"Take it _now_, Mr. Norcliff, for heaven's sake, rather than come for it, as William Calderwood came," said the sprightly Miss Wilford, taking a pair of scissors from a gueridon table that stood close by; and ere Lady Loftus could speak, the dark ringlet was cut off, and consigned to my pocket-book, while my lips trembled as I whispered my thanks, and laughingly said--
"What says Pope?
'The meeting points the sacred hair dissever, From the fair head for ever, and for ever.'"
"This is all very well, Mr. Norcliff," said she, laughing behind her fan; "but I cannot submit to be shorn in jest, and shall insist on having that lock of hair from you to-morrow."
She had a lovely smile in her dark eyes, and a half-pout on her beautiful lip; but Cora--I know not why--looked on me sadly, and shook her pretty head with an air of warning, that seemed as much as to say I had erred in my gallantry, if not in my generalship.
That night my heart beat happily; I went to sleep with that jetty tress beneath my pillow; thus, for me, Cousin Cora had not in vain told her quaint old legend of "The Clenched Hand."
*CHAPTER X.*
I loved--yes. Ah, let me tell The fatal charms by which I fell! Her form the tam'risk's waving shoot, Her breast the cocoa's youngling fruit.
Her eyes were jetty, jet her hair, O'ershadowing face like lotus fair; Her lips were rubies, guarding flowers Of jasmine, dimned with vernal showers. STONE TALK.
The next day was to see a crisis in my fate which I could not have anticipated, combined with the narrow escape from mutilation or death of more than one of our pleasant party assembled at the Glen.
With all the intensity of my soul, I wished to learn my chances of success with the brilliant Lady Louisa, yet trembled to make the essay.
Why, or how was this?
Timid and irresolute, fearing to know the best or the worst from the lips of a mere girl, I asked myself was it I--I, who, at the bombardment of Rangoon, at the storm of the Dagon Pagoda, and in the night attack on Frome, had feared neither the bullets nor poisoned arrows of the two-sworded barbarians whom it was our ill-luck to encounter in those tropical regions; I, who, without fear or flinching, was now ready to meet the Russians in Turkey, or anywhere else; was it I that could not muster hardihood to reveal the emotions, the honourable love, of an honest heart? It was; and, at times, I felt inclined to utter a malison on that which General Napier so truly and happily termed, "the cold shade of aristocracy;" for that it was which chilled and baffled me.
In the drawing-room the first who met me was my Cousin Cora, looking pale, but bright-eyed, with her pure complexion, and in all her morning prettiness.
"Lady Loftus, I presume, has not appeared yet?" said I.
"It is always Lady Loftus with you, Cousin Newton," said she, pettishly, "though you came here to see papa and me. What have you done with that celebrated lock of hair? Put it in the fire, eh?"
"In the fire, Cora! It is here, in my pocket-book."
"Doubtless you are very proud of it?"
"I cannot but be, Cora," said I, taking her hands in mine, and drawing her into the recess of an oriel window; "and she is herself so proud and reserved. I am sure that she knows what you have seen, Cora; at least, what my uncle says you have detected,--that--that----"
"What, Newton? How rambling and mysterious you are!"
"That I love her."
"You are sure she knows this?" asked Cora.
"Yes, my dear cousin; it is impossible that the regard with which she has inspired me could fail to be known, seen, or felt by her--I mean that it must have been apparent to her, by a thousand mute indications, since we first met in England. It is so to you, is it not?"
"Ye--yes," replied Cora, with her face averted, for no doubt she was smiling at my earnest simplicity.
"Do you think she would tolerate attentions that were valueless, or would trifle with me?"
"I cannot say."
"But you are her particular friend. Oh, Cora, be mine too!"
"What on earth do you mean?" asked Cora, showing me still only her pretty profile; "you cannot wish _me_ to propose to her for you?"
"No; but you hide your sweet face, Cora. You are laughing at me!"
"Oh, no, I am not laughing," replied Cora, in a rich, low tremulous voice. "Heaven knows, Newton, how far my thoughts are removed from laughter."
"And--what is this, Cora dear? Your eyes are full of tears!"
"Are they?" she exclaimed angrily, as she withdrew her hands from mine.
