What will the World say? A novel

Front matter

WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY? % JM, EV CHARLES GIBBON, AUTHOR OF "IN HONOUR BOUND," "ROBIN CRAY, &.C., &C J AT THREE VOLUMES. VOL. III. LONDON: RICHARD BENTLEY & SON, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 1875. All rights reserved. CONTENTS Oh THE THIRD VOLUME. chap. Page I. White Mice i II. "O'er the Borders and Awa'". . 15 III. The Surprise . . . .31 IV. Hard Terms . . . .46 V. "Things are not what they seem" . 59 VI. Making the Best of it . . -75 VII. Repenting at Leisure . . .84 VIII. The Gatekeeper's Son . . . 100 IX. Alone . . . . .116 X. Sackcloth and Ashes . . .133 XI. "Home, Sweet Home" . . . 150 XII. The Battle of Lacar . . . 163 XIII. An Interesting Widow . . .177 XIV. Perplexity ..... 191 XV. The Stranger at the Gate . . 200 XVI. The "Look-Out" . . . .213 XVII. The Battle of the Heart . . 215 XVIII. Love is Lord of all . . 251 XIX. The Exiles . . . . 260 XX. Knighthood. . . WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY?

Chapter I. White

mice. This was the passage-at-arms between the Major and Killievar when they stood outside the weaver's cottage : — " I think, sir, we know the position of affairs." The Major bowed " I think also, Sir, that it would be a very good thing if there was to come a message to you by telegraph or letter which rendered your immediate departure from Ravelston necessary." VOL. III. B What xvill the World say ? ■2 " Do you mean to-day ?" "Yes, Sir, I mean this very day, and before Mr. Marjoribanks comes home to dinner ; then he need not know anything at all about anything that we know. I observed that your portmanteau was ready packed." "Would it not look better to remain till to-morrow." " You must go this very day, Sir, or you must explain to Mr. Marjoribanks in my presence everything. I would advise you to do that if I thought there was the least chance of anything but a very unpleasant row.

Therefore, Sir, as his friend, and her friend, and your friend, I say, go at once ; it will be the very best way for everybody, and it will spare her some words. Her father has views for her, and very proper views, and it is not very good of you to interfere." The Major reflected, and then, quietly : " I believe you are right. I shall go to day." "I am very glad to hear you say so, Sir. You are a good shot, and I will be missing you often. I approve of you as a sportsman, but I do not approve of what you have attempted to-day." "You will at least approve of my not attempting to alter your opinion." The gentlemen bowed formally to each other, and the terms of peace were thus settled. On arriving at Ravelston, the ladies pro ceeded to their rooms at once. " How long do you give me to remain here ?" asked the Major, in a low voice.

" You will take luncheon, that no suspicion may be roused. Then, in half-an-hour after we leave the table, I suppose you will be ready to start." The Major sat down in his private room and considered the position; he did not B Wiiat xvill the World say ? regard it as one of defeat yet. Everything depended upon the humour Bess might be in, and that could not be counted upon for five consecutive minutes. He was chagrined : to have been so near victory and then to fail by being two minutes late for a train was decidedly irritating. His difficulty now was to communicate with Bess. He might employ Mary Beith ; but he would only use her as his medium as a last resource. His theory was that in the intrigue of love, as in the intrigue of war, a service upon which everything depended should be performed by one's self.

He wrote two letters — one to Marjori banks, expressing gratitude for all his kind ness, and regret for the necessity which compelled him to leave Ravelston so ab ruptly ; the other to Bess. At luncheon Miss Janet appeared with her wig carefully arranged ; but she had less than usual to say, and there seemed to be more than ever to search for under the tables and chairs. She did not once lift her eyes. Coila, who was not in the secret of the morning's doings, was yet conscious of something very unusual being wrong, and felt awkward. Bess, the Major, and Killievar were perfectly composed. " I am sorry to have to tell you," said Kilgour, addressing the company generally, between the service of cheese and fruit, " that I shall have to leave you in half-an hour. My stay here has been delightful to me in every way, and I go away much against my will."

Everybody was sorry ; everybody wished that he could stay a few days longer, or at least until Marjoribanks came home. He said it was impossible, and by and by he formally took his leave of the ladies as they passed from the room. Shaking hands with Bess last, he adroitly placed in her palm the letter he had written. The door closed. JYhat xvill the World say ? " Are you satisfied ?" he said, turning to Killievar. " I shall answer you when we meet next, Sir." " That will not be for a very long time, I am afraid. However, good-bye : I have had a pleasant time of it here. Tell Marjori banks I shall write to him from London." He tipped the servants liberally, and went away with their good opinion, at any rate ; half-a-dozen of them were in the hall to see him depart ; they would have given him many smiling well wishes but for the presence of the chief, who was so grim that he damped their ardour, and kept them on their good behaviour.

