Chapter XVI: In the Belvidere

Shakespeare tells us that men have died and worms have eaten them, but not for love. So Evan Cameron did not die, nor had he any thoughts of dying; but it seemed to his young and enthusiastic heart just then that all which made life worth living for, and all its fulness, splendour, and joy, were over and done with for him.

Of the movements of the Aberfeldie family he knew nothing at that time.

Allan was again on leave, and was to join the regiment on the day of its embarkation in England.

Evan had a longing to see the place where he had last seen Eveline, as her lover, at Maviswood. Memories of the past days at Dundargue came vividly upon him now--of the times when they had wandered in the leafy woods near the old castle, talking sweet nonsense, with happy hearts and laughter that came so readily; when eye spoke to eye and hand thrilled when it touched hand with lingering pressure, and glances were exchanged that, if they meant anything, meant love.

Lord Aberfeldie had been ever kind to him, and a friend of his father; he thought he would like to press the good peer's hand once more before he departed, for the regiment was going far away, to a land from whence he might never return; so, as Evan was an impulsive young fellow, he repaired at once to Maviswood.

He found Mr. Tappleton, the old family butler, airing his figure at the front door when he approached.

Lord Aberfeldie, he was informed, was in London--his lordship was residing with Miss Raymond at Southsea, and Sir Paget was not at home.

'Sir Paget--is he living here?' asked Cameron, with a start.

'Yes, sir, for a few days.'

'And Lady--Lady----' He paused, unable to pronounce the name.

'Is also here,' replied Mr. Tappleton, knowing instantly who he meant; 'but she is out somewhere walking in the grounds.'

Evan gave the butler a couple of cards and turned away. He felt quite startled to find that Sir Paget and his bride were resident at Maviswood, and thought that he could not get away from the vicinity of the house too soon.

Proceeding down the avenue, he passed a narrow, diverging path between high old holly-hedges, the vista of which was closed by a belvidere, or species of pillared alcove, built upon a grassy knoll, and therein, as if in a shrine, stood Eveline.

To pass was impossible. For a moment he stood rooted to the spot, and then, as one in a dream, approached her. To meet her face to face thus, was like something of a dreadful shock to both now.

Eveline was deadly pale and trembling, while her graceful figure looked very slight and girlish in her fresh cambric costume and gipsy hat.

At the very moment of their meeting there, her mind had been full of him.

How had poor Evan borne the tidings of her marriage, and with it the total destruction of their mutual wishes?--mutual hopes they had none.

She had often pondered on this, and wondered how he had heard it, who had told him of it, or if he had seen it in the papers, and how he looked when the sad tidings came. Of the cruel mockery of sending him wedding-cards she knew nothing. Was he striving to forget er? perhaps learning to hate her--oh, not that!--to despise her? nor that, if he knew all.

But they were nothing to each other now, and never could be anything more.

Anon would come other thoughts that were perilous to a young and enthusiastic girl.

Evan Cameron had given himself to her with all his heart, and with all his soul, and he loved her with all the strength of both; and now--now, with another man's wedding-ring upon her finger, she felt unprepared to relinquish that love, for she could not doubt that it must still exist, though he had been cruelly and selfishly treated.

And while all these thoughts had been coursing through her brain he came suddenly before her.

'I pray that he may soon forget me--poor Evan!' had been her frequent thought. 'Why should he think of me more, when he knows of my marriage, and must deem me a pitiful creature.'

Each caught their breath, each clasped their hands as if in mute misery, and the eyes of both were strained, as if the pain of recognition was mingled with the peril of the situation.

Evan thought how pale and transfigured looked the soft face of his lost love!

'I knew not that you where here--I came to visit your father--we march tomorrow--and--and----'

Evan paused breathlessly, though his voice seemed to thrill with passion, and his lips, when they touched her hands--even the hand with the obnoxious wedding-hoop--trembled and quivered like those of a girl.

'Evan,' she said, softly, 'Evan!'

'My darling--my lost darling!' broke from his lips, as he clasped her in his arms, and her slender fingers softly and tremulously caressed his dark and closely-curling hair with something that was almost motherly, or sisterly, in the intensity of its tenderness.

'Oh, Evan,' she whispered, 'may God watch over you, spare you, protect you, and give you some other heart to make you happy.'

It was some solace to Evan's wounded spirit that she had been in a manner--apart from her temporary doubt of himself--forced into her marriage; that her own free will, poor girl, had no hand in the matter.

Clasped to his heart, hers was beating for some moments 'with the wild music of recovered joy, her great dread silenced by her greater passion.'

But to what end was it all?

'This is madness!' exclaimed Evan, as they stood for a minute, hand clasped in hand, and gazing into each other's eyes.

'Madness indeed!' moaned Eveline.

'I am going far away, my darling, and shall never see you again. That I may find a grave in Egypt is the kindest wish you can have for me; and that you will never think but kindly of me in the time to come, is my only and my dearest hope now.'

She was in his arms again--the girl, every tress of whose brown-golden hair was dear to him--every expression of whose eyes and lips, every tone of whose voice, every charm and grace of whose face and form were graven on his inner heart; but what availed all that now?

'You know all now--my secret, and that I was not false to you, Eveline?' said he.

'All,' she replied, hollowly.

'Poor Alice could not come to my quarters in the Castle, consequently I had to meet her somewhere--where you saw us. Poor little soul, she had no one to trust, to--to confide in, save me.'

'And now----'

'She has gone back to her husband--back to my brother in India.'

'Desperate with the idea that you, Evan, had deceived me, I was blind--careless--passive in their hands, and heedless what became of me; and Sir Paget bought me of them--bought me of papa and mamma--as a slave who loathes her buyers and her slavery!' exclaimed Eveline, wildly.

'Such a fate, my darling!'

'Such a fate, indeed!' she whispered through her set teeth. 'But we must part now,' she added, but without withdrawing her hands from his firm clasp.

'A parting bitter as death, Eveline.'

'And as hopeless,' she said, now sobbing heavily.

'Yet, with all its bitterness, this has been a great, an unexpected joy to see you here, to embrace you once again.'

Of one grim fact they could not be oblivious. She was another man's wife, and he had to tear himself away; to lose for ever the sight of that sweet, afflicted face, the tones of that beloved voice, to long again for both, with eager eyes and ears, in the time that was to come.

'Though parted thus, Eveline, you will think of me sometimes--you will remember?'

'For ever and for ever, while my miserable life lasts, Evan.'

'My poor darling! To remember me, to be constant to me in memory, while another's wife.'

'I cannot realise that even now, still less what my life will be in the future, with you not in it.'

A long, clinging kiss and he was gone, while Eveline sank down on the stone seat within the belvidere in a state of semi-consciousness, in which she was discovered by Sir Paget.