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 Table of Contents

Foreword
SENG Y U JIN

Foreword: Tracing the Source, Seeking Profound Truth

PRO F E S S O R W U YO N G L I A N G

Foreword
PRO F E S S O R M A S A H I RO U S H I RO S H O J I

10

Pre-war (1886–1941) Art Activities of

the Chinese Community in Singapore through
a Narrative Framework of Diasporic Bonds
13

The Art Scene of the Singapore Chinese

Community during the Late 19th Century (1886–1899)
27

A Survey of Art Activities in the Chinese Community

of Singapore during the Early 20th Century (1900–1929)
41

Khoo Seok Wan and the Chinese Community

in Singapore in the Pre-War Period—Using the Khoo Seok Wan
Family Collection and Chinese Daily Newspapers as
Primary Research Sources
53
 Nanyang Flavour in the Advertising Illustration
of Local Chinese Newspapers in the 1920s
71

The Singapore Society of Chinese Artists

79

Survey of Art Activities in Singapore during

the Five-Year Period Before the War (1937–1941)
93

Images from Turbulent Times—Cartoons and Woodcuts

in Singapore during the Pre-war Period (1936–1941)
109

“Slow but Sure”: Locating Tchang Ju Chi

in the Context of Local Experience
125

Sculptor Karl Duldig and Malay Boy

136

Artistic Rendition in a Specific Historical Setting:

on Situ Qiao’s Put Down Your Whip
141

Art Activities during the Japanese Occupation (1942–1945)

155

Figures
173

Appendices
229
4

Foreword
—SENG YU JIN

Does Singapore’s modern art history stretch it impossible to conduct oral interviews. This
back to the 19th century? The exhibition Siapa brings us to the issue of methodology: as many
Nama Kamu? Art in Singapore since the 19th artists have already passed on, and surviving
Century, launched at the inauguration of the family members may not remember or be
National Gallery Singapore in 2015, showed familiar with their artistic activities as they
that it was in fact an active period of art- were likely very young then, oral histories
making and cultural transfer, with itinerant are limited. Memory and remembering are
and diasporic artists from China, Europe, important approaches to constructing histories
Southeast Asia and other parts of the world but can also be unreliable due to distortions in
sojourning to Singapore. Many would later recollections that are altered over time.
choose to make Singapore their home. This Despite these challenges in conducting
long-term exhibition on Singapore art at research into this early period of our modern
the Gallery would not have been possible art history, Yeo has adopted methodologies
without the significant contributions of that include the examination of Chinese
groundbreaking research by researchers daily newspapers such as Lat Pau, Nanyang
such as Yeo Mang Thong. Despite full-time Siang Pau and Sin Chew Jit Po, and literary
employment as a civil servant, Yeo has over supplements like Wenmen Jie (The world
the past 30 years made immense contributions of literature and cartoons) and Xingguang
to advancing scholarship on Singapore’s art (Starlight) edited by artist-writers Dai Yinlang
history during the 19th and early 20th centuries, and Tchang Ju Chi respectively. Guided by his
which is even more remarkable considering background in Chinese studies, Yeo has pored
that he has neither a background in art history over Chinese-language newspapers at libraries
nor is trained as a curator. to reconstruct an active pre-war Singapore
Research into this early period of modern art scene invigorated by visiting artists from
art in Singapore poses several difficulties. overseas, fundraising exhibitions, public
The lack of archival sources such as artists’ lectures and other artistic activities organised
letters, photographs and even artworks, many by art societies. His research into Chinese
having been lost over time, is a reality that sources, which he started for his first book,
hinders scholarship. Even if available, access Essays on the History of Pre-War Chinese Painting
to these materials presents another barrier in Singapore (1992), proved to be important in
for researchers, as they may reside in private foregrounding artists like Tchang Ju Chi, Dai
rather than public collections. Historical Yinlang, and others who travelled and settled
events such as World War II also resulted in the in Singapore. In comparison, this new book
catastrophic destruction of archival materials pushes back his timeframe to the 19th century,
and artworks. Some artists were killed during drawing on a methodology of examining
the Sook Ching, a systematic purging of Chinese subtle shifts in the use of inter-related texts
men suspected of being anti-Japanese during and images in Chinese newspapers. His
the Japanese Occupation of Singapore, making approach highlights the urgency for scholars
 5

