not to attempt to impose upon her with any account of dangers,
difficulties, or surprising adventures that were not strictly true, for
she hated liars, and would cut him out of her will if she detected him
indulging in anything of the sort; but requested that he would write to
her a full, true and particular account of his first battle, should he
be engaged in one.

"At the commencement of his first campaign he wrote to the old lady a
long descriptive letter, but unfortunately he did not pay sufficient
attention to his orthography, and so came to grief, for one paragraph of
the letter ran thus:

"'Our entire brigade, ten thousand strong, halted about six in the
morning, and by seven the whole of the tents were snugly pitched, and we
were taking our breakfast comfortably in the tops of trees which grew on
both sides of the road.'

"He spelt the word Topes without the capital or letter e. Tents for ten
thousand men pitched in the tops of trees. Oh, was there ever such a
monstrous falsehood, and the poor old lady fairly shook from head to
foot with pious indignation. The letter was returned to the writer
without remark or comment, and she was never again heard to mention the
name of her nephew, and on her death, which occurred soon after, it was
found that she had bequeathed the whole of her property to establish a
mission for diffusing the Gospel truth among the natives of the Fiji
Islands, and the unfortunate victim to bad spelling was left lamenting."

In another of his epistles to the fair young girl in merry England, he
winds up with the following: "Much has been said and written concerning
the sagacity of some animals, especially the elephant, horse and dog,
but the other day I was an eye witness to a fact which developed the
cunning, reason, instinct, or call it what you will, of the Indian
Jackall. Having sauntered from my tent in the cool of the evening
through some wild cotton plants, down to a clump of shady trees that
grew at no great distance from the river, I sat down to enjoy a cigar,
and while so doing I observed the following incident: A jackall, one of
the largest I believe I had ever seen, came quietly out from the cover
of the jungle and made for the river, having in his mouth a large bunch
of cotton; curious to know to what purpose he intended applying his
mouthful, I watched him. Having reached the water's edge he turned
deliberately round and faced in the direction where I was seated, but
not in view, then depressing his bushy tail he gradually backed into the
water; very slow, indeed, was his backward movement, but on gaining the
centre of the somewhat shallow stream his whole body became submerged,
leaving nothing visible above the water but the tip of his nose;
suddenly he dived, and reappeared on the opposite bank. After giving
himself a good shake, he scampered off, apparently in high glee, leaving
the cotton floating on the surface of the water. Determined to find out
if possible the meaning of this strange proceeding, I walked to the
river's bank, and wading some paces in contrived, with my long riding
whip, to get hold of the piece of cotton. You may judge of my surprise
on finding it to be actually alive with enormous flees. The cunning
jackall had taken this effectual means of ridding himself of his
troublesome companions."

But ere long scenes of a much more stirring character engaged the
attention of our young soldier, and letter-writing had to a considerable
extent to give way to the flashing of the sabre and the blurr of the
trumpet. The Punjaub was again swarming with a discontented population,
whose warlike natures rendered them a most formidable foe for everywhere
it was acknowledged that the Seik soldiery as a body were very
effective, and their cavalry the finest horsemen in the country. These
had yet to be conquered and the bloody fields of Mooltan and
Chillianwalla had to be fought and won, and the campaign on the Sutlej
brought to a successful termination, ere the troops about to be engaged
could return to peaceful quarters.

These brave, but now lawless people, rendered desperate by the internal
commotion of petty factions under different leaders, each seeking his
own personal aggrandizement, endeavored to throw the onus of the coming
struggle on the shoulders of the British Government, though it was
patent to all nations, European and Asiatic, that it had been brought
about by the Punjaubees themselves.

The bloody fields of Allewal and Sabranon, where they had been severely
beaten, was not sufficient to deter these dusky warriors or prevent them
from again trying their strength with the paramount power in India,
formidable as they knew it to be from past experience, but it is
doubtful whether the Seik soldiery ever seriously thought, although they
often hauntingly boasted of fighting with the greatest power in
Hindostan, until within two or three months of the first battle, and
even then the rude and illiterate yeoman considered that they were about
to enter upon a war purely defensive, although one in every way
congenial to their feelings of pride and national jealousy. To the
general impression of the Seiks, in common with other Indian nations,
that the English were and are ever ready to extend their power, is to be
added the particular bearing of the British Government toward the
Punjaub itself.

Throughout this campaign it was by the fortune of war determined that
Arthur's Regiment should serve, and among the brave men who rode in its
ranks no heart beat higher or bosom burned with greater military ardor
at the prospect of glory now opening before them, than that of Arthur
Carlton, for with him promotion was the oyster to be eagerly sought for,
but which could only be opened by the sword, and no service, however
dangerous, must be shirked, in order to attain this desired end.