At the gate the Major bade the driver halt. " Good-bye, Macbeth, I shall not see you soon again ; but you will hear from me. I shall not forget my promise to inquire about your son." "What, are you going for good?" " For good or bad, I really don't know which." The carriage drove on, and Cockie-leerie stood dumbly gazing after it, like one who felt that he had lost a golden opportunity of doing or saying something. That afternoon Marjoribanks was alto gether out of humour, and the express cause was this sudden departure of the Major, to whom he had taken a strong fancy since the adventures at the Bell Pit. He declared that he would not have had him go away in such a hurried fashion, not for any consideration. " It just looks as though he had been ill treated, or that he had been turned out of the house.

I'm glad he gives me his address here — the Oracle Club. I'll have him back m next season. Miss Janet and Killievar consulted to- 'Wiiat will the World say ? 8 gether ; the result was that Cockie-leerie was engaged upon secret service. They thought it necessary to keep Bess under guard, but they would not entrust the post to any of the house servants, for fear of scandal in the first place, and the potency of bribery in the second. Midnight ; the domestics had all retired. Cockie-leerie was seated in a big chair in the hall to which the door of the lady's room opened. He had his dram and a lantern, and instructions to rouse Killievar and Miss Janet if his young mistress attempted to leave her room. The house was quiet ; he was comfortable, and he settled himself in the big chair for the night ? silence and loneliness had few terrors for him.

Stealthily Bess opened the door of her room. Cockie-leerie was instantly on the alert. She saw the warder, and guessed easily why he was there. She was going to draw back, altered her mind, and advanced to him boldly : " Why, Macbeth ; what are you doing here to-night?" " To keep you in your room, Miss, and to say nothing to nobody." "Oh, is that all; well, you are not a cruel jailer; I wish to speak to my cousin; you will not object to that." " I dinna ken — it's against orders, but " Before he could say more she had passed into Coila's room. Coila was sleeping. Bess halted an instant to make sure of that, and then went into a small chamber, in the window of which was a miniature aviary. There Coila kept her favourite birds, and among other pets, a pair of white mice in a pretty gilded cage.

The latter Bess took down, and covering it with a shawl, carried it to her own room, bidding her jailer What xvill the World say ? 10 a pleasant " good-night " as she passed him. Silence again, and Cockie-leerie began to feel drowsy. Scratch, scratch, scratch — very gently some thing on the wainscoting. He startled, rubbed his eyes ; the one thing which had power to terrify him had been discovered — mice. A squeak, and he jumped to his feet looking about him in alarm. Scratch, scratch, scratch again, and in the stillness of the house the sound was loud and horrible to him. Bess's door opened a very little way, and immediately a tiny white thing scampered across the floor. Cockie-leerie jumped on to his chair and shivering watched the animal dart hither and thither in uncertainty where to The scratching sound was repeated, and a second monster darted into the hall.

Cockie-leerie uttered a stifled cry of fear, sprang from the chair, upsetting and extin guishing the lantern as he did so, and made what haste he could down the staircase. Big, strong, courageous fellow, as he was, these two tiny animals had fairly frightened him from his post. He did not hear the half-suppressed, merry laughter which hailed his flight. Darkness and silence were disagreeable to Cockie-leerie. He stood in the hall, listening for the least sound which might announce the approach of his enemy. He heard a door creak above him, and wondered what it could mean, at the same time wishing that he had been snug in his bed at the lodge. However, mice did not open doors, and and since he heard nothing of them, he determined to do his duty and return to his post. He searched in his pocket and found a box of matches, lit one, and, with slow Wiiat xvill the World say ? 12 caution, ascended the stairs, striking lights all the way, and anxiously observing every step, lest the enemy should be lying any where in wait for him.

He was not con scious of the absurdity of his fears, but he did feel that they were cowardly, and he would have liked to overcome them. He had often tried, and always failed. He had a physical repugnance to mice, which proved unconquerable. He found his lantern, lighted it, and looked round. The animals had disappeared, and he breathed freely. Then he observed that the door which gave access to the servants' staircase stood ajar. He was certain that it had been quite closed when he first sat down in the big chair which was to serve as his sentry-box for the night. He looked down the stair case and listened ; he could neither see nor hear anything. He shut the door, and seated himself again, with a feeling of much satisfaction that he had so far been able to prove faithful to his trust by returning to his duty in spite of the fright he had got.

