CHAPTER XVI.--THE SECRET ENGAGEMENT.

In making a circuit of his farm on the morning after the storm, Farmer

Rhuddlan, while traversing a field that was bounded by a strip of the

sea shore, on which the ebbing surf still rolled heavily, was very

much scared to find lying there, and to all appearance but recently

cast up from the ocean, among starfish, weed, and wreck, an officer in

full dress, and a lady (in what had been an elegant demi-toilette of

blue silk and fine lace), fair and most delicately white, but

drenched, sodden, and to all appearance, as he thought,

"dearanwyl--drowned"--as she was quite motionless, with her beautiful

dark hair all dishevelled and matted among the sand.

He knew me--in fact, he had known me since boyhood, having caught me

many a time in his orchard at Craig Eryri--and thought he recognized

the lady. Moreover, he had heard of the search overnight, and lost no

time in spurring his fat little cob in quest of succour. Some

wondering rustics promptly came from a neighbouring barnyard, and by

the time they arrived, Estelle and I had recovered consciousness, and

struggled into a sitting position on some stones close by, whence we

were beginning to look about us.

A benumbed sensation and total lack of power in my right arm warned me

that an accident had occurred, and I endeavoured to conceal the

circumstance from Estelle, but in vain; for when murmuring some thanks

to God for our preservation, she suddenly lifted her face from my

breast, and exclaimed, "You cannot move this arm! You have been hurt,

darling! Tell me about it--speak!"

"I think it is broken, Estelle," said I, with a smile; for while I

felt something almost of pleasure in the conviction that I had

undergone this in saving her, thereby giving me a greater title to her

interest and sympathy, I could not forget my short leave from

Winchester, the war at hand, the regiment already abroad, and the

active duties that were expected of me.

"Broken?" she repeated, in a faint voice.

"My sword-arm--on the eve of marching for foreign service. Awkward,

isn't it?"

"Awkward! O Harry, it is horrible! And all this has occurred through

me and my childish folly!"

"One arm is at your service, dearest, still," said I, while placing it

round her, and assisting her to rise, as the kind old farmer returned

with his people, joyful to find that we were living, after all, and

that by assisting us he might in some degree repay Sir Madoc Lloyd a

portion of that debt of gratitude which he owed to him.

After despatching a mounted messenger to Craigaderyn with tidings of

our safety, he had us at once conveyed to his farm-house at Craig

Eryri, where dry clothing was given us, and a doctor summoned to

attend me.

"You knew that we were missing--lost?" said I.

"Too well, sir," replied the farmer, as he produced a brandy-bottle

from an ancient oak cupboard. "With all my lads I assisted in the

search," he continued in Welsh, as he could scarcely speak a word of

English. "A gentleman came here over night with a groom, both mounted,

to spread the news of you and a lady having been lost somewhere below

the Bôd Mynach."

"A gentleman mounted--Mr. Caradoc, perhaps?"

"Caradoc is one of ourselves," said the farmer, his keen eyes

twinkling; "this one was a Sassenach--he Sir Madoc gave that lovely

ring to, with a diamond as big as a horse-bean, for winning a race at

Chester."

"O, Mr. Guilfoyle."

"Yes, sir, that is his name, I believe," replied Rhuddlan; and despite

the gnawing agony of my arm I laughed outright, for the quondam German

_attaché_ would seem to have actually found time to relate something

new about his brilliant to the simple old farmer, and while the fate

of Lady Estelle was yet a mystery. As for _mine_, I shrewdly suspected

he cared little about that.

Attired by the farmer's wife in the best clothing with which she could

provide her, Lady Estelle, pale, wan, and exhausted, was seated near a

fire to restore warmth to her chilled frame, while I retired with the

medical man, who found my unlucky arm broken above the elbow;

fortunately, the fracture was simple, and in no way a compound one.

The bones were speedily set, splinted, and bandaged; and clad in a

suit provided for me by Farmer Rhuddlan--to wit, a pair of corduroy

knee-breeches, a deeply-flapped double-breasted waistcoat, which, from

its pattern, seemed to have been cut from a chintz bedcover, so

gorgeous were the roses and tulips it displayed, a large loose coat of

coarse gray Welsh frieze, with horn buttons larger than crown pieces,

each garment "a world too wide"--I presented a figure so absurd and

novel that Estelle, in spite of all the misery and danger we had

undergone, laughed merrily as she held out to me in welcome a hand of

marvellous form and whiteness, the hand that was to be mine in the

time to come; and I seated myself by her side, while the farmer and

his wife bustled about, preparing for the certain arrival of Sir Madoc

and others from the Court.

"How odd it seems!" said Estelle, in a low voice, and after a long

pause, as she lay back in the farmer's black-leather elbow chair,

where his wife had kindly placed and pillowed her; and while she

spoke, her eyes were half closed and her lips were wreathed with

smiles; "engaged to be married--and to you, Harry! I can scarcely'

realise it. Is this the end of all our ballroom flirtations, our Park

drives, and gallops in the Row?"

"Nay, not the end of any; but a continuance of them all, I hope."