"Gentlemen, it affords me much pleasure to be able to announce to you
that I have just received the order for the Light Dragoons to proceed
forthwith and join the field force now advancing towards the river
Sutlej, for the purpose of reducing the strong fortress of Mooltan, and
capturing its Dewan, the notorious Moolraj, who for some time past has
been sowing the seeds of disaffection amongst his subjects, and has at
last succeeded in inducing the Seiks and others to take up arms and act
offensively against our Government. This, of course, can lead to but one
result--their overthrow and ultimate defeat; but it will also give our
regiment an opportunity of gaining fresh laurels and again proving to
these fellows how dangerous it is to measure weapons with British
cavalry. We march the day after to-morrow."

Thus spoke Colonel Leoline, commanding the regiment in which young
Carlton was serving as a cornet.

This news, so pleasing to the ear of the soldiers, was received with the
utmost enthusiasm by every officer present. They gave three cheers for
their gallant leader, and another rouser for the service they belonged
to, which made the walls of their mess room ring again, so delighted
were they at the prospect of leaving their quiet, humdrum quarters for
the dash and excitement of the battle field.

The panorama which opened to the view on the mornings of the--was
glorious in the extreme, and one well calculated to awaken feelings of
emotion in the most obdurate breast. The dark waters of the Sutlej
glittering in the sun's rays as they flowed onward, all unconscious of
the bloody strife about to be enacted on its banks: the frowning
fortress, with its embattled walls bristling with cannon and swarming
with men, whose dusky figures beamed with hate and defiance; around the
outskirts of the town were the battalions of Seik soldiery, drawn up
under the Dewan Moolraj, watching with savage anxiety the approach of
the British force, whose regiments of cavalry that headed the advance
opened their glittering ranks to the right and left and made apparent
the serried battalions of infantry and the frowning batteries of cannon.

The scene was grandly magnificent. The eye included the whole field and
glanced approvingly from the steady order of one foe to the even array
of the other. All this spoke gladness of mind and strength of heart; but
beneath the elate looks of the advancing warriors there lurked that
fierce desire for the death of their fellow-men which must ever impel
the valiant soldier.

With the general details during the progress of the siege our story has
little to do,--suffice it to say that it was a bloody and protracted
affair. The Mooltanees fought with their usual desperate valor, but they
had to cope with men who never turned their backs upon a foe when the
fiat of battle had gone forth, who scorned to yield even when greatly
outnumbered, and regarded defeat, if not actually a crime, an
imperishable disgrace; and so the strife waged fast and furious up to
the closing hours of the conflict.

The siege and train heavy ordinance of the besieging force hurled their
ponderous shot and shell against the masonry and buildings that defended
the town and citadel, destroying, crushing, and burning with terrible
effect, while the field artillery poured forth continuous discharges of
lighter projectiles of every description then in use, sweeping with
dreadful result every opposing force that appeared on the walls or other
parts of the fortification. Amid the dire confusion and heavy clouds of
smoke caused by the incessant cannonading the Infantry effected an
entrance among the advanced mounds and trenches of petty outworks, and
animated by their partial success, formed themselves simultaneously into
wedges and masses, and headed by their brave leaders rushed forward in
gallant style. With a shout they leaped the ditch and up swarming
mounted the ramparts and stood victorious amid the captured cannon.

The cavalry were effectually employed around and about the outworks of
the town, and many a dashing charge and smart encounter took place
wherever the enemy's horse made a sortie or sally, which was of frequent
occurrence.

Wherever the blows from the tulwa's of the Seik horse rained heaviest
there was to be seen the flashing sabre of our young Cornet, cutting and
slashing with right good will. The early training of old Bridoon stood
him in good stead, and although scarcely twenty-one he had strength and
nerve far beyond his age, and on several occasions his conspicuous
bravery drew forth the hearty plaudits of his own men and others who
witnessed his dashing courage.

