CHAPTER IV

LORD CAMPSIE.

At dinner, a few days after this, Mr. Gainswood, after his usual long benediction, added thereto, somewhat abruptly, as if it had been a part thereof,--

"The Prince's Hussars have just come in."

"Indeed, papa," said Dove, not much interested by the intelligence, though rather surprised that her father should be. So was Gillian, who looked up inquiringly from his soup.

"To Piershill?" he asked.

"To Piershill Barracks," added Mr. Gainswood, a little pompously; "and I have just had a letter from our client, Viscount Kilsythe, stating that his son, Lord Campsie, a captain in the regiment, will call upon me, and that I must be careful in making monetary advances to the young fellow; but that he wishes me to pay him some attention as the son of an old friend."

"In what way, papa?"

"Oh--a dinner or a ball, perhaps!"

"A ball, papa?" repeated Dove, her fine eyes filling more with absolute wonder than delight, while a kind of scared expression stole over the wrinkled front of old Mrs. McBriar.

"Such vanities are not in my way--moreover, I never approved of the sexes dancing together, but we shall have some dinner parties, certainly--what do you think, Mrs. McBriar?"

"I mind me well, that when Quarter-master McBriar, of the Scots Greys, was quartered at Jock's Lodge----"

"Bother Quarter-master McBriar!" said Mr. Gainswood, interrupting one of the old lady's stereotyped reminiscences of her late husband, and without the slightest ceremony.

However, it was carried _nem. con._ that a dinner-party was to be given. But though used well enough to such entertainments on a large and lavish scale, Dove and her chaperone, Mrs. McBriar, were not wont to have guests of the calibre of Lord Campsie and his brother officers. "Parliament House men," as the legal fraternity are named in Edinburgh, from the circumstance of the old Hall of the Scottish Estates being their "Westminster Hall," and solemn, ponderous, or rough, toddy-imbibing country divines she had of late been well used to, and constantly bored by, as they formed her father's "set;" but the Prince's Hussars!

Poor little Dove was more scared than delighted by the prospect of having the responsibility of acting hostess, though the situation was not without its novelty; and forthwith she and Mrs. McBriar, who, of course, took Gillian into their confidence, became deeply involved in the question of who was to be invited, and in the still greater one of who was to be omitted; for in small circles like the Scottish capital and cathedral cities, that is frequently the most momentous feature in connection with an entertainment.

The daily papers were searched now, in vain, by Gillian and Dove, and by none more anxiously than Gideon Gainswood, for some tidings of Colonel Lamond's remote and obscure expedition against the Hillmen. Whatever the result thereof, no news appeared as yet in the journals of the "modern Athens," where, even now in these railway days, the _Times_ and other metropolitan journals are generally to be found at the club-houses alone.

One day--Dove never forgot it--she and her particular friend and gossip, Flora Stuart, a pretty blonde girl, whose bright face and attractive figure were familiar to all the many idlers of the fashionable promenades of that city of loungers, were setting forth together, when a gentleman on horseback passed them in the huge and otherwise empty square.

"A distinguished-looking young fellow--is not he, Dove?" said Flora, as the rider passed them with his horse at a walk, and gave them a casual, but critical, glance through his eye-glass.

Upright, tall, and flat-shouldered, he sat in his saddle with the ease that declared him a finished horseman, and one who had perfect power over the beautiful animal he rode. He seemed about seven or eight and twenty years of age, closely shaven, all save a dark moustache, with deep grey eyes, and features that were undoubtedly characteristic of good blood and lineage. He had the calm, self-satisfied air peculiar to a thorough man-about-town in the present day, and the horse he rode was sufficient to stamp and prove the excellence of his taste in that matter.

It was a dark-bay hunter about sixteen hands high, with small head, slender neck, ample chest, full barrel, broad loins, muscular and well-formed legs. He was attended by a groom of the orthodox English type--neither man nor boy, in leathers and white-topped boots, hat encircled by a thin gold cord, a cockade and gold acorn thereon; closely buttoned in a green coat with waistbelt and well folded white neck-tie. The horse he rode, a thoroughbred bay, was lighter than that of his master, but seemed, like it, to combine both action and blood.

The master was a style of man more often seen in the Row, the Lady's Mile, or elsewhere at the West-end of London, than at the West-end of Edinburgh, or any other quarter thereof now. Dove's eye casually followed the approving glance of Flora Stuart, but she could little foresee the trouble this identical horseman was to cause her in time to come.

"He has reined up at your house, Dove!" exclaimed her friend, as they turned out of the square.

"Oh! one of those hussars, no doubt," said Dove, and dismissed the subject from her mind, save in so far as the inevitable dinner party was concerned.

The groom handed in the card of his master, whereon was engraved,

"CAPTAIN LORD CAMPSIE, "Prince's Hussars,"

a piece of pasteboard destined to occupy a conspicuous place in the card-basket of Mr. Gainswood, on whom, perhaps, his lordship would never have called, but for the circumstance that he was the factor on the little that remained of the Scottish Kilsythe Estates; and that, like Hussars in general, he had debts that required liquidation, and was always getting further into debt to accomplish that desired end.