He began to feel comfortable ; and, under the impression that he was keeping strict watch all the time, he went to sleep. A figure glided noiselessly down the ser vants' staircase, and waited patiently at the foot. By and by, the figure passed into the hall and straight to the door. Quick fingers undid the bolts, the chain, and sought the lock for the key which was not there. Killievar had removed it. Bess was baffled at the last barrier through which she had to make her way. But she had much of her father's dogged nature, and opposition only rendered her the more resolute. She stood still a httle while, speculating how she might overcome the obstacle. She would have passed out through one of the What xvill the World say ? 14 windows, but the warning-bell (there was one attached to each window) would be sure to ring, the sentinel would discover her, and the household would be roused.

She deliberately replaced the bolts and chain. Cockie-leerie was fast asleep, and so she easily regained her chamber unobserved. An hour before any of the domestics were afoot, Killievar released his man from duty, and Cockie-leerie went home after assuring him that, except to speak to Miss Coila for a minute or two, Miss Marjoribanks had not stirred from her room during the night. About the same time, a solitary man in a dog-cart drove away from one of the side gates of Ravelston, towards Airbridge.

Chapter II

"o'ER THE BORDERS AND AWa'." Marjoribanks had stepped into the carriage, to proceed as usual to the works, when Bess suddenly joined him. "I want to go with you this morning, papa," she said, taking her seat beside him ; " I would like to see how the poor men are getting on." " You won't do them much good — but all right." The carriage drove away. This was a movement upon which Killievar had not calculated ; and he was at that moment solemnly assuring Miss Janet that she need Wiiat xvill the World say ? 16 not disturb herself about her niece, as the young lady had discretion enough to be grateful for having been rescued from the false step she had been about to take, and sense enough not to repeat the error. Bess visited half-a-dozen of the invalid miners' cottages, spoke hopefully to all, and left each of the wives with some token of her goodwill.

She made sure before enter ing any of the houses that the doctor was not there, and she cast many glances up and down the row in fear of meeting him. She was smiling and pleasant to every one ; the signs of anxiety which she could not conceal were regarded as symptoms of her sympathy with the sufferers. " I had nae notion that the Cork's daughter was such a kind creatur'," said one woman to another. There was a chorus in praise of Bess, which she never heard, or she would have " O'er the Bordexs and Axva' . " 17 understood how easy it is for the rich and fortunate to win the kindliest feelings of the poor. She passed out of the Miners' Row, and walked on to the station. The distance was about half a mile, and she looked at her watch frequently on the way. If Austin had met her that morning, he might have altered her course.

She was in good time : there was only one man in the booking office when she entered it. He was seated opposite the door, and was muffled up to the neck in a heavy grey Ulster overcoat ; a sealskin travelling cap was drawn well over his brow, so that it would have been difficult for even friends to identify him. He half rose when she appeared ; she partly turned as if to retreat, but, controlling herself, she passed on to the platform. The man followed leisurely, but did not attempt to address her. The train came up. She VOL. III. c What will the World say ? 18 moved one step forward, and two back. In that moment of hesitation a porter flung open the door of an unoccupied compartment. " Quick, if you are going on, Miss." This trifling circumstance was like the breath of wind which directs the course of a feather poised in air.

She entered the carriage ; the gentleman in the Ulster took his place in the next compartment, the doors were banged to, and fastened. " Right behind," shouts the guard. " Right here," shouts the porter. The guard whistles, the engine whistles, and away goes the train. It was done — the step was taken ; and in one little moment an impregnable barrier had sprung up between her and her home. She remembered that wonderful scene of en chantment in the story of the " Sleeping Beauty," where the forest suddenly encloses the palace ; and she felt as if Ravelston were " O'er the Borders and Awa'." 19 now surrounded by a wood, through which she could never pass. The day seemed to become very dark, although the sun was shining. The whirl, noise, and oscillation of the train stupefied and distracted her ; it helped the fancy which had occurred to her that she had been cast into space, and she sickened with a sensation of falling, falling to be dashed at last against some invisible object, and to die.

