CHAPTER II.
AN UNWELCOME VISITOR.
Lady Fettercairn was in the drawing-room at Craigengowan, and talking with Shafto seriously and affectionately on the subject of Finella and the wishes of herself and Lord Fettercairn; and Shafto was making himself most agreeable to his 'grandmother,' for he was still in high glee and elfish good humour at the mode in which he had 'choked off that interloper, Hammersley,' when a valet announced that an elderly woman 'wished to speak with her ladyship.'
'What is her name?'
'She declined to say.'
'Is she one of our own people?'
'I think not, my lady.'
'But what can she want?'
'She would not say—it was a private matter, she admitted.'
'Very odd.'
'She is most anxious to see your ladyship.'
'It is some begging petition, of course,' said Shafto; 'desire her to be off.'
'It may be so, sir.'
'Then show her the door.'
'She seems very respectable, sir,' urged the valet.
'But poor—the old story.'
'Show her in,' said Lady Fettercairn.
The elderly woman appeared, and curtseyed deeply twice in a graceful and old-fashioned manner. Her once black hair was now seamed with white; but her eyes were dark and sparkling; her cheeks were yet tinged with red, and her rows of teeth were firm and white as ever, for the visitor was Madelon Galbraith, now in her sixtieth year, and with the assured confidence of a Highland woman she announced herself by name.
'I read in the papers,' said she, 'that the grandson of Lord Fettercairn had shot some beautiful eaglets at the ruins of Finella's castle. The grandson, thought I—that maun be the bairn I nursed, as I nursed his mother before him, and so I'm come a the way frae Ross-shire to see him, your leddyship.'
'I have heard of you, Madelon, and that you were in early life nurse to—to my younger son's wife,' said Lady Fettercairn, with a freezing stare and slight inclination of her haughty head; but she added, 'be seated.'
'Yes—I was nurse to Captain MacIan's daughter Flora,' said Madelon, her eyes becoming moist; 'the Captain saved my husband's life in the Persian war, but was killed himself next day.'
'What have we to do with this?' said Shafto, who felt himself growing pale.
'Nothing, of course,' replied Madelon sadly.
'Then what do you want?'
'What I have said. I heard that the son of Major Melfort—or MacIan as he called himself in the past time—was here at Craigengowan, and I made sae bold as to ca' and see him—the bairn I hae suckled.'
'If you nursed my grandson, as you say,' said Lady Fettercairn, 'do you not recognise him? Stand forward, Shafto.'
'Shafto—is this Mr. Shafto!' exclaimed Madelon.
'Yes, my son Lennard's son.'
'Shafto Gyle!' said Madelon bewildered.
'What do you mean?'
'What I say, my leddy.'
'This is Major Melfort's only son.'
'Only nephew! The bairn I nursed—the son of Lennard Melfort and my darling Flora—was named after her, Florian, and was like herself, dark-haired, dark-eyed, and winsome. Where is he? What is the meaning of this, Mr. Shafto? I recognise ye now, though years hae passed since I saw ye.'
'She is mad or drunk!' exclaimed Shafto, starting up savagely.
'I am neither,' said Madelon, firmly and defiantly.
'Turn her out of the house!' said Shafto, with his hand on the bell.
'There is some trick here—where is Florian?'
'How the devil should I know, or be accountable for him to a creature like you?'
'Ay, ay, Mr. Shafto, as a bairn ye were aye crafty, shrewd, and evil-natured, and if a lie could hae chokit ye, ye wad hae been deid lang syne.'
'This is most unseemly language, Madelon Galbraith,' said Lady Fettercairn, rising from her chair, 'and to me it seems that you are raving.'
'Unseemly here or unseemly there, it is the truth,' said Madelon, stoutly, and, sooth to say, Lady Fettercairn's estimation and knowledge of Shafto's character endorsed the description given of it by Madelon.
'Florian was dark, and you are, as you were, fair and fause too; and Florian had what you have not, and never had, a black mole-mark on his right arm.'
'Such marks pass away,' said Shafto.
'No, these marks never pass away!' retorted Madelon; 'there is some devilry at work here. I say, where is Florian? Ay, ay,' she continued; 'my bairn, Florian, was born on a Friday, and a Friday's birth, like a Friday's marriage, seldom is fortunate; but this is no my bonnie black-eyed lad, Lady Fettercairn—so where is he?'
'This is intolerable!' said Lady Fettercairn, whom that name by old association of ideas seemed to irritate; and, on a valet appearing in obedience to a furious ring given to the bell by Shafto, she added, 'Show this intruder out of the house, and do so instantly.'
The man was about to put his hand on Madelon, but the old Highland woman drew herself up with an air of defiance, and swept out of the room without another word.
'See her not only out of the house, but off the grounds,' shouted Shafto, who was almost beside himself with rage and genuine fear. 'Nay, I'll see to that myself,' he added. 'Such lunatics are dangerous.'
Seeing her hastening down the avenue, he whistled from the stable court a huge mastiff, and by voice and action hounded it on her. The dog bounded about her, barking furiously and tore her skirts to her infinite terror, till the lodgekeeper dragged it off and closed the gates upon her. Then she went upon her way, her Highland heart bursting with rage and longing for revenge.
Shafto was glad that Lord Fettercairn was absent, as he might have questioned Madelon Galbraith more closely; but to his cost he was eventually to learn that he had not seen the last of Florian's nurse.
This visit taken in conjunction with the mode in which Finella now treated him made Craigengowan somewhat uncomfortable for Shafto, so he betook himself to Edinburgh, and to drown his growing fears plunged into such a mad career of dissipation and extravagance that Lord Fettercairn began to regret that he had ever discovered an heir to his estates at all.
While there Shafto saw in the newspaper posters one day the announcement of the terrible disaster at Isandhlwana, 'with the total extirpation of the 24th Warwickshire Foot!'
'His regiment, by Jove! I'll have a drink over this good news,' thought the amiable Shafto, and certainly a deep 'drink' he did have.