who write and work in different languages to In this book, Yeo pushes the scope
find common platforms to share knowledge of his research by including an analysis
fragmented by language barriers, so that it of advertisements published in Chinese
can be reconnected and critically engaged newspapers. These advertisements are
with. Besides Chinese newspapers, so critical historically significant because they reveal
to our understanding of pre-1945 modern art a shift towards incorporating images and
in Singapore, access to English newspapers symbols of Nanyang cultures, customs
such as the Singapore Free Press and The and scenery that speak to an audience in
Syonan Shimbun, a wartime newspaper issued Singapore—Yeo terms this as “Nanyang
in Japanese and English editions, require fengqing,” or Nanyang flavour. He also
researchers with diverse language abilities. expands on his methodology by analysing the
The translation of Yeo’s book into English changing iconography of texts and images of
is one such initiative by the Gallery to bring such advertisements. This marks a significant
together scholarship in different languages and step forward, both in scope and methodology,
make it more widely accessible to researchers in relation to his broader research into the
and publics interested in the art history of diasporic communities in Singapore.
Singapore. It also enables more scholars to cite Yeo has not only extended his research
each other, taking a significant step towards a back into the 19th century for his second
broadening of art-historical discourse here. book, but also expanded beyond art history
Sojourning artists such as Situ Qiao, to encompass aspects of visual culture
Liu Haisu, Xu Beihong and He Xiangning that includes advertisements, signboards,
contributed to transfers of artistic knowledge, woodcuts, cartoons, and storybook
stimulating artists here to actively participate illustrations. His close analysis of popular
in cultural debates and issues concerning culture has enriched his study of this period,
China as the “motherland” during the Second allowing him to make important connections
Sino-Japanese War from 1937 to 1945. Yeo’s between fields of cultural production such as
research into sojourning artists, not only from literature, woodcuts and cartoons as “sister
China, but also others like Austrian sculptor arts.” For example, someone like the artist
Karl Duldig (born in present-day Przemysl, Tchang Ju Chi straddled various fields with
Poland), will enable a deeper understanding his roles of editor, cartoonist and painter.
of their contributions here through exchanges Cartoons and storyboard illustrations
and interactions with cultural producers in are relevant and vital manifestations of
Singapore. This may eventually lead to a change modernity and modern art, and they remain
in our understanding of the cultural transfers undiscussed within art history in Singapore.
that took place in Singapore during this period, Should art museums also research, collect
enabling a reappraisal of sojourning artists and display such materials to bring out their
as having a historically significant impact on resonances with paintings? This book offers
artistic developments here. important propositions for art museums as
6

well as researchers to consider redefining Seng Yu Jin is a Senior Curator at National

and potentially expanding what “art” means Gallery Singapore. His curated and co-curated
within multiple contexts and modernities. exhibitions include From Words to Pictures: Art
Yeo is an exemplary scholar. He has During the Emergency (2006), The Artists Village: 20
tirelessly and meticulously used newspapers Years On (2008), FX Harsono:Testimonies (2009) and
as an important source to construct histories Cheong Soo Pieng: Bridging Worlds (2009) and the
of art that would have otherwise been 2013 Singapore Biennale. A PhD candidate at the
unknown—artists fade from memory with University of Melbourne, Asia Institute, he currently
their passing, artworks are lost in time, and researches the art activities of Southeast Asia,
archival materials remain scattered and focusing on the region’s exhibition histories
scarce. This series of essays demonstrates that and artist collectives.
Singapore’s early modern art history can be
knowable if we widen our horizons to include
an expanded scope of visual cultural material
that usually fall outside the ambit of art
history. Decentring our research away from
the “fine arts” circumscribed by painting and
sculpture to include image-making practices
like advertisements and cartoons, equally
sensitive to a changing society, will enable us
to understand the interconnections between
the different visual practices that artists
were involved in. Yeo has shown that artists
like Tchang Ju Chi and Dai Yinlang bridged
the worlds of literature and art. They were
painters, cartoonists, intellectuals, newspaper
editors, and woodcut artists all at once. It is
therefore critical for scholars to extend their
research across the different fields of cultural
production that our artists inhabited. More
research still needs to be done, but this
publication marks an important step towards
a reimagination of modern art in Singapore as
an expanded field.
 7

