be very cool 
 about it. He sculled up to the Adder 
 Pool and turned the boat. 
 
 Amy noticed that he was strangely 
 silent, but she did not pay much attention
 
 INNES OF BLAIKAVOX. 6 
 
 to that, because they were such very old 
 friends that they could afford to be silent. 
 After taking in his sculls, he put his el- 
 bows on his knees, and looked at Amy very 
 earnestly, and said, 
 
 ' Are you comfortable. Amy?' 
 
 ' Quite, thank you, George.' 
 
 This was a bad beo:inninof, so he tried 
 again, but this time no sound issued from 
 his mouth at all. His throat was dry, and 
 he felt absolutely incapable of doing or 
 saying anything. All this time the boat 
 was slowly drifting down the stream, and 
 Amy was lazily letting her hand trail in 
 the water, and was idly watching the cows 
 grazing on the bank. George tried again. 
 
 He got as far as ' Amy ' and then he 
 
 stuck once more. 
 
 ' Well, George, what is it ?' said Amy, 
 indifferently, still looking at the bank. 
 
 ' Amy, I want you to listen to me for a 
 little time.' 
 
 ' Certainly,' said Amy, turning to look 
 
 b2
 
 4 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 at him, and tlieii she saw in his face that 
 some strange emotion had possession of 
 him, and a curious feeling, half- wonder, 
 half-fear, came over her. 
 
 ' I can't say what I want to as I should 
 like, but it amounts to this : we have 
 known each other all our lives almost, 
 and I want to know if you will think of 
 spending the rest of it with me. Amy 
 dear, will you be my wife ? I have loved 
 you, I think, since the first day I saw you. 
 I have never cared to look at anyone else 
 but you.' 
 
 Amy looked frightened, and said, hesi- 
 tatingly, 
 
 ' Oh, George, I never thought of this. 
 Put me ashore, please. I am so sorry. I 
 must go to the house. You must not talk 
 of it again.' 
 
 ' Then, do you refuse. Amy ?' said 
 George, in a despairing tone. ' It means 
 everything in the world to me.' 
 
 Amy answered, in a frightened way.
 
 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 5 
 
 ' I don't know — yes, I am afraid it means 
 no — I cannot marry you, George. — I have 
 never thought about it — I am so sorry that 
 this happened. — We were such good friends, 
 and I always thought how nice it was to 
 have you near us.' 
 
 ' But won't you think of it, Amy ?' 
 
 ' Don't talk about it, George, please. I 
 cannot think about it, I am frightened. I 
 cannot marry you.' Just then the boat 
 bumped up against the bank and Amy 
 said, ' I think we had better go in;' and 
 then she shivered. ' I think it has turned 
 cold.' 
 
 George helped her out, tied up the boat, 
 and they walked in silence, side by side, 
 up the long elm drive to the house. 
 
 At luncheon George said to Mrs. Innes, 
 
 ' I am sorry to say I must go home by 
 the four o'clock train, Mrs. Innes. I have 
 some business which I must attend to at 
 once.' 
 
 ' But, my dear George, Allan is coming
 
 6 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 back to-morrow morning, and I thought 
 you were going to stay till the 12th.' 
 
 ' Yes, Mrs. Innes, but I must go.' 
 
 Mrs. Innes looked at Amy and saw 
 everything at once in her face, and said, 
 
 ' I am very sorry, George. I will let 
 them know about your luggage.' 
 
 So George went, and curiously enough 
 from that very day Amy began to regard 
 him in quite a different light. Love was 
 dawning in her heart, which had never 
 been stirred by such an emotion before. 
 Many a girl never thinks of falling in love 
 with a man until she is asked to do so. 
 She may regard him as a pleasant com- 
 panion, but never dreams of love until some 
 day the man asks hereto love him, and she 
 is taken by sur23rise, and possibly gives an 
 answer for which she may be sorry all the 
 days of her life. But this is luckily not 
 often the case, because the man who is really 
 in earnest will not be content with one 
 refusal, but returns to the charge more 
 determined than before.
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 7 
 
 Next clay Allan came home, and on find- 
 ing that George was gone said, 
 
 ' What a beastly swindle ! I thought he 
 was going to be here till the 12th anyhow. 
 Mother dear, you must Avrite and ask 
 Lady Anstruther and Mildred and Magin- 
 nis to come over here in September, and 
 then George can come too. Yes, let's have 
 a big house-party. ]\I'Evoy says that there 
 are more partridges than he has ever 
 known. Lady Grizel can come, and Wed- 
 derburn. Say yes, mother, and we can 
 have a dance.' 
 
 ' Very well, Allan! will ask them, but I 
 don't think George will come,' and then she 
 told him that Amy had refused him the 
 day before. 
 
 ' Well, I suppose she knows her own 
 mind best, but she must be uncommonly 
 fastidious if she wants anyone better than 
 old George. It can't be that insufferable 
 fool Wedderburn.' (Xow Wedderburn was 
 not an insufferable fool by any means, but
 
 8 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 an excellent and moreover a comely speci- 
 men of a young Scotch laird, but Allan, 
 being angry, said the first thing that came 
 into his head.) 
 
 ' No, dear, it isn't Mr. Wedderburn, nor 
 anyone else. I think Amy was taken by 
 surprise, that is all.' 
 
 In a fortnight it was known that Allan 
 had only got a third class in classical 
 moderations, at which he was furious, 
 although he had no one to blame in the 
 matter save himself; in fact, this it was that 
 made him furious. 
 
 Allan and his father were sitting over 
 their wine after dinner on the night that 
 the news arrived, and Richard said, 
 
 ' Well, Allan, my boy, I think you 
 ought to have got more than a third, 
 though I haven't much to say on the 
 point, because I did not do so very well 
 myself.' 
 
 ' But, father, they told me when I went 
 up that I was safe for a second at least, and
 
 IXXES OF BLAIKAVON. 9 
 
 that I might possibly get a first if I read 
 very hard. Those fusty old dons don't 
 know anything.' 
 
 ' I daresay what they said was true, 
 Allan, but then you know it is possible to 
 get rusty, and I daresay you have forgot- 
 ten a great deal of what you knew when 
 you went up.' 
 
 Allan knew that this was only too true, 
 and so there was nothing more to be said. 
 
 Richard continued, 
 
 ' However, Allan, we won't say anything 
 more about it. It's no use crying over 
 spilt milk, but I think you ought to stick 
 hard at law now. I want you to go to 
 the Bar, and to work hard there, not that 
 it is absolutely necessary, because, of 
 course, you will have this place and a 
 good income to live upon when I die, but 
 it is a o;ood thino; for a man to work. It 
 is true that the Black Hawk has not turned 
 out quite so well as I expected — I thought 
 the output would double or treble itself in
 
 1 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 time, but it seems to remain always about 
 the same.' 
 
 ' All right, father, I'll 'plufs; into law 
 when I go up again, but it is awfully hard 
 to work at Oxford, and when I am at 
 home there always seems to be so much 
 to do.' 
 
 ' I know it is hard, Allan, and I can 
 quite believe that it gets harder every day. 
 In my time a man could work if he chose ^ 
 and at the same time see all the men he 
 wanted to. But university life has be- 
 come much more social than it used to be, 
 I fancy. In my day one did not know 
 many men well outside one's own college, 
 but noAv apparently it doesn't matter where 
 a man is, he seems to know everybody. I 
 am afraid that all that sort of thing is very 
 bad for reading. A man must have in- 
 deed a strong will, if he intends to work 
 conscientiously.' 
 
 ' You make me horribly ashamed of my- 
 self by being so kind to me, dad, and I
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 11 
 
 will promise you that I luill read for the 
 next two years.' 
 
 ' I am sure you will,' said his father ; 
 and they left the table. 
 
 As Mrs. Innes had predicted, George de- 
 clined to come in Sej^tember, but the others 
 did, among them Lord and Lady Maginnis. 
 
 Mildred Anstruther had married him 
 three years before, and was very happy 
 with him. As George had said, he was not 
 at all a bad soul, if one could only get 
 over his amazing ugliness and his lisp. 
 He had shown by an exceedingly terse, 
 logical, and conclusive speech in the House 
 of Lords on the land question in Ireland 
 that he was by no means a fool. Allan 
 could not endure him, he had a natural 
 contempt for a man who had no physical 
 strength, and who could not shoot over- well, 
 or fish. General Ainslie, Lady Grizel, and 
 young Wedderburn came, the latter only 
 too glad of the opportunity of basking in 
 the light of Amy's eyes.
 
 12 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 General Ainslie had said that ' By gad, 
 he had had such an uncommon pleasant 
 time, the last time he was at Blairavon, 
 that he was only too glad to accept another 
 invitation;' to which Mrs. Innes replied 
 that it was very kind of him to say so. 
 ' Not at all, my dear,' continued the gen- 
 eral, ' not at all, I am sure the sight of 
 your face would do any man good;' then 
 he added aloud, though apparently he was 
 only thinking, ' Here I am making a 
 d d fool of myself as usual ;' then turn- 
 ing to Mrs. Innes, ' By Jove, Kate, I beg 
 your pardon — I am afraid I swore. I have 
 got into such shocking bad habits from 
 
 living in that d that is, I am really 
 
 not fit to speak to a lady.' 
 
 The general conceived a great dislike 
 for Lord Maginnis. 
 
 * Wh}^ the devil can't the man speak 
 like an ordinary human being ?' he growled 
 out to Allan one very hot day as they 
 were coming home from shooting part-
 
 INXES OF BLAIRAVON. 13 
 
 riges. ' A fellow who can't speak his 
 own language j^roj^erly, ought not to speak 
 it at all — he ought to be a Spaniard or 
 some heathenish foreigner.' 
 
 Now the general was waxing old, and 
 moreover he was fat, and it had been a 
 very hot day, and the general's liver was 
 apt to get out of order from having eaten 
 of many strange dishes, seasoned with red 
 pepper, in India. He had in consequence 
 shot very badly that day, and he was an- 
 gr}", and wanted some one on whom to 
 vent his wrath. He was walking with his 
 arm through Allan's, and Allan said, 
 
 ■ I don't like him either, general, but 
 George says he is a good enough fellow 
 when you know him well. His ap2)earance 
 is certainly against him, but then you 
 know, general, " one shouldn't judge peo- 
 ple by appearances." ' 
 
 The general smiled, and said, 
 
 ' That's one to you, Allan ; I remember 
 saying the same thing to you on a previous
 
 14 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 occasion ; I daresay he is a good soul, and 
 I a cantankerous old wretch. Here's the 
 house at last ; let's go and have a whisky- 
 and-seltzer.' 
 
 After dinner they were sitting over their 
 wine, and the general and Lord Maginnis 
 were having a heated discussion on the 
 Government policy in Egypt. The general 
 was a red-hot, blind Conservative. Ma- 
 ginnis was also a Conservative, but, being 
 a wise man, he by no means followed 
 blindly all the tenets of his party. He 
 claimed the right, as a reasoning human 
 being, of thinking for himself. The general 
 was getting much the worst of the argu- 
 ment, and was beginning to lose his temper, 
 when a servant came in, and said to Mr. 
 Innes, 
 
 ' One of Sir George Anstruther's ser- 
 vants would like to speak to you imme- 
 diately, sir.' 
 
 ' Tell him to come in here, John.' 
 
 ' Yessir.'
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 1 5 
 
 In a minute or two one of Georcre's 
 grooms stood at the door. Allan knew 
 him, and said, 
 
 • What's the matter, Henry ?' 
 
 * Sir George was thrown from his horse 
 this afternoon, sir, and he sent me over to 
 let you know, in case any wrong account 
 should come to my lady's ears and frighten 
 her, sir.' 
 
 ' Is he badly hurt ?' 
 
 ' He says not, sir ; but begging pardon 
 for making so free, sir, I takes the liberty 
 of thinking different. His horse stumbled 
 going in at the East Lodge, and he pitched 
 right on his forehead, sir. He lay insensi- 
 ble about five minutes ; but he walked up 
 to the house, and then he sent me over 
 here. But he looked very queer, sir. 
 Beg pardon, if I make too free, sir.' 
 
 ' Not at all,' said Richard. ' You'd better 
 stop here to-night. Get some food in the 
 servants' hall, and you can go over the 
 first thing in the morning.'
 
 16 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 ' I'll go over by the first train, father, 
 and see that he is all right. I shall be 
 back in the afternoon/ said Allan. 
 
 He went over to Ardarrochar the next 
 day, but he did not come back that after- 
 noon, nor indeed for many afternoons. 
 He found George suifering from concussion 
 of the brain. He telegraphed for Lady 
 Anstruther, and said at the same time that 
 he was going to stay with George for a 
 time. He had not a very serious attack, 
 but in his delirium he was constantly call- 
 ing out for Amy. When he recovered 
 consciousness, and saw Allan, he said, 
 
 ' Hullo, Allan. I've been ill, I suppose. 
 Oh, yes, I remember it all now. Got 
 pitched off my horse. It is a funny thing, 
 I seem to have been talking to you and 
 your sister all the time, and the first thing 
 I see is you standing beside me. Have I 
 been in bed long ?' 
 
 ' Oh, no, only four days ; but you are 
 all right now, eh?'
 
 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 17 
 
 ' Only a little queer about the head.' 
 
 Two days afterwards Allan was sitting 
 talking to George, who said, 
 
 ' By Jove ! Allan, I was pretty miserable 
 before I had that cropper. I don't think 
 I should have minded very much if it had 
 killed me. I don't mind talking to you 
 about it, and I daresay you know that a 
 couple of months ago I proposed to Amy 
 and she refused me. She seemed to be 
 utterly taken aback, too, that is the curi- 
 ous thing. I should have thought that 
 she must have seen lono; as^o that she was 
 the only girl I cared a rap about.' 
 
 ^ I was very sorry, too, George. My 
 mother told me about it the day I came 
 back from Oxford ; but I suppose it can't 
 be helped. You wouldn't care to marry 
 a girl against her will. And, besides, I 
 don't know that she knew her own mind. 
 Girls never do,' said this exceedingly wise 
 young man. Possibly he was speaking 
 from the depth of his own vast experience. 
 
 VOL. II. c
 
 18 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 ' Do you think so ?' said George, eager- 
 ly. ' I must get out of this beastly bed. I 
 feel as fit as possible now. Hang it ! 
 what's the good of moping in bed. I shall 
 get all right once I am out in the open air.' 
 
 ' Steady, George, you mustn't get ex- 
 cited, or you will be ill again.' 
 
 But from that moment George began to 
 recover in a marvellous manner, and Lady 
 Anstruther said to Allan, 
 
 ' It is very kind of you, Allan, to have 
 stayed here so long, when you have such 
 a pleasant party at home, but it has been 
 the best thing for him. He never is so 
 happy as he is when in your company, 
 and before his accident he was dreadfully 
 low-spirited.' 
 
 ' I think I know what was the cause of 
 it, and it can't be helped, though I must 
 say I wish it had been otherwise.' 
 
 Allan went home again, and as he was 
 driving up the avenue towards the house, 
 he met General Ainslie stumping along.
 
 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 19 
 
 Allan stopped and got out of the dog-cart. 
 and the general said, 
 
 ' Thank the Lord you have come back, 
 my boy. I think I should have committed 
 murder soon. That lisping idiot Maginnis 
 and that conceited pujDpy Wedderburn 
 have nearly driven me wild. Come for a 
 walk with me, and let me get some of this 
 nonsense out of my head.' 
 
 ' All right, general. Take my things up 
 to the house, Alexander, and tell them 
 that I have gone for a walk with General 
 Ainslie.' 
 
 ' M'Evoy told me, sir, that his lordship 
 was hoping you would go out ferretting 
 this afternoon.' 
 
 ' The devil,' said the general. 
 
 ' Tell M'Evoy to let his lordship know 
 that I have strained my arm slightly at 
 Ardarrochar, and that I want to rest it a 
 little.' 
 
 ' 1 es, sir. 
 
 ' It is quite true, general. I did it lift- 
 
 c2
 
 20 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 ing George out of bed one day, when lie 
 was unconscious, so you need not look at 
 me like that.' 
 
 ' I wasn't looking at you like that ; be- 
 sides, white lies are always admissible^ 
 especially in a case like this when you 
 have the opportunity of talking to a rea- 
 sonable human being, instead of two luna- 
 tics like Maginnis and Wedderburn.' 
 
 Allan could not understand this sudden 
 fury on the general's part against these 
 two men. The fact of the matter was that 
 he had been disgracefully beaten in an 
 argument at lunch, and was still smarting 
 under his defeat. They strolled on up the 
 hill facing the house, and up the road 
 leading through the pine-woods, until sud- 
 denly they came on to the moor, and look- 
 ing back saw the chimneys of the house 
 smoking far down below. 
 
 ' Ah, I feel better now,' said the general. 
 ' I like talking to you, Allan, and listen- 
 ing to your opinions on things in general ;
 
 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 21 
 
 not that your conversation is particularly- 
 intellectual, but it is refreshing to a bat- 
 tered old warrior like me to study the in- 
 nocence of youth.' 
 
 Allan laughed, and said, 
 
 ' You are not particularly complimen- 
 tary this afternoon, general.' 
 
 The general stopped and laughed too, 
 and said, 
 
 ' I like being rude to you, Allan ; I know 
 you don't mind it, and it lets off steam. 
 When you get to my age, you will find 
 that your temper gets shorter. Come, let's 
 turn back. By Jove, look below — what 
 a glorious view ! Early autumn is very 
 pretty. Look at all those shades of yellow 
 on the trees in the park. Heigho ! I am 
 afraid my autumn days are pretty nearly 
 over. I am getting an old man, Allan. I 
 am nearly seventy. Well, I suppose we 
 must " a' gang toddlin' doun the hill " 
 some day ; but I would give a good deal to 
 be as young as you again.'
 
 22 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 As they came into tlie park again, they 
 saw two figures strolling along the grass- 
 ride in front of them, and in a few minutes 
 Allan saw that the two figures were his 
 sister and Wedderburn. 
 
 ' The deuce !' said Allan aloud, and then 
 to himself, ' Mother only asked him for 
 a week, and he's been here a fortnight 
 already.' 
 
 As they came nearer, Allan saw that 
 they seemed to be enjoying themselves 
 thoroughly. 
 
 ' I don't admire your sister's taste, 
 Allan,' said the general. ' I think that's 
 pretty nearly a case.' 
 
 When they caught them up, AVedder- 
 burn greeted Allan heartily, and Amy 
 kissed him, and said, 
 
 ' Oh, Allan, I am so glad you have come 
 back. How is George?' and as she said it 
 she blushed, and Allan thought to himself, 
 ' That's all right.' 
 
 ' He's all right again, Amy, I wanted
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 23 
 
 him to come back with me, but he would 
 not come.' 
 
 ' Take my arm, Amy,' said the general, 
 ' and we will stroll on homewards.' 
 
 ' Certainly, general,' said Amy ; and 
 Wedderburn, to his chagrin, had to finish 
 his walk with Allan. 
 
 Before going up to Oxford again, Allan 
 had a conversation with his father, con- 
 sequent on a letter he had received from 
 his tutor, who thought ' that law was too 
 narrow a subject, that he had hoped he 
 might have read philosophy, but supposed 
 that w^as out of the question, as he had 
 only got a third in Mods ; and that under 
 the circumstances modern history would 
 be his best plan.' 
 
 ' I think he is right,' said Allan. ' I can 
 read law after I go down, when I am in 
 town.' 
 
 ' Very well,' said Richard. ' Do what 
 you like, Allan, only I do hope you will do 
 some work.'
 
 24 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 The general thouglit that all that non- 
 sense of cramming a lot of stuff into a 
 boy's head, which he immediately forgot, 
 was a mistake. Much better let him take 
 his degree in June, and go into the Army. 
 No training like the Army for a boy. A 
 good soldier is worth all your barristers 
 put together.' 
 
 ' Very possibly, general,' said Richard, 
 ' but Kate won't allow it. We will give 
 you Jack.' 
 
 By this time the party had broken up. 
 Lord and Lady Maginnis had gone three 
 days before, and Wedderburn had follow- 
 ed them the next day, looking very un- 
 happy, and Allan putting that fact and the 
 fact that Amy had not appeared to say 
 good-bye, together, came to the conclusion 
 that he had asked a certain question and 
 had had a negative answer. 
 
 Allan had insisted that Lady Grizel 
 should stay on after the others had left. 
 The general had gone saying that he hoped
 
 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 25 
 
 that lie should live till he was a hundred, 
 if it were only for the pleasure of coming 
 to Blairavon every summer. 
 
 ' My dear Mrs. Innes, I seem to live 
 here,' said Lady Grizel. ' I have been 
 here nearly '^ve weeks, and I was here at 
 Christmas too.' 
 
 ' If you are content to stay, we are only 
 too glad that you should.' 
 
 So Lady Grizel stayed, and passed most 
 of her time in rambling in the woods with 
 Allan, until the time came for him to go 
 to Oxford again.
 
 26 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 * Trepl ^peva<; rfkvOev bivo^.^ 
 
 Half-past seven in the evening of the 
 30th of November, 1883. In a small street 
 off the High in Oxford stands the drill- 
 hall of the Oxfordshire Volunteers. About 
 seventy undergraduates were standing 
 chatting in knots in the passage, and in 
 the ante-room of the drill-hall itself; but 
 the defence of their country was not the 
 thought which was paramount in their 
 minds. The majority of them were in 
 ordinary evening dress ; others wore, in 
 addition to this, a tartan silk riband across 
 the shirt front, and three or four — but these 
 were the bolder spirits — wore kilts. 
 
 Allan was one of those present, but 
 from past experience he knew that it was
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 27 
 
 unwise to wear a kilt on this festive oc- 
 casion. It was St. Andrew's Day, and the 
 members of the Caledonian Club and their 
 friends had met, as is their custom, to do 
 honour to the patron saint of Scotland. It 
 is curious that our method of doing honour 
 to any person or thing should always be the 
 same, should consist in eating and drink- 
 ing too much. Such is the case, and one 
 supposes it will always be the case. It is> 
 an excellent excuse for a public dinner, — 
 say, for example, it is the anniversary of 
 the foundation of the home for the starving^ 
 poor. The directors meet, and over choice 
 wines and costly dishes wax eloquent over 
 the nobility of the institution, which pro- 
 vides three times daily, for thirty deserving 
 pauj)ers, a farthing's worth of bread, and 
 some garbage which, by the company, is- 
 allowed the name of meat. Or say the 
 society for propagating cleanliness among 
 the inhabitants of the Maldive Islands 
 meet for the same noble purpose. The
 
 28 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 president, with tears in his eyes, and 
 Deutz and Geldermann in his hand, in- 
 forms his brother directors that ' according 
 to the last report no fewer than five of the 
 inhabitants had, during the last year, sub- 
 mitted to be washed with Pears' soap.' 
 This statement is received with thunders 
 of applause, and the secretary, calling the 
 head-waiter, whispers in his ear, ' This is 
 a great meeting, John, you had better 
 have up ten more magnums.' However, 
 let us come back to St. Andrew's Day in 
 1883. Seventy 3^oung gentlemen were 
 going to celebrate it with due honour, 
 though one doubts very much if St. Andrew 
 himself would have commended the method 
 in which his memory was being honoured. 
 The president having arrived, the men 
 trooped in to dinner. They sat at three 
 tables, arranged in the form of a horse- 
 shoe ; the president sitting in the middle of 
 the table at the end. Allan sat on his right, 
 and the dinner began. Doubtless the Spirit
 
 INNES OF BLAIR A VON. 29' 
 
 of Evil must have had a lot of spare time 
 on his hands that evening, and, in conse-^ 
 quence, have devoted his entire attention 
 to the drill-hall in Oxford. Everyone 
 seemed in the wildest spirits, and the talk 
 was loud, and the laughter boisterous, even 
 before the soup had been removed. There 
 was none of that air of solemnity so com- 
 mon at the beginning of a dinner, be it 
 public or private. At this particular din- 
 ner the waiters took care that no one 
 should remain thirsty for one instant, and 
 the champagne flowed continuously. All 
 went well until the haggis came in, pre- 
 ceded by the piper of the London Scottish 
 Volunteers. Anyone who had had an 
 an observant eye would have seen that by 
 this time most of the waiters were walking 
 with uncertain and erratic steps. But 
 everything was forgotten in the sound of 
 the pipes. Everyone knows that it is 
 customary to drink a small glass of neat 
 whisky after eating haggis — a most neces-
 
 30 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 sary and salutary custom. The English 
 waiters, not being skilled in the knowledge 
 of Scotch meats and drinks, and merely 
 being told that whisky was drunk after 
 haggis, brought up the national drink in 
 large quantities, and placed it on the tables. 
 After this my informant's account is not 
 very clear, but it amounts to this. The 
 piper played two or three things, and the 
 men, having nothing else to do, drank 
 each other's health in whisky. The 
 waiters had never returned after the haggis 
 had been brought in, and the dinner, so far 
 as the eatables were concerned, had ap- 
 parently come to an end. An hour went 
 by, and still no food appeared : by this 
 time, however, nobody cared much whether 
 there was any food or not. Everybody 
 was talking at once, and at one end of the 
 room a man was standing on the table 
 contentedly singing a song, with no lis- 
 teners. The president was rapping on the 
 table with his wooden hammer, and
 
 INNES OF BLAIKAVON. 31 
 
 "hoarsely calling for order. Finding this 
 of no avail, he did not improve matters by 
 trying to ' pick off ' the songster with 
 bananas and apples. Every bullet has its 
 billet, they say, and one of the wandering 
 apples hit the secretary on the nose just as 
 he was in the middle of the peroration of 
 a speech, addressed to nobody in particu- 
 lar, on nothing at all. The secretary 
 thereupon sat down, but some ill-disposed 
 person having abstracted his chair, he sat 
 on the floor, and there lay and slept until 
 some one trod on him, when he got up and 
 started back to college in a huff. The 
 president, who, to do him justice, was com- 
 paratively sober, sent the piper, a man 
 called Mackay, he was a Ross-shire man, 
 to go and see what had hapj^ened to the 
 waiter and the food. In a few minutes 
 he came back, and said, with a broad grin 
 on his face, 
 
 ' She niver saw such things, whatefer : 
 there was no waiters awake, and ta cook —
 
 32 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 well, ta cook was asleep in ta ash-pan/ 
 The piper was again dispatched to find 
 some champagne, and the dinner proceeded. 
 The president, who was more nimble with 
 his feet than with his tongue, having pro- 
 cured some sort of order, rose and said, 
 
 ' Gentlemen, I rise to propose to rise — no, 
 I mean to propose the toast of the even- 
 ing. Her Most Gracious Majesty Saint 
 Andrew — no, hang it, I'm no good at 
 speeches, let's have a dance.' 
 
 In a moment the piper was playing 
 reels, and the tables were danced or 
 thrown to the ground. Those who could 
 dance reels, danced them ; and those who 
 could not, kicked up their heels and yelled. 
 After this my informant tells me that they 
 must have left the hall, because they 
 seemed to be dancing in front of the 
 ' Mitre,' and there were four bagpipes 
 instead of only one pair, and they were 
 all playing different tunes, and after that 
 he does not remember anything more than
 
 IXNES OF BLAIRAVON. 33 
 
 that, next morning, he found a notice on 
 his table to say that the senior proctor 
 would like to see him at two o'clock. 
 
 All this may appear very revolting, but 
 it is necessary in this book to relate, as 
 nearly as possible, some of the events in 
 the life of the hero thereof. Fond mothers 
 must not imagine that such scenes do not 
 occur at the universities. They do still 
 among a certain set. Rowdyism is dying 
 out, it is true, but it is dying hard. Luck 
 was certainly against the Caledonian Club 
 on that occasion, for, had the waiters only 
 kept sober, probably nothing of the sort 
 would have occurred. Manv a mother who 
 pictures to herself dear George or Harry 
 at nine o'clock in the morning with his 
 Homer in front of him, and a cup of tea 
 by his side, reading hard, as the dear boy 
 always does, would hardly recognise her 
 son if she were to see him at that hour 
 with dishevelled hair, bloodshot eyes, and 
 flushed face, eagerly lapping soda-water 
 
 VOL. II. D
 
 34 INNES OF BLAI]{AVON. 
 
 out of the largest vessel he possessed. 
 
 Fathers know about these things at 
 least, or make a very shrewd guess at 
 them, having possibly seen something of 
 the sort in their own youth. Allan, 
 throughout the entire previous evening, 
 had been perfectly sober, and had, more- 
 over, left comparatively early. He never 
 got drunk. Some one had said to him, 
 
 ' You can't get drunk, Innes, I believe, 
 with that infernal hard, Scotch head of 
 yours.' 
 
 Allan had laughed, and replied, 
 
 ' I don't try to get drunk, and I don't 
 mean to.' 
 
 On the following morning Allan woke 
 late, looked at his Avatch, and said, 
 
 ' By Jove, twenty minutes to ten. I can 
 just get in time for Winck worth's lecture 
 at ten.' 
 
 He got up, took his bath, and dressed, 
 having previously shouted to his scout to 
 bring him some coffee. He came into his
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 35 
 
 sitting-room, and saw the ominous slip of 
 paper with ' The Senior Proctor,' etc. 
 Allan whistled. 
 
 ' Last night's business, I sup]3ose. Well, 
 T have assisted at some orgies, but I must 
 say that beat anything I ever saw. An 
 infernal shame those waiters o^ettino- drunk. 
 I told Menzies he ought to get some one to 
 look after them.' 
 
 He strolled out to his lecture in Winck- 
 worth's rooms. It was a small in-college 
 lecture, so it was held in the don's rooms. 
 Allan knocked at the door at five minutes 
 past ten, and, being bidden to ' Come in,' 
 he came in, and savin o^ ' Good-mornino- ' 
 sat down at a desk, saying to himself, see- 
 ing no one else was there, ' Early, I sup- 
 pose ; he don't usually begin till ten 
 minutes past.' Then he noticed that 
 Winckworth had not his gown on ; a 
 curious thing for him, as he was very 
 punctilious. 
 
 Winckworth went on writing at the 
 
 D 2
 
 36 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 window for a minute or two, and then he 
 turned to Allan and said, with his head 
 on one side, 
 
 ' Well, Innes, what can I do for you ?' 
 
 ' I have come to lecture, sir.' 
 
 Winckworth smiled, and said, 
 
 ' I'm afraid you are a trifle out-of-date, 
 Innes.' 
 
 Allan looked at him wonderingly, and 
 said, 
 
 'This is Thursday, isn't it, sir? And 
 you lecture on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 
 ten.' 
 
 ' That is a matter of purely antiquarian 
 interest,' said Winckworth. 
 
 ' I am afraid I don't quite understand 
 you, sir.' 
 
 ' Look at the clock.' 
 
 Allan saw that it was ten minutes past 
 eleven^ and said, 
 
 ' By Jove, I have over-slept myself hor- 
 ribly; I am very sorry, sir;' and he rose 
 to go.
 
 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 37 
 
 ' Don't go for a minute or two, Inncs ;' 
 and, as he said it, Winckworth came from 
 the window and put his hand on Allan's 
 shoulder. ^ You were at that Caledonian 
 dinner last night, I suppose ? I know you 
 are a member.' 
 
 ' Yes, sir, I was there.' 
 
 ' What earthly good can you get out of 
 a thing like that, Innes ? I know perfectly 
 well that, by nature, you would revolt at 
 an orgy of that kind, and yet you go and 
 assist at what I am told has been the most 
 disgraceful scene known in the university 
 for nearly thirty years.' 
 
 Allan thouo;ht to himself that this was 
 rather an exaofo-eration, but then he did not 
 know all. 
 
 ' You began the term so well, Innes, you 
 can easily get a first in History if you go 
 on reading as you have done, and the 
 company you were in last night can do 
 nothing but lower your ideas of every- 
 thing.'
 
 38 INNES OF BLAIR AVON". 
 
 Allan said they were good fellows 
 enough, and that the circumstances must 
 be taken into consideration. Winckworth, 
 who only knew the effect and not the 
 cause, said, 
 
 ' There is nothing to be said in extenu- 
 ation. It resolved itself into a mere pot- 
 house orgy, so I am told, and that is 
 hardly the thing one expects in Oxford.' 
 
 ' Well, sir, I think I can promise you 
 that this shall be the very last thing of 
 that sort which I shall take part in.' 
 
 ' Thank you, Innes ; if you will fight 
 against your good-nature a little, you 
 will do much better.' 
 
 Allan went out feeling rather ashamed, 
 and said to himself, 
 
 ' What a brick that fellow is, and what 
 a beast I am. Well, here's good-bye to 
 the Caledonian Club, and to loo and wine- 
 clubs in general. He went back to his 
 rooms, sat down in a chair before his fire, 
 yawned, and then picked up Stubbs's ' Con-
 
 IXNES OF BLAIR AVON. 39 
 
 stitutional History.' He gazed at a page 
 for ten minutes, jum^^ecl up, linrlecl the 
 book ao^ainst the wall, exclaiminir, ^ Bah ! 
 I can't read any of that infernal rot this 
 morninof. I shall s'o for a walk over Head- 
 ino^ton, and ^et some of the recollection of 
 last night's debauch out of my head.' He 
 took his stick and started out over Mag- 
 dalen Brido'u. callino' on the wav for his 
 fox-terrier. As he went through the keen 
 frosty air he said to himself, 'This is better 
 than wine-parties, headache, and stale to- 
 bacco smoke." Then he passed himself in 
 review, and found himself wanting. ' At 
 any rate, I have read this term, and except 
 for last night and those two nights at the 
 " Phcenix " I have hardly drunk any wine 
 after dinner the whole term. I'll chuck 
 the whole thino'. I must o:et a first in 
 History, just to show them that I can. 
 What do you think. Pepper, old man ?' 
 this to his dog who had just returned 
 panting and excited from a heated chase
 
 40 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 after an imaginary rabbit. Pepper with 
 his tail said he thought it was an excellent 
 idea. ' All right, that's settled.' 
 