She started up several times with some wild idea of getting out and going back ; then she sat down, with lips tightly clenched, recognising the first horrors of the terrible position in which she had placed herself. To escape the stings to her vanity, which the gossip about Connoughmore would cause, she had wilfully done an act which would create endless scandal. She had left home, friends, and fortune, to link her fate with that of one whom everybody regarded c Wiiat xvill the World say ? as a mere adventurer, and towards whom her own feelings were certainly doubtful. At one moment she liked him for his devo tion; at the next, she hated him for the temptation he had put in her way to flee from home. During the night she had been at first amused by the discovery that she was watched; next came the desire to outwit her guardians, and to make fun of Macbeth by frightening him with the mice.

Then came the disappointment at the door, the irritation, and the dogged resolve to carry out her scheme in spite of every obstacle. Now ? — she wished that they had kept her under lock and key until the Major had left the district altogether. The poor vanity which had caused her to think with some pleasure of the excitement her elopement would cause, was quite extinguished, and she wished that she could cry. The train stopped at another station, and " O'er the Borders and Axva'." 21 the Major came to the window. He had taken off his travelling cap, and put down the collar of his coat. She thought he was to enter the compartment, and shrank to the farthest corner. But he was not coming in, and he pretended not to observe her movement of repugnance. " We had better not travel together," he said, "they are sure to telegraph after us.

Here is a rug and a hood which I bought in Glasgow yesterday afternoon. Try to make yourself comfortable. Can I get anything for you ?" " Yes," she answered, suddenly, springing to the door, "the first train back." He was taken by surprise, but he was cool as ever in an instant. Turning to a porter, he asked : " When is there a train for Airbridge ?' " Two-thirty is the first, Sir." The man passed on, shouting the name of the station unintelligibly. ? " You hear ? By the time you got back everything would be known, and you would endure all the annoyance which an adventure like this is sure to entail — whether you succeed or fail in it. You will do better to go on — what do you fear?" " You." " What ! — already ? That is not kind. I waited for you all last night at the gate where I said you would find me ; I was at the station this morning an hour before you arrived, and I have tried to show you in every way possible that I Avish to do whatever may be best for your happiness.

Be a little merciful ; give me one kind word, one kind look, at least." " Seats, going on," shouted the guard. " Come in. He opened the door, and took a seat opposite to her, as the train began to move. She remained silent for a little while, her " O'er the Borders and Awa'." 23 eyes fixed on the floor, hands clasped, and a troubled expression on her face. He watched her closely, but made no attempt to influence her reflections. " This is madness, Major Kilgour, and we will both be sorry for it before many days have passed," she said, at length, without lifting her eyes. " I shall not be sorry except when I see you vexed." " I am vexed now — with myself and with you. I shall be a burden upon you, and the thought of that will make me hate you." " Surely you have left all your courage at Ravelston ; I wish I knew how to charm it back to your breast.

Take the position in its worst light : you cannot go home now ; the attempt we made yesterday and our journey to-day are sure to become known, and these circumstances, with the gossip Avhich Connoughmore's withdrawal will ? create, would render life at Ravelston un endurable for some time, at any rate. Sup pose you go on : the sympathy of your friends will be with you — whatever they may say about me — and they will admire your spirit and your generosity — folly, they will call it, probably — in trusting your future to the care of a penniless soldier. Which position is the best?" " I am too far compromised to go back," she said, bitterly, and looked out of the window, as if she took an interest in the landscape of broad fields, deep dells, glit tering streams, and blue mountains in the background, which they were flying past.

To all the beauty spread out before her she was as one blind : she saw nothing. There was silence ; and the Major was the first to break it. " We are in an awkward predicament ; I have gained what I most desired, and am not satisfied, because you seem to be resolved " O'er the Borders and Axva'." 25 not to make the best of your bargain, but the worst. There is one way by which you may save yourself yet from the future you now dread so much." "What is that?" " I have taken tickets only for Carlisle, counting upon having time enough there to obtain others for London. We shall stop there and telegraph for your father ; he will come and take you away to some friend's place, where you can remain until this esca pade is forgotten. Then you can go home, and — you will have no lack of lovers." " Do you wish me to do that ?" she asked, turning sharply to him.

He took her hand ; she made an impulsive movement as if to withdraw it, and then remained passive. " You are a strange creature, Bess " (the first time he had addressed her by that name, and yet it sounded as if familiar to his lips), " and you often puzzle me. What I wish is Wiiat will the World say ? 26 that you should become my wife. I shall not. be a very bad husband, if you will only trust me — a little." She looked at him steadily, and then " I will trust you." His arm slipped round her waist ; he kissed her, and she made no resistance. " You have made me happy ; I shall try to deserve your trust." " We shall be miserable." "Do you hate me so much." " No ; there are times when I even fancy that it would be possible to like you." " Live in the fancy, and some day you may discover it is a reality."