In one of the outworks captured from the enemy during the early part of
they siege had been erected a field hospital for the wounded, under
charge of Assistant Surgeon Dracott of the Light Dragoons. Now it so
happened that on the day of the grand attack a party of Seik horse in
attempting to effect a retreat from the town were met by the Dragoons,
and after a severe contest driven back and pursued as far as it was
thought advisable. A number of these fellows turned down a narrow
passage in hopes of escaping into the country at another point less
guarded, and in so doing came suddenly upon the hospital alluded to, in
which there was a considerable number of poor fellows who had been more
or less hurt during the attack. Filled with rage and discomfiture at the
failure of their first attempt, and seeing the place was guarded only by
a small party of Sepoys, for whom they had a supreme contempt--for the
independent yeomanry warriors of Afghanistan and the Punjaub held in
light estimation the hired native soldiery of Southern India. There were
numerous instances on record during the Afghan and Seik wars where the
men of the North were seen, sword in hand, to attack the Company's
Sepoys, beat down or turn aside their bayonets, and with the other hand
drag them from the ranks by their cross belts and slay them. Even when
run through the body they have been known to seize a firm grip of the
musket until they had dealt a fatal blow to their antagonist and both
fall together mortally wounded, so hostile and revengeful were they one
to another when engaged in conflict, creed against creed, for the Sepoys
of the South were, as a rule, Hindoos, while the Seiks and Afghans were
Mahomedans--they conceived the brutal design of destroying the Hospital
and ruthlessly putting to death all they could lay their hands on, in
revenge for the morning's defeat, then escape to the plains beyond the
town. After a few moments' consultation they commenced the onslaught;
the Sepoy guard made but a feeble resistance to these powerful horsemen,
they threw down their arms and fled in haste leaving the poor invalids
to their mercy.

Draycott the moment he guessed their design sprang on to his horse,
which fortunately stood ready saddled at the door of the Surgery, and
rode straight at the leader of the party, a huge, burly Seik, and
engaged him; but he with his light sabre, and less powerful arm, was no
match for the Mahomedan soldier, who with one blow smashed the
regulation toasting fork, and with his left hand seized the Surgeon by
the shoulder, and was forcing him backwards preparatory to giving him
the final thrust through the throat; the other scoundrels being engaged
in beating down the bayonets of the guard. At this critical moment, and
before a man of the wounded had been touched, about a score of troopers,
headed by Carlton, appeared on the scene of action, and entirely changed
the programme. With a single stroke of his flashing sabre, Arthur dealt
their leader such a blow that he was fain to release his hold on
Draycott and turn to defend himself; by this time the conflict had
become general fierce and bloody.

"Death to the cowardly ruffians; save our wounded comrades," shouted
Carlton, as, with a vigorous thrust he sent his weapon deep into the
chest of his dusky opponent, placing him at once and forever _hors de
combat_. Imitating the dashing conduct of their youthful leader the
Dragoons fought as British Soldiers can fight when their mettle is up,
and roused by the gallant bravery of their pet officers, in less than
twenty minutes from the striking of the first blow every one of the Seik
horse were either cut to pieces or taken prisoners. The report of the
encounter was spread far and wide, and not a man in the regiment, from
the colonel to the trumpeter stood so high in the estimation of both
officers and men throughout the Brigade as did our hero. Conspicuous
bravery on the battle field seldom fails to elicit rapturous applause
from every branch of the service.

The fall of Mooltan and the capture of its Dewan Moolraj did not, as
had been anticipated by many, put an end to the campaign. Disaffection
and disloyalty had spread throughout the country, and the Seiks were
everywhere arming to resist what they were pleased to assert was the
intention of the East India Company, namely: the subjugation of the
entire country of the five rivers; and large masses of soldiery, under
experienced leaders, had congregated on the plains eager for the fray.
Not many days elapsed after the reduction of Mooltan before the army
received orders and pressed on with all expedition to that part of the
country where the battle of Chillianwalla was to decide the question at
issue between the contending forces.

The result of the first day's struggle was undoubtedly very much in
favor of the Seiks, and can only be accounted for in this way: The
followers of the Prophet had for a considerable time been massing
themselves under experienced leaders and had established their position
in a manner best suited to resist the advancing foe, this they were
enabled to do by their thorough knowledge of the the country, without
any great exertion or hardship, being undisturbed, and certain that the
enemy could not approach but in a certain direction, and that point
alone had to be watched. But not so with the British. Long forced
marches, outlying pickets, advance guards, and all the harrassing
fatigues incident to moving through an enemy's country had to be borne.
This to a considerable extent wearied the European soldiery, though it
could not dispirit or discourage them, and again they were suddenly
attacked ere they were well prepared to do battled. Yet they pressed on
to a scene which was to terminate in so bloody a conflict. But the
second day told a very different tale; whatever advantage had been
gained, during the early stage of the fight, was not only nullified, but
their successes became a sort of _Ignis Futuris_ that lured them on to
their destruction, for during the night the British were reinforced by a
column of fresh troops from Bombay and the action opened with twofold
vigor, and so the mighty tide of battle rolled on. Towards evening the
decisive blow was struck; the Seiks were beaten at all points and fled
in wild confusion and dismay, leaving their unconquerable antagonists
masters of the field.

