CHAPTER SIX.
A CAVALIER IN LOVE.
Reginald Trevor it was, for Vaga was not guessing. Something she sawabout the horseman, or his horse, had enabled her to identify him; asshe did so, that third and latest change coming over her countenance,giving it also a serious cast.
But nothing compared with that which now showed on the face of hersister. The varied expressions of hopeful anticipation, surprise,delight, then doubt, rapidly succeeding one another, were all past, andin their place a dark shadow sat cloud-like on her brow. In her eyes,too, still scanning the distant horseman, was a look that betokenedpain, or at least uneasiness, with something of fear and anger. Intruth, the expression on their face, though differing from each other,would have been unreadable to any one who was a stranger to them andReginald Trevor.
Some knowledge of this gentleman and his antecedents will throw lightupon the grave impression seemingly produced upon the two girls by thesight of him.
As the name might indicate, he was kin to the young courtier, lategentleman-usher at Whitehall--his cousin. Different, however, had beentheir lots in the lottery of life; those of Eustace so far having allcome out prizes, while Reginald had been drawing blanks. A dissolute,dissipated father had left the latter nought but a bad name, and the sonhad little bettered it. Still was he a gallant Cavalier, as the wordwent, and at least possessed the redeeming quality of courage. He hadgiven proofs of it as an officer in that army sent northward against theScots, where he had served as a lieutenant under Lunsford. _Percontra_, as the father who begot him, he was given to dissipation, adrinker, dicer, wencher, everything socially disreputable anddistasteful to the Parliamentarians,--far more the Puritans,--thoughneither disgracing or lowering himself in the eyes of his own party--theCavaliers. If latitudinarianism in morals could be accounted Christiancharity, none were endowed with this virtue in a higher degree thanthey.
Reginald Trevor had the full benefit of their tolerance in that respect:passed among them as a rare good fellow; no harm in him, save whataffected himself. To use a common phrase, he was his own worst enemy.Beginning life penniless, he was no better off at the commencement ofhis military career; and his spendthrift habits had kept him the sameever since. At that hour, when seen coming down the road--save hissword, horse, clothing; and equipments--he could not call anything hisown. These, however, were all of the best; for he was a military dandy,and, despite poverty, always contrived to rig himself out in grandarray. Just now he was well up in everything, though possibly nothinghad been paid for--horse, clothing, nor accoutrements. But he had got agood post, which enabled him to get good credit, and that satisfied himall the same. Thrown out of commission--as Lunsford and others aftertheir return from the North--he had lived for some months in London asbest he could; often at his wits' end. But swords were now once more indemand, with men who could wield them; and Sir John Wintour, who hadcommenced fortifying his mansion at Lydney to hold it for the King,casting about for the right sort to defend it, chose Reginald Trevor asone of them.
For some weeks antecedent to the time of his introduction to the reader,he had been in Sir John's service; acting in a mixed capacity, militaryand political, with some duties appertaining to the civil branch ofadministration. These had taken him all over the Forest of Dean,introducing him into many a house where he had hitherto been a stranger.But of all honoured by his visit, there was only one he cared everreturning to. It he could revisit again and again; had done so; andwould have been glad to stay by it for the rest of his life. A lonehouse, too, though a mansion, standing remote from anything that couldbe called city, or even town; remote from other houses of its class. Itmay seem strange such a solitary habitation should have attractions fora man of his character; but not when its name is given--for it wasHollymead. This known, it needs no telling why Reginald Trevor wasattracted thither; only to specify which of the two girls was theloadstone that drew him. Even this may be guessed--not likely Sabrina,but very likely Vaga. And Vaga it was. He had fallen in love with her,passionately, madly; and, stranger still, purely; for, in alllikelihood, it was the first honest love of his life. Honest it was,however; and honestly he had been acting so far; his courtshiprespectful, and free from the bold rude advances which, as a rule,marked the conduct of the Cavaliers. For, despite all said to thecontrary, their behaviour to women was more "gallantry" than gallant,and anything but chivalrous.
But, although behaving his best, Reginald Trevor had not prospered inhis suit; on the contrary received a check which brought it to an abruptending for the time, and it might be for ever. This in the shape of ahint that his visits to Hollymead House were neither welcome nordesirable, rather the reverse. Not given him by the girl herself--shedid not even know of it,--but conveyed by her father privately andquietly, yet firmly. Of course it was taken, and the visitsdiscontinued.
That was but a fortnight ago, and yet Reginald Trevor was once more onhis way to Hollymead! But very different the cause carrying him thithernow to that which had oft taken him before; different his feelings, too,though not as regarded the young lady. For her they were the same--hispassion hot as ever. And yet was it a flame burning blindly, without aword of encouragement to fan or keep it alive. Never once had shespoken to tell him his love was reciprocated; never given him smile orlook that could be interpreted in that sense. For all this, he sointerpreted some she had bestowed on him. Successes, conquests many,had made him vain, and he deemed himself irresistible--fancied he wouldconquer her, too.
Nevertheless, he felt less confident now. That rupture of relations hadbecome a grievous obstacle. Nor was he on the way to Hollymead with anyhope of being able to bind up the broken threads; instead, his errandthither had for object that which was sure further to sever them. Itwas not of his own seeking, and he had entered upon it with reluctance.
Dark and gloomy was the shadow on his face as he rode under that of thetrees. At intervals it became a scowl, with resentment blazing up inhis eyes, as he thought of that dismissal, so wounding to hisself-esteem, so insulting. But he was armed with that which would givehim a _revanche_; make the master of Hollymead humble if nothospitable--a document such as has humbled the master of many anotherhouse, angering them at the same time. For it was a letter of requestfor a loan, signed and stamped with the King's seal.