 He went on, walking fast and revelling 
 in the beautiful wintry day, and thinking 
 of Blairavon and George. Suddenly he 
 stopped, looked at his watch, and said, 
 
 ' One o'clock ! By jingo, and I have to 
 be at the proctor's at two. It's good fiye 
 miles to Magdalen Bridge, and, oh Lord, 
 the senior proctor lives at Worcester. 
 There ought to be a law preventing the 
 j)roctor from living any further away from 
 the middle of Oxford than Wadham or 
 Merton. It will take me five minutes to 
 find him when I get there too. Come on, 
 Pepper, I am going to run for a bit.' 
 
 He reached Worcester at a few minutes 
 after two, found the senior proctor's rooms, 
 knocked at the door, and being bidden to 
 enter, found to his amazement all the 
 members of the Caledonian Club as- 
 sembled.
 
 IXXES OF BLAIRAVOX. 41 
 
 ' Come in, Mr. Inncs, I think vou are 
 
 7 7^ 
 
 now all here.' 
 
 The proctor looked at the men with a 
 soft, sarcastic smile, and began : 
 
 ' I am well aware that it is almost with- 
 out precedent to arraign undergraduates 
 in a body like this, but I came to the con- 
 clusion that the circumstances justified it. 
 I hardly know what to say to you, gentle- 
 men. I suppose you know what happened 
 last night, but possibly some of you may 
 have a somewhat hazy notion, so I will 
 refresh your memory. Yesterday was, I 
 believe, St. Andrew's Day; I was not aware 
 of it myself. — Did you speak, Mr. Light- 
 foot? No? I beg your pardon — for that 
 reason the Caledonian (.^lub, consisting 
 entirely of Scotchmen, who are popularly 
 supposed to have more than their fair 
 share of common sense and hard-headed- 
 ness, celebrate the occasion by one of the 
 most diso:ustino: oro;ies it certainly has 
 ever been my misfortune to witness or
 
 42 INNES OF BLAIRAVOX. 
 
 ever hear of. l^erhaps you are unaware, 
 gentlemen, that I stood for five minutes 
 last night at the door of the drill-hall look- 
 ing at your debauch.' (Signs of uneasiness 
 and wonder appeared on several faces at 
 this announcement.) ' Yes, I see you arc 
 surprised. I was anxious to go in and 
 put a stop to the scene there and then, but 
 the marshal, having regard for my personal 
 safety, I presume, deterred me. I saw a 
 number of presumably reasoning human 
 beings in a state of howling intoxication, 
 dancing amidst the debris of tables, bottles^ 
 and decanters, to the sound of that most 
 detestable of all instruments, the bagpipes. 
 Afterwards, I am informed by the police, 
 this scene was re-enacted in front of the 
 " Mitre." The inspector of police tells me 
 that, on trying to disperse you, he was 
 promptly seized and made to perform what 
 is known, I believe, as a Highland reel — a 
 proceeding exceedingly derogatory to his 
 dignity, and, considering his age and size,
 
 IXNES OF BLAIRAVON. 43 
 
 injurious to his health. Nor is this all. 
 Three members of Christ Church, two of 
 them dressed in the national garb of Scot- 
 land, it is a matter of opinion whether the 
 dress as ordinarily worn is decent or not, 
 but there can be no doubt that when worn 
 round the neck it is neither decent nor 
 healthy, proceeded to the Broad playing 
 on the pipes. One at least of these gentle- 
 men has been twice heavily fined for play- 
 ing that obnoxious instrument in the 
 streets within the last year.' 
 
 It is a curious thing, but true, that the 
 one thing an Oxford don will not stand, 
 at any price, is the bagpipes. The reason 
 is obscure. Whether it is that they really 
 do not like the music (but that is surely 
 impossible), or whether they think that it 
 may rouse the excitable Scotchmen to 
 deeds of daring and destruction, is un- 
 known ; the fact remains that they will 
 fly from the bagpipes as from the devil 
 himself. One has seen the worthy
 
 44 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 master of a well-known college come sud- 
 denly round the corner on an itinerant 
 bagpipe player who was just beginning to 
 iill his bag ; on catching sight of him, the 
 dear old gentleman literally gathered up 
 his skirts and ran. But we have left the 
 proctor speaking, as they say in the news- 
 paper reports. 
 
 ' These three gentlemen, all playing 
 different tunes, — if the noise that emanates 
 from those instruments of torture can be 
 honoured by the name of a tune.' (Here 
 Allan, not having heard of this part of 
 the performance before, laughed audibly.) 
 ' You may laugh, Mr. Innes, but you may 
 iind to your cost that it is no laughing 
 matter. — As I was saying, these gentlemen 
 walked, or I should say lurched up and 
 down underneath the Master of Balliol's 
 windows, and played their pipes. On 
 being requested to desist by the police, 
 one gentleman replied, " It's all right, 
 Bobby, we're serenading the old buffer,
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 45 
 
 the Jowlcr likes music." ' (At this point, 
 Allan had to put his handkerchief into his 
 mouth, and slowly got purple in the face 
 as the proctor proceeded.) ' Xow this is 
 not only a very disrespectful way of speak- 
 ing of the Vice-Chancellor, but the so- 
 called music has also caused him serious an- 
 noyance, so much so that he found himself 
 quite unable to lecture on the ^' Republic '* 
 this morning.' (A whisper at Allan's ear 
 of ' Thank the Lord for that,' made his 
 symptoms positively dangerous.) ' Xor is 
 this all. On being removed by the police^ 
 they proceeded down the Corn-market^ 
 and at Carfax they broke all the lamps,, 
 and were just trying to knock into Christ 
 Church, when they were secured by the 
 police, and spent the rest of the night in 
 the city prison.' 
 
 Here the proctor ceased, and surveyed 
 the entire party once more with the same- 
 soft, sarcastic smile. 
 
 ' Well, gentlemen, have you anything to<
 
 46 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 say ?' On silence ensuing, he gave a short 
 laugh, and said, ' I don't suppose you have. 
 I need hardly say that such conduct is not 
 what one expects from undergraduates of 
 this university. In fact, if they all be- 
 haved as you did last night, it is needless 
 to say that the university Avould either 
 cease to exist, or that very much more 
 stringent regulations would have to be 
 brought into force. All I have to say is 
 this — the Caledonian Club must at once 
 be abolished.' 
 
 Here one or two murmurs were heard, 
 and the proctor, smiling again, said to the 
 president of the club, 
 , ' Did you speak, Mr. Lightfoot ?' 
 
 The president tried to say something, 
 but, as has been said before, he was not 
 a great orator, and Allan broke in, 
 
 ' I think you ought to take into con- 
 sideration, sir, that it was not all our fault, 
 we had practically nothing to eat, and 
 through a mistake we had nothing but
 
 INXES OF BLAIKAVON. 47 
 
 whisky to drink for an hour, and it would 
 he very hard if Scotchmen were not al- 
 lowed to honour their patron saint in a 
 iitting manner.' 
 
 The proctor laughed in a hard way. and 
 said, 
 
 'Well, Mr. Innes, I do not know any- 
 thing about the catering part of your en- 
 tertainment. I can onlv iudo'e bv results, 
 and I quite agree with you that there 
 seems to have been an inadequate supply 
 of food and too profuse a quantity of 
 liquor ; but I presume that is a matter 
 for the secretary — Mr. Menzies, I believe. 
 As to your honouring your patron saint, 
 I am sure no one would object to your 
 doing so in a reasonable manner ; but if 
 all the Englishmen, Irishmen, and AVelsh- 
 men in the university were to do the same, 
 in the way that you did last night, I think 
 you will easily see that university life 
 would be impossible. I think there is no- 
 thing more to be said. T must ask all you
 
 48 INNES OF BLAIR A VON. 
 
 gentlemen to Le in by nine for the rest of 
 tlie term with the exception of Messrs. 
 Kerr, Murray, and Logan. The Caledonian 
 Club, for the present, at least, is abolished. 
 I had intended to send you, Mr. Lightfoot, 
 and Mr. Menzies, down for the rest of term, 
 but, on hearing what Mr. Innes had to say, 
 I have reconsidered that decision. As for 
 you three gentlemen,' — turning to Kerr, 
 Murray, and Logan, — ' I suppose it is un- 
 necessary for me to deal with you. I 
 presume you have already interviewed the 
 Dean of Christ Church, and that you have 
 met with your just reward. The fact of 
 your having spent the night in the city 
 prison will be enough for him.' 
 
 Kerr was understood to say that the 
 dean was in toAvn last night, and they 
 were to see him at five. 
 
 ' In that case,' said the proctor, ' I must 
 let you know that you must go down to- 
 morrow morning, and not come into resi- 
 dence again for a year. This is only a
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 49 
 
 precaution on my part, in case the Dean 
 does not see the matter in the proper light. 
 Good afternoon, gentlemen ; let me hope 
 that I may not have to see you in my 
 official capacity again.' 
 
 When they got into the quadrangle, Allan 
 turned round and said, 
 
 ' I think he has let us off uncommonly 
 cheap.' 
 
 Logan took his arm, and said, with a 
 
 gulp, 
 
 ' I must enlist, Innes ; the governor will 
 never look at me again. Can't you do 
 something for me, old chap?' 
 
 ' I'm afraid not, Logan. I'm awfully 
 sorry for you.' 
 
 Logan's father was a minister in the 
 Established Church of Scotland, and Lo^ran 
 knew only too well that he would never 
 overlook a thing of this sort. 
 
 On his way down to college, Allan met 
 Winckworth. He took off his cn]) and said, 
 
 ' I think you can depend on my reading 
 
 VOL. II. E
 
 50 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 for a bit now, sir. I am gated for the rest 
 of term.' 
 
 ' I am very glad to hear it,' said Winck- 
 worth ; at which Allan laughed, and went 
 on to college.
 
 51 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ' The first love which is infinite can be followed by no 
 other which is like unto it.' 
 
 'Well, Allan, how did you get on last 
 term?' said his father to Allan the night 
 after he came back from London. ' I saw 
 you beat Cambridge again on Wednesday.' 
 
 ' Oh, I got on pretty well, father, I had 
 a bit of a kick-up with the proctor over 
 the Caledonian dinner, and one or two 
 men got sent down, but otherwise the 
 term was uneventful enouo-h. I think I 
 made a pretty fair start in history.' 
 
 ' What happened about the Caledonian 
 dinner ?' 
 
 Allan told him, and his father said, 
 
 ' I am glad the club has been sup- 
 
 E 2 

 
 52 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 pressed ; it "will only be for a time, I expect. 
 That sort of thin^ is all very well, but it 
 is out of date. We are becoming civilized,, 
 and now there is a certain amount of dis- 
 grace attaching to the fact of a man get- 
 ting drunk, and I am very glad of it, al- 
 though I am afraid the general morality 
 of the rising generation is not by any 
 means improving. The habit of drinking 
 was still pretty well in vogue in my time^ 
 and even then it was not uncommon to see 
 a man drink a couple of bottles of sherry 
 with his lunch, but it had received its 
 death-blow. What sort of a nation should 
 we be now, I wonder, if we had kept up 
 the port-drinking habits of our ancestors ? 
 That was merely an outbreak of the brute 
 part of our nature, and it is possible that 
 it may occur again. I am almost afraid 
 that among the young men of the present 
 day it has begun again, though we oldsters 
 are steadier than we used to be. I sin- 
 cerely hope that the custom will never be-
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVOX. 53 
 
 come universal again. I am very glad 
 tliat there is nobody here just now, Allan, 
 because I want to talk to you about your 
 future. There will be a house full of 
 people next month for your coming of age, 
 so I shan't have a moment to see you alone.' 
 
 ' Oh, by the way, father, I want mother 
 to ask two men of my year, whom I have 
 not known till quite lately, I thought they 
 were smugs, but I have found my mistake. 
 Their names are Castello and Ingersoll, 
 and there is another man, Prettyman, who 
 went fishing with me down in Wales last 
 spring. He is a schoolmaster now, and a 
 very good sort. Castello will amuse you, 
 I think ; he doesn't say much, but what he 
 does say is very much to the point.' 
 
 ' My dear Allan, you may have abso- 
 lutely anybody you like, the Emperor of 
 Japan, if he will come ; but hadn't you 
 better arrange all that with your mother ? 
 I wanted to talk to you on another point. 
 I want to make some sort of provision for
 
 54 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 you, now tliat you are coming of age. In 
 eigliteen months you will be in London 
 reading for the Bar, and your own master, 
 and I want you to get accustomed to man- 
 aging your own money affairs before then. 
 Now I daresay you have one or two debts 
 at Oxford ; tell me what they are, and I 
 will pay them, so that you can start per- 
 fectly fair. I propose to give you live 
 hundred a year. I think that is enough, 
 and as much as I can afford. You know 
 pretty well what it costs to keep up this 
 place, and so far I haven't been able to 
 save a penny out of the money which 
 comes from the Black Hawk, so I cannot 
 well afford to give you any more.' 
 
 ' My dear father, it is far too much, I 
 could do quite well on less.' 
 
 ' I think you had better have it, Allan, 
 I never knew a young man yet who had 
 more money than he could spend.' 
 
 ' Very well, father, I suppose you know 
 best.'
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 55 
 
 Allan told his father his debts, that is 
 to say he told him some of them. There 
 is nobody, never was anybody, and never 
 will be anybody who ever told the exact 
 truth about his college debts. It is the 
 one point which George Washington him- 
 self would have lied on, if he ever had any 
 college debts. Still it was a very resj^ect- 
 able sum which Allan mentioned as the 
 total of his debts. 
 
 ' I will give you a cheque to-morrow for 
 the amount, but I don't think you ought 
 to make any more, Allan.' 
 
 ' Oh, I shan't make any more. As a 
 matter of fact, all those I did make were 
 in my first year.' 
 
 ' With five hundred a year you ought to 
 be able to live very well, and do practically 
 what you please, except hunt on Frank- 
 lin's hacks. I wonder if he has got those 
 two old greys still. No, he can't have, 
 they would be forty years old by now.' 
 
 ' I don't know, father. I would not like
 
 56 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 to guarantee that some of them aren't 
 older. I wish I hadn't gone such a 
 *' mucker " my first year ; one always 
 does, I think, though. There was a man 
 I knew at that new college, Keble, which 
 they have built up by the parks, who told 
 me that when, at the end of his first term, 
 one of his uncles asked him what sort of 
 place Oxford was in general and Keble in 
 particular, he really did not know, and 
 answered that '' Oxford was a very nice 
 place, and he had a sort of hazy idea that 
 Keble was red." ' 
 
 Richard laughed, and said, 
 
 ' A parson's son, I suppose, being at 
 Keble ; they always seem to go the pace 
 more than anyone else when they get out 
 of leading-strings — I suppose it is because 
 they are kept so tight at home. Let's go 
 and see what mother and Amy are doing.' 
 
 They went arm-in-arm into the drawing- 
 room. There existed between these two 
 that complete openness and trust which is
 
 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 57 
 
 SO essential between father and son, and 
 whicli, unfortunately, is so rarely seen. 
 
 ' What a long time you have been sitting 
 over your wine, Dick.' 
 
 ' Yes, dear. I was talking to Allan 
 ^bout his coming of age.' 
 
 ' Just what Amy and I and Jack have 
 been doing; Jack wants to have some 
 school-friends, but it is impossible. I 
 have told him that he must wait till he 
 comes of age himself.' 
 
 ' It's beastly rot, father,' said Jack. ' I 
 told Colquhoun and Struthers that Allan 
 was coming of age, and I would get mother 
 to ask them.' 
 
 ' I don't think it is possible, Jack dear. 
 Look, Allan — here is the list of people I 
 am going to ask to stay in the house. Oh, 
 by the way, Dick, I am going to ask your 
 two old aunts, Jane Innes and Mary Camp- 
 bell. We haven't seen them since we were 
 in Edinburgh last, and that must 1)e two 
 years ago.'
 
 58 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 ' My dear Kate, how awful ! I am sure 
 they would not care to be here among a 
 lot of young people. Mary's seventy- 
 seven and Jane seventy-five.' 
 
 ' Perhaps they won't come, Dick, but I 
 think we ought to ask them.' 
 
 ' I devoutly hope they won't come then,' 
 said Richard. ' Aunt Mary is as blind as 
 a bat, and deafer than any human being 
 ever was yet, and Aunt Jane is about the 
 most cantankerous old cat I ever saw in 
 my life.' 
 
 ' Where on earth are you going to put 
 all these people, mother?' 
 
 ' That's the question, Allan. You and 
 Jack, and Amy and Brunner, will have to 
 sleep in the new wing. The rooms are 
 good enough, the only thing is that they 
 are not painted and furnished.' 
 
 ' Read out the list, Allan,' said Richard. 
 
 ' George and Lady Anstruther, Wedder- 
 burn. Aunts Jane and Mary, Lady Grizcl, 
 General Ainslie, Prcttyman, Ligersoll and
 
 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 5^ 
 
 Costello, Lord and Lady Maginnis, Mr. 
 and Mrs. Blair, and Mr. and Mrs. Bridge- 
 man.' (These last were the Annie and 
 Mary Low of former days, and their hus- 
 bands.) ' That takes up all the bed-rooms, 
 mother, but Jack's friends can come if we 
 put two beds in the painting-room. They 
 won't mind sleeping there, will they. Jack T 
 
 ' Not a bit !' said Jack, delighted. ' Col- 
 quhoun will sleep anywhere. I have seen 
 him asleep during the Creed in chapel.' 
 
 ' Very well, Jack ; we'll ask them.' 
 
 ' You're a brick, mother,' said Jack, as 
 he gave her a boisterous kiss. 
 
 ' We can dance in this drawing-room, 
 mother, and in the library,' said Amy; 
 ' and if we have all the doors off we can 
 go straight through. 1 believe this front 
 of the house was built solely for a dance.' 
 
 Before going to bed that night, Mrs. 
 Innes said to Allan, 
 
 ' I think you had better write to George, 
 Allan dear, and persuade him to come. I
 
 60 INNES OF BLAIKAVON. 
 
 very much doubt if he will do so other- 
 wise.' 
 
 ' He must come, mother. I will write 
 and tell him so. I will write now.' 
 
 So he wrote to George telling him that 
 he would take no denial : that he meant to 
 have a good time, and would not do so 
 unless George came to help him, and so on. 
 With the result that George promised to 
 come at any rate for the day. Allan in- 
 sisted that he should come at once ; the 
 woods were swarming Avith woodcock, and 
 they had not been shot yet, so he must 
 come. So he came. He and Amy were 
 at first very shy of each other, but gradual- 
 ly got over it, and were as good friends as 
 ever. 
 
 Three days before Allan's birthday his 
 great-aunts arrived, dressed in the fashion 
 of Mtj years ago. Jack had been out 
 ferretting when they arrived, and did not 
 know anything about it. So when he had 
 dressed, and was coming into the drawing-
 
 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 61 
 
 room, whistling before dinner, he saw two 
 gaunt women sitting on either side of the 
 fire. They were both sitting bolt upright, 
 one of them apparently sleeping in this 
 awkward position, the other was obviously 
 deaf, as she did not move when Jack 
 opened the door. He turned and fled. 
 He saw his mother coming down the stairs, 
 so he put his finger on his lips and said in 
 a hoarse whisper, 
 
 ' I say, mother, there are two frightful 
 old frumps in the drawing-room.' 
 
 'Hush, Jack, they are your grand-aunts.' 
 
 ' Holy Moses !' said Jack. 
 
 ' My dear boy, where do you get hold of 
 those horribly vulgar expressions ?' 
 
 ' Oh, that expression is quite up to date, 
 mother !' 
 
 Mrs. Innes shuddered and said, 
 
 ' Don't, Jack,' but Jack was half-way up 
 stairs to tell Allan and George, and ^yq 
 minutes afterwards all three came down 
 into the drawing-room.
 
 -62 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 Mrs. Innes said to Allan and Jack, 
 aside, 
 
 ' You must kiss them.' 
 
 Jack said, 
 
 ' I am not taking any, thank you, 
 mother.' 
 
 ' This is my eldest son Allan,' screamed 
 Mrs. Innes at Miss Mary. 
 
 'That's no use,' said^her sister, 'she's 
 much deafer than that.' 
 
 She put her mouth to her sister's ear 
 and bellowed, 
 
 ' Dick's eldest son.' 
 
 The unfortunate old lady seemed to have 
 had some notion that some one had spoken, 
 hut when Allan kissed her she smiled, she 
 was a dear, good-natured old creature 
 really, and said, 
 
 'Oh, yes, Dick's eldest son: how are 
 you, my dear, why didn't you tell me, Jane, 
 that he was here ?' 
 
 Mrs. Campbell cast a look of withering 
 contempt at her, and yelled again,
 
 IXXES OF BLAIR A VON. 63 
 
 ' Sir George Anstruther, Mary.' 
 
 Miss Lines put out her face to be kissed, 
 so George kissed her, whereupon she mut- 
 tered, 
 
 ' Dear me, Jane said he was only sixteen 
 or thereabouts, and he has a heavy mous- 
 tache — very extraordinary !' 
 
 ' It isn't Jack,' again screamed her 
 sister. ' It's Sir George Anstruther. TJiis 
 is Jack.' (At thispoint Mrs. Campbell had 
 got so purple in the face with exertion that 
 Allan thought she would have a lit.) 
 
 On Jack kissing her. Miss Innes appeared 
 bewildered, and said again half-aloud, 
 
 ^ Three of them, Jane said there were 
 only two, but I suppose she was wrong, 
 but sometimes I don't hear very well. Well 
 — well, I suppose it's all right;' and she 
 sighed in a hopeless sort of manner. 
 
 At dinner the two sisters had to sit be- 
 side one another, as Miss Innes could not 
 manage her knife and fork very well at 
 times, and was apt to make furtive dabs at
 
 64 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 the tablecloth in search of food. Mrs. 
 Campbell was in consequence a sort of 
 director-general of provisions for her. 
 
 ' Soup, Mary,' cried Mrs. Campbell. 
 
 ' No, thank you.' 
 
 ' Oh, yes, she will. What do you call that 
 black man of yours, Dick ? Francis ? 
 Francis, bring that soup back again. 
 Now, Mary, eat your soup.' 
 
 Miss Innes, having been addressed again, 
 thought that some solid food had been 
 placed in front of her, so she made several 
 futile attempts to eat her soup with a fork 
 before Mrs. Campbell, who was talking to 
 Mrs. Innes, looked at her sister again. 
 
 Miss Innes was just laying down her 
 fork with a sigh of resignation, when Mrs. 
 Campbell exclaimed, 
 
 ' Bless the woman, she's trying to eat 
 soup with a fork again. It's soup, soooup, 
 not fish, Mary.' 
 
 ' No, thank you,' answered the poor 
 woman, calmly.
 
 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 65 
 
 Mrs. Campbell lost her temper, and said 
 to Francis, 
 
 ' Here, take it away.' 
 
 At this point Jack left the room with a 
 hurried step, and after some very suspicious 
 sounds had been issuing from the back of 
 the dining-room door, for some five min- 
 utes, he came back very red in the face, 
 and with his eyes still watering, and said 
 that he had been to fetch a handkerchief. 
 
 After this, dinner passed oiF without 
 any further mishaj), with the exception 
 that poor Miss Innes, being for an instant 
 left alone without a helping hand, tried to 
 walk into the fire, under the impression 
 that she was going out at the door. 
 
 On the following day all the other guests 
 arrived, and a merry party they made. 
 
 Allan went to meet the old general at 
 the station as usual. 
 
 ' This is uncommonly kind of you, Allan. 
 I have had a touch of gout, and I feel 
 crusty, and I can vent my bad temper on 
 
 VOL. n. p
 
 GQ INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 you. Well, how are you, my lad? You 
 look as well as it is possible for anyone to 
 look. You don't look as if you were pining 
 away. Not fallen in love yet, eh ?' 
 
 Allan laughed. 
 
 'Not yet, general;' and, as he said it, the 
 vision of the girl on the bridge in Wales 
 came into his mind, and he blushed. 
 
 The general looked at him, and said, 
 
 ' Humph ! I'm not so sure about that, 
 either.' 
 
 * You are wrong there, general ; at any 
 rate, I have never spoken to any girl I 
 would care to marry, yet;' which was 
 strictly true, and it deceived the general 
 completely, who said, 
 
 ' Glad to hear it, my boy. You are too 
 young to fall in love ; you had better defer 
 that sweet pain as long as possible.' 
 
 • Lord Maginnis is here, general.' 
 The general smiled, and said, 
 
 ' Well, I suppose I must bear up under 
 the affliction.'
 
 IXXES OF BLAIRAVOX. 67 
 
 ' He's going the day after to-morrow, 
 thougli.' 
 
 ' Under those circumstances, I shall stay 
 for a week. By gad ! my boy, this frosty 
 air in the country makes one feel alive 
 ao^ain. I don't care if Mao^innis is here. I 
 am going to enjoy myself.' 
 
 The next day was Allan's twenty-first 
 birthday, and in the evening there was a 
 great dinner, and after Allan had re- 
 sponded to the toast of his health, the 
 general jumped up and made as though 
 he would speak. The general was always 
 ready to speak, but he was not a good 
 speaker. In fact, he was a very bad 
 speaker. His speeches lacked coherence 
 and, as a rule, meaning. He said, 
 
 ' I know this is very irregular, and all 
 that, and you must excuse me, Kate, but 
 I must say a few words, and I am going 
 to say them. It's all right, Maginnis, you 
 needn't prick up your ears, I am not going 
 to talk politics in order to give you a 
 
 f2
 
 68 IXNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 chance of getting me into a corner. I 
 want you all to drink a toast with me, and 
 it is more or less an exculpation for a 
 very foolish remark I made some thirty 
 years ago in this very room. I was home 
 on leave from India, and I was staying 
 with our host's father, a week after he left 
 for Australia, and even then I was apt to 
 be a little choleric. You needn't smile,. 
 Wedderburn ; go and try forty years in 
 India, and you will find that your temper 
 may get short too. Well, on that occasion 
 I was rash enough to remark that our 
 host to-night would go to the devil — that 
 is — well — er — yes, that he would go to the 
 devil ; don't be shocked, ladies. If you 
 will look at our host to-night and around 
 you, you will say that that prognostication 
 has turned out incorrect. I give you our 
 host and hostess.' You may be sure it was 
 drunk with enthusiasm, but when the 
 general found himself standing alone, 
 waving his glass, and singing a verse of
 
 INNES OF BLAIR AVOX. 69 
 
 'He's a jolly good fellow/ he stopped sud- 
 denly and sat down, muttering quite loud 
 enouo:h to be heard, ' Here am I makino; 
 a d — d fool of myself as usual ;' then sud- 
 denly remembering that he was not alone 
 in India, ' By gad, Kate, I am very sorry 
 — confounded bad habit of mine — comes of 
 being so long alone in India. I really am 
 not fit for the society of ladies.' 
 
 Mrs. Innes smiled kindly at him, and 
 putting her soft white hand on his huge 
 weather-beaten paw, said in a low voice, 
 
 ' I wish all my acquaintance were as fit 
 for it as you, general.' 
 
 The general turned and kissed her, 
 whereupon he was again covered with 
 confusion, and everybody laughed at him 
 good-naturedly. Soon after, Richard said, 
 
 ' Now you young people had better go 
 and get yourselves ready for the dance.' 
 
 When they were gone, Richard carried 
 his glass round to the general's end of the 
 table. Said the general,
 
 70 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 ' It's a terrible pity you won't let Allan 
 go into the Army, Dick. It's the only 
 profession for a gentleman, but I suppose 
 it is not to be. Let me congratulate you 
 on him, at any rate. Any father ought to 
 be proud of him.' 
 
 ' It is very kind of you to say so, general. 
 I have nothing to complain of in Allan. 
 The only thing that I am afraid of is that 
 he may become too idle. He is so full of 
 high spirits and good health that he finds 
 it very hard to do any serious work.' 
 
 ' What the devil do you exj^ect from a 
 young man, Dick ? That's why I hate this 
 infernal system of examination prevalent 
 now-a-days. Boys spend their time in 
 cramming their heads with a lot of con- 
 founded nonsense, as I have said before, 
 which is only learnt to be forgotten. They 
 ruin their health in many cases by it, be- 
 fore they go into the Army or the Civil 
 Service. I like to see a young fellow en- 
 joying himself. Why should he work?
 
 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 71 
 
 Will he make any better landlord because 
 lie can write Greek iambics? Believe 
 me, Dick, there is a great deal of absolute 
 nonsense talked about education now-a- 
 days. If I had my way, I would make the 
 test examination for the officers in the 
 Army consist every bit as much of athletic 
 excellence, power of endurance, and phy- 
 sical excellence generally, as of mere book 
 learnino^. I think vou will allow that we 
 would have a far finer lot of men as offi- 
 cers, and fewer of those simpering little 
 dandies with eyeglasses, Avho look as 
 though they were made for a lady's bou- 
 doir instead of for a battle-field, by — gad. 
 Not that I would abolish the mental train- 
 ing, in a modified degree, altogether, be- 
 cause, taken two men of equal physique, 
 the man with brains is worth a great deal 
 more than the man who is a mere mechani- 
 cal Hercules. I seem to have 2:ot some- 
 what mixed, Dick, but I daresay you will 
 understand what I mean.'
 
 72 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 ' I understand you perfectly, general, 
 and I partially agree with you, but 1 don't 
 believe in any man being idle — but come, 
 I think we had better go into the other 
 room.' 
 
 The dance was nearly over. Amy and 
 George were sitting in a recess in the inner 
 drawing-room, completely shut off from 
 the rest of the room, during the last dance 
 but one. They were very silent. They 
 were both on the brink of a precipice, and 
 they knew it, and yet, curiously enough, 
 had not much fear as to fallino; over. Ex- 
 citement and not fear was the feeling up- 
 permost, the excitement which comes to 
 the young only when they know that they 
 are going to have some great enjoyment, 
 and are not quite sure what form it is 
 going to take. 
 
 After sitting silent for some minutes, 
 George turned so as almost to face Amy, 
 and said very softly.
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 73 
 
 ' Have you ever thought over what I 
 asked you last summer, Amy T 
 
 ' Often, George.' 
 
 ' Do you think you can change your 
 mind?' 
 
 Amy did not answer, and George took 
 her hands, which resisted not, and drawing 
 her gently towards himself, bent down 
 and kissed her on the forehead. 
 
 ' Do you think that you can love me, 
 Amy dear ?' 
 
 ' I have loved you all the time, George, 
 only I did not know it until after you had 
 asked me.' 
 
 ' My darling !' 
 
 Time is nothing to the lover, except his 
 mistress be late. They must have been 
 sitting nearly an hour in this recess, tell- 
 ino; each other the tale which has been 
 told since the world began, and which 
 never grows old nor loses its sweetness. 
 George rose and said, 
 
 ' Come, my love. Everyone has gone
 
 74 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 away. I must go and tell your father/ 
 Allan and his father and mother were 
 standing in front of the fire, and the others 
 were in the library eating a second or a 
 third supper, and they could hear the gen- 
 eral saying, 
 
 ' Haven't done this for thirty years, by 
 gad. I shall be in bed for a month after 
 this.' 
 
 George and Amy came up to Richard, 
 and George said, 
 
 ' I have asked Amy to be my wife, Mr. 
 Innes, and she has consented.' 
 
 ' My dear George, I am glad to give her 
 to you, there is no one to whom I would 
 rather see her married than to you.' 
 
 Mrs. Innes kissed Amy tenderly, and 
 said, 
 
 ' Oh, my dear, I am so glad.' 
 
 Allan merely clasped George's hand, 
 
 and he understood more by that than if 
 
 he had made the most eloquent speech in 
 
 the world. The others all flocked in, in a
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 75 
 
 body, and overwhelmed George and Amy 
 with congratulations. 
 
 The general avowed his intention of 
 staying up all night to celebrate the occa- 
 sion, but he was dissuaded by Allan Avho 
 reminded him of his gout, whereupon the 
 general turned on him and said, 
 
 ' Now 1 call that deuced unkind of you, 
 Allan. Here have I been eating, and 
 drinking champagne, and even making an 
 ass of myself in a set of Lancers, and 
 behaving generally like any other young 
 lunatic, all for your benefit, and then 
 you come and tell me I am a gouty old 
 fogey and had better go to bed. AVell, I 
 suppose it's the best place for me. If I 
 am ill to-morrow, I will make you come 
 and read to me all day. As for you, sir,' 
 turning to George, ' I consider you an 
 uncommonly lucky young man,' (so appar- 
 ently did Wedderburn and Ingersoll, only 
 they did not say so,) ' though I daresay 
 you flatter yourself you have got no more
 
 76 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 than your deserts. All young men are 
 conceited : but I am getting cantankerous 
 and had better go to bed.' 
 
 George laughed as he shook hands with 
 the general, and said, 
 
 ' I am not quite so bad as that, general.' 
 
 Allan's birthday fell on a Friday, which 
 was in reality the first day of the Oxford 
 term, but he had got leave to stay down 
 till Monday morning. 
 
 It was the custom at Blairavon for the 
 minister to come up to lunch after morn- 
 ing service on Sundays, and stay till late 
 in the afternoon. Allan had to drive into 
 Ayr in order to catch the English mail, so 
 at five o'clock he came into the drawing- 
 room to say good-bye. On coming to Miss 
 Innes, he bellowed out, 
 
 ' Good-bye, Aunt Mary.' 
 
 'Eh?' 
 
 ' Good-bye, I am going up to Oxford.' 
 
 ' Oh, good-bye, Mr. Macfarlane, thank 
 you so much for your excellent sermon
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 77 
 
 this morming, I have not heard such a 
 good one for many years.' 
 
 This was probably true, as she certainly 
 had not heard one at all for nearly twenty 
 years. 
 
 ' It isn't Mr. Macfarlane, it's Allan/ 
 shrieked Allan. 
 
 ' Eh ? Xo. I shan't be here next 
 Sunday.' 
 
 ' Come on, Allan, you will be late,* 
 called Richard from the hall ; so Allan left 
 and never saw the old lady again, as she 
 died in the end of the following March, 
 and her sister following her in a few 
 weeks, they disappear from this story for 
 ever. 
 