"Scarcely; people don't flirt after marriage--together, at least. But

it will be the end of all mamma's grand schemes for me. She always

hoped I should twine strawberry leaves with my marriage wreath.

Heavens, how nearly I was having a wreath of seaweed!" she added, with

a shudder and a little gasping laugh as I kissed her hand. "O, my poor

Harry, with an arm broken, and by my means I shall never forgive

myself--never!"

"Better an arm than if my heart had been broken by your means,

Estelle," said I, in a low voice. After a little she said calmly and

in an earnest tone, while her colour came and went more than once,

"We must be _secret_, secret as we are sincere; and yet such a system

is repugnant to me, and to my pride of heart."

"Secret, Estelle!" (How delicious to call her simply Estelle!) "Why?"

"It is most necessary--yet awhile, at least."

"Your mamma's objections?"

"More than that."

"What--more?"

"By papa's will mamma has entire control over all her fortune and

mine, too, and should I marry without her full approbation and

consent, she may bequeath both if she pleases to my cousin Naseby,

leaving but a pittance to me."

"But what will not one undergo for love?" said I, gazing tenderly into

her eyes.

She smiled sadly, but made no response; perhaps she thought of what

love might have of luxury on a subaltern's pay and his "expectations."

"Fear not, Estelle," said I, "for your sake our engagement shall be a

secret one."

All my doubts and fears had already given place to the confidence of

avowed and reciprocated affection, and in the security of that I was

blindly happy. How my heart had been wont to throb when I used

mentally to imagine the last interview I should have with her ere

going forth to the East, with the story of my love untold; leaving her

in ignorance, or partially so, of the sweet but subtle link that bound

my existence to hers! _Now_, the love was told; the link had become a

tie, and pain of the anticipated parting became all the more keen

apparently, and I prospectively reckoned one by one the weeks, the

days, yea, almost the hours I might yet spend in the society of

Estelle. I was not much given to daydreams or illusions, but, I asked

of myself, was not all this most strange if I was not dreaming now?

Could it be that, within a few hours--a time so short--Estelle and I

had braved such peril together, and that I had achieved her plight,

her troth; the promise of her hand; the acknowledgment of her love,

and that all was fulfilled; the coveted and dearest object of my

secret thoughts and tenderest wishes!

Whether our engagement were secret or not mattered little to me now.

Assured of her regard, I felt in her presence and society all that

calm delight and sense of repose which were so pleasing after my late

tumult of anxiety, pique, jealousy, and uncertainty. By chance or some

intuition the farmer and his wife left us for a time alone, while

waiting the arrival of our friends; and never while life lasts shall I

forget the joy of that calm morning spent alone with Estelle in

Rhuddlan's quaint little drawing-room, the windows of which faced the

green Denbigh hills, on which the warm August sun shone cheerily; and

often did the memory of it come back to me when I was far away, when I

was shivering amid the misery of the half-frozen trenches before

Sebastopol, or relieving the out pickets, when Inkermann lights were

waxing pale and dim as dawn stole over those snow-clad wastes, where

so thick lay the graves of men and horses, while the eternal boom and

flash went on without ceasing from the Russian bastions and the allied

batteries. I felt as if I had gained life anew, and with it Estelle

Cressingham. Great, indeed, was the revulsion of feeling after such

peril undergone; after a night of such horror and suffering, to sit by

her side, to hang over her, inspired to the full by that emotion of

tenderness and rapture which no man can feel but once in life,

when the first woman he has really loved admits that he has not

done so in vain. I placed on her finger--_the_ engaged finger--an

emerald-and-diamond ring that I valued highly, as it had once been my

mother's, and in its place took one of hers, a single pearl set in

blue-and-gold enamel. The once proud beauty seemed so humble, gentle,

and loving now, as she reclined with her head on my shoulder, and

looked at me from time to time with a sweet quiet smile in the soft

depths of her dark eyes I forgot that she was an earl's daughter, with

a noble dowry and an ambitious mother, and that I was but a sub of the

Royal Welsh, with little more than his pay. I forgot that the route

for Varna hung over my head like the sword of Damocles; that a

separation, certain and inevitable, was hourly drawing closer and

closer, though the accident which had occurred might protract it a

little now.

Estelle Cressingham was a grand creature, certainly. She naturally

seemed to adopt statuesque positions, and thus every movement, however

careless and unstudied, was full of artistic grace. Even the misshapen

garments of Mrs. Evan Rhuddlan could not quite disfigure her. The turn

of her head was stately, and at times her glance, quick and flashing,

had a pride in it that she was quite unconscious of. She was, as

Caradoc had said, "decidedly a splendid woman--young lady, rather--but

of the magnificent order." But there were tender and womanly touches,

a gentler nature, in the character of Estelle, that lay under the

artificial strata of that cumbrous society in which she had been

reared. She had many pets at home in London and at Walcot Park--birds

and dogs, which she fed with her own hands, and little children, who

were her pensioners; and if her nose seemed a proud one, with an

aristocratic curve of nostril, her short upper lip would quiver

occasionally when she heard a tale of sorrow or cruelty. And now, from

our mutual daydream, we were roused by the sound of wheels, of hoofs,

and several voices, as some of our friends from the Court arrived.