"Colonel," said an aide-de-camp, dashing up at full gallop, "your
regiment will move one hundred and fifty paces to the right," and then,
touching his horse with his spur, darted off in another direction.
"Threes right forward," and the Dragoons moved to the position assigned
them. A brigade of guns that had been brought up under cover of the
cavalry now opened upon the advancing Seik horse with terrible effect,
throwing them into such confusion as to prevent them from rapidly
reforming. At this moment the order was received for the Dragoons to
wheel into line and charge, and ere the Seiks had recovered, were among
them, and the flower of the enemy's cavalry had to give way before the
impetuous charge of our light Dragoons. There were more hand to hand
encounters in this affair than has been recorded in any other engagement
of the campaign. During the melee, one of the commanding General's
A.D.C.'s had a narrow escape. A powerful looking Seik rode at him, but
on coming within arm's length the staff officer's horse stumbled over
some dead or wounded men; the sword of the dusky warrior was raised to
give the blow, which must have proved fatal, and in another moment there
would have been a vacancy on the General's staff, but Arthur, who had
been hewing with might and main within a few yards of the spot, seeing
the imminent peril of his countryman, dashed up, shortening his sabre as
he did so, and, with a powerful thrust, sent it clean through the body
of the Seik; the blow intended for the head fell harmless on the plated
scales of the epaulet of the aide as he recovered himself in the saddle.

"Thanks, Carlton, my dear fellow, for this good service; I will not
forget it, should it ever come to my turn to assist you in any way," was
all that could be said in the hurry and excitement of the conflict, for
the tide of battle still rolled on. A two gun sheet battery which had
been committing great havoc on a column of infantry, was still throwing
grape and canister with murderous effect. These discharges had again and
again swept through the little party. The Seik gunners stood manfully to
their guns until the Infantry came within fifty yards of them. "Charge,
men, charge," shouted a very handsome officer of the Bombay Fusiliers,
"they cannot stand the bayonets of the old Toughs. Forward." The men
sprang to the charge, and about one hundred of the Fusiliers to the very
teeth of destruction, facing inevitable death with a coolness and
fearlessness so characteristic of the British soldier. But a body of the
enemy's horse suddenly appeared on the flank of the column of Infantry
compelling them to form square to resist cavalry, and thus the brave
little party were placed in a precarious position, being cut off from
their supports. A withering volley from the right and rear face of the
square, followed by a rapid file-firing from the standing ranks, emptied
quite a number of saddles and drove the troopers off.

An officer of Dragoons at the head of a party of his men rode at the
Seik artillerest, who, with the exception of two, abandoned their guns
and were endeavouring to escape by retreat, but they were all either cut
down or captured. The two who yet remained at their post waited for the
Infantry to advance sufficiently close to make their fire tell with
murderous effect, they then raided their lintstocks to fire, which must
have proved horribly fatal to the Fusiliers, when Arthur Carlton, for it
was he who led, appeared out of a cloud of dust and smoke close to the
Battery. Leveling his pistol, he shot down one of the Seik gunners, the
lintstock of the other was within a few inches of the vent. A second
more and a frightful gap would have been made in the ranks of the
advancing Fusiliers.

A shout that can only be given by a British throat, broke on the ear of
the unfortunate artillerest, who hesitated for a moment. It was his
last, for a down stroke from Arthur's flashing sabre fell upon his neck,
separating the head from the body. The Fusiliers dashed up, and the
battery that dealt so much destruction among the Infantry was captured
at last.

"Splendidly done, by Jupiter. Those men are the Fusiliers of the Bombay
column, are they not? and who is that cavalry officer?"

"Cornet Carlton, Light Dragoons, your Excellency; the same officer who
saved your Excellency's despatch and my life, that I mentioned to you
some half hour since," was the earnest reply, of one of the aides.
"Gallant fellow, bravely done, only a Cornet, must have his
Lieutenancy, Hargraves, see that I do not forget this in my despatches
to the Government to-morrow." Then, turning to his Chief of Staff, said,
"Give orders for the Dragoons and Light Artillery to pursue for half an
hour. The enemy is beaten at all points, and get the Infantry under
canvass with as little delay as possible." "The action is over," said
the Commander-in-chief, closing his field glass, and with his staff left
the ground. And thus, after two days hard fighting, the name of
Chillianwalla was added to the list of victories that has been
emblazoned on the page of history, showing the prowess and valour of
British troops in India, and the name of Arthur Carlton was added to the
list of Lieutenants borne on the muster roll of the Light Dragoons.

