watching the steamer's hulls grow less as they diverged still more and more, she noted that the homeward-bound went steering into darkness, the outward-bound along the glistening track of moonlight on the sea. CHAPTER XXVII. reason unexpressed, he wished to place his money to the best secure advantage. Then came the sudden evil inspiration. Half amused at Ned's philippics against the share jobbers, some of the sharp indignant words had stung him through his moral hide. There was a smack of diabolic humor in pricking his censorious cousin with the goad of self-reproach for having thus condemned The jest might be severely practical, but it would clear itself in time without much hurt to father or to son. THE hazardous game that Keane had played was won more easily and thoroughly his father among the men he scorned. than he had dared to hope. His ingenuity had not been taxed for details. He had but lessened the proportions of the true disaster, putting his uncle's name in substitu- As for the money, Ned could better afford tion for his own. The story thus seemed to lose than he to want it. It was a windgenuine by many tokens. The risk had fall come by chance, and gone without much been, not in the bold suggestion that such serious damage to the son of one so well-toa man as Ned should venture all to save do as Robert Locksley. Who knew but the credit of a father's name, but in endeav-what some day, if restitution should seem to oring to get hold himself upon the sum ad- be a luxury, he might himself indulge in it, ventured. Having first put a seal of secrecy and repay Ned with interest this sort of upon his cousin's lips, he doubted not, though secretly forced loan? they should go home together, that he himself must act for him in some early stage of the affair. His own craft and quickness could be trusted to seize on even a moment's opportunity. Ned's resolve spared him even that critical moment. When the dullest man consents to hold a devil's brief against his conscience, he soon becomes a clever special pleader in the case. But Keane Burkitt was a man by no means dull. Meanwhile, there was uneasiness concernHe had no foolish hope of retrieving him- ing him at Freshet from the first intimation self at home. The mere conception of the had there of the calamities of Walter Shernew misdeed proved that as he had been brooke. Cautiously as Keane had veiled always utterly selfish, he was not now for the that connection from public notice, its existfirst time fradulent. The Sherbrooke crash ence had not remained a perfect secret, if its not only broke his wealth, but, he well knew, extent was unsuspected still. When specumust also break his character. Some things lations prospered, Keane never made an inmight be glozed over, but enough must solent display. His ambition aimed higher come to light to ruin a man whose whole re- and was biding its time. Yet he had sources lay in the confidence of others. On evident success enough, on whatever field to a complete review of circumstances, he had kindle jealousy, and so to set Argus eyes determined to accept his defeat as total on a-watch. Such begun to wink with suggesthe old position. That must be shifted. He tion, not with sleep, when his trip to Malta would not return to Freshet. But go where was seen to coincide so nearly with stormy he might, he was not the man to endure the days in Capelcourt. Winkers soon came to thought of facing destitution or even a con- mutter, mutterers, to chatter. Preliminary tented inactivity in straightened means. meetings of creditors in re Sherbrooke, junSophy's patrimony was secured to her own ior, began to gather in town. Intelligence use and disposal. Even should she feel in- oozed out thence that "the name of a princlined to share it with him, it was not avail- cipal partner in a highly confidential firm of able as capital, and could furnish no basis solicitors in a well-known watering-place, for future operations. But this money of his upon the Blankshire coast, was assuming cousin's, available at once, would be the very prominence in the insolvent's affairs." All thing he wanted. How get leave to finger Freshet read this in the London papers beit? No pretext of profitable speculation fore the local journals thought it safe to would serve the turn. Ned had no greed of reproduce the paragraph within snap of gold, strange as it seemed, though, for some the firm's formidable teeth. Old Mr. Gor ing went up to town. There was not much, | business of the firm. This to him was, of perhaps, in that. In his absence, however, course, an infinite relief. He was surprised a significant circumstance occurred. A let- to find how little it seemed so to his partter came to the office-so a newly indentured ner's wife. clerk was green enough to babble-bearing But the luxurious case in which she had Lord Royston's signature and the Malta lived hitherto had thoroughly possessed her postmark. It was evident that Mr. Burkitt affections. A stranger to insatiable aspirahad left that island if ever he had reached tions, she had yet never been indifferent to it. This first frightened Sophy. Till then the position which her qualities as mistress she had made up her mind that Kean's long of a wealthy house had secured