"Yes--ah, I see it all," said I, bitterly; "you know Lady Louisa's heart better than I do, and deem my love for her a hopeless one."
"It is not so," replied Cora, while her cheek flushed, and, though her long lashes drooped, an air of hauteur stole over her usually gentle and lovable bearing. "I know nothing of the matter. Search her heart for yourself; assist you I cannot; and what is more, Newton Norcliff," she added haughtily, "I will not!"
"Cora!" I exclaimed, with surprise; "but be it so. Myself then must be my own advocate, and if my love for Lady Louisa----"
What I was about to add, or how I meant to finish the sentence, I know not, for at that moment she approached, with her calm, somewhat conventional, but beautiful smile, to kiss Cora, and present her hand to me. The rest of our party rapidly assembled.
Had she heard the _last_ words of my interrupted speech? I almost feared, or rather hoped, that she had.
"This, I find, is to be the day of another expedition, Mr. Norcliff," she observed.
"So it appears. We are to see the Fifeshire hounds throw off at Largo House; and afterwards we are to drive home by a circuit, through half the country, to let Lady Chillingham see the scenery."
"In a January day!" drawled Berkeley. "Do we--aw--start before tiffin?"
"If by that you mean luncheon, I say after it, decidedly," said Lady Chillingham, in her cool, determined manner, which few--the earl, her husband, especially--could gainsay. "I have to write to my Lord Slubber and others."
"Pardon me, my dear Lady Chillingham, but this arrangement is impossible," said my uncle; "we must leave this in time to see the hounds throw off."
"And the hour, Sir Nigel?"
"Sharp twelve. Binns will take luncheon for us in the boot of the drag. Berkeley, you, I believe, are to don the pink, and ride with me. I shall cross the country to-night, but not in my official capacity, as I have not yet assumed all the duties appertaining to the honourable office of the master of the Fifeshire hounds. And now to breakfast. Lady Chillingham, permit me--your hand, and we shall lead the way."
"When I do take the hunting of the country into my own care," resumed my uncle, "I shall show you as noble a pack as ever drew cover; ay, dogs as smart as ever had their tails running after them, even before cub-hunting begins next season; and so compactly shall they go, that a tablecloth might cover them all when in full cry."
"By that time, uncle, I shall be testing the mettle of the Russian cavalry; but my heart will be with you all here in Calderwood Glen."
Lady Louisa's eyes were upon me as I said this; their expression was unfathomable, so I was fain to construe it into something sympathetic or of interest in my fate.
The day was clear and beautiful; the air serene, though cold, and the swelling outlines of the green and verdant hills were sharply defined against the blue of the sky, where a few fleecy clouds were floating on the west wind.
Our party lost no time in preparing for the expedition of the day, and, ere long, the vehicles, the horses, and even the ladies, were all in marching order. I had too much tact to attempt to engross Lady Loftus at the beginning of the day; but resolved, as she was to be with "mamma" in the drag, to become one of its occupants when returning home, if I could achieve nothing better.
My man Pitblado, and other grooms, brought forth the saddled horses, and my uncle appeared in a red hunting-coat, boots and tops, with whip and cap complete, his cheek glowing with health and pleasure, and his eyes sparkling as if he were again sixteen.
"By the way, Newton," said he, slapping his boot-tops, "that lancer fellow of yours----"
"Willie Pitblado, my servant?"
"Yes, well, he has tumbled Lady Chillingham's French soubrette about, as if he had known her from infancy; and what suits the meridian of Maidstone barracks won't do at Calderwood Glen, so tell him. And now, Mr. Berkeley, here are Dunearn, Saline, and Splinter-bar. You can have your choice of cavalry; but shorten your stirrups. I always take the leathers up two holes for hunting."
"Aw--haw, thanks," drawled this Dundreary (whose fashionable hunting suit, in cut and brilliancy of colour, quite eclipsed the well-worn costume of the jolly old baronet), as he proceeded leisurely to examine the bridle and girths, observing the while to me--
"Louisa looks well this morning."
"Louisa!" I repeated, with astonishment: "is it the mare--her name is Saline, so called from some hills in Fife--or whom on earth do you mean?"