It is not our intention to take the reader over the battle fields of
Peshawa, suffice it to say that our Dragoon, with his regiment, scoured
the plains of the Punjaub up to the very mouth of the Iron Kybre itself,
which had proved fatal to so many of our gallant countrymen.

A group of officers had assembled around the withered and charred stump
of a large tree, chatting and smoking, the ruddy glare of the
neighboring camp fire throwing its fitful light upon the uniform and
accoutrements of the little party, showing them to be no other than our
old friends of H.M. Light Dragoons, waiting for the order to commence
their morning's march.

"Why are we not on the move?" enquired Major Hackett, as he joined them.

"Something gone wrong with the baggage, I suppose," responded one of the
party, "but here comes old Rations, (for it was by this name that the
Quartermaster was usually styled by the men of his Regiment) he,
perhaps, can tell us something about it."

"Well, Quartermaster, can you explain the cause of the delay. Have you
seen the Colonel, or are we to be kept here all day?" and the Major
flung away the end of his cigar with an air of annoyance. The
good-humored Quartermaster explained, in somewhat of a round-about way,
that everything would be all right in a few minutes.

"Out with it, Davison, tell us what is the row. You don't laugh all over
your face and half way down your back for nothing, I know," said Arthur,
reining up his horse alongside that of the Quartermaster, who, by the
way, was a special friend of our young Lieutenant. "Just illuminate and
turn on the gas a little, as it were."

"Well, then, gentlemen," resumed that worthy functionary, "it appears
that this morning, on the elephants being brought up to carry the mess
and Hospital Tents, one of the number was found to be missing, and the
Muccadem declared that it was useless to attempt to put anything extra
on the others, for that they would not stir a peg if so overloaded. I
did not know what to do in this dilemma; the tents could not be left
behind, so I sent for Fortescue, who was in charge of the Government
cattle, to ask his advice. In a few minutes he came cantering up. I
explained matters. The elephant cannot be far off." At this moment a
Muccadem came running up to say that the animal was in the jungle, about
a quarter of a mile off, but was refractory and would not budge an inch
in the direction of the camp.

"Divide his load among the other four," said Fortescue.

"But they will not carry it, sir," replied the native Inspector.

"I know that as well as you can tell me, but do as I order you."

The Inspector salammed and obeyed, but the animals would not move. "Now
take off the load from two and give them a couple of tether chains."
This was done, the loads removed, and a long chain, used for camp
purposes given to each, who caught them up with their trunks and seemed
to know exactly what they were expected to do with them. They were then
led into the jungle where the other one was said to be.

"You will see some fun presently," said Fortescue, and he was right, for
in a very short time the refractory animal was seen coming into camp at
the top of his speed, shrieking and crying, closely followed by the
other two, who were thrashing him soundly with the chains that had been
given to them for that purpose. There is no doubt they gave him to
understand that they did not intend to carry his load for him.

I have heard elephant stories before, but it was most ridiculously
absurd to see that great mountain of flesh crying like a whipped child,
go down on his knees and quietly receive his burden without any attempt
to hurt or molest his keeper.

All the baggage was by this time off the ground; the regiment got the
order to advance, which they did with right good will, for both officers
and men of the Light Dragoons were equally satisfied to find themselves
once more approaching their comfortable quarters in Karricabad.




CHAPTER VI.


Smiling Spring, with her ever-changing episode of sunshine and tears,
had twice come and gone. The gorgeous fields of golden grain had for a
second time bent their heads beneath the harvest side, and the autumnal
tints of every hue and shade had again fallen on the rich foliage of the
magnificent old woods of Devon, while the whirr of the pheasant in the
preserves, and the popping at the partridges among the turnips,
indicated that the shooting season had once more commenced over the
broad lands around Vellenaux.

Things wore much the same aspect as they had done on Arthur's return
from College and prior to his departure for the sunny plains of
Hindostan some eighteen months since. Sir Jasper was apparently hale and
hearty. Edith had finished her education, on which her uncle had spared
no expense, for masters and professors had been procured from London to
superintend her studies. She was perfectly happy, occasionally receiving
letters from Arthur, which always afforded her much pleasure to peruse
and think over, and frequently would she detect herself gazing upon his
photograph in the pretty little locket he had sent her from Oxford by
Tom Barton, and which, since his departure, she constantly wore.

