page 230

Chapter XIX.

As Malcolm Butler was about to mount his horse on the following morning to proceed to Forest Lodge, a letter was put iuto his hand which had just arrived by the post; he looked carelessly at it; the address was in the handwriting of an acquaintance now stationed at Tauranga, on the east coast, who had formerly been in the same regiment as himself.

On what slight events do the fates of all of us turn! Malcolm Butler was on the point of laying the letter aside to await his return; had he done so, his fate also page 231might have been different. But it was not so to be. He lazily opened the letter and read. The first, part of it did not appear to excite his attention much, but suddenly a dark flush passed over his face. He read on rapidly for a few lines, and then crushing the letter in his hand, he dashed it on the ground with a fearful execration. What was the announcement that had moved him so much? It was simply that his friend, as a piece of gossip, had mentioned that that day they Lad all been astonished to hear that Henry Ancrum, whom every one had supposed to be dead, had effected his escape from the Maories, and was now in the fort at Maketu. Malcolm Butler stood for a moment like one stupefied by a blow. Now, at the very moment when he thought all his schemes had succeeded, at the very moment when he imagined he could force Edith Man-page 232deville to be his wife, this man had returned as it were from the dead to bar his way! With a fearful oath he swore if should never be.

Then he thought deeply for a few minutes. It was evident that he must lose no time. If Edith were to hear that her lover was still alive, he was aware that no power on earth would induce her to consent to marry any other man. No; he must by some means or other, no matter how, force her to agree to be his wife this very day. Then he must keep the news of Henry Ancrum's being alive from her till they were married, which he thought he could easily do, as the marriage might take place immediately. But even if she should hear of Henry's escape before the marriage took place—which he considered most unlikely, as he was certain that he could prevent Mr. and Mrs. Mandeville page 233telling her anything about it, should they by chance hear of it themselves—still, he thought that, having once promised to be his wife, he could trust to her own sense of honour and her parents' influence to make her keep that promise. But supposing she should positively refuse to accept him as a husband!—what was to be done then?

At this thought an expression came over his face such as it would be difficult to define, but so dark was it in its savage malignity that demons might have delighted to witness it.

"No," he muttered; "she shall never be another man's. She shall be—she must be mine!"

He rushed out of the house, threw himself on his horse, and galloped off. So full was he of his thoughts that he had nearly reached Forest Lodge before he remem-page 234bered that it would not do for him to appear the least excited when he arrived there. When he did remember this, however, he pulled rein, and walked his horse slowly the rest of the way until he reached the stables, where having given the animal to a groom, he turned towards the house. At the door he met Mrs. Mandeville, who told him that Mr. Mandeville had gone into Auckland, and that she herself was going to see the wife of a settler not far off, who was sick, but that Edith was in the drawing-room. Indeed it so happened (a fact of which Mrs. Mandeville herself was not aware) that there were no other persons in the house, as the men-servants were that day employed on the farm and the women-servants out in the garden.