At this moment there was a movement in the group.Shargar, receiving no reply, looked round at Robert.It was now Shargar's turn to be surprised at his expression.
'Are ye seein' a vraith, Robert?' he said.'What gars ye leuk like that, man?'
'Oh!' answered Robert, recovering himself, 'I thought I saw some one I knew.But I'm not sure.I'll tell you afterwards.We've been talking too earnestly.People are beginning to look at us.'
So saying, he moved away towards the group of which the marquis still formed one.As he drew near he saw a piano behind Miss Hamilton.A sudden impulse seized him, and he yielded to it.He made his way to the piano, and seating himself, began to play very softly--so softly that the sounds could scarcely be heard beyond the immediate neighbourhood of the instrument.There was no change on the storm of talk that filled the room.But in a few minutes a face white as a shroud was turned round upon him from the group in front, like the moon dawning out of a cloud.He stopped at once, saying to himself, 'I was right;' and rising, mingled again with the crowd.Afew minutes after, he saw Shargar leading Miss Hamilton out of the room, and Lady Janet following.He did not intend to wait his return, but got near the door, that he might slip out when he should re-enter.But Shargar did not return.For, the moment she reached the fresh air, Miss Hamilton was so much better that Lady Janet, whose heart was as young towards young people as if she had never had the unfortunate love affair tradition assigned her, asked him to see them home, and he followed them into her carriage.Falconer left a few minutes after, anxious for quiet that he might make up his mind as to what he ought to do.Before he had walked home, he had resolved on the next step.But not wishing to see Shargar yet, and at the same time wanting to have a night's rest, he went home only to change his clothes, and betook himself to a hotel in Covent Garden.
He was at Lady Janet's door by ten o'clock the next morning, and sent in his card to Miss Hamilton.He was shown into the drawing-room, where she came to him.
'May I presume on old acquaintance?' he asked, holding out his hand.
She looked in his face quietly, took his hand, pressed it warmly, and said,'No one has so good a right, Mr.Falconer.Do sit down.'
He placed a chair for her, and obeyed.
After a moment's silence on both sides:
'Are you aware, Miss--?' he said and hesitated.
'Miss Hamilton,' she said with a smile.'I was Miss Lindsay when you knew me so many years ago.I will explain presently.'
Then with an air of expectation she awaited the finish of his sentence.
'Are you aware, Miss Hamilton, that I am Major Moray's oldest friend?'
'I am quite aware of it, and delighted to know it.He told me so last night.'
Somewhat dismayed at this answer, Falconer resumed,'Did Major Moray likewise communicate with you concerning his own history?'
'He did.He told me all.'
Falconer was again silent for some moments.
'Shall I be presuming too far if I venture to conclude that my friend will not continue his visits?'
'On the contrary,' she answered, with the same delicate blush that in old times used to overspread the lovely whiteness of her face, 'Iexpect him within half-an-hour.'
'Then there is no time to be lost,' thought Falconer.
'Without presuming to express any opinion of my own,' he said quietly, 'a social code far less severe than that which prevails in England, would take for granted that an impassable barrier existed between Major Moray and Miss Hamilton.'
'Do not suppose, Mr.Falconer, that I could not meet Major Moray's honesty with equal openness on my side.'
Falconer, for the first time almost in his life, was incapable of speech from bewilderment.But Miss Hamilton did not in the least enjoy his perplexity, and made haste to rescue both him and herself.
With a blush that was now deep as any rose, she resumed,'But I owe you equal frankness, Mr.Falconer.There is no barrier between Major Moray and myself but the foolish--no, wicked--indiscretion of an otherwise innocent and ignorant girl.
Listen, Mr.Falconer: under the necessity of the circumstances you will not misjudge me if I compel myself to speak calmly.This, Itrust, will be my final penance.I thought Lord Rothie was going to marry me.To do him justice, he never said so.Make what excuse for my folly you can.I was lost in a mist of vain imaginations.Ihad had no mother to teach me anything, Mr.Falconer, and my father never suspected the necessity of teaching me anything.I was very ill on the passage to Antwerp, and when I began to recover a little, I found myself beginning to doubt both my own conduct and his lordship's intentions.Possibly the fact that he was not quite so kind to me in my illness as I had expected, and that I felt hurt in consequence, aided the doubt.Then the thought of my father returning and finding that I had left him, came and burned in my heart like fire.But what was I to do? I had never been out of Aberdeen before.I did not know even a word of French.I was altogether in Lord Rothie's power.I thought I loved him, but it was not much of love that sea-sickness could get the better of.
With a heart full of despair I went on shore.The captain slipped a note into my hand.I put it in my pocket, but pulled it out with my handkerchief in the street.Lord Rothie picked it up.I begged him to give it me, but he read it, and then tore it in pieces.Ientered the hotel, as wretched as girl could well be.I began to dislike him.But during dinner he was so kind and attentive that Itried to persuade myself that my fears were fanciful.After dinner he took me out.On the stairs we met a lady whose speech was Scotch.Her maid called her Lady Janet.She looked kindly at me as I passed.I thought she could read my face.I remembered afterwards that Lord Rothie turned his head away when we met her.