Mr. Gainswood was at home, and Lord Campsie found himself in the stately double drawing-room, the general good style of which was due to Dove's correct taste; but their magnitude and magnificence would have been sufficient to impress even him, had he not been attracted by the grandeur of the view from the windows--the great extent of beautiful country that--beyond the deep and rugged ravine where the Leith brawled seaward between rocks and gardens, beyond bosky Deanhaugh with its antique mills and stupendous bridge--stretched away in sunny haze towards the Forth with all its isles, and the shores of Fife, with all its clustering towns, green woods and hills, where every tint and outline were softened and mellowed by distance.

"Respectability, according to Sydney Smith, keeps a gig," thought the young lord; "I always supposed that respectability here, was glad enough to be able to keep itself, without the gig; but, by Jove, old Gainswood, you must have feathered your vulture's nest well!"

It was indeed a vulture's nest in some respects, but in it was a dove, of whom Lord Campsie knew nothing yet.

Mr. Gainswood came bustling in, adjusting his wristbands, looking almost fussy, and with great energy shook Lord Campsie's hand, and had it not been gloved, he would have been unpleasantly sensible that the lawyer had just, in haste, washed his digits, as he made a toilette on hearing his noble visitor announced.

He inquired with great _impressement_ after the health of dear Viscount Kilsythe; and though, of course, the peer referred to was a Viscount, it betrayed the lawyer's ignorance of good society to style him so; thus his son replied, with a peculiar smile,

"Thanks--his lordship is quite well--at least, the old fellow was, when he looked me up some time ago at Hounslow."

Old fellow! Mr. Gainswood felt this to be a very free and easy way to speak of a peer of the realm; for, in Scotland, though one of the most democratic countries in the world, there is--as in America--a slavish admiration of, and adulation to, title and rank, which in the former instance, can only be accounted for by the non-residence of the aristocracy in her capital; as, when not on a brief visit to their estates, they are, of course, in London.

After some common-places, and agreement by common consent that the weather was fine for the season, the young lord, who felt no great pleasure in Mr. Gainswood's society, thought him of the object of his visit.

"You are aware, I suppose, that I am quartered at Piershill, near--near--"

"Ah--yes, my lord--near John's Lodge, my lord."

"Vulgar snob!" thought Campsie, his handsome face rippling with quiet laughter.

"My daughter is, unfortunately, out," said Mr. Gainswood, who was greatly irritated that she was so at this time; but he added suavely, "I should so like her to have seen your lordship, of whom she has heard so much."

Dove probably knew not there was such a person in existence till her father mentioned the fact.

"So sorry--most happy--I'm sure," lisped Campsie, stroking his mustache and not much interested in the matter; "I should, perhaps, have called at your place of business; but I was trying a new horse out this way."

He then proceeded to open the trenches at once.

"I am in a scrape, Gainswood."

"Going to be married?"

"Not at all--nothing so stupid."

Gainswood did not think he was; but thought there was no harm in suggesting that personal sacrifice to him, or putting it in his head anyhow.

"What then, my lord?" asked the lawyer, who knew that clients always told their story their own way.

He wanted an advance--"only some cool hundreds--most pressing--a doocid affair--but merely temporary."

Gainswood smiled blandly, and nodded while rubbing his coarse hands over each other. He knew to a farthing the monetary resources and prospects of the Livingstones of Kilsythe, and resolved to advance, as yet, only what he was sure of being repaid, with interest, and not a shilling more; yet for some time he pretended to hesitate and raise doubts. After a time, and having thereby given Campsie cause for a little anxiety, he said, in his most friendly tone,

"We'll arrange it all to-morrow, my lord--lunch with me here at two--sharp; it is quieter than the office, we'll just have a bird and some quiet talk over it."

"Thanks--a thousand thanks--most happy--I'm sure," drawled Campsie, assuming his hat, and little thinking that "the bird," most likely referred to, was poor Dove Gainswood.

To her great annoyance, the young lord came thrice to lunch before the monetary matters were arranged, and on each occasion the lawyer watched him closely.

Pleased, if not charmed, with the fresh young girl's beauty and artlessness, Campsie paid her considerable attention. Flora Stuart, who was present once, declared it to be marked attention; but Dove, as she wished it not, certainly never thought so. When addressing all women, Campsie's manner was naturally chivalrous, gentle, and winning, though there were times, when at the stables and elsewhere, he could be slangy enough; but Dove, though all unused to "Lords and Knights of the Garter," was too intelligent a girl not to distinguish the petty nothings, which, added to a very suave manner, might pass for incipient love-making, and the real bearing of a lover.

Mr. Gainswood had not this delicate perception; but Dove knew her father's heart, and could read his eyes like a printed book. She began to have forebodings of what might yet develop itself, and took care never to be left alone with Lord Campsie even for a single moment.

From that first visit her trials began--trials which she shrunk from confiding even to Gillian Lamond, lest she might wound the honest fellow's loving heart.