"I was a fool not to have cleared out
from here months ago, before these spies were set upon me. First,
Anstruther; now this fellow, Hawke, and, perhaps, even Hardwicke.
If it were not for the old matter I would go to-morrow, and let the
Baronetcy go hang--or find me in the Highlands. But, I must make
one last attempt to get them out. I must--" and the old man slept
the weary sleep of utter exhaustion.
Before the nabob awoke, Captain Henry Hardwicke, swinging away
on his morning gallop, had reviewed the strange attitude of Major
Hawke. "He is very intimate with Hugh Johnstone, and he is a man
of the world, too. I will yet see this charming child, when the
ban of her prison seclusion is lifted." He vaguely remembered the
one timid and girlish glance of the beautiful dark eyes, when he
had been presented, pro-forma, to the Veiled Rose upon that one
memorable state visit. He then rode out of his way to gaze at the
exterior of the great marble house, and was rewarded by the sight
of a graceful woman walking there under her governess's escort in
the dewy freshness of the early morn.
He doffed his helmet as Miss Justine paused among the flowers,
and then Miss Nadine Johnstone looked up to see the graceful rider
disappear behind the fringing trees.
"That was Captain Hardwicke, was it not?" asked the lonely girl.
Miss Justine was busied in dreaming of her meeting of the morrow.
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