Lindigo, the White Woman/Chapter 27
CHAPTER XXVII.
CAUGHT ON THE SPREE.
On landing at Kinlochlinn the party proposed to take George by surprise, and therefore did not send him notice of their arrival, they accordingly walked direct from the place of landing to his house. On their going through the copse-wood, game of all descriptions started before them and Donald, who was carrying a fowling-piece, longed to have a shot at them. Walking up to his master, he said "What a pity that people have not the same license here as they have in Australia." Charlie, understanding Donald's impatience, replied "I know, Donald, your finger is itching to pull that trigger; I will be responsible for you this evening, at least, so you may fire away." Munro needed no more encouragement, for the reports from his double-barrel told that the work of destruction had commenced.
On the party approaching Mr. McKay's house, a noise, as of revelry met their ears as it issued from the dining-room, which drowned the sound produced at their entrance. When they had gained the dining-room, the door of which was open, a scene presented itself which exceeded any Australian bushman's spree they ever saw.
Around a large table, on which were scattered a number of half-emptied decanters and glasses, a large party of dissipated sportsmen, evidently affected by drink, were seated. At the opposite end sat the host, George McKay, who, although taking part in the scene, was not overcome by imbibing, neither did he seem altogether at ease with the dissipation around him. At the nearest end, and with his back towards them, sat the profligate Lord Lundy, apparently the ringleader of the riot.
On seeing the strangers George rose in confusion, and some of the guests, whose eyes were less clouded by their deep potations, endeavoured to follow his example, but in attempting it they fell over their chairs, rendering the confusion still greater. Lord Lundy, who was ignorant of the cause of the commotion, roared out, "What are you all about," accompanying it with a fearful oath.
George McKay now advanced towards the strangers, and instantly recognized his cousins, who introduced the officers, but taxed his own memory with the recognition of the other couple, Charlie and Bella. The latter, who was veiled, stood aloof, but Charlie, advancing towards his brother-in-law, said, "You do not appear to recognize me, George." The voice was sufficient, the two friends were instantly locked in each other's embrace, and for the first time for many a year, George McKay dropped a tear on his friend's shoulders, whispering, with a tremulous voice, "All would he well now, if she were here." Charlie, who understood the remark, exclaimed triumphantly (at the same time stepping over to his wife, and removing her veil), "Behold her George! I have brought her back again! She was not drowned, as was supposed, but was for years a captive in the power of savages, from whom I rescued her, and for which she has rewarded me with her hand, and you now see Charlie Stuart and Bella McKay man and wife."
The latter portion of this sentence fell with a heavy shock on the ears of the half-stupified Lord Lundy. His former hatred and animosity towards his now successful rival returned with tenfold force, but which was arrested by the affectionate meeting of George and his long-lost sister. Not an eye in that room was free from tears, oven the callous debauchees were obliged to turn their heads, and hide their emotion.
Lord Lundy could not bear to hear the glowing terms in which Bella eulogized her husband's bravery when rescuing her, and see the sweet looks with which she acknowledged Charlie's devotion. The enraged spendthrift picked up his hat, exclaiming in a rage, "I thought Charlie Stuart knew his place better than to place a foot on an estate from which he had been so ignominiously expelled, and from which he would be horsewhipped, were it not for the connexion he has so surreptitiously formed."
On hearing this Charlie, in a delightfully cool and defiant manner, walked across to where Lord Lundy stood, when, standing erect, and fixing his eye firmly upon him, said, "I beg your pardon, my Lord, but I will just inform you that, so far from the proprietor of this estate inflicting any such punishment upon me, he would rather apply it to your Lordship." At this moment he handed a sealed packet to Lord Lundy, and added, "In place of your horsewhipping me off your estate, I have now to request that you will quit my estate at your earliest convenience."
At these words his Lordship turned pale, broke the seal of the package, when the first lines that met his eyes were terrible proofs of Charlie's remarks, that the Lochlinn estate was now the property of his rival Charlie Stuart, who added, "I am sorry to be the bearer of your downfall, my Lord, and also having to present it on the present occasion, for it never was my disposition to triumph over the misfortunes of a rival; however, you must blame yourself, and I hope the lesson will be of benefit to you hereafter. You are young, and by at once seeking and following the paths or truth and rectitude, may yet regain that position which you have so foolishly sacrificed."