for her in silence came of some post-office accident the society of their little seaport town. She alone. When comments on the matter was one of those mothers, moreover, whose reached her ear, her heart misgave her temper is lavish of indulgence to the expensomewhat. But her sister Fanny met these sive caprices of her children. And when it misgivings with quick indignation. She was proved to her that house and horses, was not one to set a man down all unworthy delicate fare, fine dress, and costly toys, because of his unworthy treatment of her- were swept off in the current of her husself. She had taken down the image from band's calamity, she almost forgot her perits once high stand without having had So-sonal anxieties about him, and seemed to phy's forced occasions to study all its dis- throw up her hands as one who will sink proportions, to trace the cracks which with wailing but without a struggle in the seamed its marble, and to know the real flood. coarsness of its grain throughout. Besides, what papers he has left at his own house, now that I have almost done with those at the office." 66 'Why not try Mrs. Burkitt, senior? " she would answer; "there's starch in her that no stream of tears will ever wash out, I guess." Mrs. Goring, apparently, took a severe view of that lady's character. Passages in their former life might once have justified "Her weakness is contemptible, my she was most anxious that the weakness of dear;" would Mr. Goring say to his own his wife's surmises should not do for his matter-of-fact old wife; "she sobs and sops mother the work of the world's injustice. lace pocket-handkerchiefs with tears, and Why should her widowed heart be troubled cries, O cruel, cruel Keane!' whenever I with apprehensions which must turn out un- come to definite proposals. I want authorfounded or exaggerated? But on Mr. Gor-ity from some one to rout out and sort up ing's return from London they proved to be too well founded, and even exaggeration seemed excusable when the barest truth turned out to be so very serious. That is so far as money losses were involved. The slippery nature of the share-dealing tricks was not yet evident. Keane's dishonesty had all along been strangely inconsistent. Many men, who do as he did, divide their lives, and whether from mere happy inconsistency or from calculated hypocrisy, are it. rogues in counting-houses or chambers, honest men enough in their more private dealings. Now he had made a further subdivision of his life, not one which can be counted likely to have endured under pressure of extreme temptation, but of which the separating line had not yet been transgressed when all his private ventures shivered in Walter Sherbrooke's ruin. Having grasped and griped and cheated in the share-market, he had yet betrayed no client's interest in his capacity as confidential solicitor. At least, Mr. Goring could discover nothing irregular, nothing suspicious, no disorder, no defalcation, in any matter touching the 66 Why, Miss Davenant has threatened me with I don't know what, if I worry his mother about him. I am sure I don't know what to do." "Make Miss Davenant herself take her silly sister in hand. She has common sense enough for both. You should know that by this time." "A very good suggestion, my dear," said Mr. Goring, and forthwith acted on it. Nothing could have been better thought of. Sophy, not without some foolish and unjust reproaches of her sister for needless or hurried interference, was at last persuaded to let her and her husband's partne do as they thought fit. Still no traces of any but heavy pecuniary embarrassments revealed themselves to the search of the latter. Fanny was in exultation, not only because the more malignant rumors against the man whom once she had thought not unworthy of her heart were likely to prove mere slanders, but because a light began to dawn upon the hope of a deliverance from his difficulties. The elder woman felt that only fine hearts find apologies of this kind readily. She was the more troubled as she asked again,— "Is it for your sister's sake, then, that you come to me, my dear ?" Fanny would not prevaricate, so held her peace again. Her aunt had more than once seen Sophy since the extent of Keane's losses had been, with some certainty, surmised. She had "The only thing which staggers me, Miss been struck and pained by his wife's selfish Davenant, is his protracted silence." "I only see in it a proof," she answered, "that he is more sensitive than some have thought him ;" and this interpretation she urged upon her aunt, the quarter whence she looked for his possible rescue. She still had no precise knowledge of that old lady's resources, none whatever of her testamentary dispositions. But she was aware of her strong partiality to Keane, and of the substantial proofs of it afforded by her liberality upon his marriage. All might yet be well, and much be spared, even of the fantastic humiliations, which her sister dreaded, if it should only prove that Aunt Davenant had will and power to make for him a large and honorable composition. Something smote that little old lady at the eagerness of Fanny's pleading. "My dear niece, I like openness. Why did not Sophy come herself to me? She