Ralph Coleman's visits had become more frequent of late; this at first
did not attract Edith's notice. She had never been prepossessed in his
favour, but as her uncle's kinsman, and being heir to the Baronetcy, her
deportment to him had ever been polite and affable, but subsequently his
attentions became so marked that they aroused her to a sense of his real
meaning. Yet she could scarcely bring herself to believe that such was
really the case, and but for the delicate hints and inuendos that
occasionally fell from the double dealing widow, she would, there is no
doubt, have remained for a much longer time unconvinced of his
intentions towards her. However, time was passing on and Ralph made up
his mind to bring matters to the point. One lovely afternoon, as he was
entering the conservatory, he espied the fluttering of a woman's dress
among the shrubs and flowers, and on coming nearer, though still at some
little distance, perceived a lady walking slowly and as if in deep
thought. Feeling quite certain that it was no other than the one he was
in quest of, and thanking the fates for giving him the long wished for
opportunity, he advanced more quickly and was soon beside Edith (for she
it proved to be) before she was aware that any one was near. Turning,
with something of a surprised look on her lovely face, she exclaimed,
"Oh, how you startled me. I thought you were on the way to London. I am
quite amazed to find you here."

"I hope my presence is not distasteful to you," he said, gently, at the
same time lifting his hat and bowing low before her. He really cared
nothing for the beautiful girl at his side, for he was thoroughly
selfish; nor did he care by what means or how low he had to stoop to
gain possession of the object wished for.

Edith, knowing her own feelings, and not wishing to say aught to hurt
or offend him more than was actually necessary, scarcely knew how to
answer him, disliking him as she did. Still she had nothing to complain
of, for he had ever paid her the most marked respect. Before she could
frame her answer he spoke again, "Edith, I have for some time been
wishing to speak to you on a subject very near my heart. I love you
dearly and have long done so, will you be my wife, or, at least, give me
some hope that my suit may be acceptable at some future time? only give
me one encouraging smile, one ray of hope, and I will drudge on
patiently until you bid me come to you."

"Oh no," Edith replied, "you must not wait, you must not hope, I can
never be yours. Go, leave me." Before she had well finished, Ralph
Coleman had seized her little white hands in his strong grasp, and said
in a deep, hoarse voice, "Edith, I ask you again will you be mine?"

Surprise, astonishment, and a feeling very like indignation took
possession of Edith.

"Mr. Ralph Coleman," she said, "before I answer any more questions,
release my hands." As he did so she raised her head proudly, and turning
towards him with a heightened color, said, "I have already told you that
I cannot love you, and am surprised that it is not sufficient. I thank
you for the honor you intended, but beg that you will never mention this
subject to me again."

As these words fell upon his ear, Ralph Coleman's face changed and
darkened visibly, an evil light came into his eyes, and an ugly frown
contracted his brow, then, with a smile, whose meaning could not be
mistaken, he said:

"Take care, proud girl, I have sworn that you shall be mine, and by the
Heavens above us, I intend to keep my vow, and neither man nor devil
shall turn me from my purpose!"

Edith's eyes flashed, her beautiful lips curled in scorn, and her whole
face beamed with intense disgust, and with a voice low and deep she
said,

"Have a care, sir, beware how you threaten the niece of Sir Jasper
Coleman. Before to-morrow my uncle shall be made acquainted with what
has just passed, and the character of the man who has partaken so often
of his hospitality, and been ever treated with kind attention, he has
yet to learn how these courtesies have been returned," and sweeping past
him with a look of supreme contempt, Edith was about to pass on.

It was evident that he had gone too far and that she was not a girl to
be intimidated by anything that he might say, and at once changed his
tactics--for he was an excellent actor--"Pardon me, Miss Effingham, I
know not what I am saying, I am mad. Yes, lady, mad! for your beauty
like the moon, makes all men mad, who comes within the sphere of its
attraction. Forgive me for thus offending you." Edith turned towards
him, and with calm dignity replied, "Promise me never again to revert to
this subject, and in no way further molest me, and what has just passed
shall be forgiven." He gave the required promise. Edith then pursued her
way to the end of the conservatory, passed through the doorway, and on
to the terrace where she was met by her Uncle. He observed her
heightened color, but as she made no complaint he allowed it to pass
without comment.

Ralph Coleman stood for a few moments irresolute. She must, he thought,
either be aware that her uncle has left her sole heiress, or else is in
love with another, Carlton perhaps. Fool that I was to run so great a
risk, and that, at the instigation of that scheming woman. Should she
say aught to her uncle on this matter, it would ruin me with him. I will
at once seek an interview and endeavour to wheedle him out of a promise
to make a codicil in my favor.