The company's attention was now drawn to some fresh commotion on the stairs, which sounded like forcible pushing and dragging, accompanied by the following expressions:—"Come up here my beauty. I'll soon show you manners for poaching on a nobleman's estate. His Lordship and Mr. McKay will put you through your facings, my fine gentleman."
The cause of all this bouncing and scuffling turned out to be our old acquaintance, John Brown, Lord Lundy's valet, who had met with his former rival and adversary, Donald, shooting. Being this day at the Post-office, and having to call at Mr. McKay's as he returned to leave the letters, he met with Donald. Not recognising him, Brown demanded his license for shooting on the estate. Munro, not wishing to make himself known as yet, admitted that he had no license, when, after giving other unsatisfactory answers, Brown marched him off to the factor's house, where he would be dealt with by his Lordship and Mr. McKay. In order to make himself more officious, he used several unnecessary epithets, and pushing Donald into the presence of his judges, laid the charge in the following words:—"My Lord, I have just popped on this here man, shooting, as if he had full liberty from you to do so. I hope you will make an example of him." Lord Lundy, whose mind was occupied with his own misfortunes, only asked Brown if he had any letters for him,—on receiving which, his Lordship was more confirmed in his downfall, and immediately took his departure.
Charlie now told Donald of his fortune, and the turn affairs had taken; on hearing which Brown attempted to follow his master, but Donald was too quick for him, and held him firmly by the collar, threatening to give him up to justice for perjury at the trial.
It was amusing to see the terror-stricken valet; his knees shook under him, and his looks were fearful, seeming almost as if it would be his death; Charlie here told Donald to let him escape a little longer, as his conscience would be a source of punishment to him.
Another person now appeared on the scene, Mary Munro, leading her two children; hearing that her husband had been accused, and brought before Lord Lundy, had entered to plead his cause, but she was delighted on seeing him not as the accused, but the accuser. The guilty conscience of the valet quailed under the gaze of the faithful mother on recollecting his own diabolical charges against the father.
Donald agreed to his master's lenient mode of dealing with him, and allowed him to follow his disgraced master.
On the departure of the revellers, and order being restored, Charlie's friends flocked around him, congratulating him on his fortune in becoming the possessor of the Lochlinn estate, and his happy wife teazed him a little for his closeness in keeping the secret, when he reminded her that he promised her a surprise some day when they were in London. It then occurred to her that the article which he cut out of the paper had a reference to the estate, which was the case, for, on running his eyes over the list of estates for sale, he saw the following:—"For sale, by order of the trustees, the Lochlinn Estate, the seat of Lord Lundy, in the Highlands, apply," &c, &c. Charlie cut the advertisement out, applied to the agents, and a bargain was immediately made.
It appeared that through Lord Lundy's extravagance and his being disinherited by his father, he had been obliged to mortgage his estate heavily. As the trustees could see no prospect of reform in the young spendthrift's habits, or hopes of the estate being released, its sale became necessary.
What were the feelings of the profligate as he left the house where an hour before he was leading the revelry, cannot be described. He now saw himself to be what he really was, an outcast, without a friend on the face of the earth. Even his associates of the last hour deserted him on learning his downfall leaving him a solitary wanderer to commune with his own harassing thoughts. He cursed the first morning that he saw the Bridge of Linn, and he believed himself bewitched on that occasion by its romantic scenery, and above all, by the fascinations of Bella, whom he now blamed for all his misfortunes.
But why had she appeared before him again to open afresh the wounds she had caused? And how had she come? Why, as the bride of another and that and one his rival! What a triumph! He who was turned off the estate as the stumbling-block to his Lordship's happiness, now returning to retaliate, not only as being the possessor of the prize, but also the owner of the estate, driving him as an outcast from the last possession he had. And they so happy; how lovingly they gazed on each other! How happy would he be were the least of those smiles bestowed upon him. He would have gladly endured all Charlie had done, if he were to be rewarded with but one single glance of kindness from her.
These and such were the thoughts which harassed his troubled mind as he wended his steps towards that castle which was now no longer his, and which he would be compelled to leave without a soul near him, with the exception of the perjured Brown.
The thoughts which tormented the latter were no less excruciating than his master's. The vengeance which awaited his previous conduct began to loom over his guilty conscience. What a pitiful contrast his harrowing thoughts and situation presented before his innocent, manly, and happy rival and former victim Donald Munro; the fond, matronly wife Mary, and the beautiful children.