 A week after Allan had gone up, he 
 had a letter from his mother to say that 
 Francis had gone back to India. That ' he 
 had evidently been making love to Jane 
 the pretty housemaid for a very long time, 
 and had given her a great many presents 
 which she had accepted, and Francis,
 
 78 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 tliinking that his advances were being 
 received with favour, had proposed, and on 
 being unhesitatingly refused had taken it 
 very much to heart, and, announcing his 
 intention of going to be killed in the war 
 in Eygpt, had started the previous day 
 from Glasgow. Jane had behaved very 
 badly and was dismissed,' etc., etc.
 
 79 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ' Sic transit gloria mundi.' 
 
 George and Amy were married in the fol- 
 lowing September, and Allan went up for 
 his last year at Oxford. He had read 
 really hard and well, and being possessed 
 of a fair amount of brains, and havino^ o^ot 
 a thorough grip of his subject, was feeling 
 on rather good terms with himself. It 
 certainly did him a great deal of credit 
 that he had managed to throw off success- 
 fully all his old habits of wasting time, and 
 devoting his attention solely to amusement 
 and athletics. He was not industrious by 
 nature, and, as there was no shadow of a 
 prospect of his ever having to make his 
 own living, his application was praise-
 
 80 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 worthy. It is so very easy not to work at 
 Oxford, even for the man whose very ex- 
 istence depends on his exertions and suc- 
 cess in the schools, and in consequence all 
 the more credit is due to Allan for his real 
 hard work, though I am afraid he did it 
 'just to show he could,' as he himself had 
 said. 
 
 At the end of term Winckworth, who 
 was his history tutor, said to him, 
 
 ' I think you have fully made up for 
 your two first years' idleness, Innes, by 
 your work in the last year. I must say 
 that I am glad that all the men with whom 
 you associated when you first came up 
 have gone down, and left you free to work.' 
 
 'Yes, sir, one can only learn by experi- 
 ence, and I must say that, if I had my time 
 in Oxford over again, I would not choose 
 those sort of men for my friends. I sup- 
 pose I was flattered by the attention of 
 men like Thomas, when I was a fresh- 
 man ; but now I quite agree with you such
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 81 
 
 men as Castello and Ingersoll are much 
 better fellows. What do you think of my 
 chance in the schools, sir ?' 
 
 ' Well, Innes, if you go on as you have 
 been doing till June, I do not see that 
 there is any chance of your not getting a 
 first, that is to say, if you keep your head 
 in the schools. I am very pleased with 
 the way you have been going on, because 
 it isn't easy for a man who has the position 
 you have as captain* of the 'Varsity at 
 football to read regularly, but I daresay 
 that your experience in this term last year 
 over the Caledonian dinner gave you a 
 lesson.' 
 
 'Yes, sir ; but I think I would rather be 
 captain of the 'Varsity than get a first.' 
 
 ' I daresay you would, Innes, now ; but 
 possibly your ideas on that subject may 
 chano-e a few vears hence.' 
 
 'Well, good-bye, sir. I am going down 
 
 * ^ly friend Mr. A. G. G. A. must pardon me for mak- 
 ing Allan captain of Oxford in a year rendered memorable 
 by his own brilliant presidency. 
 
 VOL. II. G
 
 82 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 to-morrow morning, and the match is on 
 
 Wednesday.' 
 
 ' Good-bye, Innes. I hope you'll win.' 
 ' Thank you-, sir, we ought to.' 
 
 The Rectory Field, Blackheath, the scene 
 of many a fierce struggle between the two 
 universities at football. A beautiful, mild, 
 grey day in December. Around the ropes 
 an eager and anxious throng, composed 
 chiefly of young men, are waiting in a state 
 of suppressed excitement. It is just on 
 the stroke of three, the time for the match 
 to be^rin. In a few minutes the two fifteens 
 come out of the pavilion — and as Allan 
 stepped into the field carrying the ball, a 
 perfect yell of ' Oxford !' arose from the 
 Oxford partisans, to be repeated a moment 
 after, only from other throats shouting 
 another name, when the Cambridge team 
 appeared. Then came a confused babble 
 of voices, as the onlookers recognized their 
 friends among the players, and pointed
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 83 
 
 them out to non-university men who did 
 not know them. Then came a deep si- 
 lence. Allan had said to himself that day 
 that he was the proudest man in England, 
 and I daresay he was. 
 
 It is curious to mark the dead hush that 
 comes over a crowd before a grame is start- 
 ed. If any of my readers have been at 
 Lord's when any great match, say England 
 V. Australia, is beins^ decided, thev will 
 know what is meant. Before the bowler 
 starts to bowl, at a critical stasre of the 
 match, one can almost hear one's heart 
 beat ; if the ball passes into the wicket- 
 keeper's hands untouched, a vast sigh is 
 heard, and then the same solemn silence 
 follows till the next ball is bowled. If a 
 mcket fall, what a scream of delis'ht comes 
 from the partisans of the fielding side ; and 
 if the ball be cracked to the boundary, a 
 yell of joy issues from the throats of the 
 friends of the batting side. Just such a 
 hush as has been described fell upon the 
 
 g2
 
 84 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 excited spectators on the Rectory Field on 
 that December day in 1884. Allan kicked 
 off, and, directly the ball was kicked, a 
 noise began which lasted during the whole 
 game, only ceasing partially for a few 
 minutes during the interval at half-time. 
 It would be too much to follow all the 
 intricacies of a game at Rugby footbalL 
 As the game went on, the partisans of 
 Oxford became more and more elated, and 
 the partisans of Cambridge became equally 
 depressed, till, at the end of the game, 
 Oxford had won an overwhelming victory. 
 On his way back to the pavilion, Allan 
 was the recipient of many flattering re- 
 marks from his friends, and other mem- 
 bers of the crowd who had no earthly 
 interest in either university, but who 
 thought it the right thing to take a side 
 on the occasion. He pushed his Avay 
 throuo'h the throno- till he reached the 
 pavilion, and when he got inside and was 
 calling for hot water, he heard a scuffle at
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 85 
 
 the door and the sound of a voice which he 
 had a vao^ue idea of havino; heard before. 
 
 ' But I vill see him ; he is my frent. 
 Vat you do, canaille ? Here ! Allin !' 
 
 ' Now, look 'ere. Mr. Frenchman, my 
 orders is that no one goes in to this 'ere 
 pavilion 'cept 'e's a member or a reporter. 
 Now they don't 'ave Frenchmen in the 
 Blackheath Club, and I never 'ear tell as 
 'ow they reports the matches in the French 
 papers ; so you don't get in.' 
 
 At this moment Allan appeared at the 
 door, and De Rochefoucauld — for he it 
 was — shouted, 
 
 ' Mon Dieu, dere 'e is !' and Allan said, 
 ' You can let him in, policeman.' 
 De Rochefoucauld rushed in, and em- 
 braced Allan in front of all the men in the 
 pavilion, at which they laughed ; then he 
 turned round and shook his fist at the 
 policeman, at which he grinned. De 
 Rochefoucauld took hold of Allan bv the 
 shoulders, and held him -at arm's length.
 
 86 INNES OF BLAIR A VON. 
 
 ' Heiii, moil petit ami. How vas it ? Eh ? 
 I vas ill London zis morning wiz Bayard, 
 and I see in ze paper " Oxford and Cam- 
 bridge," and then some names, and one 
 vas Allin Innes, and I said to Bayard, 
 '' Zat is my leetle frent of the ship. Come 
 and see him play sports :" but Bayard said 
 he not vant to see ze English young men 
 fight in ze mud, and so I have com' alone^ 
 and I 'ave shout " Oxford" and '' Allin " 
 till I am 'oarse,' — which was perfectly 
 true — ' and I com' to see and ask 3^0 u vich 
 as von.' 
 
 ' We won easily, Monsieur de Roche- 
 foucauld.' 
 
 ' Ah, I knew you vould vin, but vat 
 matters it who vins. You have ze fight 
 and la gloire. Ah, " vive le football !'^ 
 You must com' and dine wiz me and Bay- 
 ard to-night.' 
 
 Allan said that he could not, as he and 
 five other men were fifoiiio^ to dine too'ether 
 at the Isthmian Club.
 
 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 87 
 
 ' All, that matters not ; bring zem all to 
 dine at ze Grand Hotel wiz me and Bay- 
 ard. Ve go to Paris to-morrow, and shall 
 not see you again. I go now to order 
 special dinner. Yes T 
 
 So they went and had a royal time ; the 
 other men voting Allan's friends ' regular 
 beauties.' 
 
 'By Jove!' said one, 'that's the best 
 dinner I ever ate in my life. I must say 
 that we English are a long way behind the 
 Parisians in our ideas of food and drink.' 
 
 On the next day, Allan went to stay 
 with Lady Grizel at her house in Rutland 
 Gate, after having made De Rochefoucauld 
 and Bayard promise to come and stay with 
 him at Blairavon the next time they were 
 in England. 
 
 ' I have no one in the house, my dear,' 
 said Lady Grizel, ' because I wanted to 
 have you to myself for these few days 
 which you have spared to me.' 
 
 ' I would stay longer, Lady Grizel, only
 
 88 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 I promised George and Amy to go to 
 Ardarrochar for a week, and mother will 
 want me at Blairavon after that. I must 
 go home on Monday night.' 
 
 ' Very well, dear, I must make the most 
 of you, while you are here.' 
 
 ' You are far too kind to me. Lady Grizel. 
 I am afraid you will spoil me utterly.' 
 
 ' I don't think so, Allan. I do Avish I 
 could make you my heir, dear. But it is 
 impossible. Somerton's cousin is going to 
 marry too, soon. You mustn't mind my 
 talking to you like this, dear. You know 
 by this time that I regard you just as if 
 you were my oAvn son.' 
 
 ' I daresay 1 shall be much better with- 
 out the money. Lady Grizel. I shall have 
 quite enough.' 
 
 On the Sunday following, Allan asked 
 Lady Grizel to go to Westminster Abbey, 
 as he had never been to service there in 
 his life. They went. After service, it 
 being a bright, clear day, Allan j^roposed
 
 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 89 
 
 that they should Avalk back to Rutland 
 Gate : so Lady Grizel dismissed the car- 
 riage and they walked back. 
 
 Allan was apt, as possibly you may have 
 discovered, to talk a little wildly at times. 
 Most of what he said had, as a rule, a 
 solid basis of common sense, though it 
 may have been somewhat crudely ex- 
 pressed. He was silent for a time ; but 
 when they had got well over Westminster 
 Bridge, he said, 
 
 ' I think that our religion is only possi- 
 ble in a place like that, and with beautiful 
 music. I think that the music, in fact, is 
 the only thing that has any influence upon 
 me — a good sermon impresses one for the 
 time, but one can't remember it, whereas 
 one can carry away music. I think there 
 is nothing more inconceivably dreary than 
 the service we have at Blairavon. Long- 
 winded, monotonous prayers, an equally 
 long-winded and uninteresting sermon, 
 and then those awful psalms sung through
 
 90 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 the nose, iis only the Scotch 2:)easants can 
 sing through the nose. Many of the 
 j)salms are beautiful enough in them- 
 selves, only they are spoilt by that horrible 
 droning. Our religion is a terrible farce, 
 after all. I thoroughly agree with Rous- 
 seau when he calls it "organized hypo- 
 crisy." Look at the City of Glasgow bank 
 directors. I don't believe in public wor- 
 ship. How many of all those people in 
 the Abbey came to worship God, I wonder? 
 The women came to show their bonnets, 
 and the men to look at the women ;' and 
 then, as though he were merely express- 
 ing a thought aloud, he murmured, 
 
 ' Oh, we too as well can look 
 
 Whited thought and cleanly life 
 As the priest, above his book 
 Leering at his neighbour's wife.' 
 
 ' My dear Allan, what are you talking 
 about ? I hope you are iiot referring to 
 me. I am perfectly well aware that I am 
 not any better than my neighbours, but I 
 hope you arc not coupling me with your-
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 91 
 
 self ill your quotation. My dear boy, you 
 set far too high a standard for iis poor 
 mortals/ 
 
 ' Xo, I don't, Lady Grizel. I beg your 
 pardon : that is rude. I mean I don't in- 
 tend to. But public worship always 
 annoys me. I feel that I am myself a 
 part of the whole farce. That's why I say 
 that music is the only thing that has any 
 effect upon me in church. You must have 
 something to lift you out of yourself. In 
 church there are hundreds of thino;s to take 
 one's attention off what is o-oino- on. I am 
 afraid I express myself very coarsely. In 
 private one can rivet one's attention on the 
 subject, and really show one's reverence to 
 God.' 
 
 ' I quite agree with you, Allan dear, that 
 public worship isn't much good for a great 
 many people, but it is the outward emblem 
 of our faith, and is necessar}^ for us weaker 
 vessels, at least so we are told. But still 
 I don't think that you ought to make such
 
 92 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 sweeping assertions. Allan, the longer you 
 can keep tlie simple faith of your fathers 
 the happier you will be. Public worship 
 is supposed to be the bond which knits 
 those of our faith together, and without 
 such a bond we are told the whole fabric 
 Avould collapse. I hope, dear, that 
 although you find public worship irksome 
 and contrary to your views of what ought 
 to be, you are not slipping into sceptic- 
 ism in any way. I, for my part, am con- 
 tent to accept, with certain mental reserva- 
 tions, the faith of my ancestors. It is a 
 very simple faith, and, to my mind, need- 
 lessly encompassed by all kinds of forms 
 and observances, which cramp it rather 
 than allow it free scope. I know that the 
 tendency of the age is to examine the 
 whole matter from a scientific point of 
 view, and I think it is a great pity. I can- 
 not understand why people trouble them- 
 selves about it, because they can never get 
 any further in the matter. Xobody can
 
 INXES OF BLAIRxVVOX. 93 
 
 ever know the truth, and the whole ques- 
 tion merely resolves itself into an argument 
 towards probabilities. It seems to me to 
 be an entirely unnecessary waste of time, 
 brains, and labour. Xo effort of science 
 can ever pierce the veil which hangs before 
 the origin of the world. Science may solve 
 the problem of the origin of life to its own 
 complete satisfaction, but there is some- 
 thing before that, and again something 
 before that^ and so on for ever and ever. 
 The contemplation of infinity is not a 
 mental exercise which can bear much fruit.' 
 ' I don't, for a moment, Lady Grizel, in- 
 tend to take up the standpoint of a lot of 
 men in Oxford, who boldly confess them- 
 selves atheists, sceptics, unbelievers, it 
 doesn't matter much what you call them, 
 because they are of no account, the major- 
 ity of whom have never thought of the 
 matter seriously for fi\(d minutes. All I 
 contend is, at present at any rate, that our 
 system of worship is all wrong. I know
 
 94 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 perfectly well that there must be some 
 recognised form for what you call frail 
 mortals. Something tangible which one 
 can appeal to. It is like constitutional 
 monarchy, an excellent puppet useless 
 and expensive in itself, and yet at the 
 same time most necessary. I think it 
 ought to be made as beautiful as possible, 
 and not dreary and dismal as it is in so 
 many places. I have curious notions on 
 the subject. Lady Grizel, and at present 
 they have taken no concrete form. — Here 
 we are at the house.' 
 
 Allan was down to breakfast before Lady 
 Orizel on Monday morning, and found a 
 letter from his father awaiting him. He 
 j^icked it up and said to himself, ^ That's 
 curious ! I wonder why father has written 
 to me when he knew I was comino: home 
 to-night?' He put it down on the table 
 again, and picked up the Standard^ and 
 read the sporting news of the previous 
 Saturday, and glanced over the rest of the
 
 IXNES OF BLAIR A VOX. 95 
 
 paper saying, ' H'm, that'll keep till after 
 breakfast.' 
 
 He took up his father's letter and opened 
 it and beo^an to read, and as he read his 
 face became pale, and finally he dropped 
 it with a groan, just as Lady Grizel came 
 into breakfast. 
 
 ' My dear boy, what is the matter?' 
 Allan did not answer, but merely point- 
 ed to the letter, which she picked up and 
 read thus : — 
 
 ' My dear Allax, — T should have tele- 
 graphed to you to-day, only, as you know, 
 the telegraph-office is not open here on 
 Sunday. I received a letter from Mr. Reid 
 this morning, which tells me in as plain 
 words as possible that the Black Hawk 
 Comj^any has stopped papnent. It is no 
 use mincino^ matters. It means this, that 
 for the present, at least. I am ruined. I 
 must say I cannot understand why Reid 
 has given me no intimation of this previ-
 
 96 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 ously, because it is practically impossible 
 that he could not have seen signs of the 
 mine giving out. His letter simply states 
 the bare fact. I must, of course, immedi- 
 ately go out to Australia to investigate the 
 matter. I think you had better come home 
 at once, as arrangements will have to be 
 made about your affairs without delay. — 
 Your affectionate father.' 
 
 ' Oh, my poor boy, you must come and 
 live with me. I have saved enough money 
 to make a deed of gift to you, to provide 
 you with a comfortable income for life. 
 You must stay at Oxford, Allan, and let 
 me pay your debts. Oh, Allan, how dread- 
 fully sorry I am for you !' and Lady Grizel 
 stroked his bowed head as she spoke. 
 ' Come, dear, you must have some break- 
 fast.' 
 
 Allan got up looking very white, and 
 said, 
 
 ' I don't think I care for any breakfast,
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 97 
 
 Lady Grizel. I must go home. After all, 
 it is nothing. It is only a loss of money. 
 I can make my own way, but I could kill 
 myself when I think on those two wasted 
 years at Oxford. Xo, Lady Grizel, I shall 
 not go back there. I will go out to Aus- 
 tralia with my father, and start life there 
 again, as he did.' 
 
 ' You will be lost there. Australia is a 
 thing of the past for fortune-making ; be- 
 sides, it is a confession of weakness to leave 
 England.' 
 
 ' But what else can I do. Lady Grizel? 
 Positively the only thing open to me is to 
 be ordained, and I ivill not do that.' 
 
 Lady Grizel did not argue the point with 
 him. Allan went out after breakfast, say- 
 ing to Lady Grizel, 
 
 ' I am ofoino^ for a lono^ walk. You 
 must not think me rude — but I want to 
 think. I shall go by the 10.30 from 
 Euston.' 
 
 ' Don't do anything rash, dear.' 
 
 VOL. II. H
 
 98 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 Allan smiled a wintry smile, and said, 
 ' I am not likely to do anything of that 
 sort, Lady Grizel.' 
 
 He went along past Knight sbridge, past 
 Hyde Park Corner into Piccadilly, all 
 along Piccadilly, and then, not knowing 
 where he was going, through the streets 
 which are now Shaftesbury Avenue, until 
 he suddenly discovered that he was in a 
 part of London which he did not know, 
 and, moreover, his ears were assailed by 
 sounds to Avhich he w^as not accustomed, 
 and his nose was regaled by some very 
 curious and strange odours. He stopped 
 and looked for a policeman, and, finding 
 none, he picked his way among the broken 
 pots, decaying vegetables, squalling chil- 
 dren, and slatternly women, as well as he 
 could, and was the object of many remarks 
 otherwise than complimentary from the 
 few sodden-looking men who were leaning 
 against their door-posts, smoking. As he 
 was going to ask the way politely, he
 
 INNES OF BLAIKAVON. 99 
 
 found that he was practically surrounded 
 by as evil-looking a crew of men and wo- 
 men as one could well wish to see. Two 
 or three boys of sixteen or seventeen with 
 aged, crime-stamped faces, came running 
 up. 
 
 ' 'Ere's a barney, boys,' said one. — ' Oi 
 guess 'e's muggy,' said another. — ' Moi 
 oyes, ain't 'e a gorger,' said the first 
 speaker. ' Look at 'is wipe.' 
 
 As he said it, he made an attempt to 
 snatch Allan's handkerchief, an attempt 
 which was frustrated by a girl who inter- 
 vened. Though she could not have been 
 more than eighteen, her face was haggard 
 and drawn, and her eyes, bereft of the 
 brilliance and clearness of youth, had a 
 weary look ; she still had the remains of 
 great personal beauty. She began to fawn 
 upon Allan, and even took him by the 
 lappel of his coat and whispered into his 
 ear, when she was brushed aside by a huge, 
 red-faced virago, who said, 
 
 h2
 
 100 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 ' You 'old yer jaw, Mariar, 'e don't want 
 none o' you ; don't yer see 'e's got the 
 blues? Now then, my dookie, tip us a 
 bit o' the blunt, will yer? Make it a bulL 
 S'help me, I ain't 'ad a good slap-up drunk 
 for four days.' 
 
 At this point a villainous-looking Her- 
 cules, Avith a terrible black eye and a patch 
 across his nose, which was inflamed to a 
 fearful extent with drink, elbowed his way 
 through the crowd, and, tossing the woman 
 aside with an oath, said, 
 
 ' Give a cove a chawnce, can't yer ?^ 
 Then to Allan, ' Now then, guv'ner, wot 
 yer goin' to stand ?' 
 
 Allan was in a state of complete be- 
 widerment ; he had managed to get his 
 back up against the Avail of a house, and 
 he kncAV by this time that he Avas in one 
 of those low parts of London Avhich he had 
 read of, but had ne\^er seen. He Avas 
 utterly at a loss Avhat to do. He AA^as just 
 going to offer them money if they Avould
 
 INNES OF BLAIKAVOX. 101 
 
 show him the way out into the civilized 
 streets again, when a young man on the 
 outskirts of the crowd cried, 
 
 ' 'Ell and Tommy, 'ere's the coppers.' 
 
 In an instant, men, women, and children 
 melted away like a dream, and the street 
 resumed the aspect it had worn on Allan's 
 entrance. The men were leaning against 
 their doors again. The women returned to 
 their work and their cursing. Allan walked 
 up to the two policemen and asked the way. 
 
 ' What on earth do you mean by coming 
 in here, sir?' said one. 
 
 Allan said that he had wandered there 
 without knowing it. 
 
 ' Well, you can consider yourself un- 
 common lucky to come out with a whole 
 skin. Let me advise you to be a little 
 more careful in future. Why, I wouldn't 
 come in 'ere without my mate for ^ve 
 'undred pounds in the day-time even, and 
 as for the night — well, I don't suppose I 
 should ever come out again, specially if I
 
 102 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 had any money or joolery on me like you/ 
 
 They put Allan into Holborn, and he 
 found his way back to Rutland Gate. 
 
 ' Don't do anything without first seeing 
 me, Allan,' Lady Grizel said to him as he 
 drove away to catch the train. 
 
 ' I will come and see you before I go 
 out to Australia,' said Allan. A wave of 
 the hand, and he was gone. 
 
 Allan took a third-class ticket to Scot- 
 land, and in company with a garrulous 
 bajxiTian and a drunken sailor made his 
 way north. Sleep was impossible. The 
 wheels seemed to din the one word ' Ruin ' 
 into his brain. It was with a sigh of re- 
 lief that he got out, in the raw morning of 
 December 22nd, at Carlisle to change into 
 the Ayr train. He found Jack waiting for 
 him at the station at home, looking very 
 pale and frightened. 
 
 ' Oh, Allan, father is very ill, he had a 
 sort of fit last night after dinner, and now 
 he's delirious.'
 
 INXES OF BLAIRAVON. 103 
 
 Mrs. Innes kissed Allan in silence when 
 lie came in, and when they were going up- 
 stairs she said, 
 
 ' He is very ill, dear.' 
 
 ' I must see him, mother.' 
 
 He went up to his father's room, and 
 when he saw the wide open, rolling, soul- 
 less eyes, he put his head down on the bed 
 and wept. 
 
 Allan asked the doctor what was the 
 matter precisely with his father. The 
 doctor tried to assume an air of confi- 
 dence which he was far from feeling, and 
 said, 
 
 ' Well, my dear young sir, I cannot 
 give you any specific name for the disease. 
 We saw a great deal of this sort of thing 
 after the failure of the City of Glasgow 
 bank. It arises from some great mental 
 shock. Your mother tells me that your 
 father received some very bad news about 
 money matters the day before yesterday. 
 But time, sir, time will put it all right — I
 
 104 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 hope. He must be kept in perfect quiet, 
 and in a week or so I hope we shall see a 
 change for the better. I shall come down 
 every morning from Glasgow until any 
 danger there may be is over. Your local 
 doctor seems an able man. Good-bye, sir, 
 good-bye.' 
 
 Allan saw very plainly that, although 
 the doctor tried to encourage him, he 
 really was very anxious about his father. 
 Four long, anxious days passed, and on 
 the evening of the fifth after the doctor 
 had left, and while Allan was in the room, 
 his father awoke from a restless troubled 
 doze, and said in a feeble voice, 
 
 ' Is that you, Allan ?' 
 
 Allan, with a voice of ill-concealed 
 delight, answered, 
 
 ' Yes, father, don't talk. You are not 
 very well, and the doctor says you must 
 have rest.' 
 
 ' Rest, ah, yes, rest ; something happen- 
 ed — and I can't remember what it is — my
 
 ixnt:s of blairavon. 105 
 
 head seems weak.' Then, with a groan, 
 he said, ' Ah, I remember ' 
 
 Those were the last words he ever spoke. 
 From that moment he became weaker and 
 weaker, and on the morning of the 20th 
 he died. 
 
 Grief, deej), inassuageable grief reigned 
 over the house which one short week before 
 had known little else but peace and happi- 
 ness for nearly ten years. 
 
 Allan went about making arrangements 
 for the funeral with a dull, aching pain at 
 his heart, that he then thought would 
 remain there for ever. 
 
 On the last day of the old year, Richard 
 Innes was laid to rest in the tomb of his 
 ancestors. The o:round was covered to 
 the depth of a foot with snow, but, not- 
 withstanding that, members of all the 
 county families from far and near came to 
 do honour to the man who in so few years 
 had completely won their respect and ad- 
 miration. They all knew, for ill news flies
 
 106 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 apace, that they were not only looking on 
 death, but that in all probability destitu- 
 tion, or something very like it, was behind. 
 The guests had gone, with the exception 
 of General Ainslie, who was staying on to 
 help and advise Allan what to do. Late 
 in the afternoon of the funeral, Allan was 
 sitting in the library before the fire with 
 Reid's letter lying open in his hand. He 
 then saw it for the first time. It was very 
 short. It ran thus : 
 
 ' Dear Dick, 
 
 ' It is no use trying to break 
 the matter gently. It comes to this. The 
 Black Hawk has run dry. I have sus- 
 pended payment. I would have telegraphed, 
 but couldn't explain properly. There is 
 nothing to be done. I have done my best 
 for you. Condolence is useless. 
 
 ' Yours ever, 
 
 ' Harry Reid.' 
 
 As Allan was sitting looking at the
 
 IXNES OF BLAIRAVON. 107 
 
 letter, the general came in and laid his 
 hand on Allan's shoulder. 
 
 ' Allan, my poor boy, I am terribly 
 sorry for you. But you are young, and 
 must make your Avay. I have just been 
 talking to your mother, and we have come 
 to the conclusion you ought to finish your 
 Oxford career, and either take orders, or 
 try to get some secretaryship or other. It 
 would be a complete waste of money if 
 you did not take your degree, and there 
 are heaj^s of things in which an Oxford 
 degree will be of great service to you.' 
 
 'But, general, have you read this ?' 
 
 ' Xo, my boy, I haven't; but your 
 mother told me its contents. It means 
 that, with the exception of what your 
 father may have in the bank to his current 
 account, you have nothing but Blairavon.' 
 
 ' How am I to continue at Oxford ^ 
 general? My allowance ought to come 
 on the 1st of January, and of course I 
 haven't a cent.'
 
 108 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 ' Oh, I daresay we shall manage that, 
 Allan ; it is only for two terms more, you 
 see.' 
 
 Allan thought of the two hundred 
 pounds' worth of debts or so he had still 
 to j)^y off, and wondered who would 
 manage that. 
 
 ' I think I ought to go into business, 
 general.' 
 
 ' My boy, you are too old to start busi- 
 ness now. Jack tells me that he is quite 
 willing to go into a bank as soon as he 
 can ; but you must go back to Oxford.' 
 
 Allan said that he would think about it, 
 that he could not decide at once. 
 
 ' And then there is another thing, Allan 
 — this house must be advertised at once 
 to be let. I don't sujDpose that you will 
 get more than about three hundred and 
 fifty pounds a-year for it, because it is 
 enormous, and there is no shooting about it 
 in comparison to its size, and your mother 
 must have means to live upon at once.'
 
 INNES OF BLAIKAVON. 109' 
 
 Allan agreed, and it was finally settled 
 that Mrs. Innes should live in Edinburgh,, 
 Jack with her, and that Blairavon should 
 be let as soon as possible. 
 
 On the following morning Allan had a 
 letter from Lady Grizel, asking him — nay,, 
 imploring him to go back to Oxford, and 
 to allow her to pay his expenses ; and 
 that, if he did not care to take the money,, 
 to regard it as a loan to be paid back when- 
 ever he chose. Allan thought long over 
 this, and came to the conclusion that, after 
 all the kindness which Lady Grizel had 
 shown him, it would be ungrateful in him 
 not to accede to this request ; so at lunch 
 he informed the o:eneral that he was ofoinor 
 back to Oxford. 
 
 ' That's right, Allan ; it is much the best 
 thing you can do, and you will never be 
 sorry for it.' 
 
 A week after the house had been ad- 
 vertised, a letter came from a firm of 
 solicitors in London, saying that Blairavon
 
 110 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 had been taken by a client of tbeirs on the 
 recommendation of Lady Somerton, at the 
 rent asked, viz., three hundred and fifty 
 pounds per annum. The general was quite 
 elated over this. 
 
 ' Now we have things straight at once ; 
 this is very fortunate. You may go back 
 to Oxford without any misgivings as to 
 your mother, Allan.' 
 
 Allan, in a dull way, said he supjDOsed 
 it was very lucky, and the general said, 
 
 ' Come, Allan, it is no use moping, my 
 lad. Grief and hardship come to all of 
 us in our time, and you mustn't give way 
 to it ; the only thing to do is to face all 
 your troubles like a man.' 
 
 ' Yes, I know you are right, general, 
 but I simply can't get over the awful sud- 
 denness of his death, and I am constantly 
 tormented by remorse at having so utterly 
 wasted my time at Oxford.' 
 
 ^ Pooh, nonsense, my dear boy, it is no 
 use crying over spilt milk ; that's all over,
 
 IXXES OF BLAIRAVON. Ill 
 
 and you can't recall it, so wliat's tlie use 
 of bothering about it. All you can do now 
 is to start fair and make up for it.' 
 
 ' Yes, general, I think that's the only 
 thing to be done. I have been thinking, 
 thouo:h, that I ouo-ht to make some effort 
 to set inquiries going in Australia about 
 the Black Hawk. It is very curious that 
 the mine should have collapsed all of a 
 sudden like that without any warning.' 
 
 ' I strongly suspect that that man Reid 
 had a good deal to do with it ; a slippery 
 customer I expect, eh?* 
 
 ' My dear general, Reid a slippery cus- 
 tomer ! Why, he would have done any- 
 thing for my father.' 
 
 ' Hum — ha — yes. I am inclined to look 
 shyly on those extremely accommodating 
 persons. However, you maybe quite sure 
 that he has made off with all the available 
 money.' 
 
 ' But, then, there's the mine itself,' said 
 Allan.
 
 112 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 ' Yes, but I think that your father was 
 unwise enough to give this man a power 
 of attorney, and consequently he can have 
 sold the mine, or done anything he pleased 
 with it.' 
 
 ' So he could,' said Allan ; and for the 
 first time a vague suspicion came over him 
 that Reid might have deceived them. 
 
 He banished it from his mind at once 
 as impossible ; and then, Avhen he remem- 
 bered that his mother had never cared for 
 Reid, he could not keep the thought out of 
 his head, though he hated himself for it all 
 the time. He, however, made up his mind 
 to go to Australia some day, and investi- 
 gate matters carefully. That ' some day ' 
 is a very indefinite matter, and it is the 
 time to which most things are relegated. 
 Allan found that there was practically no- 
 thing in the bank to his father's current 
 account ; enough to pay the expenses of 
 the funeral and for his mother's re- 
 moval to Edinburgh, whence, having seen
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 113 
 
 her settled in a small house in the west- 
 end, he went at the end of January, with 
 a heavy heart, back to Oxford once more. 
 
 VOL. II.
 
 114 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ' Behold, we know not anything ; 
 I can but trust that good shall fall 
 At last — far off — at last, to all, 
 And every winter change to spring.' 
 
 As Allan drove from the station to St. 
 Peter's he looked about him in amazement. 
 Could this be Oxford ? Everything seemed 
 to be changed, there was no life about the 
 place ; the very buildings which he loved 
 seemed to have lost their beauty, and the 
 whole place seemed to have assumed an 
 air of dreariness which he had never no- 
 ticed before. Poor Allan ! The dreariness 
 was in his own heart. 
 
 The porter touched his hat with a grin 
 when Allan alighted at the lodge of St. 
 Peter's, and said, ' Glad to see you up
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 115 
 
 again, sir,' and then, noticing Allan's black 
 clothes and careworn face, the grin faded 
 from his face, and he was silent. In his 
 lodge he remarked to the under-portcr that 
 ' somethin' 'ad 'appened to Hinnes ; 'e looks 
 just like a ghost, and 'e's dressed in black.' 
 Allan went to his rooms and found a 
 letter on his table from Lady Grizel's 
 bankers, to say that they had instructions 
 from her to place the sum of three hundred 
 pounds to the credit of Mr. Innes at the 
 Old Bank in Oxford. He sat down and 
 wrote a receipt for the money, and then 
 put on his gown, took up his cap, and went 
 out to Hall. On the staircase he met 
 Winckworth, who said, 
 
 ' Ah, Innes, I have just come up — I am 
 o;lad to see you. I was verv sorrv to read 
 of your father's death in the paper. Come 
 up and see me after Hall, will you ?' 
 Allan merely nodded. 
 He went through the cloisters towards 
 the Hall, and, as he met the various men, 
 
 I 2
 
 116 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 they came and shook hands with him in 
 silence, showing their sympathy, hke Eng- 
 lishmen, by the pressure of their hands. 
 Ingersoll came up from behind him, and,, 
 passing his arm through Allan's, said, 
 
 ' Innes, old chap, you must let me come 
 and read with you this term ; you will turn 
 to moping and brooding if you are alone.' 
 