knows, much better than you can, my feeling for her husband, to say nothing of my treatment of herself, which might have given you sometimes some excuse for jealousy." "You were always the kindest of aunts to me," said Fanny. Sincerely meant in one way, the answer, in another, was evasive. Fanny, in fact, had acted without consulting her sister, who might have conceived unmeasured hopes, and suffered, should the notion prove unfruitful, unmeasured disappointment. "I am not so sure of that, my dear; but, if so, to her I have been kinder than the kindest. I suppose she sent you to me." To this she made no answer, so the old lady put the question more explicitly"Did Sophy send you here, my dear, or not ?" "No, she did not; and, I dare say, feels that from herself an application such as this would look like an encroachment upon one who has been so generous." querulousness and by her apparent scantiness of thought for him. Her rising indignation quickened apprehension in her mind of what significance might lie in Fanny's different concern and forethought. Presently she said, "How far do you think, my dear, that I have power to help him ? " That she could not say, save in a loose conjecture. But her aunt's previous liberality had shown that her resources were far greater than had been usually supposed; she knew the kindness of her heart, and so had ventured to conceive a hope that even at a sacrifice "Sacrifice is a fine thing to recommend," Miss Davenant interrupted, drily; "another guess to practise." "True; but the satisfaction must be grand and deep." "If you mean that, Fanny, prove it." In a few, quiet, business-like sentences she told her niece what division of her property she had made by will, and how she had anticipated, in favor of the Burkitts on their marriage, by far the greater part of the larger provision she had made for Sophy. "If my money can right matters, my dear, it can only do so at your own expense, you see. I fear I have done you injustice enough already. Of my own accord I will do you no more. If the sacrifice is made, you make it." Without an instant's deliberation, Fanny rose, crossed over to the arm-chair in which her aunt was sitting, lifted the Persian cat with becoming respect out of her lap, knelt down, folded her taper waist with both arms most lovingly, kissed her upon either withered cheek, and said,— "God bless you, auntie. May I tell Mr. Goring, then, to take the necessary steps at once with Mr. Sherbrooke's creditors ?" Tears glistened in the old lady's bright, little eyes. "Fanny, dear, you have a great heart; | had been denied him to conciliate in any but a great fear troubles me that I have large degree the confident and passionate wronged it. God knows the thought was attachment which bound them to Ned Locksfar from me. If you will answer me one ley. question that may pain you, it might give me an infinite relief, selfish as it may be to say so." "Speak your mind out, dear auntie.” 66 Openly, then, my dear good niece, and honestly was there ever anything, any engagement, understanding-you know what I mean-between yourself and Keane before he married Sophy? "Nothing more, dear aunt," she said, "than this, which I found again when searching his own private desk with Mr. Goring yesterday." It was her own small glove, whose fellow had gone eddying upon the swirl of Thames at Twickenham. Great was, especially the exultation of the Bheel. He had predicted the sure return of his own sahib before swords should be crossed again. No arguments of the One-eyed, drawn from geographical considerations, had moved him from that firm persuasion. The Kattiwaree, therefore, and his equipments were in such condition that one might have thought his master had given orders but the day before to saddle him for the march. Bikhu could not resist such reference to the fulfilment of his own anticipations as caused the worthy Jemadar to shake his head and mutter against the magic sources of misbeliever's information. Nusreddeen and Bikhu met, however, upon a common ground of "And this is your revenge! Now, God congratulation, not only on the sahib's own requite you for it, Fanny." arrival, but on the fact that in his company was come the great shikaree, Sergeant-Major Wilmot. Locksley had found him in It may be that He had already. He had spared her, at least, the cruel chill by inches which must creep upon the warmest heart if Bombay, returned to regimental duty, and laid a life long beside another such as arrived at the superior non-commissioned Keane's. That very day, on her return rank. from Lancrcost, she found poor Sophy shivering over the selfish coldness of a letter from New York, in which her husband wrote that he had thought it best to try to push his way there without incumbrance either of wife or child. CHAPTER XXVIII. TIME had sufficed during Ned's short absence from India for the gathering of new war clouds over a fresh field of strife. British soldiers of a younger generation were to try conclusions with a foe of name and face familiar to their elders. Trouble was rife again with the Mahrattas; the rock of Gwalior seemed to attract the thunderstorm. Locksley's Horse, as they were now called for short, had been withdrawn from Scinde to join the