He treated me with a certain air of respect, which, I confess, pleased me exceedingly. He seemed more for my favour than Lady Amabel's. There was a peculiar kind of cleverness, too, in his conversation, which was new--it was that of _educated ability_; but he had an original way of discussing questions, and, through the respectful reserve he maintained towards me, I could discover a lurking talent for sarcasm, not ill-natured, but irresistibly amusing. He entertained Lady Amabel very much with his "quiet impertinences," as she called them, and "drew out"

her colonial visitors to an extent they never dreamt of. I own that I was a little mystified; it was some time before I could discover the difference between jest and earnest in this character.

Lady Amabel, as I have told you, though elegant and charming, was an idler; she missed Mr Lyle extremely, when some days pa.s.sed without a visit from him. It never struck me, till enlightened by his own subsequent revelations, that he withdrew himself from us occasionally in order to be recalled--an absence of two or three days was sure to be followed by a note of invitation to dine at Newlands--and then he came with news, private and political. His credentials had introduced him to the princ.i.p.al families at Cape Town, and he was already well received among them.

He had the talent of adapting himself to the habits and tastes of all cla.s.ses and both s.e.xes; he could talk politics with officials, and was often asked by Lady Amabel to a.s.sist her in entertaining such persons as she had friendly reasons for inviting to Newlands. She thought him a little spoiled, for it did not always suit his mood to talk. She did not discover, nor did I at the time, her own error in spoiling him herself.

He turned all kind Lady Amabel's foibles to his own account.

No two characters could be more opposite than Lyle's and Clarence Fairfax's, and yet both had certain attributes in common; both were brave and daring, but Clarence had less moral courage than Lyle--both loved to conquer, but the one wanted perseverance, and would yield to pa.s.sion while success was doubtful. I could recall many circ.u.mstances which would explain these contrasts in the two characters. Clarence Fairfax, in his resolution to conquer a horse, closed the contest by shooting it dead in the face of his grooms. Lyle seized the reins of one of Sir Adrian's fiery steeds, and, mounting it when excited to fury, fought with it resolutely, till it quailed beneath his hand, and then galloped it for miles against its will, till it was thoroughly tamed.

People had seen these two men play billiards, and remarked the dashing impetuosity of the one, and the cool, calculating game of the other; the one winning by quiet determination.

Both Lyle and Fairfax sketched well; the first filled his portfolio with wild scenes from storms at sea or battle-pieces, roughly done, but full of spirit--there were also innumerable caricatures--so true as scarcely to be caricatures; Clarence was a graceful artist. Neither liked reading, for reading's sake; but Clarence could quote many a pa.s.sage from Moore's and Byron's softest poems, while Lyle was more at home with "Thalaba" or "Cain;" but liked better, he said, to shape his opinions from his own observation than from books.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

THE CATASTROPHE.

Rumour began, with bold and busy tongue, to talk more openly of "scandalous reports" from the frontier concerning Mrs Rashleigh. Lady Amabel, always charitable, put them down to the account of a little "natural bitterness" on the part of weak, jealous people, who might depend on Mrs Rashleigh's influence for invitations to the official parties; but I heard otherwise, and from no other than Mr Lyle. So far, he said, from people being desirous of the _entree_ at Sir Adrian's official residence at Graham's Town, many persons objected to meet Mrs Rashleigh, whose conduct with Fairfax had become notorious. Lyle mentioned Clarence as though he was utterly unconscious of my interest in him, and added, that he knew him slightly--they had been at Westminster together. He did not tell me that Clarence and he had been foes in one of those shocking stand-up fights so common in English schools. Lyle had conquered Clarence, and the latter did not resent the issue of what was declared a fair fight; but the former never forgot that, though victory was his, there were few to cheer _him_, while the vanquished boy was surrounded by friends.

In short, with many tastes and talents in common, these two men were totally different.

Clarence was accustomed to talk to me chiefly of himself. I began to think of this, as Lyle did homage to talents which he discovered I possessed. Still there were the doubts about jest and earnest. Every day I found out how difficult it was to understand the character of men.

Lyle became more marked in his attentions as the time drew near for Sir Adrian's return; and I--I must confess that I was surprised at having borne Clarence's absence with patience.

I had had my hours of sorrow and anxiety nevertheless. The dread of a war was dissipated soon after the Governor and his troops had left Cape Town; but diplomatic matters detained them for three months. During that period I never left Lady Amabel; but Lyle made himself acquainted with all the domestic history of Sir Adrian's proceedings, laughed at the scandal about Mrs Rashleigh and Fairfax, but did not doubt it,--it was too well authenticated; and when he discovered that my countenance was clouded with dismay, affected bitter regret at having wounded my feelings; but smiled incredulously at the idea of my entertaining a serious pa.s.sion for that young _roue_.

He did not dwell on this. He knew that in a disposition like mine love reigned triumphant over pride.

Woe is me! I knew so too.

I have tried to detail some of the characteristics of this deeply-designing man; but you would rather have them pa.s.sed over, and I shrink from the recital. He was determined on retrieving a tottering reputation by an alliance with any one whose friends or fortune might arrest the progress of ruin and disgrace; I was the victim he singled out. My thoughts were far apart from his designs.

I was like a city besieged, with the enemy smiling before me in friendly array, watching to stalk into the gates, awaiting the arrival of a faithless ally.

Lady Amabel and I were at Newlands, expecting tidings from the frontier, and prepared to return to Cape Town to receive Sir Adrian. I was awakened early one morning by the distant sound of guns--it was a salute--it must be the Governor and his suite; they were expected to return by sea. I threw on my dressing-gown, and ran to Lady Amabel's room.