 ' Thanks, Ingersoll, I wish you would.' 
 
 After dinner Allan went up to Winck- 
 worth's rooms, and Winckworth said, 
 
 ' I don't believe in expressions of con- 
 dolence, Innes : I wanted to talk to you 
 about your schools. You must get a first. 
 I hope your accession to wealth won't pre- 
 vent your working any more,' he added, 
 with a smile. 
 
 Allan gave a short laugh, and said, 
 
 ' Accession to wealth ! My dear sir, I 
 am literally without one penny in the 
 world.' 
 
 ' Oh, I beg your pardon, Innes, I always 
 understood your father was a wealthy man.'
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 117 
 
 ' So he was, and the sudden loss of it 
 killed him.' 
 
 Winck worth was silent for a while, then he 
 rose, and, going over to Allan, said, kindly, 
 
 ' I am very sorry, Innes. I don't think 
 we will talk about your schools to-night.' 
 
 As the term went on, Allan found that 
 he could not work proj)erly. He was 
 utterly unsettled in every way. All sorts 
 of thoughts and considerations, which had 
 had no previous place there, came throng- 
 ing into his mind. He was restless, and 
 •constantly found his attention wandering. 
 
 ' It's no use,' he said one night in the 
 last week of term to Ingersoll, who was 
 reading in his rooms, ' I can't work pro- 
 perly. I shall get a second, and, after all, 
 what does it matter ? I don't know what 
 on earth I shall do when I go down. I 
 will not be a parson.' 
 
 At this moment there was a tap at the 
 •door, and Castello put in his head, and, in 
 his .mincing voice, said,
 
 118 INNES OF BLAIR A VON. 
 
 ' May I come in?' 
 
 ' Of course you may,' said Allan ; ^ bring 
 a chair up to the fire, not that big one — 
 you can't get that one in ; bring the small 
 one/ 
 
 ' Thank you, no,' said Castello. 
 ' Why will you never sit on a cane- 
 bottomed chair, Castello ?' said Ingersoll. 
 
 ' Because I object to have my posterior 
 covered with regular hexagons,' answered 
 Castello. 
 
 Allan smiled and said, 
 ' Sit on what and where you like ; come 
 on, I have chucked reading for to-night. 
 Let us talk.' 
 
 ' Why won't you be a parson, Innes ?' 
 said Ingersoll. 
 ' Because I won't.' 
 
 ' That isn't a very powerful reason, is it ?' 
 ' No, it isn't. And, if you want a better 
 one, I will give it you.' 
 
 Castello, in his small voice, said, 
 
 ' I am going to take orders, Innes ; let
 
 IXNES OF BLAIRAVON. 119 
 
 me have the benefit of your sapient reasons 
 why I should not do so.' 
 
 ' Will you tell me why you are going to 
 take orders ?' said Allan. 
 
 Castello shrugged his shoulders, and 
 said, 
 
 ' Well, the governor wants it. and it is 
 a respectable way of gaining one's liveli- 
 hood, at any rate.' 
 
 ' Exactly !' said Allan. ' You have said 
 exactly what I wanted you to say. You 
 are going to be a parson because some one 
 else wants you to do it, and because it is 
 a respectable way of gaining a livelihood. 
 It makes me angry to think of it. Do you 
 think Christ's disciples thought whether it 
 was a respectable way of gaining a liveli- 
 hood, when they took it up as a profession?' 
 
 ' But, my dear Innes, aren't we told that 
 the labourer is worthy of his hire?' said 
 Ingersoll. 
 
 ' I don't deny it,* said Allan, getting ex- 
 cited, ' and no one would want the parson
 
 120 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 to starve ; but does it not strike you as 
 mean and despicable that men have to be 
 bribed to become parsons. What are your 
 fat livings, deaneries, and bishoprics but 
 bribes? Come and be good, and teach 
 other people to be good, and we will pay 
 you handsomely and clothe you in purple 
 and fine linen. Did you ever see — meet 
 — or hear of a clergyman Avho would not 
 snap at a good living, and at the same 
 time preach on the text that it is easier for 
 a camel to go through the " needle's eye " 
 than for a rich man to enter into the king- 
 dom of heaven ? I agree with Hendersyde, 
 who was talking to me about it at the 
 Union the other night. He says he re- 
 gards about eighty per cent, of parsons as 
 bare-faced frauds.' 
 
 ' I am glad you can quote an opinion so 
 well worth having as Hendersyde's,' broke 
 in Castello. ' I think him the most con- 
 temptible man I ever had the pleasure of 
 meeting. Deverill described him exactly
 
 ESTNES OF BLAIR AVON. 121 
 
 the other day as " a person who, in his 
 more lucid moments, occasionally had 
 glimpses of the obvious." ' 
 
 Ingersoll smiled, and Allan went on, 
 ' And then you ask me why I don't be- 
 come a parson. I think that a parson 
 should be one who had of his own free 
 will deliberately chosen his j^rofession in 
 his boyhood, and should have been 
 brought up from his boyhood with that 
 idea always before him, and ought not to 
 be one who is shovelled into the Church 
 because everything else has failed, or 
 because he hasn't brains enough to do 
 anything else. It all arises out of that 
 miserable system of not allowing a boy to 
 choose his own profession. It is much 
 better that he should plod on doing his 
 best at what he likes, rather than that he 
 should be forced to make his daily bread 
 by playing the hypocrite. What right has 
 any man to say to his son, you shall be a 
 doctor, or a barrister, or a clergyman,
 
 122 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 whether you like it or not ? You, Castello, 
 are the youngest son. Your father can- 
 not aiford to give you more than your 
 university education, so it is a case of 
 *' take orders." Position and an honour- 
 able means of livelihood. Just think of 
 the men one knows now who are going 
 to take orders and become our spiritual 
 pastors and masters. Take half-a-dozen 
 in this college alone. In a year from now 
 they will be curates, preaching with folded 
 hands and with pious eyes of the pomps 
 and vanities of this wicked world. You 
 know perfectly well the men I mean, 
 notorious for their evil living. They 
 will tell you they only came up to get a 
 degree and become curates, and with a 
 leer they tell you also that one must have 
 experience of the wickedness of the world 
 before one can speak of it with authority 
 to one's flock.' 
 
 ' At any rate, Innes, you will acknow- 
 ledge that it is better for a man to live his
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 123 
 
 evil life before he is ordained, and then, 
 as far as he can, leave it behind him, in- 
 stead of indulging in the lower vices after- 
 wards, as they say the priests of some 
 Roman Catholic countries do.' 
 
 ' Xot at all, it is only a question of 
 custom. So long as the great places in 
 the Church are offered as a prize to the 
 man who is politically wise in his genera- 
 tion, or who has friends at Court, or who 
 can charm the ear with honeyed words, so 
 lono^ will our relio;ion be what it is and 
 what it has been for years and years, a mere 
 farce, sheltering under the mask of pro- 
 bity. I know neither of you believe me, 
 and I don't care if you don't. I am abso- 
 lutely convinced that I am right. What 
 right has a bishoj:) to leave so many thou- 
 sands of 230unds behind him at his death ? 
 Is the Church to be considered among the 
 more lucrative mercantile businesses ? For 
 what does a Welshman, as a rule, take 
 holy orders ? That he may get position.
 
 124 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 How many of those ungainly creatures you 
 see slinking down the Turl into Jesus, 
 from whom a perennial odour of leeks 
 emanates, think they have a divine gift of 
 oratory which they ought to use in the 
 service of their Creator? I don't doubt 
 that they all do fancy themselves capable 
 of great things as orators, and, moreover, 
 they will use their powers — for a con- 
 sideration.' 
 
 ' You are rather hard on the Welshmen, 
 Innes.' 
 
 ' Not a bit of it. Most of those men 
 you see are the sons of small farmers ; 
 they are shot through the schools, with 
 difficulty, I will allow — and naturally 
 prefer position in society, broadcloth, and 
 fine linen, to corduroys and the plough- 
 tail, where they ought to be. They take 
 orders for position, and that is one of the 
 great reasons why the Church in Wales is so 
 unstable. Your ordinary Welsh parson is a 
 boor with a smattering of the dead Ian-
 
 INXES OF BLAIRAVON. 125 
 
 guages and theology, and cares about as 
 much for the immortal souls of his par- 
 ishioners as he does for his neighbour's 
 cat. The only excuse for their taking 
 orders is that, in some cases, the man's 
 own private life is imj^roved thereby, but 
 that is only a selfish view of the matter, 
 and surely the keynote of Christianity is 
 unselfishness.' 
 
 ' Surely you will allow that some of the 
 Welsh parsons are good and clever men, 
 Innes ?' said Ingersoll. 
 
 ' Of course I will allow that some of 
 them are good — but clever, no I that is> 
 to say, not in any way brilliant ; for mere 
 cleverness is a very common quality. 
 There may be eminent men among the 
 clergy in AYales, but they don't show it. 
 Perhaps their innate modesty comj)els- 
 them to hide their light under a bushel. 
 Can you name me one single eminent, 
 really eminent, Welshman in the last fifty 
 years T
 
 126 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 Ingersoll was silent. 
 
 ' No, you can't — of course you can't. 
 They have a poet just now, it's true. I 
 don't know Avhy I am referring to Welsh 
 j)arsons in j)articular. The English are 
 nearly as bad. And yet I don't know. I 
 suppose you both know that very old tale 
 of the Welsh parson who announced that 
 " next Thursday would be Good Friday ; 
 it ought to have been last Frida}^, but in- 
 deed to goodness he did forget." I don't 
 suppose it's true, but the very fact of such 
 a thing being invented about the Welsh 
 parson shows that they are not held in 
 that high esteem which ought to be granted 
 to a clergyman.' 
 
 Castello rose, and said, 
 
 ' Good-night, Innes ; I have no doubt 
 you mean well, but you set too high a 
 standard for us poor ordinary mortals. 
 Besides, you are becoming ribald.' 
 
 ' Don't go, Castello. I don't mean, for 
 one instant, to include you among the
 
 INXES OF BLAIR AVON. 127 
 
 category of black sheep. There are many 
 men who are actuated by the purest and 
 most disinterested motives when they be- 
 come parsons, but I am afraid the majority 
 are not. You must not suppose that I 
 want to tar them all with the same brush. 
 If you quote me a man like Charles Kings- 
 ley, I am dumb. There was a man and a 
 Christian, if you like — and some of the 
 noblest men who ever lived have been 
 parsons, but they are few — they are 
 few.' 
 
 ' Good-night, Innes ; get to bed your- 
 self, it is nearlv one.' 
 
 ' By Jove, so it is ; are you going too, 
 Ino^ersoll ? Good-nisfht.' 
 
 It is a curious thino; that Eno^lishmen 
 should worry themselves and rack their 
 brains over the problems of religion, as 
 many of them do. Can you fancy a Span- 
 iard troubling himself about his immortal 
 soul ? Xot he — he is much too wise or 
 too lazy (which is it?) to do that. He
 
 128 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 secures its safety and well-being in the 
 world to come by paying down hard cash, 
 and he will take care not to pay more than 
 he thinks is absolutely necessary moreover. 
 It is a simpler method certainly that the 
 majority of us Englishmen possess : but 
 business-like traffic and speculation in such 
 an exceedingly intangible commodity as 
 one's soul does not recommend itself to 
 the Englishman, so he contents himself 
 with moral speculation on the subject. 
 
 Allan made up his mind to stay up in 
 Oxford during the Easter vacation, and 
 found no difficulty in persuading Castello 
 and Ingersoll to do the same, and a very 
 j)leasant, quiet time they had. After read- 
 ing all the morning they would stroll to 
 the Upper river, and sail up in centre- 
 boards to Godstow. They had become ac- 
 customed to Allan's ramblings, and his 
 wild ideas for regenerating the world. 
 One glorious April day, when the sun was 
 shining brightly and a strong west wind
 
 INXES OF BLAIRAVON. 129 
 
 was blowing, they were walking to the 
 Upper river, as usual, after lunch. 
 
 ' The river will be awfully high after 
 these last three clays' rain, Innes,' said 
 Ingersoll. 
 
 ' Yes, I expect we shall have some sport 
 getting up to Godstow to-day. But isn't 
 it a glorious day? Look at the j^ollards 
 there just beginning to turn green. It is 
 
 worth living to-day, and yet ' He 
 
 stopped, and his face became sad and over- 
 cast. He was far away from Oxford, by 
 the bedside of his dying father. He soon 
 brightened up again. ' Here we are at 
 the boat-house. Now then, Xed, look 
 sharp with the Daisy^ we are going to do a 
 record up to Godstow and back.' 
 
 ' Why, ye're never goin' to try centre- 
 boardin' to-day. The river's runnin' ten 
 mile an hour.' 
 
 'Yes, we are. I'll manage all right.' 
 
 ' Well, sir, I suppose if you say you're 
 goin' you are goin'. I'll get her round. 
 
 VOL. II. K
 
 130 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 You'll get as far as the bend there, but 
 I'm hanged if you'll get any further with 
 this wind.' 
 
 ' Never mind, we'll try.' 
 
 The Daisy was got ready, and they 
 sailed away very slowly up the stream to 
 the first turn, and by skilful manipulation 
 on the part of Allan, they managed to get 
 within three or four hundred yards of God- 
 stow, but no further. 
 
 ' 'Bout ship, Castello, we can't get any 
 further, and it's getting late.' 
 
 The Avind had been coming in fitful 
 gusts from all quarters for the last quarter- 
 of-an-hour. 
 
 ' It will be hard work f^ettino: down with- 
 out gybing the sail. Come on.' 
 
 She got down all right to the open water 
 about three hundred yards above the boat- 
 house. The wind had been strong when 
 they started, but it had got unsteady, and 
 stronger when it did come. As they were 
 doubling the bend, the wind shifted sud-
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 131 
 
 denly, cauglit the sail on the other side, 
 and over the boat went instantly. Inger- 
 soll and Allan were soon on the bank, as 
 they were only some four yards from the 
 shore, Castello was not so lucky. His 
 head appeared for one instant, and one leg 
 was sticking: out of the' water. He seemed 
 to be going along "with the boat. 
 
 ' Good God, he must be caught in the 
 sheet,' said Allan. 
 
 He opened his knife, plunged in, cut the 
 sheet, and holding it in his hand he got 
 ashore and dragged Castello, who was 
 entangled in it, to the bank. He was not 
 much the worse. He coughed and splut- 
 tered for a time, and then said quietly, 
 
 ' Thanks, Innes, that was a narrow shave. 
 Xearly put an end to my being a parson. 
 "VVe are all " dem'd, moist, unpleasant 
 bodies." Let's run home.' 
 
 ' But the Daisy T 
 
 ^ Oh, she's all right. Ned sees her. 
 He'll get her at the weir.' 
 
 iv 2
 
 132 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 As they came up to the boatman he 
 growled out, 
 
 ' You may think yourselves uncommon 
 lucky to get oiF with a ducking, young 
 gents. No one but a madman would go 
 out a-centreboardin' a day like this — with 
 a flood on, too.' 
 
 ' All right, Ned,' said Allan, ' we are safe 
 anyhow.' 
 
 ' 'Tain't your faults that ye are.' 
 
 Allan laughed, and said, 
 
 'We won't do it never no more;' and 
 then ran back to college.
 
 133 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 * It is only with Kenunciation that Life, properly speak- 
 ing, can be said to begin.' 
 
 A FORTNIGHT before his schools came on, 
 Allan went up to Ardarrochar to take a 
 rest. He felt very uneasy about bis first. 
 He found that, try as he would, he could 
 not keep his attention fixed on his work. 
 He could not concentrate his energies on 
 the matter in hand. His mind was con- 
 stantly wandering off to something else. 
 How easy it is to contemplate an examina- 
 tion with indifference, when nothing de- 
 pends on it. Six months before, Allan was 
 as certain that he would get a first as he 
 Tvas that he would go to bed that night. 
 Nothing depended on it. But now he was
 
 134 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 in an agony of doubt, for his whole exist- 
 ence depended upon it. 
 
 'Well, Allan,' said George, as he met 
 him at the station, ' you don't look par- 
 ticularly bright, you look fagged out — you 
 have been reading too hard.' 
 
 ' No, George, it isn't that. I have read 
 very steadily, but I am worried ; if it 
 didn't matter whether I got a first or not, 
 I think I might get one, but it is the con- 
 stant thinking of the future which worries 
 me and spoils all my reading.' 
 
 ' But why need you worry about it^ 
 Allan ? What have you made up your 
 mind to do ?' 
 
 ' If I get a pretty good first, I shall have 
 a shy at the All Souls Fellowship in De- 
 cember. If I get a second, I suppose I 
 must be a schoolmaster. At any rate, it 
 is a living, and if I am lucky and get into 
 a good public school, there is a chance of 
 something more later. You see, George, I 
 can't wait. I must make money at once^
 
 INXES OF BLAIR AVON. 135 
 
 SO that schoolmastering is practically the 
 only thing open to me.' 
 
 By this time they had reached the house, 
 and Amy was standing inside the door 
 ready to receive them. 
 
 ' Here's Amy. Marriage seems to agree 
 with you,' said Allan, as he kissed her. 
 
 ' It depends a good deal on the person 
 one marries,' answered Amy, looking lov- 
 ingly at George the while. 
 
 ' I think we are pretty happy,' said 
 George, as he put his arm round Amy's 
 waist, and they went into the house. 
 
 After dinner Allan took up the conver- 
 sation practically w^here it had left off when 
 they arrived. 
 
 ' It doesn't seem to matter much now-a- 
 days whether one gets a good class in 
 Mods, or not, if one wants to be a school- 
 master. AVinckworth tells me that my 
 being captain of the 'Varsity at football is 
 every bit as good as a first in Mods, for 
 the business.'
 
 136 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 ' That's very true in one way, Allan. I 
 rather fancy that what Winckworth meant 
 was that a good athlete stands a better 
 chance than a man who has no recommen- 
 dation of that sort. But you must remem- 
 ber that very few of the great j)ublic schools 
 play Rugby football. It would be no re- 
 commendation to you, for instance, at Eton, 
 Harrow, Winchester, or the Charterhouse, 
 and I doubt very much if it would be of 
 much service to you even at Rugby or 
 Marlborough. It is only at the small 
 schools whose reputations are not yet fully 
 established where it would be of much 
 service to you. If you had been captain 
 of the eleven or president of the boat-club, 
 it would have been a different matter.' 
 
 ' I suppose that's true, George. How- 
 ever, I hope that it won't come to school- 
 mastering. Let's hope for the best. I 
 have still a great desire to go out to 
 Australia, and investigate that Black Hawk 
 business. I am not at all sure in my own
 
 INXES OF BLAIR AVON. 137 
 
 mind tliat everything is as it should be in 
 connection with its failing, though I can- 
 not quite bring myself to suspect Reid. 
 Mother does. She says that at first she 
 could not bear the sight of him ; but that, 
 owing to my father's great attachment to 
 him, she allowed her suspicions to be 
 lulled to rest, but that now she is con- 
 vinced that all the time he was untrust- 
 worthy. I wish to goodness we had some 
 trustworthy agent out there ; but now we 
 can do nothing, because it would be so 
 horribly expensive, and, besides, unsatis- 
 factorv.' 
 
 George knew that it was hopeless to 
 offer Allan any pecuniary assistance, and 
 merely replied, 
 
 ' I am afraid it is rather hopeless, Allan. 
 From what I saw of Reid, he struck me as 
 being a very straightforward and honest 
 man ; but, of course, I was too young to 
 judge.' 
 
 'After all, it mi2:ht have been worse. It
 
 138 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 was uncommonly lucky for mother that 
 Blairavon let so soon. By the way, have 
 the people come into it yet ? They took it 
 from April on.' 
 
 George said that it was as yet unoccu- 
 pied, and that the people who had taken 
 it were not coming till August. 
 
 ' I am glad of that. I want to go and 
 see that everything is in order, and I 
 shouldn't have cared to go had other 
 people been in it.' 
 
 Two or three days afterwards they went 
 over to Blairavon, and with a heavy heart 
 Allan went over the now deserted house, 
 the rooms looking very ghostly with the 
 pictures and chairs all shrouded in white. 
 He unlocked the door of what had been 
 his own sitting-room, where he did the 
 very little reading he had ever done at 
 home, and had smoked, and wasted time 
 generally. He looked round it. Every- 
 thing was as he had left it, even to 
 some trout-flies sticking in the wall-paper.
 
 INXES OF BLAIR AVON. 139 
 
 He went to the -svindow and looked out, as 
 lie had looked out hundreds of times be- 
 fore, over the great sea of 'sva^dng elms 
 that dipped gradually to the river below. 
 
 ' I wonder when I shall sit here again ?' 
 he thought to himself. ' Perhaps never.' 
 
 ' It's a bonny place to have to leave, 
 isn't it, George ?' 
 
 ' Yes,' said George ; ' but I hope it won't 
 be for long. Perhaps some one will leave 
 you a fortune, or you will make one. You 
 have a wealthy relative in Africa some- 
 where ?' 
 
 ' Yes, a first cousin of my father's ; but 
 the less said about him the better. I have 
 heard it said that he has three wives alive, 
 and is divorced from none of them ; but as 
 one is in England, another in Australia, 
 and another at the Cape, they are in bliss- 
 ful ignorance of each other's existence. 
 No, I don't think that he is likelv to leave 
 me any money, nor should I be particular- 
 ly pleased to receive it if he did.'
 
 140 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 Allan enjoyed his fortnight at Ar- 
 darrochar immensely. It was the leafy 
 month of June, and the place looked at 
 its best. He did not do much. He was 
 content to potter about with George and 
 Amy, occasionally throwing a fly on the 
 burn in the early morning. 
 
 ' I have lost all my restlessness, I think,' 
 he said to George. ' A year ago this would 
 have bored me. I suppose circumstances 
 do change one's nature more or less : I 
 feel ever so much older than I did. It is 
 only because I have been made to think : 
 I don't suppose I ever really thought 
 before.' 
 
 This was the night before Allan went 
 up for his schools, and George answered 
 him, 
 
 ' What rot you are talking, Allan, about 
 feeling old and your nature changing. 
 You are down on your luck generally, and 
 have got a fit of the " blues " in particular. 
 Wait till you have got a first in the schools,
 
 INKES OF BLAIR AVON. 141 
 
 and are a Fellow of All Souls, and are 
 writing the " History of Xero's favourite 
 Cat," for which you will be paid vast sums, 
 as would be only right for such a valuable 
 contribution to the literature of the nation. 
 Then you will look at things in a very 
 diflferent light. You have all the world 
 before you. You are a mere child at 
 present, in years.' 
 
 Allan laughed, and said, 
 
 ' It is no use being in the blues, that is 
 certain;' then he yawned. ' I must go to 
 bed, George.' 
 
 Allan went up to Oxford, and did much 
 better than he had expected in the schools. 
 The papers seemed to suit him, and he felt 
 that he was at least doing himself jus- 
 tice. He went down immediately after his 
 schools were over, having to come up in 
 three weeks' time for his viva-voce. 
 
 On saying good-bye to Winckworth, who 
 asked him how he thought he had done in 
 schools, he answered,
 
 142 INNES OF BLAIRAVOX. 
 
 ' Well, sir, I hardly like to say. I think 
 that I have clone as good papers as I am 
 capable of, but whether I have got a first 
 or not is a very different matter.' 
 
 ' I sincerely hope you have, Innes ; and, 
 if you have, I also hope you will go in for 
 the All Souls Fellowship in December.' 
 
 ' I fully intend to, sir. I have a couple 
 of hours on my hands before going up to 
 town : will you come and lunch with me 
 at Vincent's Club, and we can talk there. 
 I am abominably hungry.' 
 
 ' Very well, Innes. I have not been 
 inside Vincent's since I was an under- 
 graduate. I am a member, you know.' 
 
 ' Are you, sir ? I thought that it was 
 originally founded as a purely athletic 
 club ?' 
 
 ' Quite right ; it may interest you to 
 know that I rowed for two years in the 
 trials, and was reserve man for the eight 
 in my last year.' 
 
 ' Bv Jove, I never knew that. I thought
 
 INXES OF BLAIR AVON. 143 
 
 you had been a sinu — that is, that you had 
 done nothino' but read all your time/ 
 
 ' That is a very common mistake, Innes, 
 made by all undergraduates. They seem 
 to think that dons could never have been 
 young. They regard them as dry, un- 
 interesting machines, specially constructed 
 for the annoyance of the undergraduate.' 
 
 ' I certainly should have been inclined 
 to regard them all in that light, sir, if I 
 had not known you so well. And you 
 must confess that it is hard to imaoine 
 
 and * nit^ntioning two well-known 
 
 names in Oxford, ' as anything but ani- 
 mated philosophy-grinding machines.' 
 
 Winckworth laughed. 
 
 ' That is true, Innes. Fifteen years ago 
 they looked exactly the same, and fifteen 
 years hence, I expect, they will be very 
 much what they are now ; but still some 
 of us are human, you must admit.' 
 
 ' Of course I do, sir. You have taught 
 me that.'
 
 144 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 ' As to the All Souls Fellowshi2:)s, 
 Innes,' said Winck worth, as they were 
 sitting with a lobster-salad between them 
 at Vincent's, ' I do not doubt that there 
 will be many better firsts than yours, be- 
 cause, you see, you have done all your 
 reading in two years, and many of the 
 other men will have been reading for two 
 years at school before they came up, and 
 another year here before you began. But 
 you have the advantage of knowing most 
 of the resident Fellows, and it goes a long 
 w^ay with them, caeteris paribus^ if a man 
 is a gentleman.' 
 
 ' But these are all castles in the air, sir. 
 If I get my first, all well and good; if I don't 
 — well, then, I shall be a schoolmaster.' 
 
 ' You are sure of a good berth at that,' 
 said Winck worth. 
 
 ' Let us hope so,' said Allan, ' for I shall 
 need it ; but I must say good-bye now. I 
 must go and collect my things for the train, 
 sir. Good-bye.'
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 145 
 
 ' Good-bye, Innes. 1 wish this was the 
 end of your first, instead of your last term/ 
 
 ' That is the fellow,' said Allan to him- 
 self, after he had left him, ' whom every- 
 body slangs and calls inhuman, and dry^ 
 and heartless. Well, I have discovered 
 one thing, and that is, that you never know 
 a man till you do know him ; which is a 
 very wise remark, by the way.' 
 
 Allan came up for his viva-voce^ and in 
 a fortnight after that he read among the 
 names of the Honour School of Modern 
 History, ' Class 2. Innes, Allan : E colL 
 S. Petr.' 
 
 He was staying in Edinburgh at the 
 time with his mother. He brought her 
 the list, and said, 
 
 ' Mother dear, I have only got a second.* 
 
 • I am so sorry, dear, but it doesn't 
 matter much, does it ?' 
 
 ' I suppose not — but now I must get a 
 berth as a schoolmaster.' 
 
 He went down to Ardarrochar for the 
 
 VOL. II. L
 
 146 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 12th of August, and found a large party 
 there. 
 
 ' It's schoolmasterhig after all, you see, 
 George.' 
 
 'Well, Allan, I daresay it may do you 
 some good ; they say that a little hardship 
 is good for one at times, and I must say 
 that I cannot think of anything more in- 
 conceivably bestial than schoolmastering.' 
 
 Allan said, laughingly, 
 
 * But, George, have you never heard it 
 called the noblest profession under the 
 sun ?' 
 
 ' Yes, I have, and I have always thought 
 that the people who called it that were 
 talking arrant nonsense. But where are 
 you going, Allan ?' 
 
 ' Lord knows. I find that what you said 
 is perfectly true. The old public schools 
 won't have me on the strength of my being 
 a Rugby instead of an Association j^l^yer. 
 The newer ones won't have me because my 
 degree isn't good enough ; they say that if
 
 IXXES OF BLAIKAVOX. 147 
 
 it had been a second in Greats instead of 
 History, it would have been a different 
 matter ; but they think my classics may 
 have become somewhat rusty in two years, 
 and do you know, George, I don't think 
 they are very far wrong. However, I must 
 go somewhere next month, so I have made 
 up my mind to take the first thing that 
 offers, bad, good, or indifferent. I can't 
 account for my failure in the schools. I 
 thought I had done as well as it was pos- 
 sible for me to do, and I was nowhere 
 near the first class — I only got a moderate 
 second.' 
 
 ' No one ever can judge of his own work,' 
 said George, sententiously. ' Some men 
 are so sanguine that they fancy always 
 that they have done infinitely better than 
 they actually have, and then there are 
 others who are so despondent that they 
 cannot be brought to believe that they 
 have not been ploughed, even though they 
 may have done work up to a first. I 
 
 l2
 
 148 INNES OF BLAIR A VOX. 
 
 wonder if you remember Thomson — no — 
 he went clown just before you came up, 
 but you know him by sight, at any rate. 
 He went away for a week before his 
 exam., and telegraphed to the president 
 that he was going to " scratch." The 
 president had him literally dragged up to 
 the schools, and, as you probably know, 
 he got a first in every paper, and is now 
 a Fellow of New College.' 
 
 Allan stayed for three weeks at Ardar- 
 rochar, and still could not find any school, 
 even of what one may call the second-class 
 order of public schools, which appeared to 
 have a particular desire for his person. 
 
 ' The Fates are against me, George. No 
 one seems to want me. I wish there were 
 a vacancy at Lussburgh. I am sure the 
 head-master would take me there.' 
 
 ' It's just possible, Allan, that the fact 
 of your having lived in a very fast set at 
 Oxford for your first two years may be 
 acting against you. Those sort of things
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVOX. 149 
 
 leak out, and are of course exaggerated in 
 the process, and I do not doubt that a 
 good many head-masters may have heard 
 from some of your kind friends that you 
 were a little rowdy, to put it mildly, when 
 you first went u]).' 
 
 ' That's it,' said Allan. ' Of course there 
 are lots of men who were up with me who 
 will now be at these public schools, and I 
 expect they have given me a pretty bad 
 character. However, it can't be helped. 
 By Jove, I have it, George. I will write 
 to Prettyman ; he is at a school in some 
 outlandish place in Wales, and says it is 
 a charming place, and he is as happy as a 
 king. I have his address somewhere.' 
 
 He wrote, and in four or -Q.ye days he 
 got an answer which told him that he had 
 just applied in the nick of time, as there 
 was a vacancy, and he was sure that the 
 rector would take Allan if he applied. 
 Allan did apply, and received an answer 
 to the efi'ect that, owing to the very strong
 
 150 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 recommendation of Mr. Prettyman, he had 
 determined to offer Mr. Innes an appoint- 
 ment at Llanwch. 
 
 Allan showed the letter to George, who 
 laughed, and said, 
 
 ' What an awful name. I wonder how 
 it's pronounced ? It probably sounds like 
 Hullabaloo in Welsh.' 
 
 ' I don't know,' said Allan. ' The salary 
 is not exorbitant, as you will observe. I 
 suppose I must learn to live on a hundred 
 and fifty pounds per annum.' 
 
 ' Of course you will,' said George ; 
 ' heaps of men live on half that, and 
 manage to dress respectably too. How the 
 deuce they do it is a mystery, but they do.' 
 
 ' I don't care much,' said Allan. ' It is 
 a start, and I am thankful I have some- 
 thing to do. I feel there is a load off my. 
 mind. I shouldn't care to take anything 
 from my mother. She has little enough^ 
 when she has Jack to keep as well.' 
 
 ' Well, there is another way of looking
 
 IXXES OF BLAIRAVOX. 151 
 
 at that, Allan. Some people might say 
 that you were acting generously in giving 
 up all that in reality belongs to you to 
 your mother.' 
 
 ' But, George, you would not care to see 
 me do anything else?' 
 
 ' Of course I wouldn't ; but there are a 
 good many men who would not look at the 
 matter in the same light as you do, of that 
 I am quite certain.' 
 
 ' Poor mother. She hasn't too much 
 now. After paying her house rent and 
 servants, she has only about two hundred 
 and fifty a-year to live on, and that isn't 
 too much, is it ?' 
 
 When George was in his dressing-room 
 that night, Amy came to him in her dressing- 
 gown, with her beautiful wavy brown hair 
 streaming down her back, and said, 
 
 ' George, I want to make a proposition 
 to you. I want to give back to Allan the 
 five thousand pounds I had as my marriage 
 portion, if you don't mind. We have heaps
 
 152 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 of money, and I feel as if I were robbing 
 mother by keeping it.' 
 
 ' My darling,' said George, ' that is like 
 you. I have felt very much the same my- 
 self. It was quite impossible that I should 
 suggest it, but I will make it up to 
 you. But it is one thing, wanting to give 
 Allan the money, and another matter 
 making him accept it. I am very much 
 afraid he won't. It will have to be done 
 in a very roundabout w\ay, if it is done 
 at all. We must think over it, my love. 
 One thing is quite certain, we must not 
 allow Allan to go wandering away to 
 Australia on a hopeless quest about the 
 mines there. He would stay there if he 
 found that he had gone on a wild-goose 
 chase, and he is much too good a person 
 to hide his light in a place like Australia. 
 In the meantime I think that that idea has 
 somcAvhat cooled with him ; but it may be 
 fanned into flame again. I think at present 
 we had better let him try his hand at
 
 IXXES OF BLAIRAVOX, 153 
 
 sclioolmastering. A little adversity, they 
 say, is good for a man, though I am no 
 judge, as I have had nothing but pleasant 
 ways all my life, so far.' 
 
 Allan went back to what was now his 
 home in Edinburgh, to make preparations 
 for his work at Llanwch. 
 