Failing in the attempt to secure the hand of the beautiful Miss
Effingham, and not daring to risk another trial, as it might spoil the
plans he had been contemplating since Edith's dismissal of him, he had
kept shy of that young lady during the remainder of his stay, and prior
to his departure for London, he had contrived to have a long interview
with the Baronet, during which he very ably showed the position that he
would hold should the Baronetcy eventually descend to him who was
totally unable to support the dignity of the rank that would thus be
thrust upon him. So well and ably did he argue this point, that ere he
left Vellenaux he extorted a sort of promise from Sir Jasper that he
would think the matter over and make a bequest in his favor.

He returned to his office, in deed court, annoyed and disheartened to a
considerable extent by the failure of his designs as far as related to
Miss Effingham, but his wounded vanity he could afford to bear and hide
within his own breast, as he now confidently believed that Sir Jasper
would adopt the suggestions he had made to him, and settle, at least,
two or three thousand per annum on the successor to the Baronetcy during
the said successor's life; and in this frame of mind the Lawyer
determined to de vote himself entirely to his profession, and to avoid
the pretty Edith, Mrs. Fraudhurst, and Vellenaux, until the present
owner should have been gathered to his fathers.

There is perhaps no season of the year in the South of England so
pleasing to the eye or more genial to the corporeal faculties than that
of early autumn, especially that part of Devonshire which we have
selected for the opening and closing scene of our story. Vellenaux, with
its varied and picturesque styles of architecture, embosomed, as it
were, in rich woodlands, with a perfect amphitheatre of hills on three
sides, and ever and anon the soft breezes of the ocean sweeping over the
downs, and through the beech woods on the other. It was, indeed, a
domain of which any one might have been proud.

It was a lovely evening, the sun had just commenced to dip behind the
crest of the adjacent hills, and was sending its golden rays through the
bright foliage of the trees and down the long paths that led to the
woods hard by. Edith had strolled, book in hand, to her favourite knoll,
beneath a stately elm, and was engaged in reading. Her two favourite
dogs, fine specimens of the Italian greyhound, chased each other in
circles which gradually grew smaller until it brought them to the very
feet of their mistress. One placed his small smooth nose in the little
white hand that was thrown carelessly on the moss grown roots beside
her, while the other, to attract her attention, placed his paw on the
page she was reading and looked up in her face. Suddenly their ears
elongated and away they bounded, as the noise of horses hoofs were heard
approaching in her direction, aroused her from her recumbent position,
as Julia Barton, on her quiet little pony, trotted up. She was off in an
instant, and running up to her friend, greeted her in the animated,
lively way, as was her custom when she had anything to communicate that
she thought would please or interest her. "At your studies," she said,
taking up the volume that Edith had let fall on her appearance. "Long
engagements, a tale of the Affghan war. Oh, oh, thinking of our old
playfellow are we?" and the merry girl laughed heartily, "we shall soon
hear more of him, for my sister-in-law, Pauline, has just most
unexpectedly arrived, and I wish you to know her. She is very charming
and improves wonderfully on acquaintance, is very good-natured, and
tells such funny stories about the people she lived among, and has a
great deal to say about Arthur Carlton. You will come to the Willows
to-morrow, will you not, and call on her?" Edith gave the required
assent, and Julia, mounting her pony, cantered down the avenue to the
lodge gate, where she was joined by a tall, gentlemanly looking man,
mounted on a small bay mare, and the two walked their horses at an easy
pace down the green lane in the direction of the Willows, and Edith
returned to the house in time to dress for dinner, well pleased with the
prospect of hearing something of him who was scarcely absent from her
thoughts for any great length of time. She did not attempt to analyze
her feelings on the subject. It was pleasant to think of her absent
friend, and that was sufficient for the present.

Mr. Barton, Sen., or old Mr. Barton as he was usually styled, for he was
upwards of eighty years of age, and had been born in the house he now
occupied, a good comfortable and substantial, but old fashioned
dwelling, which had passed from father to son for several generations.
His father had been what is termed a gentleman farmer, and attended
personally to the superintending of his acres. His son, the present
occupant, had followed his example. He married early in life, but the
lady of his choice died young, leaving one son to remind the sorrowing
widower of his loss. This was Horace Barton, whom we have already
introduced; he chose a different field for his labors, and managed to
secure, while yet young, on appointment in India. Our friend Tom and his
two sisters, Julia and Emily, were the result of a second marriage, and
although there was every comfort to be had, and a good home for all
during the life of the old couple, yet it was absolutely necessary that
Tom should make his own road through life, and that the girls should, by
early marriage, secure for themselves suitable establishments, as the
Willows would fall to Horace on the death of his father, and it would
not be many years before his term of service in the East would expire,
and he would then, doubtless, return to England and occupy the old house
in Devonshire.