army assembling under Gough's command. Thither, immediately on his return, their leader hurried, glad of such exciting action as might divert his thoughts from the sad interruption of his homeward voyage. His coming caused a jubilee among the swarthy troopers. O'Brien, indeed, had shown them at Meeanee in what sort he was worthy to lead such men as they; but time The gallant Europeans were not for service in the threatening campaign; and, irregular as the proceeding was, Ned, an absentee of whom his colonel and his corps were proud, obtained leave for his Cransdale follower to make it with his old friends of the Trans-Nerbuddah. The camp itself was honored, not to say perplexed-as readers know, who keep in memory the features of that short decisive warfare-by the presence of no less a personage than the governor-general. His suite and staff commingled with the following of the general in command, increased the usual difficulty of ascertaining, suddenly, on what company a new arrival might have chanced. Indeed, Ned's first and second days in camp enlightened him but little on that head, being engrossed with the business of resuming his own small command. O'Brien, known to the general-in-chief, his fellowcountryman, was easily consoled for the transfer by an appointment upon his per sonal staff. It was not till the third evening, that Ned, at home again with all the details of the condition of his corps, and ready, as in old Scindian times, for any service at a moment's notice, betook himself for a stroll of social exploration through the lines. Here and there a friendly hand met his, and words of soldierly welcome from an old comrade cheered him. But, as he neared the governor-general's quarters, he felt a grasp upon his elbow behind. "Locksley, of Locksley's Horse, if I mistake not?" The voice brought but a dim remembrance; and the features, ill discerned in the growing dusk, brought little else. "Ah, well! I'm a blighted being. Never mind, your ladyship, the campaign may make a widow." Wherewith he applied a handkerchief to his eyes, so comically, that spite of the too sad probability with which he jested, his wife and visitor burst out into laughter. "It is really too bad of you!" cried the former, when they began to recover breath; but Willie, or rather, Sir William, being incorrigible, only bowed, and blew a kiss to her. Ned now found opportunity to offer "Just so. But, I beg pardon. In fact, I his, double congratulations. Of Sangster's fear you have the advantage of me." Pray, don't mention it; but do me the favor to step this way with me. There is a lady here, whom you may recognize, and who is, herself, most anxious to set eyes on you." A little bungalow stood some fifty paces to the rear of the rearmost line of tents; thither Ned's unknown acquaintance piloted him. At a table, in the room which opened into the verandah, sat a lady, writing by the light of a lamp, already lit. "Here, my lady," quoth the officer, have obeyed your royal behests, and tured Mr. Locksley." "I cap "Miss Florence Barrington!" cried Ned, as she rose to greet him. promotion he had been before aware, but. had not heard of the marriage, at which he could heartily rejoice. "I cannot conceive what made me hesitate to recognize you, when the voice, too, sounded so familiarly. But it was very dusky, and you came on me from behind, you know. I had no notion you were attached to Sir Hugh Gough's army." "As was," answered the officer. "Since Maharajpore, to-morrow; Grey's wing on gazetted Lady Sangster.'" Punniar. Khajee Wallah and the Mahar"Then, you had not heard of our mar-anee don't seem to see things Lord Ellenriage?" asked Florence, with his hand in borough's way." hers. "Certainly not," interrupted her husband, "or he would have hanged himself, which, I suppose, that I must do, now that he has turned up again. You don't happen to have a forage rope about you, Mr. Locksley ? There's a nice tree with a crooked branch outside." Ned stared, as well he might. Florence only laughed, and shook her fore-finger, with menace, at her husband, as she used to do at her vivacious cousin. "Yes, that was the way you shook your finger at poor dear honest Rosy, when she let your cat out of the bag. She told me, Mr. Locksley, not to flatter myself too much on Florence's acceptance of my suit, for she only took me, because you had neglected to take her." "For shame, Willie! How can you? You knew his old way, Mr. Locksley, and can hear he's not altered for the better." "Will the Mahrattas fight? "Like mischief. I am told they are intrenching themselves across the Kohuree River." "I was in hopes," said Lady Sangster, "that matters might have gone off in negotiation. Many chiefs have sent their vakeels into camp, you know." "To throw dust in his lordship's eyes," her husband answered. "Well, it don't take much of a scuffle to raise dust in this camp," said Ned. "I wish it would rain before the march, for Lady Sangster's sake. You have no notion what a cloud an Indian army tramps in.” "Too good luck to rain," replied Sir William; "though I dare say it's snowing fast at home." "Where at home, dear?" "At home in England, to be sure; have you forgotten it is Christmas time?" Into what memories did that one word |
