Count Bunker Part 25

"Does he know them well?"

"He inherited a place in Scotland a number of years ago, you remember. It is somewhere near Lord Tulliwuddle's place--Hech--Hech--Hech-something-or-other Castle. He was very well acquainted with the last Tulliwuddle."

"Oh," said Alicia indifferently, "I am not really interested. It was mere idle curiosity."

For the greater part of twenty-four hours she kept this mystery locked within her heart, till at last she could contain it no longer. The resolution she came to was both desperate and abruptly taken. At five minutes to three she was resolved to die rather than mention that sprig of heather to a soul; at five minutes past she was on her way to Sir Justin Wallingford's house.

"It may be going behind mamma's back," she said to herself; "but she went behind mine when SHE consulted Sir Justin."

It was probably in consequence of her urgent voice and agitated manner that she came to be shown straight into Sir Justin's library, without warning on either side, and thus surprised her counsellor in the act of softly singing a well-known hymn to the accompaniment of a small harmonium. He seemed for a moment to be a trifle embarra.s.sed, and the glance he threw at his footman appeared to indicate an early vacancy in his establishment; but as soon as he had recovered his customary solemnity his explanation reflected nothing but credit upon his character.

"The fact is," said he, "that I am shortly going to rejoin my daughter in Scotland. You are aware of her disposition, Baroness?"

"I have heard that she is inclined to be devotional."

"She is devotional," answered this excellent man. "I have taken considerable pains to see to it. As your mother and I have often agreed, there is no such safeguard for a young girl as a hobby or mania of this sort."

"A hobby or mania?" exclaimed the Baroness in a pained voice.

Sir Justin looked annoyed. He was evidently surprised to find that the principles inculcated by his old friend and himself appeared to outlive the occasion for which they were intended--to wit, the protection of virgin hearts from undesirable aspirations till calm reason and a husband should render them unnecessary.

"I use the terms employed by the philosophical," he hastened to explain; "but my own opinion is inclined to coincide with yours, my dear Alicia."

This paternal use of her Christian name, coupled with the kindly tone of his justification, encouraged the Baroness to open her business.

"Sir Justin," she began, "can I trust you--may I ask you not to tell my mother that I have visited you?"

"If you can show me an adequate reason, you may rely upon my discretion," said the ex-diplomatist cautiously, yet with an encouraging smile.

"In some things one would sooner confide in a man than a woman, Sir Justin."

"That is undoubtedly true," he agreed cordially. "You may confide in me, Baroness."

"I have heard from my husband again. I need not show you the letter; it is quite satisfactory--oh, quite, I a.s.sure you! Only I found this enclosed with it."

In breathless silence she watched him examine critically first the heather and then the verses.

"Lord Tulliwuddle!" he exclaimed. "Is there anything in the Baron's letter to throw any light upon this?"

"Not one word--not the slightest hint."

Again he studied the paper.

"Oh, what does it mean?" she cried. "I came to you because you know all about the Tulliwuddles. Where is Lord Tulliwuddle now?"

"I am not acquainted with the present peer," he ansevered meditatively.

"In fact, I know singularly little about him. I did hear--yes, I heard from my daughter some rumor that he was shortly expected to visit his place in Scotland; but whether he went there or not I cannot say."

"You can find out for me?"

"I shall lose no time in ascertaining."

The Baroness thanked him effusively, and rose to depart with a mind a little comforted.

"And you won't tell mamma?"

"I never tell a woman anything that is of any importance."

The Baroness was confirmed in her opinion that Sir Justin was not a very nice man, but she felt an increased confidence in his judgment.

CHAPTER XX

From the gargoyled keep which the cultured enthusiasm of Eleanor and the purse of her father had recently erected at Lincoln Lodge, the brother and sister looked over a bend of the river, half a mile of valley road, a wave of forest country, and the greater billows of the bare hillsides towering beyond. But out of all this prospect it was only upon the stretch of road that their eyes were bent.

"Surely one should see their carriage soon!" exclaimed Eleanor.

"Seems to me," said her brother, "that you're sitting something like a cat on the pounce for this Tulliwuddle fellow. Why, Eleanor, I never saw you so excited since the first duke came along. I thought that had pa.s.sed right off."

"Oh, Ri, I was reading 'Waverley' again last night, and somehow I felt the top of the keep was the only place to watch for a chief!"

"Why, you don't expect him to be different from other people?"

"Ri! I tell you I'll cry if he looks like any one I've ever seen before!

Don't you remember the Count said he moved like a pine in his native forests?"

"He won't make much headway like that," said Ri incisively. "I'd sooner he moved like something more spry than a tree. I guess that Count was talking through his hat."

But his sister was not to be argued out of her exalted mood by such prosaic reasoning. She exclaimed at his sluggish imagination, reiterated her faith in the insinuating count's a.s.surances, and was only withheld from sending her brother down for a spy-gla.s.s by the reflection that she could not remember reading of its employment by any maiden in a.n.a.logous circ.u.mstances.

It was at this auspicious moment, when the heart of the expectant heiress was inflamed with romantic fancies and excited with the suspense of waiting, and before it had time to cool through any undue delay, that a little cloud of dust first caught her straining eyes.

"He comes at last!" she cried.

At the same instant the faint strains of the pibroch were gently wafted to her embattled tower.

"He is bringing his piper! Oh, what a duck he is!"

"Seems to me he is bringing a dozen of them," observed Ri.

"And look, Ri! The sun is glinting upon steel! Claymores, Ri! oh, how heavenly! There must be fifty men! And they are still coming! I do believe he has brought the whole clan!"

Too petrified with delight to utter another exclamation, she watched in breathless silence the approach of a procession more formidable than had ever escorted a Tulliwuddle since the year of Culloden. As they drew nearer, her ardent gaze easily distinguished a stalwart figure in plaid and kilt, armed to the teeth with target and claymore, marching with a stately stride fully ten paces before his retinue.

"The chief!" she murmured.

Now indeed she saw there was no cause to mourn, for any one at all resembling the Baron von Blitzenberg as he appeared at that moment she had certainly never met before. Intoxicated with his finery and with the terrific peals of melody behind him, he pranced rather than walked up to the portals of Lincoln Lodge, and there, to the amazement and admiration alike of his clansmen and his expectant host, he burst forth into the following Celtic fragment, translated into English for the occasion by his a.s.siduous friend from a hitherto undiscovered ma.n.u.script of Ossian: