Since you have left the army, I have heard no more of your follies; and I trust that you have at last struck out a better path for yourself, and separated yourself from all dangerous associates. But you must choose a new profession. You must not live an idle life on the small income which you receive from me. I only intended that annuity as a safeguard against poverty, not as a sufficient means of life. You must select a new career, Reginald; and whatever it may be, I will give you some help to smooth your pathway. Your first cousin, Douglas Dale, is studying for the law--would not that profession suit you?"

"I am in your hands, sir, and am ready to obey you in everything."

"Well, think over what I have said; and if you choose to enter yourself as a student in the Temple, I will assist you with all necessary funds."

"My dear uncle, you are too good."

"I wish to serve you as far as I can with justice to others. And now, Reginald, we will speak no more of the past. What do you think of my wife?"

"She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld."

"And she is as good and true as she is beautiful--a pearl of price, Reginald. I thank Providence for giving me so great a treasure."

"And this treasure will be possessor of Raynham Castle, I suppose,"

thought the young man, savagely.

Sir Oswald spoke presently, almost as if in answer to his nephew's thoughts.

"As I have been thoroughly candid with you, Reginald," he said, "I may as well tell you even more. I am at an age which some call the prime of life, and I feel all my old vigour. But death sometimes comes suddenly to men whose life seems as full of promise as mine seems to me now. I wish that when I die there may be no possible disappointment as to the disposal of my fortune. Other men make a mystery of the contents of their wills. I wish the terms of my will to be known by all interested in it."

"I have no desire to be enlightened, sir," murmured Reginald, who felt that his uncle's words boded no good to himself.

"My will has been made since my marriage," continued Sir Oswald, without noticing his nephew's interruption; "any previous will would, indeed, have been invalidated by that event Two-thirds--more than two-thirds--of my property has been left to my wife, who will be a very rich woman when I am dead and gone. Should she have a son, the landed estates will, of course, go to him; but in any case, Lady Eversleigh will be mistress of a large fortune. I leave five thousand a year to each of my nephews. As for you, Reginald, you will, perhaps, consider yourself bitterly wronged; but you must, in justice, remember that you have been your own enemy. The annuity of two hundred a year which you now possess will, after my death, become an income of five hundred a year, derived from a small estate called Morton Grange, in Lincolnshire. You have nothing more than a modest competency to hope for, therefore; and it rests with yourself to win wealth and distinction by the exercise of your own talents."

The pallor of Reginald Eversleigh's face alone revealed the passion which consumed him as he received these most unwelcome statements from his uncle's lips. Fortunately for the young man, Sir Oswald did not observe his countenance, for at this moment Lady Eversleigh appeared on the terrace-walk outside the open window of her husband's study, and he hurried to her.

"What are to be our plans for this afternoon, darling?" he asked. "I have transacted all my business, and am quite at your service for the rest of the day."

"Very well, then, you cannot please me better than by showing me some more of the beauties of your native county."

"You make that proposition because you know it pleases me, artful puss; but I obey. Shall we ride or drive? Perhaps, as the afternoon is hot, we had better take the barouche," continued Sir Oswald, while Honoria hesitated. "Come to luncheon. I will give all necessary orders."

They went to the dining-room, whither Reginald accompanied them.

Already he had contrived to banish the traces of emotion from his countenance: but his uncle's words were still ringing in his ears.

Five hundred a year!--he was to receive a pitiful five hundred a year; whilst his cousins--struggling men of the world, unaccustomed to luxury and splendour--were each to have an income of five thousand. And this woman--this base, unknown, friendless creature, who had nothing but her diabolical beauty to recommend her--was to have a splendid fortune!

These were the thoughts which tormented Reginald Eversleigh as he took his place at the luncheon-table. He had been now a fortnight at Raynham Castle, and had become, to all outward appearance, perfectly at his ease with the fair young mistress of the mansion. There are some women who seem fitted to occupy any station, however lofty. They need no teaching; they are in no way bewildered by the novelty of wealth or splendour; they make no errors. They possess an instinctive tact, which all the teaching possible cannot always impart to others. They glide naturally into their position; and, looking on them in their calm dignity, their unstudied grace, it is difficult to believe they have not been born in the purple.

Such a woman was Honoria, Lady Eversleigh. The novelty of her position gave her no embarrassment; the splendour around her charmed and delighted her sense of the beautiful, but it caused her no bewilderment; it did not dazzle her unaccustomed eyes. She received her husband's nephew with the friendly, yet dignified, bearing which it was fitting Sir Oswald's wife should display towards his kinsman; and the scrutinizing eyes of the young man sought in vain to detect some secret hidden beneath that placid and patrician exterior.

