Part 29 (2/2)

Dorise could see that her mother was considerably annoyed at her plans being so abruptly frustrated.

”We must ask somebody else,” she said, as they lingered over the dessert. ”Whom shall we ask?”

”I really don't care in the least, mother. I'm quite happy here alone.

It is a rest. We shall have to be back in town in a fortnight, I suppose.”

”George could quite well have waited for a day or two,” Lady Rans...o...b..declared. ”I went out to see the Muirs, at Forteviot, and when I got back he told me he had just had a telegram telling him that it was imperative he should be in town to-morrow morning. I tried to persuade him to stay, but he declared it to be impossible.”

”An appointment with a lady, perhaps,” laughed Dorise mischievously.

”What next, my dear! You know he is over head and ears in love with you!”

”Oh! That's quite enough, mother. You've told me that lots of times before. But I tell you quite frankly his love leaves me quite cold.”

”Ah! dear. That reply is, after all, but natural. You, of course, won't confess the truth,” her mother laughed.

”I do, mother. I'm heartily glad the fellow has gone. I hate his supercilious manner, his superior tone, and his unctuous bearing. He's simply odious! That's my opinion.”

Her mother looked at her severely across the table.

”Please remember, Dorise, that George is my friend.”

”I never forget that,” said the girl meaningly, as she rose and left the table.

Half an hour later, when she entered her bedroom, she found Duncan, her maid, awaiting her.

”Oh! I've been waiting to see you this half hour, miss,” she said. ”I couldn't get you alone. Just before eight o'clock, as I was about to enter the park by the side gate near Bervie Farm, a gentleman approached me and asked if my name was Duncan. I told him it was, and then he gave me this to give to you in secret. He also gave me a pound note, miss, to say nothing about it.” And the prim lady's maid handed her young mistress a small white envelope upon which her name was written.

Opening it, she found a plain visiting card which bore the words in a man's handwriting:

”Would it be possible for you to meet me to-night at ten at the spot where I have given this to your maid? Urgent.--SILVERADO.”

Dorise held her breath. It was a message from the mysterious white cavalier who had sought her out at the _bal blanc_ at Nice, and told her of Hugh's peril!

Duncan was naturally curious owing to the effect the card had had upon her mistress, but she was too well trained to make any comment. Instead, she busied herself at the wardrobe, and a few moments afterwards left the room.

Dorise stood before the long cheval gla.s.s, the card still in her hand.

What did it mean? Why was the mysterious white cavalier in Scotland? At least she would now be able to see his face. It was past nine, and the moon was already s.h.i.+ning. She had still more than half an hour before she went forth to meet the man of mystery.

She descended to the drawing-room, where her mother was reading, and after playing over a couple of songs as a camouflage, she pretended to be tired and announced her intention of retiring.

”We have to go into Edinburgh to-morrow morning,” her mother remarked.

”So we should start pretty early. I've ordered the car for nine o'clock.”

”All right, mother. Good-night,” said the girl as she closed the door.

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