 ^Irs. Innes was gradually recovering 
 from the shock of her husband's sudden 
 death, but she was still nervous and ex- 
 citable. Two or three days before Allan 
 started for Wales, she said to him, 
 
 ' I am so terribly sorry, Allan dear, that 
 you have to undergo all this drudgery, 
 when the prospects of your life were so 
 different. I now wish that we had never 
 left Australia. I did not want to come at 
 first : and if it had not been for Douglas's 
 death, I never should have come.' 
 
 ' Don't trouble about me, mother, I shall 
 be happy enough. The life of a school- 
 master is very nice in its way. The only 
 thing I have ever heard any complaints
 
 154 INNES OF BLAIRAVOX. 
 
 about is the salary. People talk about its 
 being the noblest profession under the 
 sun : if that is the case, I wonder why it is 
 not better paid. I suppose the honour of 
 being a member of such a noble band is 
 its own reward. I must say I should 
 prefer something more tangible than the 
 honour. I shall be happy enough, mother, 
 and something will turn up. Don't fret,, 
 mother dear.' 
 
 Towards the end of September he 
 started for Wales, to begin life as a school- 
 master at Llanwch.
 
 155 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 ' Poverty is infamous in England.' 
 
 The cliaiio-e that had come about in Allan's 
 life was a very real one. If you will con- 
 sider for a moment, you will see this for 
 yourself. At Oxford he had had an allow- 
 ance large enough to cover any reasonable 
 expense. Unless a man wants to buy and 
 keep tame white elephants, or do some- 
 thing equally preposterous, there is very 
 little he cannot do on five hundred pounds 
 a year at Oxford. Allan had seen Oxford 
 life in all its phases. He had gone head- 
 long into amusement of all sorts. One 
 thing alone he had always kept clear of, the 
 one vice, which, of all others, is the most 
 deorradino:.
 
 156 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 ' Fashion be damned,' he had said to a 
 man who had jestingly twitted him on the 
 point. ' I have vices enough without giv- 
 ing way to what you say everybody does. 
 If it is so fashionable, as you say, then I 
 am uncommonly glad it has no charms for 
 me.* 
 
 The man laughed sneeringly, and said 
 perhaps Innes ' knew best, and could please 
 himself.' The longer one conscientiously 
 remains an optimist the better, but this is, 
 unfortunately, a luxury denied, as a rule, 
 to one very early in life. Allan had hunt- 
 ed, rowed, gone racing, and gambled to 
 his heart's content, and in spite of it all 
 he had not been much spoilt. In his real 
 nature he was the same bright, enthusias- 
 tic boy he had been five years before at 
 school, when he had gone fishing with 
 George and the head-master on the Kirkaig 
 in Sutherland. He had finished his Oxford 
 career by doing some really hard work, and 
 his reward had been — disappointment. Xot
 
 INXES OF BLAIR AVON. 157 
 
 that this did him anv harm, it made him 
 think a little on the seriousness of life. 
 All the riotinof and racket he had orone 
 through at Oxford had the result, at the 
 end of three years, of putting him in debt 
 to the extent of three hundred and fifty 
 pounds. Of this his father had paid off 
 two hundred, and Allan, by strict economy, 
 as he thought, had managed to dispose of 
 fifty jDOunds more, during his last two 
 terms at Oxford. Thus, when he went to 
 Wales, he was still in debt to the tune of 
 one hundred pounds, and his salary amount- 
 ed to the magnificent sum of one hundred 
 and fifty pounds per annum. As he came 
 down in the train from Scotland, he made 
 out 2)lans in bis head by which he could 
 easily live on a hundred a year, and pay 
 off his debts in tvro years. It may seem, 
 to your mind, sa^-acious reader, that Allan 
 was a very foolish young man. He could 
 have got the money from Lady Grizel, — 
 from Geors^e, he could even have used a
 
 158 INNES OF BLAIKAVOX. 
 
 hundred pounds of the money which was 
 really his own, but which he preferred that 
 his mother should have. But he would not. 
 His pride Avould not allow him. He blamed 
 himself. 
 
 ' I have made my bed, I must lie on it,' 
 he had said. ' It is by my own folly that 
 I have incurred the debts, therefore by my 
 own efforts they must be repaid.' 
 
 You will begin to see that in the eyes of 
 that extremely wise person, the World, 
 that Allan was an abject, irreclaimable 
 idiot. But, if you look at the matter from 
 another point of view, you will confess 
 that the motives which inspired him to act 
 as he did were chivalrous and right. 
 
 So Allan determined to live on one hun- 
 dred pounds per annum. He had signally 
 failed to live on ^ve hundred for iive 
 months, or at the rate of twelve hundred a 
 year at Oxford ; for, after all, the Oxford 
 year is only five months, and he practical- 
 ly spent nothing in the vacation. The
 
 INNES OF BLAIKAVON. 159 
 
 prospect of his living on a hundred a year 
 then would, at first sight, appear at least 
 improbable. ' Pooh ! what nonsense !' you 
 ■will say. ' Thousands of young men in his 
 position would be only too glad to get such 
 a good salary as one hundred and fifty 
 2)ounds a year, and would save money on 
 it too.' Very true. But just consider 
 >\ Han's case once more. Here was a man 
 who from his infancy had been brought 
 up in the utmost luxury, who had never 
 known a want unsupplied, and who had 
 lived for the last ten years under the im- 
 pression, well founded enough, that he 
 was to succeed to a fairly large fortune. 
 Without one sinoie note of warnins: he is 
 suddenly beggared. Just think for a 
 moment on what this means. It meant 
 for Allan that he had to change practi- 
 cally every habit of his life. Xot much 
 for a young man, you will say. Possibly 
 not much, but at any rate quite enough 
 to take the rose-colour out of life. As
 
 160 INNES OF BLAIKAVOX. 
 
 Allan said to himself, ' By Jove, I shall 
 have to think twice now whether I can 
 afford to buy a glass of beer if I am 
 thirsty ; and as for cigars, they are, for 
 the present at any rate, non-existent so far 
 as I am concerned. I ought to be able to 
 dress on eight or ten pounds a-year,' (Allan, 
 though no dandy, had spent at least fifty 
 pounds on his dress, every year since he 
 had been U2> to Oxford). ' Well, after all, 
 I daresay water is as good as champagne 
 if one is thirsty, and I think I almost pre- 
 fer a briar-pipe to a *' Henry Clay." Excel- 
 lent in theory, but in practice hard to 
 carry out, especially to a man circum- 
 stanced as Allan was. 
 
 So Allan went down to Wales. He 
 changed at Shrewsbury, and, being tired 
 of reading the novel he had with him, he 
 contented himself with looking out of the 
 Avindow. 
 
 ' H'm,' he said to himself, after they left 
 Shrewsbury, ' this is a poor sort of a
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 161 
 
 country. I wonder if Llanwch is any- 
 where near Llwyn Bridge ? I haven't the 
 faintest idea where I am o^oino: to.' 
 
 After passing Craven Arms he began to 
 get interested. The scenery was becoming 
 more beautiful as each mile was passed. 
 
 ' If Llanwch's like this, it won't be half 
 bad.' 
 
 As the train rushed alono^ he cauo^ht 
 glimpses of heather-covered hills tinged 
 with the rays of the setting sun, wooded 
 glens, and silver streamlets. There are 
 very few pieces of railway scenery which 
 surpass the South ^Yales line from Cra- 
 ven Arms down towards Swansea. As 
 Allan was gazing intently at a particularly 
 beautiful piece of autumn colouring the 
 train began to slacken, and, as it drew up, 
 a head was thrust in at the window and 
 some one shouted, 
 
 ' There you are, old cock.' 
 
 Allan turned round and saw Prettyman. 
 
 'Is this Llanwch?' 
 
 VOL. II. M
 
 162 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 ' Of course it is.' 
 
 Allan got out of tlie train, and, glancing 
 round him with a sigh of relief, said, 
 
 ' I can live here happily enough.' 
 
 ' Oh, this is nothing to what you can 
 see about ten miles out of here. The 
 scenery all round is gorgeous. You can 
 leave your luggage here ; they will send 
 for it from the school, and we can walk up 
 to your rooms.' As they came out of the 
 station Prettyman, looking up the road, 
 said, ' Here's one of your colleagues.' 
 
 Allan looked along the road and saw a 
 small, loosely-built man wearing sjDcctacles, 
 shockingly badly dressed, coming towards 
 them. Thinking to himself that Pretty- 
 man could not possibly mean him, he said, 
 ^ Where, Prettyman?' 
 
 ' Right in front of you,' 
 
 ' What, that man ?' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Prettyman, in a low voice, 
 as they were now quite close to him, ' he 
 ain't much to look at, is he? and he dresses
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 163 
 
 :abominably, but be is one of tbe best- 
 hearted men I ever met. Wilson, let me 
 introduce Mr. Innes.' 
 
 In a very small voice Wilson said, 
 
 ' Glad to meet you ;' and he turned to 
 accompany them up the road. ' I must 
 tell you, Innes,' he went on, ' that they 
 are rather a curious lot of men here, but I 
 think you will like them well enough. The 
 school itself is curious, and Welsh boys 
 are curious ; but, take it all round, you 
 might be much worse off.' 
 
 ' Are you coming up into the town, Wil- 
 son?' said Prettyman. 
 
 ' 1^0, I shall go for a stroll.' 
 
 ' Come on then, Innes. Your rooms are 
 in the High Street. A man called Bright 
 lives opposite to you.' 
 
 ' Hadn't I better go and see the rector T 
 
 ' Oh, no ; you can do that after dinner. 
 We men in our house dine all together, and 
 very often the other house-masters come 
 too.' 
 
 ]\[ 2
 
 164 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 Allan found his rooms, which were ou 
 the second-floor of a rambling old house in 
 the main street of the town, very bright 
 and clean. While he was inspecting the 
 carpet and wall-paper with Prettyman, 
 there was a terrific thud on the opjDosite 
 side of the passage, followed by a sound 
 as though something had crashed through 
 wood. 
 
 ' Great Scott! what's that?' said Allan. 
 
 ' It's only Bright ; he is a little excitable 
 at times. Come across, and I'll introduce 
 you.' 
 
 ' But is it safe ?' 
 
 Prettyman laughed. 
 
 ' Of course, he is never excited for more 
 than three seconds.' 
 
 He opened the door, and saw that a 
 coal-scuttle was lying in the passage, and 
 the lower panels of the opposite door had 
 been smashed out. Prettyman went across 
 the passage, knocked and went in, followed 
 by Allan.
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 165 
 
 ' What's the matter, Bright ?' 
 
 ' Oh, nothing. My tire ^vas out. I got 
 angry, and threw the coal-scuttle through 
 the door.' 
 
 Allan thought to himself that he had 
 rather a dangerous neighbour, and, as a 
 matter of fact, always after that took the 
 precaution of locking and barring his door, 
 whenever he saw or heard symptoms of 
 •excitability in Bright. 
 
 ' Let me introduce Mr. Innes, Bright.' 
 
 Allan then looked at him for the first 
 time. He saw a very powerfully-built, 
 short man, A\dth an extraordinarily plain 
 face, sitting in an arm-chair, smoking. 
 
 The man rose and said, ' How d've do ?' 
 to Allan, and as he spoke a smile so sweet 
 and childlike broke out on his face that it 
 changed the character of it altogether, and 
 made it almost beautiful. Allan soon dis- 
 covered that, naturally, he was as placid 
 and sweet-tempered as a lamb, but fhat, 
 when roused, he lost his temper for a
 
 166 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 second or two, and then relapsed into his 
 usual placidity. 
 
 When Allan went across to his room 
 again, he said to Pretty man, 
 
 ' Doesn't Bright find it rather expensive 
 smashing his furniture in that way ?' 
 
 ' He doesn't often do it, and, besides, 
 he's a Fellow of his college, and spends no 
 money, so he can afford to do it.' 
 
 ' Have you any more curiosities to show 
 me, Pretty man ?' 
 
 ' Not to-day. You will meet three other 
 men at dinner. Come along down, it must 
 be ready. It is half-past six, and that is 
 our nominal dinner-hour.' 
 
 Wilson had come up to dinner in honour 
 of Allan's arrival, and in a thin voice and 
 some particularly small beer he welcomed 
 Allan among them in a prim little speech. 
 Allan thought that he could get along 
 with the men well enough, only what struck 
 him about them was that they all seemed 
 to be overcome by a profound melancholy,.
 
 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 167 
 
 Prettyman alone being the exception. He 
 soon learned the cause of this, but for the 
 present he contented himself with vowing 
 inwardly that he would soon remove it, 
 and infuse some life into them. After 
 dinner he went to interview the rector, 
 who burst into a perfect hurricane of 
 speech. Allan did not understand a soli- 
 tary word of what was said, but when the 
 rector ceased, grinned broadly, and said, 
 ' H'm ?' in an enquiring sort of way, Allan 
 feebly answered, ' Yes,' and retired. As 
 he went up to his rooms again, he said to 
 himself, 
 
 ' Well, this is a most extraordinary place. 
 I wonder what on earth the man was driv- 
 ing at ? I sup]Dose it was English, or at 
 least an attempt at it, and I also suppose 
 he was giving me some idea of my work. 
 I shall have to get it out of Prettyman.' 
 
 Thus Allan settled down to start life on 
 one hundred and fifty pounds per annum. 
 Those who have never experienced luxury
 
 168 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 do not feel the loss of it (which, by the 
 way, is an exceedingly sapient remark). 
 It is merely a question of comparison. To 
 a tramp, a beefsteak is the height of ambi- 
 tion and desire. He cannot conjure up in 
 his mind anything more delicious and 
 succulent. He fancies that he could eat 
 beefsteak all day and every day for the 
 rest of his natural existence. If, after a 
 year say of juicy beefsteak, with an occa- 
 sional chop, or even veal or venison, his 
 supply is suddenly docked, and he descends 
 again to mouldy bread and the remnants 
 of cheese which, having become so hard 
 that no one in the house, not even the dog, 
 will eat it (do dogs eat cheese, by the way?) 
 is handed to the first bes^o-ar that comes 
 along (this kind of generosity goes by the 
 generic name of charity), he is aggrieved, 
 and finds life without beefsteak a mere 
 vale of tears. He has tasted of luxury, 
 a,nd feels that he cannot do without it. 
 Put Allan in the place of the tramp. His
 
 INXES OF BLAIKAVOX. 169 
 
 beefsteak had consisted of lots of money, 
 horses, champagne, good cigars, what are 
 known as reckerche dinners. His mouldy 
 bread and hard cheese consisted of beef, 
 beer, and tobacco. Very good things too, 
 you will say. So they are. But do you 
 know a man who will cheerfully accept 
 mouldy bread after a life-long experience 
 of beefsteak ? 
 
 Luckily Allan was young, and he hard- 
 ly gave two thoughts to his position : but 
 he found himself constantly spending 
 money in ways which did not recommend 
 themselves to him as extravagant. Habit 
 had made them mere trivial necessities of 
 everyday life. Still he tried his hardest 
 to economize, and, being lucky enough to 
 get some private pupils, he managed actu- 
 ally to save fifty pounds during his first 
 year, which went to the vultures in Oxford. 
 
 Having been a celebrated athlete at Ox- 
 ford, he soon became the idol of the boys, 
 who naturally admire strength and athletic
 
 170 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 skill more than knowledge, consequently 
 lie had no difficulty in keeping the wild 
 Welsh boys in order, a thing which sorely 
 taxed the ingenuity and temper of some of 
 the other men. 
 
 About a fortnight after the term began 
 there was a football match, and Allan was 
 going to umpire. He was walking on to 
 the field chatting to Pretty man, when he 
 suddenly stopped dead and clutched Pretty- 
 man's arm. 
 
 ' What's the matter, Innes ?' 
 
 'Who are those people?' said Allan, 
 motioning towards two ladies, who were 
 standino: at the side of the orround. 
 
 ' Oh, that's Mrs. Vivian and her 
 daughter.' 
 
 ' That's the girl I saw at Llwyn Bridge.' 
 
 ' Then you can renew your acquaintance. 
 Come, and T will introduce you. I have 
 been several times up at their house to 
 dinner and lawn-tennis ; and they some- 
 times come down here to see a match.'
 
 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 171 
 
 They walked across the ground to the 
 ladies. 
 
 *" May I introduce Mr. Innes, Mrs. Vivian. 
 Mr. Innes, Miss Vivian.' 
 
 Allan bowed, and they both blushed 
 slightly. 
 
 ' Did not my mother and I see you fish- 
 ing at Ll^yn Bridge once, Mr. Innes ?' 
 
 ' You surely don't remember that?' said 
 Allan, delighted. ' It must be nearly three 
 years ago.' 
 
 ' Oh ! yes, I remember you quite dis- 
 tinctly. We had been watching you for 
 nearly ten minutes, when you looked up^ 
 and I had got quite excited over the fish. 
 That is why I cried out involuntarily to 
 my mother.' 
 
 They talked for a few minutes, and 
 Allan shook hands and left them. 
 
 ' He seems a nice man, Muriel,' said 
 Mrs. Vivian. 
 
 ' Yes, I think he does.'
 
 172 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 After the match, Allan walked oiF the 
 ground with Pretty man. 
 
 ' What is her name, Prettyman ?' 
 
 ' I told you before — Vivian.' 
 
 'Yes, but her Christian name ?' 
 
 ' I don't know. I never asked Mrs. 
 Vivian her name.' 
 
 ' Don't be an ass, Prettyman — the 
 ■daughter.' 
 
 ' Oh, her name's Muriel.' 
 
 ' Muriel,' repeated Allan, softly. ' It is 
 a funny thing I should come across her 
 again, Prettyman. Do you know that I 
 have never forgotten her, and she has been 
 constantly crossing my vision for nearly 
 three years.' 
 
 ' Well, you needn't trouble yourself 
 about her, old man ; they say she is en- 
 gaged to marry your old friend Thomas.' 
 
 ' What ? Going to marry that beast !' 
 
 ' Ho, ho ! Since when has he become a 
 beast ? It is not long ago that you thought 
 him a very good sort of fellow.'
 
 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 17^ 
 
 ' For a man's acquaintance, yes ; but, 
 good heavens, to think of his marrying- 
 that sweet girl — he shan't.' 
 
 Prettyman laughed and said, 
 
 ' I think you won't have much chance 
 there, Innes ; her father is a proud old man, 
 and will look considerably higher than a 
 schoolmaster for his daughter, of that I 
 can assure you.' 
 
 In his own room that night Allan mused 
 loner over the sweet fair face and violet 
 eyes, and he repeated the words, Muriel 
 Vivian, over to himself many times. 
 
 'What pretty names I and she is going 
 to marry Thomas, is she ? Ah, well, I 
 suppose I can't help it, at any rate ;' and 
 then he began thinking over the changes 
 in his own fortunes from the time he first 
 saw her and now. 
 
 Then he was full of hope and pride, 
 glorying in his name and in his noble in- 
 heritance, a fit consort for any lady in his 
 own rank of life. Noiv^ nothing left but
 
 174 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 his name and the mere shadow of an in- 
 heritance : for all practical purposes a 
 pauper. What a contrast ! 
 
 ' Heigh-ho, I mustn't allow myself to 
 fall in love with her, because if I did win 
 her heart I have nothing to offer her ; but, 
 if I possibly can, I will prevent her from 
 marrying Thomas. Bah, what a fool I 
 am ! as if I could do anything in the mat- 
 ter. No, my friend, you will not be con- 
 sulted, and you had better go to bed.' 
 
 He went to bed, and went to sleep, and 
 dreamt that he and Muriel were on a spar 
 in the open sea, and that a shark w^ith 
 Thomas's head was following them, and 
 Muriel was clinging to him and imploring 
 him in God's name to save her from de- 
 struction. He awoke and muttered, 
 
 ' And I will, if it lies in my power to do 
 «o.'
 
 175 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ^ A life without sun ; without health, without hope, without 
 delight, 
 Is anything here on earth * 
 
 Allan found life very tolerable at Llanwch. 
 A favourite with everybody, masters and 
 boys alike, bis bright nature and cheery 
 laugh made the master's dining-room a 
 much pleasanter place than it had formerly 
 been. He soon discovered why most of 
 the men looked so sad and weary. He 
 discovered, what it is not very difficult for 
 a person with any perception to discover, 
 that they were all disappointed men. Most 
 schoolmasters in the smaller public schools 
 and in the private schools are disappointed 
 men. People will tell you glibly that all 
 schoolmasters are prigs. But is this a fair
 
 176 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 statement of the case? The successful 
 few, those who by good fortune or success- 
 ful flattery get the few, the very few good 
 places in what may be called the lower 
 branches of the profession, are invariably 
 prigs of the worst type, attributing to their 
 own excellence what the fickle goddess has 
 thrown in their way. Allan was talking 
 the matter over with Prettyman one day, 
 and had said, 
 
 'Are all schoolmasters in places like 
 this so utterly doAvncast?' and Prettyman 
 answered, 
 
 ' It is not among the very young men at 
 a school that this settled sadness is notice- 
 able. The young men are still full of 
 enthusiasm, fancying themselves, in their 
 day-dreams, appointed Head-masters of 
 large schools with preposterous salaries at 
 the age of thirty. But when two or three 
 years have gone, and they begin to see 
 that the only possible change they can look 
 forward to is merely a position of the
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 177 
 
 same sort in another school, then it is 
 that the hopelessness of existence comes 
 full upon them, and they assume an air, 
 without knowing it, of settled despair.' 
 
 ' But surely the case is not so hopeless 
 for all ?' said Allan. 
 
 ' Not for absolutely all,' said Pretty- 
 man, ' but for very nearly all. Take a case : 
 say a younger son of a large family ; his 
 father makes a final sacrifice and sends 
 him to the university, telling him that he 
 can do no more for him, and that when he 
 leaves the university he must make his 
 own way entirely. The boy is only too 
 delighted at the prospect of a university 
 life, thinking, if ever he does think of the 
 future at that age, that he will make his 
 way easily enough in the world. He works 
 hard and well at college, and yet, by bad 
 luck, he finds himself at the top of the 
 second class instead of at the bottom of 
 the first in his examination. What is the 
 result ? To a head-master a first class-man 
 
 VOL. ir. N
 
 178 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 is a first class-man and capable of doing 
 vsuch and such work ; a second class-man 
 is a second class-man, (it doesn't matter if 
 he is superior in every way to the first 
 €lass-man), and consequently incapable of 
 doing the work of the first class-man.' 
 
 ' That's hardly fair,' broke in Allan, ' all 
 head-masters are not like that.' 
 
 ' Most of them,' said Prettyman. ' Listen 
 to what I have to say, Innes, and don't 
 interrupt. Our hypothetical man has to 
 content himself with a post in one of the 
 smaller schools. Still he hopes, " I will 
 show them that I am as good as though I 
 had taken a first," and he works on hoping 
 that merit will be recognized. Poor fool ! 
 He may spare himself the trouble. As a 
 second class-man he is a second class-man, 
 and the dolt and the genius are on the same 
 level. At first he takes an interest in his 
 boys, and does his utmost for them, both 
 in and out of school, but he soon finds 
 that this meets with practically no re cog-
 
 INNES OF BLAIKAVON. 179 
 
 nition from either boys or the head-master. 
 They take it as a matter of course. So he 
 gradually relaxes his energy, and at the 
 end of five years or so he lapses into a 
 mere machine, which will dole out well- 
 worn axioms on any subject which may 
 be required. There is no hope — none. 
 An enquiry by a Royal Commission into 
 the salaries paid to school-masters, univer- 
 sity men, all over England, would produce 
 some startling revelations. A school- 
 master's education will probably cost from 
 first to last from fifteen hundred to two 
 thousand pounds, putting it at a low esti- 
 mate. He has in all probability lived in 
 comparative luxury all his life. His habits 
 and tastes are formed, when suddenly he 
 is plunged into an abyss from which there 
 is no escape, save by mere chance. He 
 finds, when too late, that he is tied to a 
 profession which he probably dislikes. It 
 is too late to start business. He has no 
 money. He has no qualification for a 
 
 n2
 
 180 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 business life. He has no funds to educate 
 himself as a doctor or a solicitor. The Bar 
 is of course out of the question. He is for 
 ever bound, tied down to a life of genteel 
 poverty. Some of them perjure their souls, 
 and take holy orders (save the mark !) to 
 get the few extra pounds per annum which 
 the perennial use of a white tie secures to 
 them.' 
 
 ' But, Pretty man,' again broke in Allan, 
 ' you are surely talking awful nonsense 
 now. Heaps of school-masters are well 
 enough off.' 
 
 'I am not talking nonsense,' said Pretty- 
 man, waxing warm, ' but d d good 
 
 sober sense. You miss the point altogether.. 
 I am not referring to the great public 
 schools. I merely refer to a great mass of 
 men who will be found in the smaller 
 public schools, and in private schools and 
 grammar schools. There are many men 
 w^ho have had an expensive education, and 
 who, through ill fortune, or from the fact
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 181 
 
 that they are crammed into a profession 
 for which they have not the brains nor the 
 aptitade, are toiling for sixty, fifty, ay, 
 forty pounds a-year. Gentlemen these — 
 in reduced circumstances. Then some 
 infernal ass says, " Oh ! but consider the 
 beautiful long holidays." Quite so. How 
 is a man going to spend his holiday who 
 makes sixty pounds a-year? When he 
 Avas at school or the university he Avould 
 go away and fish somewhere, or shoot, or 
 go on a reading-party. Xow, supposing 
 his friend Lord Oystermouth asks him 
 down to shoot at Oystermouth Castle, he 
 feels at first a flush of pleasure that his 
 old friend has not forgotten him ; and then 
 he says to himself, " I can't go, my shoot- 
 in o^-too^s are all worn out, and I cannot 
 afi'ord to get any more. I have had to sell 
 my gun. I have just enough money to 
 pay my fare to Oystermouth and back, 
 third-class. I have no money to tip the 
 keepers or the butler. I can't go." '
 
 182 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 Prettyman stopped here to take breathy 
 and Allan said, 
 
 ' By gad, Prettyman, you paint an un- 
 commonly nice picture. It can't be half 
 as bad as all that — your liver's out of 
 order ' 
 
 'Wait,' said Prettyman. 'I have only 
 stopped to get wind ; it is worse than that. 
 Listen. Supposing one of these unhappy 
 wretches were to fall in love, and wish to 
 marry. He naturally would want his wife 
 to live in comfort, and in the way that his 
 own mother and sister had lived. But he 
 can offer her nothing. He finds it all he 
 can do to exist himself on the miserable 
 pittance which is doled out to him as a 
 member of the noblest profession under 
 the sun. He must eat his heart out in 
 solitude. There are none of the joys of 
 love and marriage for him. If he fell in 
 love, he must indeed worship the object of 
 his affection " in distant reverence." It 
 will probably do him good in one way. It
 
 INNES OF BLAIKAVON. 18^^ 
 
 will take him out of himself. It is good 
 for any man to be in love.' 
 
 Allan laughed and blushed, and Pretty- 
 man continued, 
 
 ' Oho, Innes, so you have left your 
 heart in the north. You need not be 
 ashamed of it, old chap. I wish I had 
 too. 1 hope she has lots of money, because 
 it's a devilish poor look-out for you if she 
 hasn't. Marriage ! Great Scott, that is 
 out of the question for me, at least. There 
 are people who complain that immorality 
 is on the increase again. So long as such 
 an anomaly exists as that men who have 
 been brought up as gentlemen, educated 
 as gentlemen, and are expected to live as 
 gentlemen afterwards, are paid a salary at 
 which a fifth-rate artizan would turn up 
 his nose in scorn, there is nothing more to 
 be expected.' 
 
 ' But, Prettyman, heaps of schoolmasters 
 are married and happy enough.' 
 
 ' My dear Innes, will you not interrupt?
 
 184 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 You miss the point altogether of what I 
 am talking about. Let me drill into your 
 silly old head again that I am referring to 
 men who start the game as a means of 
 livelihood, in the lower branches, without 
 any private fortune of their OAvn. If I am 
 boring you, I will shut up. But ' 
 
 ' No, no — go on. I like to hear what 
 you have to say.' 
 
 ' It's God's own truth, Innes, as you will 
 find to your cost, maybe, and what a life 
 it is ! The system of education in England 
 is so hopelessly insane that there is no 
 possibility for a master or a boy to develop 
 any originality. It is positively cruel to 
 put certain boys through a mill in the way 
 which is now done. And it amounts to an 
 insult to ask a man to do it. It should be 
 done by machines. Do you remember 
 what Carlyle says ? " How can an inanim- 
 ate, mechanical Gerund-grinder, the like 
 of whom will in a subsequent century be 
 manufactured at Nlirnberg out of wood
 
 IXXES OF BLAIRAVOX. 185 
 
 and leather, foster the growth of any- 
 thing?" It is the English system of edu- 
 cation which produces these inanimate 
 Gerund-grinders. Some boys must be 
 driven. Nothing else will make them learn 
 anvthino-. But these are of no account. 
 It is utterly wrong to force boys to learn 
 so much of this, and so much of that, for 
 which they have literally Jio taste what- 
 ever, while at the same time no attention 
 is paid to anv bent that thev mav have in 
 another direction. A man at Harrow once 
 told me that a boy had said to him, ''Why 
 do you make me learn Euclid, sir ? I can't 
 understand him, and never will, and you 
 tell me it is no use learninf]^ the stuff bv 
 heart. I would do much better learning 
 chemistry," (for which he had a taste, a 
 fact he proved very conclusively after- 
 wards). "Xow that fellow Euclid is awful ; 
 he goes ploughing through two or three 
 pages of A's and B's and C's and tri- 
 angles and circles, of which I can't make
 
 186 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 head or tail, and then he finishes up by 
 saying, ' Which is absurd,' and I knew it 
 all the time." 
 
 Allan laughed at this, and said, 'Then if 
 what you say is true, why on earth do peo- 
 ple rush to get the vacant places ?' 
 
 ' Innes, you are an ass,' said Prettyman, 
 quietly. ' Can't you see what these sort 
 of men think ? — what I myself thought. 
 Here is money, solid, hard cash, at once^ 
 and a home. You see people of my sort 
 are not overburdened with cash on leaving 
 the university, and are only too glad of 
 anything, absolutely anything, to prevent 
 them from having to stay at home and 
 burden still further an already overbur- 
 dened household.' 
 
 Prettyman stopped suddenly and prodded 
 the fire with his foot, and then got up and 
 whistled. 
 
 After a few minutes Allan said, 
 
 ' It sounds pretty hopeless, I must say. 
 There must be a remedy, though.'
 
 IXXES OF BLAIR AVON. 187 
 
 ' Remedy ? Of course there is a remedy/ 
 broke in Prettyman. angrily, ' the remedy 
 for all evils — money. People don't mind 
 paying any price in or out of reason for 
 anything of which they can see the tangible 
 use — for food, for clothes, for nice houses, 
 for comfort in general. How often you 
 hear people say, " Oh, you can't get any- 
 thing good without paying for it," and yet 
 they pay those who shape the future rulers 
 of the world worse than their butler. The 
 schoolmaster must be a gentleman, they 
 say, to look after their dear son's manners^ 
 character, and his immortal soul. They 
 will pay ail}' price for their dear son's 
 clothes and his food and his pony, but 
 for his moral and mental training' as 
 little as possible, and grumble at that. 
 I am sick of it all, and yet I know I 
 can't o^et out of it. To orrind and sfrind 
 with no prospect of relief or improvement 
 in one's position, and get nothing but cen- 
 sure or the very faintest of faint praise.
 
 188 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 until one rots in one's tracks. Ugh ! I 
 sometimes think of cutting the whole busi- 
 ness, letting the whole bally-show go to 
 mops and brooms as far as I am concerned, 
 and then I know that it is hopeless, and I 
 must stay.' 
 
 He stopped speaking, and went to the 
 window and stood drumming on the panes 
 with his iingers. Suddenly he said, as 
 though to himself, 
 
 ' And they complain that we are not 
 enthusiastic enough. Good Lord ! as if 
 one could be enthusiastic about anything 
 for fifty j)ounds a-year. Don't mind me, 
 Innes, I don't often get like this, and it is 
 foolish to cry out, but sometimes I can't 
 help it.' 
 
 'Well,' said Allan, 'it seems awfully 
 sad. I don't intend to become like that. 
 This life is very jolly, don't you think, 
 Prettyman ?' 
 
 ' Of course I do, in a way. That is the 
 abominable thing about it. It is so beastly
 
 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 189^ 
 
 pleasant and attractive for the first year 
 or two. When I came here first I thought 
 there was nothino- like it in the world. 
 They pay one well in comparison with 
 other places of the stamp. The scenery is 
 gorgeous. There is lots of sport to be had. 
 The families round about are very hospit- 
 able. In fact, it is an ideal life. And yet 
 if I had known all about it beforehand, I 
 should never have gone to the 'Varsity, 
 but I should have a'one into business. I 
 cannot rise above my present position. 
 Oh, hang it ! don't let us talk about it any 
 more — where are you going at Christmas T 
 
 ' I don't know.' 
 
 ' Don't yon think we might do Llwyn 
 Brido^e ao^ain at Easter?' 
 
 ' The very thing,' said Allan. ' One can 
 live practically for nothing there, and I 
 should like to renew my acquaintance with 
 those Usk trout. Thomas will ask us if I 
 give him a hint.' 
 
 Twice during that term Allan had been
 
 190 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 at tlie Vivians', once to dinner, and once 
 when lie had called afterwards. ' I mustn't 
 go there very often,' he had said to him- 
 self. ' I might fall in love with Muriel, 
 and that would do no one any good.' 
 
 Poor Allan, he was already hopelessly 
 in love with her, only he did not know it, 
 or. if he did, did not care to confess it to 
 himself. It was chiefly owing to the fact 
 that he felt that she was near, that he 
 had enjoyed his first term at Llanwch so 
 thoroughly.
 
 191 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ' Deep as love, 
 Deep as first love, and wild with all regret ; 
 Oh, Death in life, the days that are no more.' 
 
 The journey from Paddingtoii to Rutland 
 Gate is not very lively at the best of times, 
 but, when it is accomplished in a dense 
 fog on a bitterly cold afternoon in Decem- 
 ber, it is beyond all description abomin- 
 able. After Allan had been driving for 
 what seemed to him hours, he shouted up 
 to the driver of the hansom, 
 
 'Where are we, cabby ?' 
 