The arrival of Mrs. Horace Barton from Calcutta had been quite
unexpected at the Willows, as no preparatory letter had announced her
intentions or arrival in England. Nevertheless she found all delighted
to receive her. She had spent the most of her visit to Europe in the gay
capitals of Paris and London, and a couple of months was all the time
she could spare to remain in Devonshire.

On her first visit she had not been introduced to Miss Effingham, and
had only caught a casual glance at her while crossing the lawn, as Edith
was returning from a visit to Julia Barton; but on this occasion was
determined to become acquainted with her, and find out if she really
deserved the high encomiums that had been bestowed upon her by Arthur
Carlton. She had anticipated seeing a pretty lively English country
girl, but was totally unprepared for the brilliant beauty and perfectly
self-possessed manners of Edith, and she always found an attentive
listener in her to all she had to relate on the subject of India and
Arthur Carlton whenever they met, which was now frequent, for an
introduction had taken place between them very shortly after her
arrival, and they consequently became on the most intimate and friendly
footing. The magnificence of the ancestral dwelling of the Colemans,
with its Parks, Parterres and grounds, was quite a novelty to Pauline
Barton, and with Edith she traversed the long corridors, picture
galleries, and armories with wonderment, for they contrasted strangely
with the Pagodas, Temples, and Bungalows in the country where the
greater part of her life had been spent (for she had been born there),
and she thought that Edith's life must be one of never-ending delight,
and for a time it was so, but a sad change was about to come over the
bright spirit of her dream of happiness for a time, and perhaps for
ever, and dash the cup of joyous light-heartedness from her grasp.

The event so much desired by the man of law took place at a much earlier
date than had been anticipated by that gentleman, or, indeed, by any one
of his acquaintances as the sequel will show.

"Reynolds," said the Baronet, one evening after dinner, some few weeks
after his interview with his worthy cousin, the heir to the title,
"place candles in my study, and you need not wait up for me. It is
likely that I shall sit writing to a late hour." The old servant bowed,
and retired to do the bidding of his master.

After affectionately wishing his niece good-night, and a passing remark
to Mrs. Fraudhurst, Sir Jasper entered his study, closing the door
quietly behind him.

For a considerable time he paced the room, with his hands crossed behind
his back, as was his custom when in a meditative mood. Finally, seating
himself at his escritoire, he placed the massive silver candlesticks,
with their wax lights, in such a position that the glow would not effect
his sight, and arranged his materials for writing to suit him. For a few
moments he leaned back in his chair, then selecting a small key from a
bunch he always carried, unlocked the centre drawer which contained only
a few memorandums and drew it completely out. He next touched a small
spring at the side, when a panel of the back slid open, disclosing an
aperture from which he took the packet he had brought from London the
evening previous to the opening of our story. This was the will and
testament of Sir Jasper Coleman, in which he had left his niece, Edith
Effingham, sole heiress of all he possessed, with the exception of a
gratuity of five thousand pounds to be paid to his _protégé_, Arthur
Carlton, within six months after his (the Baronet's) decease, and to be
free from all legacy or other duties. Having re-read the document, he
laid it on the table beside him and then commenced writing.

Sir Jasper had thus acted without the knowledge of his lawyer, the man
with whom he had consulted on every other matter since his succession to
the Baronetcy, consequently that gentleman was in ignorance of any such
will being in existence. It had been drawn by a competent lawyer
residing in one of the suburbs of London, and had been properly
witnessed, and was, in every particular, a regular, complete document.
The parties present on the occasion knew nothing of Sir Jasper, had
never heard of Vellenaux or its owner, and in all probability would
never hear of him again, as there was no likelihood of the will being
contested. Why he had acted in this manner is hard to say.

The Baronet had finished his letter, and was again musing, and muttering
to himself, "Ralph Coleman, you are an unprincipled man. Do you think
your attempt to coerce my darling niece to listen to your suit has
escaped me. You have failed in that quarter and now come to me to assist
you. Well, well as she is safe I can afford to forgive you, and let you
have a couple of thousand a year, to enable you to support yourself like
a gentleman when the title descends to you." Here the Baronet resumed
his pen and commenced the writing of a codicil in behalf of his cousin,
Ralph Coleman.