Fiction > Serialisations > London, 1896-1897 - St. Ives > Volume 13

ST. IVES. 101
" It sounds to me like Gow's version of The Caledonian Hunt's Delight, on a
brass band."
Jealous powers ! Had Olympus conspired to ridicule our love, that we must
exchange our parting vows to the public strains of The Caledonian Hunt's Delight,
in Gow's version and a semitone flat? For three seconds Flora and I (in the
words of a later British bard) looked at each other with a wild surmise, silent.
Then she darted to the path, and gazed along it down the hill.
" We must run, Anne. There are more coming ! "
We left the scattered relics of breakfast, and, taking hands, scurried along the
path northwards. A few yards, and with a sharp turn it led us out of the cutting
and upon the open hillside. And here we pulled up together with a gasp.
Right beneath us lay a green meadow, dotted with a crowd of two or three
hundred people ; and over the nucleus of this gathering, where it condensed into
a black swarm, as of bees, there floated, not only the dispiriting music of The
Caledonian Hunt's Delight, but an object of size and shape suggesting the Genie
escaped from the Fisherman's Bottle as described in M. Galland's ingenious
Thousand and One Nights. It was Byfield's balloon — the monster Lunardi — in
process of inflation.
" Confound Byfield ! " I ejaculated in my haste.
" Who is Byfield ? "
'"An aeronaut, my dear, of bilious humour; which no doubt accounts for his
owning a balloon striped alternately with liver-colour and pale blue, and for
his arranging it and a brass band in the very line of my escape. That man dogs
me like late." I broke off sharply. " And after all, why not ? " I cried.
The next instant I swung round, as Flora uttered a piteous little cry ; and
there, behind us, in the outlet of the cutting, stood Major Chevenix and
Ronald.
The boy stepped forward, and, ignoring my bow, laid a hand on Flora's arm.
" Vou will come home at once."
I touched his shoulder. " Surely not," I said, " seeing that the spectacle
apparently wants but ten minutes of its climax."
He swung on me in a passion. " For God's sake, St. Yves, don't force a
quarrel now, of all moments ! Man, haven't you compromised my sister enough ? "
" It seems to me that, having set a watch on your sister at the suggestion and
with the help of a casual Major of Foot, you might in decency reserve the word
' compromise ' for home consumption ; and further, that against adversaries so
poorly sensitive to her feelings, your sister may be pardoned for putting her
resentment into action."
" Major Chevenix is a friend of the family." But the lad blushed as he said it.
"The family?" I echoed. "So? Pray, did your aunt invite his help? No,
no, my dear Ronald ; you cannot answer that. And while you play the game of
insult to your sister, sir, I will see that you eat the discredit of it."
" Excuse me," interposed the Major, stepping forward. " As Ronald said, this
is not the moment for quarrelling ; and as you observed, sir, the climax is not
so far off. The runner and his men are even now coming round the hill. We
saw them mounting the slope, and (I may add) your cousin's carriage drawn up
on the road below. The fact is, Miss Gilchrist has been traced to the hill ; and
as it secretly occurred to us that the quarry might be her objective, we arranged
to take the ascent on this side. See there ! " he cried, and flung out a hand.
I looked up. Sure enough, at that instant a grey-coated figure appeared on
the summit of the hill, not five hu ndred yards away to the left. He was