 ' Blest if I knoAV, sir ; I thought I sighted 
 Sloane Street just now, but it ain't. Curse 
 these fogs, anyhow. Come hup, Maria !' 
 (this to his horse). ' Here's a Bobby, I'll 
 ask him.' 
 
 ' Rutland Gate ?' said the policeman.
 
 192 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 ' Lor' bless me, why, this is Rutland Gate. 
 What number do you want?' 
 
 ' 191,' answered the cabby. 
 
 'Why, ye're at the very 'ouse ; must be 
 a bloomin' fool,' said the policeman. 
 
 The cabman replied that ' 'is eyes wasn't 
 made to see through a wall of pea-soup, 
 and that it was all very well to stalk about 
 in a blue coat and buttons and a 'elmet 
 like a bally nautlus shell turned hupside 
 down, and find yer way by crawlin' along 
 the railin's ; some peojDle was mighty clever, 
 but if 'e couldn't ' 
 
 Here Allan interrupted the cabman, and 
 asked him his fare. 
 
 The cabman got off his box and said, 
 
 'Well, sir, the fare from Paddington is 
 two bob, but' — here he took off his hat 
 and scratched his head — ' I seem to 'ave 
 been drivin' the best part of a twelve- 
 month ; blest if I know what the time is, 
 or whether it is night or day. Make it a 
 bull, sir.'
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 193 
 
 Allan was just going to give him live 
 shillings, when he suddenly remembered 
 that he was no longer Allan Innes of St. 
 Peter's, Oxford, gentleman at large, but 
 Allan Innes of Llanwch, schoolmaster, so 
 he said, ' Here s three shillings for you ; 
 that's double the fare, and it isn't my fault 
 that you have lost the way.' 
 
 The cabby pocketed the money, mounted 
 his box, and said, addressing his horse, 
 
 ' Xow^ then, Maria, come hup, old girl ; 
 you can bloomin' well take your own road 
 home, I've 'ad enough drivin' for one after- 
 noon.' 
 
 Allan was met on the stairs by Lady 
 Grizel, who said, 
 
 ' My dear Allan, how late you are. It's 
 nearly eight, and you ought to have been 
 here at half-past five. I have put off 
 dinner half-an-hour. You needn't dress 
 unless you like. General Ainslie is in the 
 draAving-room, and I expect he is getting 
 impatient.' 
 
 VOL. II.
 
 n 
 S 
 
 194 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 ' I won't be two minutes dressing, Lady 
 Grizel.' 
 
 When he came down to the drawing 
 room, the general jumped up, offered hi 
 arm to Lady Grizel, and said to Allan, 
 
 ' I wouldn't have waited so patiently for 
 my dinner for anybody else, young man.' 
 
 Allan took the general's disengaged 
 hand laughingly and pressed it, and they 
 went down to dinner. 
 
 When the general had made quite cer- 
 tain that the soup was not spoiled by being- 
 kept waiting, he looked up at Allan, and 
 said, 
 
 ' Well, my dear lad, how do you like 
 schoolmastering ?' 
 
 ' I think it quite charming where I am, 
 general ; it will do very well for a start. 
 But I am sometimes afraid that I will get 
 no further.' 
 
 ' Yes, a little privation won't do you 
 much harm. You will appreciate the 
 good things of life all the more when they
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVOX. 195 
 
 <;ome. By gad, Lady Grizel, I shall never 
 forget the first decent dinner I had after 
 the Crimea. I was younger then. It 
 consisted of about two pounds of beefsteak 
 and two large bottles of Bass, and I 
 wouldn't have changed places with any 
 alderman at a City dinner.' 
 
 ' I am happy enough,' said Allan. ' I 
 am only sorry for my poor mother, who 
 has to live in that beastly place, Edinburgh. 
 I know she hates a town, and Edinburgh 
 of all towns, with its society consisting of 
 conceited legal prigs, is above all towns 
 the least pleasant ; but she says she must 
 stay there, because of Jack, who is getting 
 on very well, I believe.' 
 
 ' Good boy is Jack,' said the general. ' I 
 admired the way he buckled to his work. 
 There's a i^reat difference between sittins; 
 on a three-legged stool in a stuffy office 
 and living in barracks, however dull they 
 may be.' 
 
 Lady Grizel had had very strong objec- 
 
 o2
 
 196 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 tions to Allan's becoming a schoolmaster^ 
 but her objections had no effect. After 
 the general had gone that night, she said 
 to Allan, 
 
 ' You may smoke if you like, Allan, I 
 am going to sit here and talk to you.' 
 
 ' I think I will, if I may,' said Allan, 
 and he filled and lit a pipe. 
 
 ' Now, Allan, I want you to listen to 
 reason. I regard you, as you know, in the 
 same light as if you were my son. I have 
 hinted before, and I now tell you openly^ 
 that I did your uncle Alistair a great 
 wrong. I loved him, and knew that he 
 loved me, but my mother persuaded me 
 that he did not care for me, that he led an 
 evil life, and was no fit husband for me, 
 and at the same time urged the claims of 
 Somerton, whom I eventually married. 
 You don't remember her, dear, I expect. 
 She died very soon after you came here, 
 and was, I think, only at Blairavon once. 
 I now know that all her statements were
 
 INNES OF BL^MRAVON. 197 
 
 false. I am afraid, Allan, that I broke 
 your uncle's heart, and — well, I paid the 
 penalty. My life with Somerton was 
 utterly miserable. Apart from the fact 
 that I feel I ought to make some repara- 
 tion, you know, Allan, that I love you very 
 dearly, and for that reason I ask you to 
 let me do something for you.' 
 
 * I know, dear Lady Grizel, that you are 
 like a second mother to me, and for that 
 very reason I do not want to take advan- 
 tage of your goodness.' 
 
 ' But, Allan, why do you become a 
 schoolmaster? You can never stand the 
 drudgery of it. You, who have been as 
 free as air all your life, will never submit 
 to be dependent upon the caprice of others. 
 Besides, what does it lead to? As a school- 
 master you have no position. You are the 
 despised of the despised. I should not 
 mind if you were in one of the great public 
 schools. The men there are in quite a 
 different position. But at a wretched place
 
 198 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 like Llanwch — why, I never heard of it 
 until you wrote to say that you were going 
 there.' 
 
 ' But I am perfectly happy there, Lady 
 Grizel, and if I find I am not getting on I 
 will change to some other place. But the 
 life is very jolly.' 
 
 He did not mention that the real reason 
 that he liked it was that he had an oppor- 
 tunity of seeing and being near Muriel 
 Vivian. Perhaps he did not even confess 
 it to himself. 
 
 ' You must not be angry with me, dear,. 
 at the proposal I am going to make. I 
 want you to go to the Bar, as your father 
 wished — now don't speak till I have hnish- 
 ed. If you will let me allow you four 
 hundred a year until you begin to get 
 practice, you can pay me whenever you 
 like, and you can be your own master, and 
 not be tied down in the way you are at 
 present.' 
 
 * My dear Lady Grizel, please don't
 
 INXES OF BLAIRAVON. 199 
 
 think me ungrateful, but I really cannot 
 do this. At present I am at least depend- 
 ent on no one. I can make enough money 
 to live in comparative comfort, but if I go 
 to the Bar, I may never make a single 
 penny. Look how many men never make 
 anything at all at the Bar. Xow at least 
 1 have a competence, and although of 
 course I should prefer to be a barrister, still 
 I don't think I should be justified in in- 
 curring the risk.' 
 
 ' Not even to please me, Allan?' 
 ' If I saw any certain ^^I'ospect of being 
 able to pay you back. Lady Grizel, I 
 should accept at once, but the prospect 
 would be of the very vaguest description. 
 I have proved conclusively at Oxford by 
 my examinations that my brains are not 
 of a first-class order, and how can I hope, 
 under the circumstances, to do anything at 
 the Bar?' 
 
 ' If you have made up your mind, Allan, 
 I suppose there is no hope of my changing
 
 200 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 it. It is past one, I must go to bed — good- 
 night, dear.' 
 
 Allan spent three happy weeks with 
 Lady Grizel. At the end of the year he 
 wrote to the Secretary of the Isthmian 
 Club, of which he was a member, to say 
 that he wished his name to be struck off 
 the books. ' I cannot afford to pay that 
 subscription any longer,' he said to him- 
 self, ' especially as I shall be so little in 
 town now.' He received an answer to say 
 that his subscription had been paid in ad- 
 vance for ten years. Under those circum- 
 stances Allan wrote to say that he would 
 continue as a member. ' I suppose that's 
 Lady Grizel's doing or George's, I can't 
 complain that I am devoid of friends.' 
 
 In the middle of January he was back 
 at Llanwch, and the time passed quickly 
 on till summer, when he found all his 
 spare time occupied in going to dinners, 
 and dances, and garden-parties, given by
 
 IXNES OF BLAIRAVOX. 201 
 
 the various families around Llanwch. He 
 had been up to Llwyn Bridge in the pre- 
 vious spring with Prettyman again, but 
 for some reason or another he did not 
 enjoy it, as he had done on the previous 
 occasion. In June he had a telegram from 
 George tellino' him that a son and heir to 
 Ardarrochar had been born. He found 
 himself a frequent visitor at the Croft, the 
 Vivians' house. He never missed an op- 
 portunity of going there, in order to bask 
 in the sunshine of Muriel's society. Where 
 had his o^ood intentions orone to ? His 
 pleasure on the last occasion on which he 
 had been there with Prettyman had been 
 completely sj^oilt by the presence of an 
 old school friend of Muriel's. As they 
 came away from the house Allan said to 
 Prettyman , 
 
 ' How on earth can Miss Vivian endure 
 that fearful, coarse girl Miss Ventry? 
 She is the complete opposite of Miss 
 Vivian in every way.'
 
 202 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 ' The very reason why Miss Vivian has 
 her there,' said Prettyman. ' Women un- 
 derstand those things. The coarseness of 
 Miss Ventry shows up Miss Vivian to ad- 
 vantage. I think she's rather pretty.' 
 
 'Who, Miss Ventry?' 
 
 ' No,' roared Prettyman, * a woman with 
 a voice like that could never be pretty. 
 Features alone don't constitute good looks 
 in my opinion. It is the tout enseriibh of 
 a girl which makes up one's idea of good- 
 looking or nice. If she were condemned 
 to everlasting silence, one might consider 
 her pretty, but directly I hear her speak, 
 everything but her terrible voice is driven 
 from my mind, and I regard her with 
 horror. It is curious too, because she 
 sings really well. She was here last sum- 
 mer too.' 
 
 ' So you consider Miss Vivian rather 
 pretty, do you ?' said Allan. 
 
 ' Yes, not bad, don't you?' 
 
 ' I think she is far and away the most
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 203 
 
 beautiful girl I ever saw in my life ; and, 
 moreover, she is as charming as she is 
 beautiful.' 
 
 ' Oho,' said Prettyman, ' does the wind 
 still blow in that direction, Innes ? I 
 congratulate you again.' 
 
 ' And I must ask you once more not to 
 be an infernal ass.' 
 
 Towards the end of summer there was a 
 dance at the Croft, and Allan was of course 
 there. He felt that, in common decency, 
 he must dance at least once with Miss 
 Yentry, but he did not know whether it 
 would be better to get it over at once or. 
 leave it till the end, in the hope that the 
 progrannne might not be finished. He 
 chose the latter course. He danced two 
 or three times with Muriel, and was half 
 glad, half piqued to find that she was ap- 
 parently utterly indifferent to him. He 
 told himself that he would be a villain if, 
 in any way, he allowed her to care for 
 him ; and following a plan, although his
 
 204 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 heart leaped at the very sight of her, he 
 always treated her with the same calm, 
 studious politeness and respect with which 
 he treated all w^omen. His old Oxford 
 friend, Thomas, was at the dance. Allan 
 had not seen him since he had gone down, 
 iind w^hen they met Thomas had said kindly 
 enough, in his blunt way, that ' he was 
 devilish sorry to hear of the bad luck that 
 had happened to him, and that Allan could 
 always depend on him to give him a lift if 
 he ever had the opportunity.' It was 
 kindly meant, and Allan thanked him, and 
 liked him better than he had ever liked 
 him before. 
 
 Tiie time came for his dance with Miss 
 Ventry. She was seated at an open win- 
 dow of the drawino:-room, talkin"; to her 
 partner of the previous dance, who was 
 fanning her. A shudder passed over Allan 
 as he looked at her. He could hear her 
 strident voice and her vulgar laugh. She 
 was above the middle height, and had a
 
 IXXES OF BLAIR AYOX. 205 
 
 certain comeliness about her of the dairy- 
 maid order. She had hiro^e, lano^uishino' 
 brown eyes, and masses of brown hair 
 curled and coiled in a wondrous manner 
 on the top and back of her head, and a 
 2)outing, red under-lip to a voluptuous- 
 looking mouth. Her hands and feet were 
 large and well-made. She gave Allan the 
 idea of a woman of vast size and strength 
 with the passions of a gipsy. He turned 
 as he was half across the room and looked 
 towards the door through which Muriel, 
 leaning on Thomas's arm, was just com- 
 ing, and he made a mental comparison be- 
 tween the two. Muriel, though taller even 
 than Miss Yentry, gave Allan the idea of 
 all that was o-raceful, from her low, broad 
 forehead to her dainty feet. • Miss Yentry 
 was simply repulsive to him. He turned 
 with a sigh, and went up to her. 
 
 ' This is our dance, I think. Miss 
 Yentry?' 
 
 She rose with alacrity, and bestowed a
 
 206 INNES OF BLAIRAVOX. 
 
 bewitching glance on Allan ; which, how- 
 ever, was completely lost on him, since he, 
 forgetting his manners, was gazing at Mu- 
 riel. Miss Ventry bit her lip. She knew 
 all about it. Her woman's eye had seen 
 at once that Allan was in love with Muriel, 
 and she had made up her mind that she 
 would do all in her power to prevent any- 
 thing from coming of it ; but she did not 
 know that Allan had also made up his 
 mind to the same thing. She had heard 
 some garbled rumour of Allan's being heir 
 to a beautiful place in Scotland, and she 
 thought that her own person might fitly 
 grace the position of mistress of it. 
 
 ' They will make a nice pair,' she said 
 to Allan. 
 
 ' Who?' said Allan, with a start. 
 
 ' Muriel and Mr. Thomas. Haven't you 
 heard ? Oh, that is a very old affair in- 
 deed. I don't know that they are actually 
 formally engaged, but it is a practically 
 settled thing.'
 
 INXES OF BLAIR AVON. 207 
 
 Allan felt that he hated Thomas. 
 
 ' She sha'n't marry that fiend,' he said 
 to hnnself. ' It is too terrible to think of 
 a pure, innocent o-irl being sacrificed to a 
 beast like that.' And again, ' Well, it is 
 no business of mine, after all. She is no- 
 thino; to me, nor I to her.' — " He doesn't 
 seem to be a very enthusiastic lover,' said 
 he, aloud ; ' this is the first time he has 
 been here, since I came to Llanwch.' 
 
 ' He always spends the winter at Men- 
 tone or Monte Carlo. He is not very 
 strong just now.' 
 
 After this Allan never spoke a word, 
 despite all the wiles and blandishments of 
 his partner. When the dance was over, 
 Miss y entry said, 
 
 ' You are very silent, Mr. Innes.' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, I am afraid I have 
 been horribly rude. I have a bad head- 
 ache — I think I must go. Let me take 
 you into the drawing-room. Xo ? Good- 
 night then.'
 
 208 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 Allan walked back to Llanwch in the 
 early morning, with no companion but his 
 thoughts, and they were very bitter.
 
 209 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ' The primrose path of dalliance.' 
 
 It is hard for a young man to be despond- 
 ent for any length of tnne together. The 
 elasticity of his nature forbids it, and so 
 Allan, the day after the dance at the Croft, 
 was as merry as ever, only Prettyman, 
 who was very fond of him and took a deep 
 interest in him, noticed that there was an 
 undercurrent of sadness in his face and 
 conversation, which was quite new to his 
 nature. Allan had some idea of leaving 
 Llanwch at the end of the term, fearing 
 that he could not much longer prevent 
 Muriel from seeing that he loved her, but 
 on reflection he came to the conclusion 
 
 VOL. II. p
 
 210 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 that there was no necessity for him to 
 deprive himself of the pleasure of her 
 society, since it was quite evident, to his 
 own eyes at least, that she was completely 
 indifferent to him. 
 
 ' What a conceited fool I am,' he had 
 said to himself, ' to suppose that she would 
 even give two thoughts to me. It is easy 
 to see that we men are tolerated by her 
 father as very good fellows in our way, 
 but 1 expect he would have a fit if anyone 
 were to suggest that we were in any way 
 his equals. I have so far at any rate sub- 
 dued my passion, as to prevent it from ap- 
 pearing openly.' 
 
 He had broached the subject of his leav- 
 ing Llanwch to Prettyman earlier in the 
 term. 
 
 ' My dear Innes,' said Prettyman, ' you 
 would be absolutely mad to leave now. 
 Why, you have only been here one year, 
 and you would find it uncommonly hard
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 211 
 
 to get another place. Everyone would 
 think that you had gone from some fault 
 of your own, however good your testi- 
 monials might be. It would be sheer mad- 
 ness. If I were you I should stay on here 
 at least three years, and then you might 
 have a chance of something better. There 
 is no knowing what may happen. It is 
 true that there are only two higher posts 
 than yours in this place to look forward to, 
 and you are the junior man, but still I 
 fancy the rector might possibly pass over 
 the senior men for you when Thomas and 
 Barry resign. The rector looks with a 
 very favourable eye upon you, Innes, for 
 some reason or other, I can't make out 
 why.' 
 
 Allan smiled and said, 
 ' I daresay you are right, Prettyman.' 
 He did not let Prettyman know that it 
 was no question of pecuniary gain or loss 
 which made him suo^o^est leavinof. In fact 
 
 p 2
 
 212 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 no one even guessed at Allan's secret, and 
 lie made up his mind that no one ever 
 should. 
 
 At the end of the term he went straight 
 up to Ardarrochar. His mother and Lord 
 and Lady Maginnis were there before him. 
 Jack was to come down for the 12th for his 
 three weeks' holiday from the bank. Mrs. 
 Innes was the mere wreck of her former 
 self. It was evident that she tried hard 
 to bear-up and show a bold front to her 
 sorrow ; but it was hard. She found little 
 pleasure in anything save the company of 
 her children. 
 
 ' My darling,' she said to Allan on his 
 arrival, ' I am so thankful to see you 
 again ; I am afraid my heart is weak, and 
 I am always afraid that I shan't see you 
 again.' 
 
 ' That is only fancy, mother dear, we 
 shall all live happily together again at 
 Blairavon, I hope.' 
 
 George greeted him heartily.
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 213 
 
 ' Your new life seems to agree with you, 
 Allan. You look as well as it is possible 
 for anyone to look.' 
 
 ' By Jove, this is just like coming home 
 again,' said Allan. ' You are very kind to 
 me, George. Ah. here's Amy with the 
 wonderful baby.' 
 
 Amy came in carrying her infant in her 
 arms, a mother's tender love beaming in 
 her soft brown eyes, as she bent over the 
 sleeping child. Allan kissed her, and she 
 said, 
 
 ' Don't speak loud, Allan dear, in case 
 you might waken him. George and I want 
 you to be his godfather. He is exactly 
 like you. Isn't he beautiful ?' 
 
 ' Well, Amy dear, if he is like me, he 
 isn't beautiful.' 
 
 ' Oh, Allan.' 
 
 ' And,' went on Allan, laughing, ' if I 
 am like that, 1 am a orreat deal uo-lier than 
 I thought I was.' 
 
 He then saw that his sister had taken
 
 214 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 what he said seriously, so he kissed her 
 tenderly again, and added, 
 
 ' Don't be angry, dear. I will be his 
 godfather, and I will do everything in the 
 world I can for him, if it should ever be 
 necessary.' 
 
 Allan had not seen Lord Maginnis since 
 his father's death, and as he was going to 
 his room to dress for dinner he met him 
 in the corridor. Maginnis stretched out 
 his hand and said, 
 
 ' I am well aware, Allan, that words of 
 condolence always sound unmeaning, but 
 I can assure you that I have felt for you 
 in your trouble more than I can express 
 in words.' 
 
 ' Thank you, Maginnis,' said Allan, as 
 he wrung his hand. He passed on to his 
 room, and forgot all about Maginnis's lisp, 
 his watery eyes, weak knees, and eyeglass, 
 and he said to himself, ' I have been a fool 
 as usual, I have been mistaken in him alt
 
 INXES OF BLAIKAVON. 215 
 
 my life. I am certain lie meant what lie 
 said, and he is a good soul.' 
 
 Allan dressed for dinner, and, feelino- 
 happy ao^ain at being among his own people, 
 he began to sing as he dressed ; an old 
 habit of his, which he had dropped lately. 
 Just as he finished dressinof, the £ono: 
 sounded, and he reached the drawino^-room 
 at the same time as the butler intent on 
 announcing dinner. He was an old friend 
 of Allan's. 
 
 ' Plenty of time, sir ; her ladyship is not 
 down yet.' 
 
 George and his sister Mildred were the 
 only two occupants of the drawing-room. 
 
 ' Here is Allan, Mildred.' 
 
 'We haven't met in this room, Mildred, 
 since you were married.' 
 
 ' No,' said Mildred. ' I hope that the 
 next time we meet here you will be mar- 
 ried too, Allan.' 
 
 Allan blushed and said,
 
 216 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 ' That is equivalent to wishing that you 
 may never see me again. I don't think it 
 is at all likely that I shall ever marry.' 
 
 ' What nonsense, Allan,' said George. 
 * Ah, here is your mother and Amy. Take 
 in Mildred, Allan. Come, Mrs. Innes.' 
 At dinner George said to LordMaginnis, 
 ' I haven't asked anyone for the 12th, 
 Maginnis. i hope you won't mind such 
 a small party.' 
 
 ' I am very glad of it, George. Four of 
 us — you say Jack Innes is coming down — 
 are quite enough to shoot the moor for the 
 first fortnight.' 
 
 They rode, and drove, and played lawn- 
 tennis, and pottered about in the glorious 
 August sunshine until the 11th, when Jack 
 came down, now changed from a rollicking 
 schoolboy into a rather sad-looking, gaunt 
 youth of eighteen. Allan met him at the 
 station. 
 
 ' You don't look particularly fit. Jack,' 
 said Allan fondly to him.
 
 INXES OF BLAIR AVOX. 217 
 
 ' No, I have had to sit up till eleven and 
 twelve and sometimes one in the morning 
 for the last fortnight. They work us tre- 
 mendously hard ; there are not nearly 
 enough clerks. However, three weeks here 
 will soon set me up again. How jolly it 
 is to get into the country again, after being 
 cooped up in that filthy hole Edinburgh.' 
 
 As they bowled along the road from the 
 station, and turned into the lodo:e-o:ates of 
 Ardarrochar, Jack snuffed in the beautiful 
 evening air, and said, with a sigh, 
 
 ' Ah, this is better than an ofiice-stool. I 
 almost feel at times that I am not really 
 alive in Edinburgh, that I am a mere 
 writino^ and calculatino; machine.' 
 
 ' Two or three days on the hills among 
 the grouse will soon drive that away. Jack. 
 Do you want to change your work?' 
 
 ^ Oh, no, I am 2:ettin^ on all rio^ht in 
 the bank. The manager is very kind to 
 me, and I daresay I shall rise steadily but 
 slowly. Oh, bother the bank, I am going
 
 218 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 to put it out of my head, for three weeks. 
 There's old M'Evoy' (M'Evoy had gone to 
 Ardarrochar after Richard Innes's death, 
 refusing to serve under anyone but an 
 Innes at Blairavon). ' How are you, 
 M'Evoy ?' said Jack. ' Lots of birds ?' 
 
 ' Ay, sir, but I'm gey and glad tae see 
 ye. Ow ay, there's a wheen burrds, gin' 
 ye've no forgot the way to couj) them 
 ower.' 
 
 ' We'll see to-morrow, M'Evoy. Good- 
 night.' 
 
 M'Evoy watched them drive on to the 
 house, then he took off his hat, with a 
 puzzled look, and shook his head, and 
 said, 
 
 ' There's twa bonnie laddies wha didna 
 ought tae be warkin' in schools and banks, 
 and sic like trash. Appears tae me that 
 the auld faimilies is a' gane the wrang gait 
 thegither noo-a-days. We hae cotton- 
 spinners frae Manchester, and bow-leggit, 
 lood-voiced horse-cowpers frae Glesca' i'
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 219 
 
 the auld hooses. I dinna unnerstan' it. 
 It's no recht onymse.' 
 
 Jack's holidays are over. A host of 
 guests have come to shoot driven grouse, 
 and gone, and it is the day before Allan 
 must go back to Llanwch. In the after- 
 noon his mother and he were sitting alone 
 in the library, and discussing whether it 
 would not be better to sell all the wood at 
 Blairavon, and so raise enough money to 
 farm the land thus redeemed, and enable 
 them to live at Blairavon once more. 
 Allan was ao;ainst it. 
 
 ' I don't like to see you toiling away at 
 that terrible drudgery, Allan dear, when 
 you might do something much better and 
 more remunerative.' 
 
 ' But, my dear mother, I like it, I really 
 like it ; you all seem to think that I am a 
 martyr, when, if it weren't for the miser- 
 able pay, I am doing work which I 
 thoroughly enjoy. It is impossible to do
 
 220 INNES OF BLAIKAVON. 
 
 anything better, unless one has capital.' 
 
 ' I am sure that there is some foul play 
 at the bottom of that Black Hawk business 
 in Australia, Allan. I never trusted Mr. 
 Reid from the first, but your dear father's 
 implicit confidence in him lulled my sus- 
 picion, and I almost believed in him, but 
 now I am sure that he is responsible in 
 some way or other for the loss of all that 
 money.' 
 
 ' Well, mother, I don't think there is 
 anything to be done.' 
 
 ' Did you ever notice his eyes, Allan ? 
 Horrid shifty eyes. He could never look 
 anyone in the face. I wish, oh, how I 
 wish we had some trustworthy agent in 
 Australia to look after the matter.' 
 
 ' It would be quite useless, mother, un- 
 less we could prove actual cheating on his 
 part. He had a power of attorney, you 
 see. His letter said merely that the Black 
 Hawk had ceased yielding gold.' 
 
 Mrs. Innes sighed, and said.
 
 IXNES OF BLAIEAYOX. 221 
 
 ' I shall never rest content until some 
 real investigation is made.' 
 
 ' Perhaps I shall go out some da}% 
 though I don't think it would be of any 
 use whatsoever. I think we had much 
 better let the matter rest.' 
 
 Although Allan said this to calm his 
 mother's miso-ivino^s, in his heart he con- 
 fessed that somethino; was wrono^, and had 
 a firm intention of o^oins; out to Australia 
 some day. 
 
 Despite the fact that he had spent such 
 a happy time at Ardarrochar, it was with 
 joy that he got into the train to go to 
 Llanwch once more. He was in a very 
 curious frame of mind at this time. He 
 alternately cursed himself for being such 
 a fool as to cherish love for an object, 
 which he knew in his heart of hearts was 
 unattainable, and blessed the kind gods 
 that he was allowed to see and speak to 
 the only girl whom he ever cared to see twice 
 again. You will see that Allan was on
 
 222 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 very dangerous ground. He was constant- 
 ly balancing himself on the edge of a 
 precipice, and trusting entirely to his own 
 power of will to prevent himself from fall- 
 in 2: over. He had said to himself, ' I will 
 follow Colonel Newcome's advice and pre- 
 sent my back to the enemy when the time 
 comes '; but then he also said, ' The time 
 has not yet come ; so long as she does not 
 care for me, I am safe as far as my own 
 feelings are concerned.' Even as he was 
 thinking thus, he Avas finding the journey 
 down to Llanwch awfully long and weari- 
 some. He calculated the chances of see- 
 ing her to-morrow, the next day, at any 
 rate on Sunday in church. A very foolish 
 person, Allan ; he Avould have done better 
 to fly at once, rather than give himself so 
 much unnecessary pain. The bitter sweet- 
 ness of the present could only be turned 
 into never-ending bitterness at last. And 
 yet — it is very easy for a looker-on to be
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVOX. 223 
 
 wise, but who can lav down laws and 
 regulations for a young man in love ? 
 
 Allan had to wait till Sunday before his 
 opportunity came. He went to morning- 
 service — a thing he rarely did. As he 
 walked to church he was malio'nino: him- 
 self in every way he could think of. 
 
 ' You are a pretty sort of an ass, I think/ 
 he said to himself, ' to go tramping to 
 church to endure an hour-and-a-half from 
 that awful vicar. I suppose it will be 
 the same old subject — eternal damnation. 
 Well, I may see Muriel, possibly catch her 
 eye, get a bow from her, even a word with 
 her if that old hawk Sir Lionel Paunce- 
 foote, who is staying somewhere about 
 here, is not near. I believe that the old 
 fiend would marry her, if he could. He 
 usually monopolizes her when he has a 
 chance. He has a title and thirty thou- 
 sand a-year. He is a worn-out, broken- 
 down old roue^ but with his new teeth and
 
 224 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 liis stays he miglit pass for sixty. Ugh ! 
 They can't think of allowing him to marry 
 her.* 
 
 You will see that Allan had no inten- 
 tion of asking Muriel to marry him, and 
 yet he had every intention of preventing 
 anyone else from doing so, all of which is 
 known as acting like a dog-in-the-manger. 
 Fortune smiled on him to-day. Sir Lionel 
 had a fit of the gout, which he called a 
 sprained foot. Mr. Vivian stayed to talk 
 to the vicar on parish matters, telling 
 Muriel he would catch her up on the way 
 home. Mrs. Vivian was confined to the 
 house. When Allan came out into the 
 warm autumn sunshine after church, he 
 not only saw Muriel but also had the 
 pleasure of escorting her along the road 
 towards her home. 
 
 ' Why have you honoured church wdth 
 a visit this morning, Mr. Lines ? You 
 don't often j^atronize it in the morning.' 
 
 ' I hardlv know, Miss Vivian. It w^as a
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 225 
 
 nice morning, and I got up early, and I 
 said I ^vould go to church.' (Oh ! Allan.) 
 ' Not that I like it.' 
 
 ' Why don't you like it ?' 
 
 'Well, I am afraid it is from a selfish 
 point of vieAv. I cannot recognise that 
 public worship of that sort can do anyone 
 any good. All those farmers and servants 
 go because their fathers went before them, 
 not because they want to worship. If the 
 music were good, it might touch their 
 hearts. If the sermon were good it might 
 possibly reach them. If the service were 
 not droned out in that " let's-get-it-over-as- 
 quickly-as -possible " tone, it might affect 
 them. To my mind, a sermon like that we 
 have or have not hstened to to-day is an in- 
 sult to one's intellio:ence. There is nothino; 
 attractive or reverent in the service. Re- 
 ligion should be made attractive in itself, 
 if it is to be in public' 
 
 ' I had no idea that you thought in that 
 
 VOL. II. Q
 
 22^ INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 way, Mr. Innes : people say that you are 
 completely indifferent.' 
 
 'No, I am not indifferent. Miss Vivian. 
 There are some men who have the power 
 to move my very soul. I have heard a 
 man in a little village in Perthshire preach 
 for an hour, Avith the most perfect, simple 
 eloquence I have ever listened to. He 
 kept his audience, and me among the 
 number, spell-bound, and I was sorry 
 when it was over. If he were in England 
 they might make him a bishop. There he 
 will stay probably till he dies. A man 
 like that ought to be brought into the 
 large towns, and given a church which 
 would hold as many persons as could 
 hear him speak : Spurgeon, I believe, had 
 the same poAver. There is a Scotch Inde- 
 pendent minister who is as good, but a 
 little rough — but they are few. People 
 don't admire the word of God in itself — 
 they admire the way in which it is offered
 
 INNES OF BLAIEAVON. 227 
 
 to them. Music, people will tell you, ap- 
 peals only to the senses, but then is not 
 soul merely a refinement of sense ?' 
 
 ' How would you remedy the matter, 
 Mr. Innes ?' 
 
 ' I would make every clergyman prove 
 not only that he could preach well, but 
 also that he had the power of attraction. 
 It is the man who is worshipped in church. 
 A man can become a clergyman now and 
 get a good living by favour, if he can cram 
 up enough doctrinal points to satisfy an 
 examiner. It is apparently unimportant 
 that he should possess any of the qualities 
 for teaching men. What I feel about so 
 many clergymen is that they are not really 
 sincere. They seem to me to regard their 
 work as a business at which they can make 
 money, if successful, if not they can throw 
 up their hands to heaven and say, " It is 
 God's will," and at the same time pray that 
 the congregation will give liberally towards 
 
 q2
 
 \^ 
 
 228 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 the augmentation of their stipend — now I 
 have shocked you, Miss Vivian, and here 
 comes your father.' 
 
 ' You haven't shocked me in the least, 
 Mr. Innes, and I am very certain that most 
 people misjudge you entirely.' 
 
 ' How d'ye do, Innes, had a good time in 
 Scotland ?' 
 
 ' We had pretty good sport, thank you,, 
 Mr. Vivian, among the grouse, but we had 
 very few partridges, they Avere all drowned 
 in the June floods.' 
 
 ' Better come up and have a day with us 
 next Saturday, and dine with us after- 
 wards.' 
 
 ' I can't get off until ten, but if I may 
 come then I shall be delighted.' 
 
 ' Certainly.' 
 
 Allan took off his hat, had a bow and a 
 gentle smile from Muriel, and went back 
 to his rooms treading on air. Poor fool !
 
 229 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 * The moral deterioration that foUovrs an empty exchequer.* 
 
 Allan had his day's shooting, but as Muriel 
 and her mother had gone to London for a 
 fortnight, he voted it the slowest day he 
 had ever spent, and moreover he shot 
 abominably badly. 
 