He returned to the next compartment when the train stopped at the next station. Bess was beginning to feel a kind of pleasure in the wild adventure she had entered upon. She discovered that she really admired the Major, and then she detected one of the " O'er the Borders and Awa'." 27 first impulses towards affection ; she found herself summing up all his good qualities, and forgetting the bad ones. He was cou rageous, he had talent — both assertions being sufficiently proved by his success in America, in Mexico, and in Spain. Then his devotion to her was beyond doubt, and it was the most powerful element in her favourable judgment of him. After all, she had not made such a great mistake ; and for the first time in her life admitted that genius — the Major had become a genius by this time — was much greater than mere wealth.

This was a most consolatory view of the case, a view which has comforted many a poor struggler in life, when without it he would have sunk in despair. Then there was the fun of imagining the chagrin of Killievar, the distraction of Aunt Janet, the bewildered amazement of Coila, to say nothing of the excitement which her elopement would cause throughout the county. What xvill the World say ? 28 Everybody would make the event the special topic of conversation for the next month or more. What would they say ? The Carstairs would talk of her with pretended scorn ; the mother would shrug her shoulders and ask — " what could you expect ?" The Johnstones would be all astonishment, and would post round the county to spread the news. Miss Bethune would be in ecstasies of romantic admiration ; and Miss Susan Auldjo would grimly reprehend any conversation on such a dreadful subject as that of a run-away young lady, whilst she would be continually leading the way to it herself.

It was such fun to imagine what the world would say of her conduct. But the fun somehow disappeared when she came to think of her father and Austin. The former would be very angry, and he would not forgive her for — say a year ; but Austin, what would he think ? He would regret his own stupidity, and vainly wish that he could redeem lost opportuni- " O'er ihe Box-ders axid Awa'." 29 ties, or perhaps he would pity her and forget. No, he could not forget ; he must know that he had some share in goading her on to this desperate step. She would not have his pity or any one's ; she would show them all that she did not require it, and that she had chosen well, if rashly. The excitement, the novelty of her situation, the mingled hopes and fears which beset her, combined to sustain her through out the day, in a constant whirl of thoughts, which excluded all sense of weari ness.

The Major was attentive without being troublesome ; but she required little service ; a cup of coffee was the only refreshment he could persuade her to take. At Rugby he asked her to alight. " I thought we were to go on to London ?" " Not by this train ; we would find some of your friends at the station ready to receive Wiiat xvill the World say ? us. We stay here to-night. I will engage rooms for you at the station hotel, and I will take up my quarters somewhere in the town." She yielded, but there was a strange chill at her heart as he assisted her out of the train. That old feeling of fear with which she had once or twice regarded this man affected her now more strangely than ever.

Chapter III. The Surprise

" I won't believe it. She is not an idiot — I won't believe it," cried Marjoribanks, ex citedly. He was in his private room at the works, and Killievar was his interlocutor. " I have been at the station, Sir, and the porter tells me that Miss Marjoribanks got into the train for the South this forenoon. I have searched everywhere for her, and I am obliged to believe that the man is quite right, especially after yesterday." " Why the devil did you not tell me sooner?" was the angry exclamation ; "I would ? 32 have stopped her. I would have tied her up with ropes ; I would have — good Lord, can it be true ?" Killievar accepted the blame which was cast upon him for his silence with the calmest philosophy. " I did not tell you sooner, because I hoped the affair would pass without harm to any person, Sir ; but we need not talk about that; we must think what is to be done to save her."

Majoribanks sat down, wiping the perspira tion from his brow. He was bewildered and angry ; he could have understood Coila doing such a foolish thing as running away with a man ; but he could not understand Bess doing it ; Bess, who was so shrewd and prac tical. Here was an end to all his schemes for her, and here was an end to all his indig nation against Lord Connoughmore and the earl. They would laugh at him, everybody would laugh at him, and all the success of his The Sxixprise. 33 life would never redeem this fatal blunder of his daughter. But he was a man of action. The first shock of surprise over, he applied himself instantly to the task of discovering and of saving Bess. He telegraphed to his London agent, Mr. Horrocks, who, having been at Ravelston, knew Bess, and desired him to be at Euston Square in good time for the North train, and to take her by force, if necessary, to his house.