"The woman is a mystery," he thought; "one would think she were some princess in disguise. Does she really love my uncle, I wonder? She acts her part well, if it is a false one. But, then, who would not act a part for such a prize as she is likely to win? I wish Victor were here.

He, perhaps, might be able to penetrate the secret of her existence.

She is a hypocrite, no doubt; and an accomplished one. I would give a great deal for the power to strip the veil from her beautiful face, and show my lady in her true colours!"

Such bitter thoughts as these continually harassed the ambitious and disappointed man. And yet he was able to bear himself with studied courtesy towards Lady Eversleigh. The best people in the county had come to Raynham to pay their homage to Sir Oswald's bride. Nothing could exceed her husband's pride as he beheld her courted and admired.

No shadow of jealousy obscured his pleasure when he saw younger men flock round her to worship and admire. He felt secure of her love, for she had again and again assured him that her heart had been entirely his even before he declared himself to her. He felt an implicit faith in her purity and innocence.

Such a man as Oswald Eversleigh is not easily moved to jealousy; but with such a man, one breath of suspicion, one word of slander, against the creature he loves, is horrible as the agony of death.

Reginald Eversleigh had shared in all the pleasures and amusements of Sir Oswald and his wife. They had gone nowhere without him since his arrival at the castle; for at present he was the only visitor staying in the house, and the baronet was too courteous to leave him alone.

"After the twelfth we shall have plenty of bachelor visitors," said Sir Oswald; "and you will find the old place more to your taste, I dare say, Reginald. In the meantime, you must content yourself with our society."

"I am more than contented, my dear uncle, and do not sigh for the arrival of your bachelor friends; though I dare say I shall on very well with them when they do come."

"I expect a bevy of pretty girls as well. Do you remember Lydia Graham, the sister of Gordon Graham, of the Fusiliers?"

"Yes, I remember her perfectly."

"I think there used to be something like a flirtation between you and her."

Sir Oswald and Lady Eversleigh seated themselves in the barouche; Reginald rode by their side, on a thorough-bred hack out of the Raynham stables.

The scenery within twenty miles of the castle was varied in character and rich in beauty. In the purple distance, to the west of the castle, there was a range of heather-clad hills; and between those hills and the village of Raynham there flowed a noble river, crossed at intervals by quaint old bridges, and bordered by little villages, nestling amid green pastures.

The calm beauty of a rustic landscape, and the grandeur of wilder scenery, were alike within reach of the explorer from the castle.

On this bright August afternoon, Sir Oswald had chosen for the special object of their drive the summit of a wooded hill, whence a superb range of country was to be seen. This hill was called Thorpe Peak, and was about seven miles from the castle.

The barouche stopped at the foot of the hill; the baronet and his wife alighted, and walked up a woody pathway leading to the summit, accompanied by Reginald, who left his horse with the servants.

They ascended the hill slowly, Lady Eversleigh leaning upon her husband's arm. The pathway wound upward, through plantations of fir, and it was only on the summit that the open country burst on the view of the pedestrian. On the summit they found a gentleman seated on the trunk of a fallen tree, sketching. A light portable colour-box lay open by his side, and a small portfolio rested on his knees.

He seemed completely absorbed in his occupation, for he did not raise his eyes from his work as Sir Oswald and his companions approached. He wore a loose travelling dress, which, in its picturesque carelessness of style, was not without elegance.

A horse was grazing under a group of firs near at hand, fastened to one of the trees by the bridle.

This traveller was Victor Carrington.

"Carrington!" exclaimed Mr. Eversleigh; "whoever would have thought of finding you up here? Sketching too!"

The surgeon lifted his head suddenly, looked at his friend, and burst out laughing, as he rose to shake hands. He looked handsomer in his artistic costume than ever Reginald Eversleigh had seen him look before. The loose velvet coat, the wide linen collar and neckerchief of dark-blue silk, set off the slim figure and pale foreign face.

"You are surprised to see me; but I have still more right to be surprised at seeing you. What brings you here?"

"I am staying with my uncle, Sir Oswald Eversleigh, at Raynham Castle."

"Ah, to be sure; that superb place within four miles of the village of Abbey wood, where I have taken up my quarters."

The baronet and his wife had been standing at a little distance from the two young men; but Sir Oswald advanced, with Honoria still upon his arm.

"Introduce me to your friend, Reginald," he said, in his most cordial manner.

Reginald obeyed, and Victor was presented to Sir Oswald and his wife.

His easy and graceful bearing was calculated to make an agreeable impression at the outset, and Sir Oswald was evidently pleased with the appearance and manners of his nephew's friend.

"You are an artist, I see, Mr. Carrington," he said, after glancing at the young man's sketch, which, even in its unfinished state, was no contemptible performance.