 One cold, wet afternoon in November, 
 Allan, Wilson, and Prettyman were taking 
 tea in Bright's room. They were very 
 silent : the fire was burning brightly, and 
 Allan was looking with admiration at a 
 beautiful Sevres china tea-pot which Bright 
 was holding in his hand, preparatory to 
 pouring out tea. A knock came at the 
 -door, and their maid-of-all-work brought in
 
 230 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 a letter for Allan. He opened it, laughed, 
 and threw it into the fire, and said, 
 
 ' The last of my Oxford bills. At the 
 end of next term I shall be free from them 
 entirely. I shall pay half of that this 
 term and half next, and then I shall be 
 square, thank goodness.' 
 
 Wilson sighed, and in his thin little voice 
 said, 
 
 ' I wish I could say the same. I went 
 down thirteen years ago, owing a little over 
 four hundred pounds, and I still owe over a 
 hundred, though I have paid five hundred 
 and sixty for those four hundred already 
 since I have been here.' 
 
 ' It's a cruel, monstrous shame,' broke in 
 Prettyman, angrily. 
 
 At this point Bright took up a book of 
 problems and began to work at it. 
 
 ' Shall we go. Bright?' said Prettyman. 
 
 The ogreish face broke into a soft, sweet 
 smile, became childlike, and Bright said, 
 
 ' No, don't go. You can talk as much
 
 DsNES OF BLAIRAVOX. 231 
 
 as you like. I shan't hear you when I am 
 working at this book.' 
 
 ' What a wonderful thing it is to be a 
 mathematician," said Allan. 
 
 ^ I sav it is a cruel and monstrous 
 shame,' said Prettyman, ' that such a thing 
 should be tolerated as the system of credit 
 at the universities. It is the cause of the 
 ruin of hundreds of men. I will tell you 
 men what I have never told anyone before. 
 You know I had an elder brother, Innes. 
 He was a parson, getting on well in his 
 parish. He had got into debt at Oxford 
 about a hundred pounds. He paid off 
 twenty j)ounds or so a year, until he had 
 paid about a hundred and fifty pounds, 
 and still there was more to pay. The in- 
 terest seemed to be never-ending. At last 
 he thought it was finished. He was a 
 happy man once more. He had made up 
 his mind to ask a certain lady to marry 
 him. On the very day on which he was 
 going to propose to her, a bill came in for
 
 232 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 thirty pounds with interest at ten per cent, 
 for six years, which he had utterly for- 
 gotten. It broke his heart, he committed 
 suicide that same day. Now you know, 
 Innes, why I never ran into debt in 
 Oxford.' 
 
 Allan said nothing. 
 
 ' I seem,' said Wilson, very quietly, 
 ^ never to get to the end of mine either. I 
 pay and pay, and yet there is always more. 
 I have lost all hopes of ever seeing the end 
 of them now.' 
 
 There were signs of uneasiness in 
 Bright's feet, and Allan quickly moved 
 his chair out of range. 
 
 ' It is a cursed, damnable shame,' said 
 Pretty man. 
 
 ' What is?' said Allan. 
 
 ' Why, the credit system, of course,' said 
 Prettyman, angrily. ' Two-thirds of the 
 men who leave Oxford and Cambridge 
 start life with a load round their necks, 
 which some of them never shake off. It
 
 IXNES OF BLAIRAVON. 233 
 
 is not their own fault. How many boys 
 of eighteen have the heads of men on their 
 shoulders ? They see they can get a thing 
 by merely going into a shoj^ and ordering 
 it. They are encouraged not to pay. For 
 -a very good reason, that the cash price, 
 absurdly high as it is in Oxford, is ten 
 per cent, below the price of the article if it 
 is put in the books : and when a man has 
 gone down ten per cent, more is added. It 
 is iniquitous. Xot one man in a hundred 
 takes the matter into court and refuses to 
 pay the exorbitant interest, because he 
 knows very well that to have his name 
 figuring in the police-court news, be he 
 innocent or guilty, is enough to damn him 
 for ever for his profession, whatever it may 
 be. And so it goes on. If you were to 
 examine a man's debts when he leaves the 
 university, you would find that the greater 
 part of them have been contracted in the 
 early part of his career and not at the 
 end.'
 
 234 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 ' That is true enough in my case/ said 
 Allan, and Wilson sighed again and 
 nodded his head. 
 
 ' He learns wisdom when too late. Credit 
 ought to be prohibited by statute at the 
 university. If only one or two of the iirst- 
 rate tradesmen would vow that they will 
 sell nothing except for cash, they would 
 soon have their reward. Their defence 
 at present is that they have to charge high 
 prices and high rates of interest because 
 of their bad debts. They have very few 
 altogether bad debts. And they would, 
 of course, have none if they insisted upon 
 cash. It would make the life there, too^ 
 less artificial ; there would be no crows 
 strutting in peacocks' feathers then. Every 
 undergraduate at the university is for the 
 time being, at any rate, a gentleman by 
 position.' 
 
 Allan laughed, and said, 
 
 ' You talk just as if you were scanning
 
 IXXES OF BLAIR AVON. 235 
 
 a line of Homer, Prettyman. e long — no, 
 gentleman by position.' 
 
 'That's just what I did mean to say. 
 Don't interrupt, Innes. Many men are 
 not contented to be mere gentlemen by 
 position. They wish to be rich gentlemen, 
 and to show it in their clothes. There are 
 many abuses at the great seats of learning, 
 but that is the s^reatest. It leads to Ivino; 
 and deceit at home. A father asks his son 
 if he is in debt, and the son answers, 
 " Oh, yes, a few pounds," mentioning a sum 
 he can easily pay out of his allowance. 
 The father, remembering his own youth, 
 probably gives him a cheque for double 
 the amount, and advises him to keep 
 within his income for the future. The son 
 may or may not pay off a few jiounds' 
 worth of debt with this money, but he 
 votes the governor a " brick," and gives a 
 champage dinner to his friends on the rest 
 of it. The system is sinful, criminal, and
 
 "236 INNES OF BLAIR A VON. 
 
 ought to be abolished at once. I know 
 that there are people who say that the 
 experience is good for a young man, and 
 will teach him economy in the future. I 
 utterly deny it. They might as well say 
 that the fact that the Duke of Westminster's 
 having had a thousand pounds a- day for 
 twenty years will teach him the way to 
 live on fifty pounds a-year as a clerk in 
 the City. The system at the universities 
 teaches a man extravagance, and it takes 
 him years of his life to get out of the habit 
 •of hankering after what he cannot get, 
 because he had it for the mere asking at 
 the university. There is no other place 
 in the world where you can go into a shop 
 and say, " Give me this, and that, and see 
 that you send it up at once. Snooks of 
 Merton is my name." Snooks of Merton 
 may have been ordering cigars at eighty 
 shillings a hundred, and artists' proofs at 
 forty guineas a-piecc, on an allowance of 
 one hundred and eighty pounds per annum.
 
 IXNES OF BLAIRAVON. 237 
 
 What does that matter ? The shopman 
 probably knows that Snooks is going to 
 take orders, and must pay eventually to 
 save his name, and so he is content to 
 wait. He can afford to wait. He has 
 paid forty shillings a hundred for the 
 cigars, and he gets ten per cent, interest, 
 on eighty shillings a hundred. Xo bad 
 investment. The shoj^keepers don't want 
 cash. They prefer to book a thing. They 
 know it is a safe investment in ninety-nine 
 cases out of a hundred. They can get ten 
 per cent, for their money nowhere else. 
 They are in consequence uncommonly 
 glad to book a thing, get ten j^er cent, for 
 an indefinite period, and finally the original 
 debt in full;' and he stopped, with a snort 
 of rage. 
 
 ' I quite agree with you, Prettyman,' 
 said Allan. ' But it is hopeless to attempt 
 to remedy it, I am afraid. It is too deeply 
 rooted there now to be eradicated save by 
 statute, and I daresay they would get
 
 238 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 round that, even. The tradesmen could 
 do it, but they won't. It is against their 
 ultimate interest to establish a cash 
 system, say what they will to the contrary.' 
 
 ' I only wish such a statute had been in 
 force in my time,' said Wilson, in a weary 
 voice. ' I should have been a happier 
 man. After all, one only has oneself to 
 blame ; but it is hardly fair, as Prettyman 
 says, to expect a boy of eighteen to have 
 the head of a man upon his shoulders;' and 
 he sighed again. 
 
 Bright here rose, took up his tea-pot, 
 looked at it critically, and making a hole 
 in the red ashes of his fire, carefully 
 deposited the tea-pot in their midst. It 
 cracked and broke into a thousand pieces 
 at once. Allan jumped up from his chair 
 with a cry, and said, 
 
 ' What on earth did you do that for, 
 Bright?' 
 
 ' I was tired of it,' answered Bright, with 
 a cherubic smile.
 
 IXNES OF BLAIR AVOX. 239 
 
 Wilson piped out, 
 
 ' I think Bright is getting dangerous, we 
 had better go.' 
 
 When they were outside, Allan said to 
 Pretty man, 
 
 'What an extraordinary person Bright is/ 
 
 ' It was Wilson's fault,' said Prettyman. 
 ' Bright has a very soft heart, and he has 
 the greatest pity for Wilson, whom he is 
 very fond of, and he can't bear to see him 
 in a despondent condition, so he burnt his 
 tea-pot to relieve his feelings.' 
 
 ' But he said he shouldn't hear anything 
 that was said.' 
 
 ' He always listens when Wilson speaks,' 
 said Prettyman. 
 
 ' Well, I wish he had given me the tea- 
 pot. I would have lent him something 
 else to burn,' answered Allan. ' I shall 
 always be glad I became a schoolmaster, 
 Prettyman, if only for the reason that it 
 has shown me some very curious samples 
 of the species at Llanwch.'
 
 240 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 One has no patience Avitli Allan at thi& 
 time. He was playing with fire, and 
 assuring himself that he would not be 
 burnt. He was laying up for himself a 
 store of agony of which he little dreamed. 
 He trusted his own strength, not having 
 any knowledge of the power of his adver- 
 sary, Love. Love which, as an adversary, 
 is stronger than all the powers of hell. As 
 a friend, ah ! yes, as a friend as strong as 
 Death. He felt sure that he could forget 
 Muriel as soon as he left Llanwch, he pre- 
 ferred to stay on and on and enjoy the few 
 opportunities he had of her society, and to 
 have the feeling that he was near her to 
 protect her, just as though any protection 
 that he might offer would be of any avail. 
 He had been told and almost believed that 
 she was going to marry Thomas, and he 
 was going to prevent it if he could. But 
 how ? The only way in which he could 
 prevent it was to make her transfer her 
 affections from Thomas to himself. Yet
 
 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 241 
 
 he was continually telling himself that he 
 would be a villain, if he allowed her to 
 think for a moment that he was in love 
 with her, or in any way tried to turn the 
 current of her affections towards himself. 
 He was young and therefore foolish, and 
 that is the only excuse that can be found 
 for him. He was content to shut his eyes 
 to the future, and enjoy the sunshine of 
 the present. If he had only known of the 
 awful torments of unrequited affection, he 
 would probably have turned and fled from 
 Llanwch, as from a pestilence. But no, 
 he said, in his folly, 
 
 ' I will go when I feel that it is time ; 
 besides, Prettyman tells me it would be 
 foolish to go at present.' 
 
 (How easy it is to bolster up a feeble 
 excuse.) Prettyman had said so, it is 
 true, but then he did not know of the 
 chain which bound him to Llanwch : if he 
 had, possibly he too would have advised 
 flight. Prettyman thought that it was 
 
 VOL. IL R
 
 242 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 merely the restlessness borii of youth and 
 enthusiasm which made Allan so eager to 
 go at the end of the previous term. After 
 iill, Allan's eagerness was only feigned. 
 It was the last feeble effort to conquer 
 himself. 
 
 He now made up his mind to stay until 
 n better opportunity offei^ed. He, alone, 
 was going to fight the demon of Love 
 which was clawing at his heart and sapping 
 his very vitals ; we shall see who won in 
 the end. 
 
 He had said to himself that there was 
 no harm in his being in love, that it did 
 him good : it took him out of himself, 
 made him work harder. He had not 
 yet learned that, in his position, he might 
 work till his eyes grew dim and his heart 
 was sore with patient waiting, and that it 
 would profit him nothing. He was learn- 
 ing many things, but his lesson was not 
 yet perfect. He argued with himself, ' If 
 I work I must succeed. There is nothing
 
 INNES OF BLAIEAVON. 243 
 
 like work.' But this was merely a sop to 
 his conscience. 
 
 If the matter was reduced down to 
 solid, dry fact, it resolved itself into this 
 — that Allan was content to waste some of 
 the best years of his life, in order that he 
 might look at, possibly speak to, a lady 
 w^ho could be nothing to him. Her mother 
 was entirely a woman of the world ; her 
 father, according to Prettyman, ready to 
 sell her to the highest or noblest bidder. 
 Allan did not think this of him himself, 
 but he knew that he naturally expected 
 his daughter to marry well. Xay more, 
 Muriel herself had probably been trained 
 to this idea all her life. So Allan lingered, 
 poor silly moth ; like all other moths he 
 said. ' The lio;ht is sweet, I will flv round 
 it ; I shall not burn my wings.' And lo ! 
 soon the}^ say, ' I am undone ; my wings 
 are burnt, and I am like to die.' 
 
 The curious thing was that no one ever 
 dreamed of the battle that was rao^ino: in 
 
 K 2
 
 244 INNES OF BLATRAVON. 
 
 Allan's heart. He showed no outward 
 symptoms of the disease that Avas slowly 
 consuming him within. He had a mar- 
 vellous power of controlling his features 
 and his voice, which served to blind others 
 as to the true state of the case. 
 
 He had seen Thomas several times since 
 the previous June. Thomas showed the 
 same friendship as he had shown at Ox- 
 ford, until one day when he had come 
 down to say ' Good-bye ' to the Vivians, 
 previous to his departure to Mentone for 
 the winter. It was about a month before 
 the events related in the beo^innino: of thi& 
 chapter. 
 
 Allan and Wilson had called at the 
 Croft, and stayed to afternoon-tea. In the 
 middle of it Thomas came in, and saw at 
 one end of the room Muriel bending over 
 an illustrated book of British butterflies ; 
 Allan was standing beside her, explaining 
 that the colouring of the Painted Lady was 
 all wrong, according to the one he had
 
 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 245 
 
 seen. Muriel had just raised her head, 
 and was looking up into Allan's face when 
 Thomas advanced into the room. In an 
 instant his brow contracted, and his little, 
 red, ferret-like eyes assumed a look of 
 concentrated hate, which it was as well 
 Allan did not see. It was only for an 
 instant. The next moment Thomas, with 
 a bland smile, was holding out his hand 
 to Mrs. Vivian. He greeted Allan rather 
 coolly, and, when Allan asked him if he 
 might go up to Llwyn Bridge to fish the 
 Usk again next spring, Thomas put him 
 off, first saying that he had j^romised it to 
 another man, and then that he thought of 
 giving it a rest for the first half of the 
 season ; all of which was unintelligible to 
 Allan. This sudden coldness after such 
 warm previous expressions of friendship 
 struck him as odd. This was merely the 
 beo^innino: of a silent strife which was to 
 end disastrously for at least one of the 
 combatants.
 
 246 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 ' You must come butterfly-hunting with 
 me one day in summer, Mr. Innes,' said 
 Muriel. 
 
 ' I shall only be too delighted if I may^ 
 Miss Vivian, but I am afraid I don't know 
 much about it.' 
 
 ' Then we can learn together, I don't 
 know anything about it either. It will be 
 something to relieve the monotony of one's 
 life here. You men have much the best 
 of it. You have some definite occupation 
 every day, while I have nothing, except 
 when Lily Ventry comes. I am going to 
 make her stay from May to August this 
 year.' 
 
 Allan thousrht that he would like to 
 spend the rest of his natural existence in 
 catching butterflies with Muriel, and he 
 also consigned Miss Ventry, inwardly of 
 course, to a warmer clime. 
 
 That night he told Prettyman that Miss 
 Ventry was coming again in the summer. 
 
 ' What can Miss Vivian see in that
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 247 
 
 terrible woman. I don't believe in your 
 theory that she has her there as a " set 
 oiF" to herself. She is much too innocent 
 and modest to dream of such a thing.' 
 
 ^ H'm,' said Prettyman, ' your ingenuous- 
 ness is interesting, Innes, and as for Miss 
 Ventry, I should advise her to try " fresh 
 fields and pastures new." She is some- 
 what past her prime, and I expect is 
 anxious to get settled in life.' 
 
 ' Well, it don't matter to me anyhoAv,* 
 said Allan, ' but I must say I can't stand 
 her.' 
 
 Autumn at Llanwch, lying as it did 
 among wooded hills, was very beautiful, 
 and Allan and Prettyman used, on many 
 Sundays, to wander over the hills, talking 
 at times of everything in heaven and earth, 
 at others, silently striding side by side, each 
 wrapped in his own thoughts. 
 
 Autumn wore into winter, and Allan 
 found himself again travelling up to Lon- 
 don on a visit to Lady Grizel. He was
 
 248 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 now in a state of complete indifference to 
 the future. He had made up his mind to 
 let things slip along as they had been doing. 
 He had said to himself, 
 
 ' 1 have kept my own counsel for fifteen 
 months, why should I not keep it for 
 ever?'
 
 249 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ' Aequam memento, rebus in arduis, 
 Servare mentem.' 
 
 Allan found his mother at Rutland Gate. 
 She had been staying there for more than 
 a month, Jack being left alone in Edin- 
 buro^h. A fortnio^ht before Allan's arrival 
 there had been a great conclave at Lady 
 Grizel's house, between Lady Grizel, Mrs. 
 Innes, General Ainslie, and George, the 
 result of which was that Allan was to give 
 up schoolmastering, that most of the wood 
 at Blairavon was to be cut and sold, that 
 Allan was to go back to Blairavon and 
 farm the whole place himself. The old 
 house was to be occupied with the excep- 
 tion of the two new wino^s. Georo^e was
 
 250 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 Cfoiiiir to make over five thousand pounds 
 to him, the amount of Amy's jointure. 
 This was to be done by a pious fraud. 
 George was going to explain that there 
 was a clause in Amy's marriage settlement 
 to the effect that, in the event of Richard 
 Innes's children being left unprovided for, 
 the five thousand pounds given to Amy 
 was to be returned, subject to George's 
 approval. It was thin, horribly thin, but 
 they could not devise anything better. 
 All this was to come into force in the 
 following August, when Allan had com- 
 pleted two years at Llanwch. They cal- 
 culated that with the profits from the sale 
 of the timber, and this money, and the 
 profits from farming, Allan ought to 
 make about eight hundred pounds a year. 
 George had said that Allan would be more 
 likely to concede to this plan at the end of 
 two years schoolmastering, when he would 
 be beginning to see the hopelessness of
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 251 
 
 the business, and would in consequence 
 be more amenable to reason. 
 
 The general said that it was ' uncom- 
 monly good of George to behave in this 
 way, and that, by Jove ! he respected him 
 for it.' 
 
 ' I don't see it at all, general. I am a 
 wealthy man. I cannot spend my income 
 in the way we are living now, and I see 
 no reason why the money which rightly 
 belono;s to Allan should not 2:0 to him. 
 When Mr. Innes made the marriage settle- 
 ment, he made it under the impression 
 that he was a rich man, and could afford 
 to do so ; but he couldn't have done so- 
 now, if he had lived.' 
 
 ' Quite so,' said the general. ' I honour 
 you for it ; but it isn't the way of the 
 world by a very long way. I don't think 
 that there are many men who would do it. 
 The money is legally yours.' 
 
 ' Legally it is, general; but in equity it
 
 252 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 is not. Besides, it is no sacrifice on my 
 part. It is my wife's money, and it is at 
 her express wish that I am doing this.' 
 
 Allan was, of course, utterly unconsci- 
 ous of this little plot that had been so 
 carefully hatched, and which was to be 
 carried into effect in the following autumn. 
 
 In reply to Lady Grizel's questionings 
 about Llanwch, Allan rather beat about 
 the bush. He seemed to be very fond of 
 the place, and yet to be dissatisfied. Lady 
 Grizel did not understand it. She thought 
 that there was something under the sur- 
 face, and yet she did not know what it was. 
 However, she consoled herself with the 
 fact that it would be soon over. 
 
 It was with feelings of intense joy that 
 Allan turned his face away from London, 
 and sped away down to Llanwch once 
 more. 
 
 Despite the affection that he had for 
 Lady Grizel, there was a lodestone at 
 Llanwch which he felt could draw him
 
 IXXES OF BLAIRAYON. 253 
 
 from the nethermost parts of the earth. 
 He arrived — and found to his dismay that 
 Mrs. Vivian and ]\Iuriel had 2:one to 
 Bournemouth for three months, as Muriel 
 was not well. 
 
 What a miserable, wet, dull, uninterest- 
 ing place Llanwch was. Allan found him- 
 self even complaining of the mountains. 
 His work became distasteful to him. He 
 found the boys annoying, and life gener- 
 ally unbearable. 
 
 'What's the matter with you, Innes?' 
 said Prettyman to him in the middle of 
 term. ' You seem to have lost all your 
 '• go " and spirit.' 
 
 ' Oh. nothino' ' said Allan. ' I don't 
 think I am very well, this continual damp 
 weather doesn't agree with me at all. I 
 wish the summer would come.' 
 
 ' You've got the blues,' said Prettyman. 
 ' To-morrow is a half-holiday ; let's take 
 train up the line to Dyllyn, and walk back 
 over the hills.'
 
 254 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 ' Right you are,' said Allan. 
 
 The next day they went up to Dyllyn, 
 and when they got on to the hills on the 
 way home, Allan's animal spirits returned, 
 and they began talking of Oxford and old 
 college friends — how So-and-So had come 
 to grief over a woman, and somebody else 
 had been shot out in Texas, and finally 
 Prettyman told Allan how he had met 
 Atherley in a billiard-saloon in London. 
 He was acting as marker, and Prettyman 
 had gathered some disjointed information 
 from him about debt — Alice Wallis of the 
 Frivolity — governor furious, etc. — Ather- 
 ley was a mere sot now, etc. 
 
 ' By gad, that's a sad tale,' said Allan ; 
 and then he began to rage against the 
 usages of society in general, and the 
 iniquity of sham marriages in particular. 
 He gave Prettyman a general survey of a 
 perfect system of marriage, at which Pretty- 
 man scoffed, and said, 
 
 ' But, Innes, I am afraid your system
 
 INXES OF BLAIKAVON. 255 
 
 would hardly work. Look how many 
 failures there are in marriage now/ 
 
 ' Of course there are failures,' said 
 Allan, warmly, ' because those which you 
 refer to are mere bargains and not mar- 
 riages. Unequal marriages, too, are just 
 as bad — a man of long descent with a 
 millionaire o^rocer's dauo:hter, and vke- 
 versd.^ 
 
 ' But the worn-out blood of the aris- 
 tocracy wants recruiting at times, Innes.' 
 
 ' Fiddlesticks ! Worn-out blood I — why, 
 you might just as well talk about the 
 worn-out blood of race-horses. Is a racer 
 mated with a Clydesdale in order to im- 
 prove the breed of race-horses?' 
 
 ' You are quite right, Innes ; I was only 
 drawing you. You have a good many 
 hobbies, old man, and it is amusing to see 
 you mount and ride them at full gallop. 
 We are all more or less frauds — like 
 Dickens's Marchioness — in that we can 
 " make believe " a good deal.'
 
 256 INNES OF BLAIRAVOX. 
 
 ' Do you remember CastellOjPrettyman?' 
 
 ' By name, well ; he was much junior to 
 me.' 
 
 ' I shall never forget him on the subject 
 of marriage. You know what a curious 
 voice he had? We had been having a 
 tremendous argument on the point one 
 night in Ingersoll's rooms, and Castello 
 had been listening very intently all the 
 time; suddenly some one asked him what 
 he thought about it. He looked uj) with 
 that innocent smile of his and said, " Con- 
 sidering that marriage has produced such 
 a wonderfully ugly, uninteresting, and 
 stupid person as myself, I consider it a 
 great mistake." ' 
 
 ' By the way, Innes, are we on the right 
 road ? We ought to be about five miles 
 off Llanwch, and I don't seem to recognise 
 any of the country about. Here comes a 
 man, we'll ask him.' 
 
 ' Could you tell us if we are on the 
 right road to Llanwch?' said Allan.
 
 INXES OF BLAIRAVON. 257 
 
 The man looked at them with an utterly 
 expressionless face, and said, ' Dim Saes- 
 neg,' and was going to pass on. 
 
 'Here, that won't do. Llanwch. Thlaaan- 
 oooch ! Is this the road to Llanwch V 
 bawled Allan. 
 
 The man shook his head, and then 
 Prettyman said, 
 
 ' Of course he only knows the Welsh 
 word for it. It is something like Kam- 
 schatka. Ah, I have it.' 
 
 The man's face broke into a slow smile, 
 as much as to sav, ' Whv the deuce didn't 
 you say that before?' and then proceeded 
 to explain that they were on the Avrong 
 road presumably, when Prettyman pro- 
 duced a shilling and beckoned to him. At 
 least he understood that language, and 
 went with them and showed them the 
 right road. 
 
 About ten minutes after the man had 
 left them they came round a very sharp 
 turn. The road was cut out of the side of 
 
 VOL. II. S
 
 258 TNNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 the hill, and one bank sloped down to the 
 river some hundred feet below, with no 
 protecting wall. Just as they came round 
 the corner they saw a pair of grey cobs, 
 in a small waggonette, tearing along the 
 road at a terrible pace. A man on the 
 box w^as doing all he could to pull them 
 in. To no avail. They had fairly bolted. 
 Allan and Pretty man ran hard about fifty 
 yards along the road, and then stood and 
 shouted and waved their hands. The cobs 
 slackened speed on seeing them, and Allan 
 grasped the reins of one, and Prettyman 
 of the other. On looking to see who was 
 the occupant of the box-seat they saw it 
 was Mr. Vivian, as pale as death and shak- 
 ing. He did not speak for a moment. 
 Soon he gave a gulp, and, turning to Allan, 
 said, 
 
 'Thank you, gentlemen; if you had not 
 been exactly where you were, I should 
 have been a dead man now. I could 
 never have kept the Avaggonette on the
 
 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 259 
 
 road at that corner, and should have been 
 dashed to pieces on the rocks below. I 
 think the ponies are quiet enough now. 
 Will you drive with me ? I was ofoinof 
 further, but I don't feel much inclined to 
 now. Harris, my coachman, is at the inn 
 along the road there. He got out to water 
 the horses, when a young fiend of a boy 
 came out beating a tin can. That startled 
 them, and you know the rest. I have not 
 seen much of you two lately : will you 
 come and dine with me to-morrow niofht ?' 
 
 All this had been said as they were 
 driving back to the inn, where they found 
 Harris thrashing the small boy, who still 
 held the tin can. He had first run after 
 the carriage, but, on seeing it stojDped, he 
 turned to vent his wrath on the innocent, 
 cause of the mishap. 
 
 After this Mr. Vivian had Allan and 
 Prettyman to dine with him very often, 
 and a strong regard for Allan sprang up in 
 Mr. Vivian's breast. 
 
 s2
 
 260 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 The rest of tlie term passed off pleasant- 
 ly enough, and at the end of it Allan, 
 having no opportunity of fishing in Wales^ 
 and having paid oiF all his Oxford debts, 
 went up to Edinburgh to stay with his- 
 mother for the Easter holidays.
 
 261 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ' Thy fate and mine are sealed, 
 I strove against the stream, and all in vain,' 
 
 They say that before any great misfortune 
 happens to anybody, a period of tranquil- 
 lity always comes. This is open to doubt. 
 One may think on looking back that the 
 period before any such event was, in com- 
 parison to the present misery, so supreme- 
 ly happy as to be considered unattainable 
 again, and to be remembered with fond 
 regret. It was certainly with no sense of 
 impending calamity that Allan came back 
 to his duties at Llanwch at the beo;innino: 
 of the summer term of 1887. During the 
 holidays he had fought his last great battle 
 with himself, and thought that he had won.
 
 262 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 He had finally and completely made up 
 his mind to leave Llanwch at the end of 
 that term, and, moreover, he had made up 
 his mind also to see as little of Muriel as 
 possible. He had told no one of his in- 
 tentions, nor did he mean to until the term 
 was over. Certainly luck was against him 
 in one way. What I mean is that after his 
 adventure with Mr. Vivian in the previous 
 term, his presence at the Croft was exceed- 
 ing welcome, and in the first fortnight of 
 term he had no less than three invitations 
 to go there, all of which he resolutely but 
 politely refused. Each refusal was like 
 putting a knife into his own vitals. But 
 he won, and felt that he had done his duty, 
 though it must be confessed that he did 
 not feel happy in his victory so far. 
 During all this time he had not seen 
 Muriel except at a distance. At last, one 
 day, he met her and her mother face to 
 face, when they were out walkhig. They
 
 INNES OF BLAIKAVON. 263 
 
 stopped, and Muriel gave him her hand and 
 smiling said, 
 
 ' We haven't seen you for such an age, 
 Mr. Innes. Papa is full of your stopping 
 the horses last March. He says you saved his 
 life. When are you coming up to the Croft.' 
 
 Allan made light of his adventure with, 
 the ponies, and gave an evasive reply to 
 the invitation. 
 
 ' Will you come up to dinner on Thurs- 
 day, Mr. InnesJ' said Mrs. Vivian. ' Miss 
 Ventry is coming to stay with us on that 
 day. Are you disengaged?' 
 
 Allan had to confess he was, and con- 
 sequently had to accept, though if there 
 was one thing more than another which 
 he would have avoided if he could, it was 
 meeting Miss Ventry. 
 
 ' I shall have to go now,' he said to him- 
 self, ' let me hope that a merciful Provi- 
 dence will grant that I do not take her in 
 to, nor sit near her at dinner.'
 
 264 INNES OF BLAIRAVOX. 
 
 Yes, luck was certainly against him. 
 It was only half a victory that he had won 
 after all. Nothing would shake him from 
 his determination to leave at the end of 
 the term, but he found it hard to refuse to 
 tread the path that lay so fair and broad 
 and open in front of him. Quite uncon- 
 sciously he let things ' slide,' to put it 
 vulgarly, and allowed himself to revel for 
 the last time in the society of the girl who 
 was the very light of his eyes. 
 
 ' What does it matter after all ?' he had 
 said to himself. ' I may as well enjoy my- 
 self while I can. I can do nobody any 
 harm except myself. It will be one short, 
 
 sharp wrench, and then well, and 
 
 then, heigh-ho, I don't quite know Avhat it 
 will be. I am weak, weak as water, I who 
 thought myself so strong. I don't think 
 I shall ever care to look at any other girl 
 again. Oh, for one short five years, two 
 years, one year of perfect bliss with you, 
 my love, a heaven on earth, and then may
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 265 
 
 come all the terrors of eternal death, all 
 the ' 
 
 Perhaps we had better not follow Allan 
 in his ravings. One merely wishes to 
 show that his victory over himself was not 
 what one mio-ht call overwhelming^. 
 
 He went to dinner and had the j^leasure 
 of seeing Muriel taken in to dinner by old 
 Sir Lionel Pauncefoote, and of havins; 
 Miss Yentry consigned to his own care. 
 He debated if it would be possible to get 
 up an epileptic fit, or show symptoms of 
 hydrophobia, but the time was too short, 
 and he had not rehearsed the part. He 
 found himself at the opposite end of the 
 table to Muriel, and on the same side of 
 it. It was one of those wretched square 
 tables, where conversation is imjDossible. 
 Square tables ought to be abolished utterly 
 from the face of the earth. ^Yhen I say 
 square, of course I mean oblong tables : 
 for a small dinner-party anything but a 
 round table is pure insanity. He resigned
 
 26f) INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 himself to his fiite. He found out long 
 afterwards that Mrs. Vivian had got it 
 into her head that he was in love with 
 Miss Ventry, and out of pure good-nature 
 (she could be good-natured, when it did not 
 cost anything) she was always throwing 
 them together, knowing that Miss Ventry 
 was not indifferent to Allan. 
 
 Remarkably foolish notions do get into 
 people's heads at times. Allan was silent 
 for some time, from purely selfish motives; 
 he could not bear the sound of Miss Ven- 
 try's loud, coarse voice. He again tried 
 to fathom the mystery of Muriel's friend- 
 ship for her, but after worrying the sub- 
 ject in his own mind for some time, he 
 came to the conclusion that there was no 
 solution to it ; it was one of those mys- 
 terious things in human life, which will 
 always remain a mystery. He did not 
 care to believe Prettyman's theory. 
 
 ' You are silent, Mr. Innes.' 
 
 ' I am afraid I am a silent person by
 
 INXES OF BLAIR AVON. 267 
 
 nature, Miss Ventry. I feel stupid to-day. 
 It is hot, and my work Avas troublesome. 
 I shall be all right now that I have had a 
 glass of champagne ; nothing like cham- 
 pagne when one is in the " dumps." ' 
 
 ' But you shouldn't get into the " dumps," 
 as you call it ; you are young, you are 
 healthy, and I suppose your position at 
 Llanwch is a j^retty good one. What more 
 can you want ?' 
 
 ' What indeed ?' said Allan, smilingly. 
 
 ' I hoj^e Mr. Thomas will be coming 
 down here soon,' she went on. ' I expect 
 he and Muriel will be openly engaged this 
 summer.' 
 
 ' Oh, indeed,' said Allan, and inwardly 
 cursed this fiend of a woman. 
 
 'It will be a very good match, don't you 
 think, in every way ? She is very fond of 
 him, and he is immensely rich.' 
 
 Allan did not know what to say, he 
 merely wished to change the subject, so 
 he asked Miss Yentry if she was fond of
 
 268 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 rabbits, and tben nearly burst out laugh- 
 ing at the insanity of his own remark. 
 She looked at him enquiringly, and said 
 nothing. Soon after this the ladies with- 
 drew, and Allan heaved a sigh of relief, 
 and vowed that on no condition would he 
 speak to Miss Ventry again that evening, 
 and he did not, and had his reward. 
 