I met her in the pa.s.sage; she was all joy. I trembled with agitation, pleasure, and dread.

The carriage drove round within half an hour, and we hastened into Cape Town. The bells were ringing, the ships in the harbour were decorated with flags. Crowds lined the streets; the Governor had landed, and was detained on the sh.o.r.e by a congratulatory deputation. We were received by the throng with loud hurrahs. Peace had been proclaimed, and treaties established, which people believed would be satisfactory.

Triumphal arches had been raised within a few hours. On we dashed. We reached Government House just as the guard of honour pa.s.sed us after receiving Sir Adrian. Every one looked joyous; the mansion resounded again with cheerful voices.

"Here they come! Here they come!" Carriage-wheels approached. Lady Amabel and I ran into the hall. She threw herself upon her husband's breast. Captain Walton and the military secretary advanced to shake hands with me. They were laughing--quite happy to have escaped the toils of an inglorious warfare. I could not speak.

Lady Amabel greeted them, and looking round, said, "But where is my nephew? Where is Clarence Fairfax?"

And they both answered with another laugh, which Captain Walton checked suddenly, as he caught a glimpse of my frightened face. "Oh! he is quite safe, and very--happy," said the secretary. "Well," said Captain Walton; "he is coming back overland with the Rashleighs."

"Yes," observed Sir Adrian, in a tone, partly of sarcasm and partly of displeasure; "and he had much better have returned with us. I am by no means satisfied with this arrangement of _Mrs Rashleigh's_."

I was most bitterly disappointed.

Shame to me, I had nearly forgotten to ask after the welfare of my family. I addressed some agitated questions to Captain Walton, who told me all were well.

He had always been kind in his manner to me, and could readily guess the meaning of my melancholy face. My arm trembled on his as we proceeded to the breakfast-room together--that same room where Clarence Fairfax and I had parted in a crowd.

I would fain pa.s.s over much that followed. I received a letter from my father. He had heard somewhat of Clarence Fairfax's "conspicuous attentions to me." He feared Lady Amabel had been "too indulgent."

Fairfax was the very person to "charm a young girl's senses," but he hoped they were not overcome by a fine form and a bewitching manner. My dear father thought too well of me to suppose that I was enthralled by this lively, dashing, handsome young aide-de-camp, who was, to say truth, at the feet of a lady whose reputation had suffered from her carelessness. Every one indeed spoke of Fairfax as a male coquette.

You see, dear friend, my father would not a.s.sume that I was "seriously enthralled;" he was not with me to judge for himself. You shall read his letter some day. You will see that though he tried to treat this matter lightly, it weighed upon his mind; he was bent on having me home again. "My darling," he says, at the close of this letter, "write to me at once; you have never mentioned this affair, which others speak of so carelessly, and your silence makes me anxious. In my anxiety I asked your sister if you alluded to Captain Fairfax in your communications with her, but she tells me no. My love, I long to have you with me again. Captain Walton admitted to me that you were looking ill. He is most kind, and enters into my anxieties. He was unwilling, I could see, to commit Fairfax. In a word, dearest Eleanor, he has more respect for Fairfax than that infatuated young man has for himself..."

Then followed directions for my return, under the care of friends about to leave Cape Town for the eastward settlements. They delayed their departure, and I was detained, to Lady Amabel's satisfaction, for she had become attached to me. But, albeit firm in her attachments, she was a person, as you may have discovered, ever open to fresh impressions.

She was as unsuspicious of evil as I was.

Mr Lyle had made his way, and stood in high favour when Sir Adrian arrived.

He was presented, and joined the circle at dinner that day; he took his station at my side--I was sadly abstracted--he was in his most agreeable vein, and drew me from myself, as usual.

I know, dear friend, you will wonder that the letter I received from home was from _my father_. I had always belonged more to him than my mother. Marion, you know, was the favourite in her babyhood; and it was my fault, perhaps, as well as my misfortune, that I was always reserved to my mother. I well recollect her once expressing impatience at that reserve; but I never could shake it off; it exists, as you know, to this day. A sensitive child, once repelled, seldom makes another advance, and I have told you that I entered the world just as the best-beloved one was fading from it. My mother had less thought naturally for me than him. I turned to my father--his arms were open, and I rested there.

You have been a member of our family circle for some weeks now; otherwise, how could I bring myself to cast a shade of reproach on my mother, for whom you have so high a respect? Ah! _you_ will not set it down to wrong account.

You see I linger in my wretched history.

I look again into my journal. 16th March. "Clarence has returned; at times dejected; at times excited; he is totally unlike his former self.

We are at Newlands again. All these scenes and objects a.s.sociated with happier hours! They bring but bitterness to me. I never approach the fountain of Egeria... When I hear the sound of horses' feet in those long avenues, I fly--I am ill--I cannot rest--and oh, this crowd! how it oppresses me! How I long for a friend to whom I could impart my sorrow.

Oh, for advice!--Dear father! would that I were at home and by thy side. Mother, you would take your stricken daughter to your arms.

Though weak and ill, how strong within me is the power of suffering..."

You say, Major Frankfort, that you love me; I believe you; you will love me ever, for you will ever pity me; and so, knowing what your heart will feel on reading this, I will not _shed_ all my miserable thoughts of this period upon paper.

All this time Lyle was intent upon his purpose. He _felt_ my fate was in his hands.

He took up a new position.

I was sitting one morning in Lady Amabel's boudoir. A servant ushered in Mr Lyle. He started back; "It was Lady Amabel he came to see," he said.

I begged him to be seated, and rose to go for her.