 The summer wore on. Thomas came 
 down to Llanwch, and finding Miss Ventry 
 literally hanging on to Allan's coat-tails, 
 became all of a sudden friendly again. 
 But Allan be^'an to reo-ard him with dis- 
 trust. It was about this time that he 
 began to discover many things of which 
 he was previously ignorant. He discov- 
 ered among other things that Miss Ventry 
 was not indifferent to him, a fact, which 
 had been obvious to the veriest outsider 
 for weeks past. It was some time before 
 he realised this : for Allan was not con- 
 ceited, but, on the contrary, rather apt to 
 consider himself a person of very minor
 
 IXNES OF BLAIR AVON. 2G9 
 
 importance. He now seemed to be con- 
 stantly meeting her, and to be left alone 
 with her on picnics, or in the gardens at 
 lawn-tennis parties. It was with the 
 greatest difficnlty that he restrained him- 
 self from being openly rude to her, and he 
 was the last man in the world that would 
 be willingly rude to a woman. 
 
 He said to Prettyman one night, just as 
 they were going to bed, 
 
 ' That girl positively makes me ill. She 
 is preposterous in whatever light you re- 
 gard her. She must be twenty-seven if 
 she's a day, and she dresses as though she 
 were fifteen. Her face, her voice, her 
 manner are to me literally repulsive. She 
 is atrocious. There ought to be a law 
 prohibiting such people.' 
 
 Prettyman laughed loud and long, and 
 said, ' By Jove ! I am sorry for you, Innes ; 
 she certainly is awful. But I don't think 
 she regards you in the same light. Good- 
 night, old cock.'
 
 270 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 Suddenly, one morning towards the end 
 of term, she left, and Allan inwardly 
 thanked heaven for a happy deliverance. 
 The term Avas nearly at an end, and Allan 
 was preparing himself for the wrench. 
 Only a week more. One little week, and 
 then probably never again would he look 
 into the eyes he loved to see. It must be 
 done, and the less he thought about it the 
 better. He was thinking thus to himself 
 in his rooms one evening ; he was trying 
 to make preparations for his departure, 
 but he was restless and uneasy. The 
 landlady came in and handed him a note, 
 Avith the Vivian crest on the envelope. He 
 did not know the handwriting. He opened 
 it and read, 
 
 ' Dear Mr. Innes, 
 
 ' My mother has asked me to 
 write to you to invite you to stay here for 
 the first fortnight in August ; there is a 
 dance on the 7th, and another on the 11th.
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 271 
 
 I hope 3^011 will come. There are three 
 meets of the otter-hounds, and some lawn- 
 tennis parties, so it will not be very slow. 
 
 ' Yours sincerely, 
 
 ' Muriel Vivian.' 
 
 Poor silly Allan. It was the iirst time 
 he had ever received a note from her, 
 and he raised it to his lips and kissed the 
 signature. Well, well ! I daresay it has 
 been done before and will be done as^ain. 
 
 Have you, my readers, ever had a terri- 
 ble temptation ? Have you ever had all 
 the weight of delight, joy, happiness, 
 sweetness that cannot be measured drag- 
 ging you with soft, strong strands of silk 
 in one direction, and Duty, stern, implac- 
 able, iron Duty on the other side ? Duty 
 uses no strands of silk or chains of steel 
 to drag one. She merely holds up her 
 hand as who should say ' obey.' It is 
 hard to obey at the best of times ; but 
 when all the fays are whispering promises
 
 272 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 of delight in your ear it is doubly, trebly 
 hard. It was a terrible temptation for 
 Allan, but he overcame it, for the time at 
 least. 
 
 He sat down and began to write. He 
 put a heading to his letter, then bit his 
 pen, and began drawing figures on the 
 paper. Then he rose, tore up the sheet of 
 note-paper, and began pacing his room. 
 Then he took a cigarette and lit it, took 
 one puff and threw it away. Then he lit 
 another and smoked it through, pacing his 
 room the while. He made a move towards 
 his writing-desk, stopped, and looked out 
 of the window. There was a dog-fight in 
 the street. That gave him no inspiration. 
 Finallv he dashed at his desk, scribbled a 
 polite refusal hastily, ran out into the 
 street Avithout his hat, and posted it. 
 After which he came back and sat in his 
 arm-chair, with his head on his chest. At 
 the end of twenty minutes or so he got up 
 and walked to the window, and said aloud,
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 273 
 
 very distinctly and deliberately, 'Allan, 
 
 my friend, you are a d d fool.' He felt 
 
 better after this, and began to whistle, and 
 suddenly hearing sounds as of incipient 
 earthquake in Bright's room, he went 
 quietly to his door, locked and barred it. 
 Then he began to wish that he had not 
 answered that note in such a hurry. Much 
 better to have thought about it a bit. 
 Then he thought that perhaps it was better 
 as it was, and finally went to bed, not 
 knowing what to think. 
 
 The following morning, as he was coming 
 out of the school gates, he met Muriel and 
 her mother. He stopped and spoke to 
 them. When he looked at Muriel, he 
 ao^ain wished that he had not refused. 
 
 ' We are so sorry you cannot come to 
 us, Mr. Lines. We are going to have a 
 very merry fortnight.' 
 
 Allan said that he had promised to go 
 to Ardarrochar for the 12th. 
 
 ' Then you can come at least till the 10th, 
 
 VOL. II. T
 
 274 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 or you can miss one day's shooting, and 
 stay till the morning of the 12th.' 
 
 Allan said that he had not thought of that. 
 
 ' You will reconsider your refusal then?' 
 
 Throwing prudence to the winds he said 
 he would, if he might. So he went to the 
 Croft. 
 
 He had written to George to say that he 
 would not be at Ardarrochar till the morn- 
 ing of the 1 3th. He gave himself up freely 
 and unrestrainedly now to the enjoyment 
 of Muriel's society. He had taken the 
 plunge, and did not care much whether he 
 were drowned or not. He banished from 
 his mind completely the thought of sep- 
 aration. ' When it comes, it will come. 
 I needn't think about it.' What a time it 
 was ! A time of intoxicating delight. To 
 hear her speak, to be near her, to touch 
 her soft hand, night and morning. To see 
 the sun glint in her golden hair, to see the 
 changinglightin her violet eyes. Muriel was 
 no Byronic maiden bounded by her Bible
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 275 
 
 and cookery-book. She could talk, and talk 
 well, on many things. They talked and 
 read together in the garden, on the lawn 
 in the drowsy afternoon. Poor Allan ! 
 He was literally insane in the sublimity of 
 his happiness. 
 
 On the day after the ball of the 7th, it 
 was very hot and no one felt inclined to 
 do anything. After dinner, Mrs. Vivian 
 suggested that they should have their 
 coffee in the summer-house : so they went. 
 Mr. Vivian had some business to at- 
 tend to, and did not come. Round the 
 summer-house was a large, old shrubbery 
 with pretty winding paths. After they 
 had had coffee, Allan asked if he might 
 smoke a cigarette, and they sat very silent 
 for a while. Soon Mrs. Vivian, overcome 
 by the fatigues of the previous night, went 
 to sleep. 
 
 ' It is rather close in here, Mr. Innes, 
 
 don't you think ? Shall we walk about 
 
 under the trees?' said Muriel. 
 
 T 2
 
 276 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 ' Yes, it would be nicer.' 
 
 They roamed about along the patha 
 under the trees, and Allan told Muriel of 
 Kirkaig and Dee and Tay, of StaiFa and 
 lona, of the battles of the clans in the old 
 days, till Muriel's eyes brightened, and 
 her breath came quick and short. She 
 was dressed in a low-cut evening dress of 
 soft Indian muslin of a delicate cream 
 colour, and in her hair she wore a deep red 
 rose. They strolled along in silence for a 
 short time after this, and then Allan said 
 quietly, in as indifferent a tone as he 
 could muster, 
 
 ' I am going to leave Llanwch this term, 
 Miss Vivian. I sent in my resignation, 
 to-day.' 
 
 He expected some commonplace ex- 
 pression of regret. But she never an- 
 swered at all. It was getting dusk now^ 
 and Allan could not see her face very 
 well ; moreover, she had now averted it. 
 Allan looked straight in front of him. He
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 277 
 
 was not feeling exactly happy. Suddenly 
 he heard the sound of a suppressed sob 
 from the maiden by his side. In an in- 
 stant he had clasj)ed her in his arms. 
 
 Muriel did not repulse him, but looked 
 up through her tears, and said, ' Oh, Allan.' 
 
 Where was Allan's prudence now ? 
 
 ' My love,' he said. ' I never thought 
 you cared a straw about me, or even 
 thought of me, and I have loved you since 
 I saw you at Llwyn Bridge nearly five 
 years ago.' 
 
 ' You always seemed so indifferent to 
 me, Allan i' 
 
 ' They told me you were engaged to Mr. 
 Thomas, Muriel.' 
 
 'Who told you that?' 
 
 ' Miss Ventry.' 
 
 'Ah!' 
 
 ' But this is mere madness, my darling. 
 Your father will never consent to our 
 marriage. I must in common honesty go 
 and speak to him now.'
 
 278 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 ' N"ot to-iiiglit, Allan, not to-night. Let 
 us have these few hours at least of happi- 
 ness. My father is very fond of me, but I 
 am afraid he has hopes that I will marry 
 what he calls, well.' 
 
 Allan kissed away her tears, and these 
 two poor deluded creatures wandered about 
 with their arms about each other's waists, 
 in the shrubbery, ' in lovers' sweet content.' 
 
 Suddenly Allan bethought himself of 
 the time. 
 
 ' Muriel, my darling, it is a quarter-past 
 ten, and your mother is asleep in the sum- 
 mer-house still. Let me look at you once 
 more, in case your father will not let me 
 see you again to-morrow. I Avill love you 
 for ever and ever, and I will work and 
 work and make a name and a happy home 
 for you.' 
 
 He held her in his arms and gazed at 
 the sweet, fair face, the wavy, golden hair 
 softly curled up over her low forehead ; 
 he looked deep down into the depths of
 
 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 279 
 
 those large, liquid, violet eyes that beamed 
 with love — a goddess indeed from her 
 delicate, aquiline nose, her sweet, small 
 mouth and slightly protruding chin down 
 to her dainty feet that peeped out from 
 below the feathers which formed the ruffle 
 of her gown. One long, last kiss, and then 
 a voice was heard calling, ' Muriel, Muriel, 
 come in ; the dew is falling,' and they saw 
 Mrs. Vivian advancing down the walk in 
 front of them. 
 
 ' My dear child, it is half-past ten, and 
 I have been sleeping all this time in the 
 summer-house. What have you been 
 doing?' 
 
 Then she looked from Muriel to Allan, 
 and from Allan back again to Muriel, and 
 saw apparently in their faces that which 
 she did not care to see, for she turned on 
 her heel, with never another word, and 
 marched stiffly into the house. 
 
 As they say that condemned men sleep 
 soundly on the night before they are
 
 280 INNES OF BLAIKAVON. 
 
 going to be hanged, so did Allan sleep 
 soundly on that night, having made u]^ his 
 mind to see Mr. Vivian before breakfast on 
 the following morning. He knew that he 
 should find him in the library at that time, 
 as he was always an early riser and tran- 
 sacted what little business he had to do 
 before breakfast, as a rule. It was with a 
 quailing heart that he knocked at the 
 library-door; he felt that he ought to 
 knock, as, at that time of day, he thought 
 it ought to be regarded as a private room. 
 He had had a faint hope that he might 
 have seen Muriel for a minute before he 
 went in to her father, but it was not to be ; 
 and as he passed her room he heard, or 
 thought he heard, the sound of sobbing. 
 
 A stern ' Come in,' in answer to his 
 knock. He opened the door and said, 
 ' Good-morning, Mr. Vivian,' and then, 
 noticing Mrs. Vivian sitting by the window, 
 he also greeted her. Mr. Vivian did not 
 answer, and Mrs. Vivian bowed stiffly.
 
 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 281 
 
 ' I wished to speak with you alone, Mr. 
 Vivian.' 
 
 Mr. Vivian rose, and, j^utting one hand 
 on the table, said, 
 
 ' My wife is here at my special request.' 
 
 Allan had an almost irresistible desire 
 to burst out lauo-hins^, thouo^h at the time 
 the feelino's which excite lau£>"hter were 
 very far removed from his mind. He had 
 been reading 'Aylmer's Field ' to Muriel 
 only yesterday, and the present situation 
 struck him as being so exactly similar that 
 it appeared ludicrous. 
 
 ' I know what you have to say,' con- 
 tinued Mr. Vivian. ' My daughter has 
 been here with me already this morning. 
 I wish to let you know at once that I con- 
 sider your conduct in every way ungrate- 
 ful, deceitful, and unbecoming a gentleman 
 and a visitor in my house. You have 
 mixed in society in this liouse which, I 
 presume, you are not accustomed to,' — 
 Allan winced at this — ' and you take ad-
 
 282 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 vantage of the kindness extended to you 
 to presume to put yourself on the same 
 level as my daughter, and to steal away 
 her love. You rendered me a service in 
 the spring which I fully acknowledge. But 
 what are you, sir? A beggarly school- 
 master. Who are you, that you should 
 dare to presume in the way you have 
 done ? I only wonder that my daughter 
 has so far forgotten herself and her posi- 
 tion as to suffer you to pay her attention. 
 She is young, however, and the remem- 
 brance of this folly will doubtless soon 
 pass off. I presume that you think that 
 my daughter will have a large dowry. 
 You are perfectly right, sir — if she mar- 
 ries according to my wishes.' Here Allan 
 made a gesture of impatience. ' If she 
 marries you, sir, not one single penny shall 
 she have. But she shall not marry you^ 
 sir. From this time forward you shall 
 have no communication with her by word 
 of mouth or by letter. If you write to
 
 INXES OF BLAIRAVON. 283 
 
 her, your letters shall be burnt. If she 
 writes to you, her letters shall never reach 
 their destination. If you make any at- 
 tempt to communicate with her in any 
 other way, she shall go to a convent. My 
 wife agrees with everything I say.' 
 
 Mrs. Vivian, sitting like a statue at the 
 open window, ' with rotatory thumbs on 
 silken knees,' merely bowed her head. 
 
 ' And now, sir,' continued Mr. Vivian, 
 barely able to contain his fury, ' you may 
 go. This will be a lesson to me, at least, 
 not to raise people out of the rank in life 
 in which they happen to be. It is now a 
 quarter to nine. The carriage is ordered 
 at nine, and a train leaves Llanwch for 
 Shrewsbury at 9.20. You may go, sir.' 
 
 Allan made as though he would speak, 
 but an impatient stamp of the foot from 
 Mr. Vivian showed him that any attempt 
 at explanation would be hoj^eless. He 
 must go, and ]\Iuriers parents must always 
 be under the impression that he had
 
 284 INNES OF BLAIKAVON. 
 
 deliberately set himself on winning Muriel's 
 love from selfish, mercenary motives. The 
 end of Allan's battle with his enemy was 
 not as he had expected it to be. With a 
 sad sigh he bowed to them both and left 
 the room. He had already packed his 
 portmanteau, and it and the carriage were 
 waiting at the door. He tipped the butler, 
 who knew all about it, and was sorry for 
 him, and the Croft passed out of his sight 
 for ever. 
 
 He took a third-class ticket mechanically, 
 for London. He had no definite idea of 
 where he was going, or of what he was 
 going to do. He had only a sort of vague 
 notion of making money and marrying 
 Muriel. 
 
 Just as the train was on the point of 
 starting, a girl rushed into the station and 
 ran up to the train. Allan recognized her 
 as Muriel's maid. He put his head out of 
 the window and called to her. She ran 
 up to him and thrust a note into his hand,
 
 IXNES OF BLAIR AVON. 285- 
 
 and said, ' God bless you, sir,' and tho 
 train moved off, Allan throwing a sove- 
 reign out of the window to the maid as 
 she stood on the platform. 
 
 He was alone in the carriage, and he 
 opened the note and kissed it. It con- 
 tained only two lines, blurred and blotted 
 with tears. 
 
 ' My darling, 
 
 ' I will on no condition marrjr 
 anyone but you, so long as you are alive. 
 
 ' Your own 
 
 ' Muriel.' 
 
 With this somewhat doubtful consolation 
 in his pocket, Allan went up to London.
 
 286 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ' Hei mihi ! quod nullis amor est medicabilis herbis.' 
 
 Dates are all-important at this time : with- 
 out accuracy we are lost. Allan arrived 
 in London on the evening of the 9th of 
 August. He had told George that he 
 should be at Ardarrochar on the 13th. 
 He drove to the Westminster Palace Hotel 
 and dined, and then went out to the 
 theatre. He tells me that on this day he 
 does not remember anything very clearly 
 except his interview with Mr. Vivian. He 
 tried to blot out everything from his mind. 
 He had no fixed plans. At one time he 
 thought of Australia, then of South Africa, 
 but rejected them. He had no money. 
 He must do .'Something. He must make 
 money.
 
 INXES OF BLAIRAVON. 287 
 
 On the morning of the 10th lie had 
 breakfast, lit a cigarette, and went out. He 
 wandered through Trafalgar Square into 
 Pall Mall, up St. James's Street into 
 Piccadilly. He walked sluwly along Picca- 
 dilly until he came to the (xreen Park. He 
 looked into the Park throuo^h the railino^s, 
 and thought to himself that it looked very 
 I'ool and tempting under the trees. So he 
 went in and sat down on a seat under the 
 trees facino- the railino-s of the street, and 
 tried to think. A woman with a fruit-stall 
 was seated at the side of the street. It 
 was very hot, and everyone was walking 
 in the shade on the other side of the road. 
 It beins: hot, the fruit woman wasnoddino- 
 gently, and presently she fell fast asleep. 
 A beggar passed by, looked at the sleep- 
 ing w^oman, then at the fruit, then down 
 the street towards the Park and smiled, 
 then up the street towards the Circus, saw 
 a policeman, frowned, became virtuous, 
 and passed on. Then two little girls came
 
 288 INNES OF BLAIKAVON. 
 
 to buy plums. They prodded the woman 
 in the side with an old umbrella. The 
 woman woke with a start and asked what 
 they wanted. 
 
 'Two-pence worth of plums, please.' 
 
 The woman selected the plums, those of 
 the worst description, bruised and fast fad- 
 ins: into rottenness. 
 
 ' Oh, mem, them ain't good 'uns,' said 
 one of the little oirls. 
 
 ' They're all you'll get ; the flaviour's 
 better when they're a bit past. 'Ere ye 
 are — where's the money?' 
 
 The eldest little girl produced three 
 half-pence and two farthings. The woman 
 eyed the money narrowly, took one of the 
 half-pence and rubbed it on the pavement, 
 then tried to clean it with her apron, bit 
 it, rang it on the curb, and then said, 
 
 ' This un's a bad 'un.' 
 
 She deducted three plums but kept the 
 half-penny, and the little girl left. 
 
 The woman fell asleep again after this,
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 289 
 
 and by-and-by a villainous-looking, stunt- 
 ed boy came along. He was probably 
 about fourteen but looked twenty, and vice 
 was stamped on every feature of his face ; 
 one of those wizened, wicked-looking Arabs 
 so common in the streets of London. This 
 boy stopped short in front of the fruit-stall, 
 and noticing that the woman was asleep, 
 whistled softly to himself. He was a very 
 cunning youth, this. He walked away 
 about fifty yards with an air of the utmost 
 unconcern, as though plums were the last 
 thing in the world he would think of, then 
 he turned and strolled carelessly and 
 casually past the stall again, but as he 
 passed, he abstracted two or three plums 
 with lightning rapidity and passed on. 
 When he had eaten them he came back 
 from the opposite side and repeated the 
 performance. He did this three or four 
 times, and Allan was so amused at his 
 dexterity that he did not think of stopping 
 him. He did it once too often, however, 
 
 VOL. II. u
 
 290 INNES OF BLAIR A VON. 
 
 and was seen by a policeman Avho for some 
 reason or other was strolling that way. It 
 was on his beat, and, therefore, the very 
 last place where he could be expected to be. 
 As the boy walked away to eat his plums 
 for the fourth time he saw the policeman 
 bearing down upon him. The boy was a 
 strategist. He apparently thought to him- 
 self, ' If I boldly go to meet the policeman 
 and walk past him, he will think that I 
 am innocent.' So he put his hands in his 
 pockets and began to whistle. He mistook 
 his man. The policeman grabbed him and 
 said, 
 
 ' Now then, my young buster, just shell 
 out them plums.' 
 
 ' Wot plums. S'help me Bob, I ain't got 
 no plums.' 
 
 * Lyin' won't do no good — out with them.' 
 
 ' Oh, sir,' whined the boy, ' I only took 
 'em for my poor sister, sir, who is dyin' o' 
 the fever.' 
 
 ' Gammon, I know all about that — out 
 Avith 'em.'
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 291 
 
 The Avretched creature produced three 
 plums, and the policeman took him back 
 to the stall and woke the old lady. 
 
 She jumped up with a start and began 
 Tehemently to protest that she had been 
 in that place every summer for four years. 
 
 ' All right, old lady, I ain't goin' to move 
 yer on. This kid's been stealing your 
 plums.' 
 
 The woman instantly turned on the boy 
 and began, 
 
 ' You owdacious young varmint ' 
 
 Allan left. He had visions of a police- 
 court, and himself as a witness, so he got 
 lip from his seat and walked aimlessly 
 through the Green Park, and then turned 
 into Piccadilly once more. As he strolled 
 up the street he suddenly bethought him 
 of a Schoolmasters' Agency, but he did not 
 know the name of the people nor where 
 they lived. He went into the Isthmian 
 Club, turned up a directory, found the ad- 
 dress, and went out to find the ofiice. 
 
 u2
 
 292 INNES OF BLAIRAVOX. 
 
 Allan tells me that of all the sad sights 
 he ever saw in his life, this was the 
 saddest sight he ever witnessed. He 
 now knew of the hopelessness of one 
 kind of schoolmastering, and had visions 
 and hopes of something better for him- 
 self. 
 
 He was shown into a sort of outer office. 
 Two or three clerks were busily writing at 
 a table, and on the opposite side of the 
 room were some chairs against the wall. 
 Three men were seated on these chairs. 
 One, an old man nearer sixty than iifty, 
 wore the expression that Allan had come 
 to know so well, only much more deeply 
 engrained, on his face. It was a face of 
 abject despair. His hair was almost white : 
 he had a broad, intelligent-looking fore- 
 head and a long ragged beard, now too 
 almost white. He was dressed in a suit 
 of very much worn black, and his elbows 
 were on his knees, and his head rested on 
 his hands.
 
 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 293 
 
 When Allan entered he raised his head, 
 looked at Allan and sighed, and then fell 
 to meditation again. Kext him sat a 
 German, fat, yet not so fat as he once had 
 been, if one might judge from the fact 
 that his clothes which were poor, and 
 somewhat stained with sfrease, were hans:- 
 ing about him loosely. A strong smell of 
 stale tobacco came from him. He wore 
 an air of resignation, but he had evidently 
 not yet despaired. He was about thirty- 
 seven vears of ao^e, and as he sat in his 
 seat he was restless, and was constantly 
 throwinor ^lances towards an inner door. 
 He cleared his throat once or twice osten- 
 tatiously, in the way that Germans have. 
 Next to him sat a young man of about 
 twenty-two, very neatly and carefully 
 dressed, and with a general air of hope 
 and freshness about him. Was he not 
 ^oing to begin low and gradually rise to a 
 height from which he could look down 
 upon school agencies ?
 
 294 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 
 
 Allan sat dcwn. In a few minutes one 
 of the agents appeared. He was a kind^ 
 courteous, and studiously polite man. A 
 flicker of hope just for one fleeting instant 
 passed across the old man's face. The- 
 agent looked at him, and said kindly, 
 
 ' I am very sorry, Mr. Aitchison, I have 
 done my very best for you, but I am afraid 
 there is nothing at present for which I can 
 recommend you.' 
 
 ' Remember that I will take literally 
 anything, I don't care what it is, anything. 
 I am very strong still ; good-morning,' and 
 the old gentleman left the room with a 
 sigh. 
 
 There was a lump in Allan's throat as- 
 he watched the look of despair settle down 
 on the kind old man's face, as he left the 
 room. 
 
 ' Have you something for me, yes ?' said 
 the German. 
 
 ' I am afraid, Herr Baumann, that at
 
 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 295 
 
 present there is nothing to suit you ex- 
 actly. You see you have no degree which 
 we recognize in England.' 
 
 ' But I have been here fourteen months^ 
 and every day, every day, yes, I have 
 come to you here, and always I have the 
 same answer. Look at me, I am thin,' 
 and he took the agent's hand and put it 
 under his waistcoat. ' Do you see, I have 
 lost stones, is it stones ? yes, stones of 
 weight, I cannot get my beer. Why will 
 they not have me ? I can speak English 
 as you see, I can speak French better than 
 English, and Spanish, and Italian, and 
 German of course. What do you want 
 more ? I have very little money left.' 
 
 ' There are so few posts that you Avould 
 suit, Herr Baumann, and so many appli- 
 cants for these posts. But we must wait, 
 we must wait a little, and I don't doubt it 
 will be all right.' 
 
 ' Thank you, good-morning. Oh, I have
 
 296 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 changed my address. I live now at 301, 
 Mile End Road, Whitechapel. It is cheap, 
 but oh, so nasty.' 
 
 The agent then came to the young 
 man. 
 
 ' I congratulate you, Mr. Biddlecombe. 
 I had a letter from the head-master of 
 Little Puddlington Grammar School this 
 morning, and, after seeing you, he has 
 decided to engage you. The salary is not 
 large, but it is a start, it is a start.' 
 
 ' Oh, I shall soon rise to better things 
 than that,' said Biddlecombe ; ' it is a 
 beginning, and in four or ^Ye years I 
 shall be all right. Thank you for your 
 trouble ; good-morning.' 
 
 And, with a smile and a light heart, Mr. 
 Biddlecombe went out of the door. 
 
 ' Well, sir, what can I do for you?' said 
 the agent, turning to Allan. Allan told 
 him his name and qualifications, and the 
 agent said to him, ' There will be no 
 difficuly in getting you a very good post.
 
 INNES OF BLAIKAVON. ' 297 
 
 Mr. Innes. Will you call to-morrow morn- 
 ing at twelve?' 
 
 Allan went out, and, when he got into 
 the street, he said to himself, 
 
 ' I cannot, T will not do it. — And yet I 
 must. There is nothing else. Good God ! 
 what a life to look forward to. I won't.' 
 
 Oh, Allan, Allan, go home, you foolish 
 fellow ; go home to kind hearts and loving 
 eyes. 
 
 He went down to the Isthmian Club, 
 and had some lunch. He fell asleep) after 
 lunch, and, on awaking, picked up a paper. 
 There was no one in the room. He read 
 through it- casually, and turned to the ad- 
 vertisement columns, and this caught his 
 eye: 'Wanted, at once, a tutor for a boy 
 residing in the Canary Islands — must be 
 of good physique. Salary by arrangement. 
 Apply to Waxy and Co., 231, Lincoln's 
 Inn Fields.' 
 
 ' By Jove ! the very thing,' said Allan. 
 ' I have heard that there is money to be
 
 298 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 made in the Canary Islands. I will apply/ 
 
 He took up his hat and went straight to 
 Lincoln's Inn Fields. In an hour's time 
 he had arranged to go to Canary. 
 
 ' Can you start at once, Mr. Innes? A 
 Donald Currie boat goes on the morning 
 of the 13th ; or do you want some time to 
 make arrangements ?' 
 
 ' I can go at once — now, if you like. I 
 have no arrangements to make.' 
 
 This, you will remember, was on the 
 afternoon of the 10th. The steamer sailed 
 in the early morning of the 13th, and he 
 had to be on board on the evening of the 
 12th. 
 
 On the following morning he got his 
 ticket from Mr. Waxy, who told him 
 that he would have to pay for the other 
 half of it, before going on board, at Messrs. 
 Currie's offices in Fenchurch Street. He 
 spent that day and the morning of the 
 12th in getting a few necessary things, and 
 in the afternoon he went into the City to
 
 INNES OF BLAIR AVON. 299' 
 
 pay the other half of his ticket. The 
 clerk told him that the boat would miss 
 the morning tide and not start until the 
 evening, as her cargo was not quite ready. 
 So Allan had another day to himself. He 
 purposely did not write to anyone at home 
 since, after making up his mind to go to 
 Canary, he determined to lose himself, if 
 possible, until he had made a position for 
 himself. He would write to his mother 
 from Canary, telling her that he was not 
 coming home until he had made some 
 money. He did not wish to have letters 
 imploring him to return : all of which was 
 very selfish, although to him it appeared 
 the reverse. The fact of the date of the 
 ship's departure helped him, as you ^^^ill 
 see, in this resj)ect. The ship was going 
 to start, at half-past seven on the evenings 
 of the 13th. He would go down about 
 six. He went to the Oval and saw the 
 match between Surrey and Lancashire, 
 and saw Sucro- and Eccles smack the Sur- 
 
 CO
 
 300 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 rey bowling all over the place, and met 
 heaps of old friends, to not one of whom 
 did he breathe that he was going to leave 
 the country. At about four in the after- 
 noon he drove up to the club and had 
 some tea, and at half-past five he left for 
 the Westminster Palace Hotel, to get his 
 luggage. As he was going out of the 
 club, he met Ingersoll coming up the 
 steps. 
 
 ' My dear Innes, I haven't seen you for 
 a":es. Come back ao^ain into the club and 
 have a talk. We can dine together.' 
 
 ' I can't, Ingersoll, to-day. I must go 
 now. Are you in town for any time ?' 
 said Allan. 
 
 ' No ; I am going up north to-night to 
 Perthshire. No one but a lunatic is in 
 town in the middle of August if he can 
 help it. Come round at eight to-night, if 
 you can, and see me off at Euston.' 
 
 ' I will come if I can, but don't expect 
 me.'
 
 INXES OF BLAIR AVON. 301 
 
 IngersoU went into the smoking-room^ 
 looked out of the window for full ten 
 minutes without moving, and then said, 
 half-aloud, 
 
 ' Somethino' wrono- there, something: 
 devilish wrong there. I never saw a man 
 so changed in my life. Wonder what has 
 happened to him ? Poor old Innes, one of 
 the best souls that ever walked. AVell, I 
 must order dinner, I suppose.' 
 
 He dined in the almost deserted dining- 
 room, and at ten minutes past eight started 
 for Euston, naturally without Allan, who 
 was at that moment standing on the deck 
 of the Ross-shire Castle^ idly watching the 
 great ship being hauled out of dock. 
 
 After the tug had left her, and they 
 were steaming down the river under a 
 glorious harvest moon, Allan went down 
 to his cabin. 
 
 At that time, he felt no reoTL^et at leavino: 
 
 7 
 
 Enorland. All feelino; for the time beino^ 
 
 CO o 
 
 for external things seemed completely
 
 302 INNES OF BLAIKAVON. 
 
 dead. He was simply wrapped up in one 
 all absorbing subject, and that was — 
 Muriel. He had her sad, weeping face 
 always before his eyes. He was going to 
 fight the world single-handed, and make 
 his fortune, and then — but it is hopeless 
 to try to follow him in his dreams of 
 what would follow then. He was under 
 the impression that if he could only get 
 away from England, where everything is 
 so cramped and crowded, he felt that he 
 could do something great. 
 
 A new country, that is everything to 
 the mind of the emigrant ; free scope, 
 where a man's talents will have their due 
 reward. But the average of real, great 
 success is probably somewhat smaller in 
 a new land than it is in England, and the 
 average of complete failures enormously 
 greater. One hears of the successes in 
 life quickly enough. Those who have 
 failed are not anxious to blaze the fact 
 abroad. After all, it is a confession of
 
 INXES OF BLAIKAVON. 303 
 
 -weakness to leave England in order to 
 seek one's fortune in other lands. It is a 
 tacit inward acknowledgment that a man 
 is a failure. Only the successful ones re- 
 turn in any numbers, despite the hungry 
 longing for home that every Englishman 
 worthy the name has for his own country. 
 Hundreds upon hundreds, of young men 
 especially, leave England full of hope and 
 of bright visions of future wealth, who are 
 never heard of again. Possibly some 
 doubtful news arrives at home of a street 
 brawl, or a quarrel in a whisky saloon, 
 and of pistols and a hurried funeral. Loss 
 of self-respect sends many of them to the 
 bad. For the very poor at home it is of 
 course the best thing possible ; they can- 
 not be worse off than they are. Educated 
 men, younger sons of large families, hun- 
 dreds of whom are sent to other lands of 
 which they know nothing — these are they 
 who, having no aptitude and no education 
 for out-door life, find their way in a few
 
 304 INNES OF BLAIRAVON. 
 
 years to misery, drink, despair, and deatlu 
 There was too much good in Allan to 
 allow of anything of this sort, but for all 
 that he was taking a very blind dive into 
 fortune's lucky-bag when he left England 
 with no definite prospect in front of him. 
 He never thought of this, he thought only 
 of the freedom of a new country. He sat 
 on the edge of his bunk (there were but 
 few passengers, and he was alone in the 
 cabin), and took out of his pocket the little 
 scrawl of a note, and read it for the fiftieth 
 time : 
 
 ' I shall never marry anyone but you, 
 so long as you are alive.' 
 
 END OF THE SECOND VOLUME. 
 
 London: Printed hy Duncan 3Iacdonald, Blenheim HousCj W.
 
 ■ V ;i 

 
 . '.Uf ,■/■.<■•■ 
 
 
 ■^•,-.'1. 
 
 ** . * 
 
 ././■•^l 
 
 .? 
 
 
 . f ■ ' 
 
 Pi 
 
 % 
 
 m 
 
 .f t 
 
 Ai: 
 
 
 ♦ , 
 
 ; -V ^> ■,-.;-■ 
 
 •it 
 
 '.^' i*.*' 
 
 
 ^^P^ 
 
 •> 
 
 t