Tracing the Source, Seeking Profound Truth

— P RO F E S S O R WU YO N G L I A N G

Located at the crossroads of the South developing social and art activities for the
China Sea, the Indian Ocean and the Straits Chinese community in Singapore between
of Malacca, Singapore stands right at the the late 1800s and 1920s. Using his knowledge,
southern tip of the Malay Peninsula. Because expertise, and financial resources, he
of its natural geographical advantage, the undertook the important responsibility of
island, often nicknamed “a little red dot on transmitting Chinese culture to the local
the world map,” has been able to establish Chinese population. Khoo gave currency to
itself as an important strategic base and the term term “Sinchew” (Xingzhou), the
communication hub in the region. lyrical description of Singapore that enjoys
Singapore was founded as a free port widespread popularity till this day. His
in 1819. As its population grew, a Chinese personal seal, Xingzhou yugong (Khoo Seok
community began to form. These migrants, Wan the Singapore Resident), reflects his
who made the long journey here in search personal transformation from a sojourner in
of a better life, brought their culture, art and a foreign land into a resident who eventually
education along with them from their home adopted Singapore as his home.
country. However, there were hardly any art The second is artist Tchang Ju Chi, a
activities in the early 1800s. It was not until native of Chaozhou in Guangdong Province.
a group of Chinese artists embarked on the Tchang, who graduated from the Shanghai
arduous task of blazing the trail for the arts Academy of Fine Arts, was forced to leave the
that things began to change. Driven by a sense Ecole Supérieure d’Art et de Design Marseille
of duty to enrich the lives of the local Chinese due to financial constraints. He was passing
population through the nourishing power of through Singapore on his journey back to
art, these artists witnessed the flourishing of art China in 1927, when a friend successfully
activities for the Chinese community as the art persuaded him to stay on. Over time, he
scene progressed through different stages: from developed an affinity for the people, cultures
a quiet, lifeless phase between 1887 and 1926, and landscape Singapore, and began to take
to an early period of growth between 1927 and an interest in the development of the art
1935, to a vibrant stage of development between scene. He assumed the heavy responsibility
1936 and 1941 and then to a lull in 1942 and 1945, of cultivating the local art scene, and is noted
during the Japanese Occupation. for his pioneering efforts in incorporating
There are two noteworthy personalities features from the local landscape and social
that contributed immensely to the art scene milieu into his practice. Undoubtedly
in Singapore. One of them is Khoo Seok Singapore’s most brilliant artist in the pre-
Wan, who was born in Haicheng county, war period, he made important contributions
Zhangzhou, Fujian province. Known as the to the development of local art. Tragically,
“gifted scholar of Sinchew,” the traditional Tchang’s life was cut short when he was killed
literatus was a poet, newspaper founder during the Japanese Occupation of Singapore
and journalist who played a key role in in World War II.
8

As interest in local art increased, the with my daughter in the city-state. I was
demand for formal art training also grew. introduced to Tan Kian Por, Tan Kee Sek,
This led to the establishment of art schools. Lee Hock Moh, Nai Swee Leng and Koh
Formal art education translated the desire Mun Hong, all artists from the Siaw-Tao
to cultivate a new generation of artists into a Chinese Seal-Carving Calligraphy & Painting
systematic process of knowledge transfer, and Society. We became good friends, sharing
can be regarded as milestone in Singapore’s discussions about art and related topics. In the
the artistic and cultural development. In mid-1990s, I was invited back to Singapore to
1906, the artist Su Binting established the Su conduct an advanced course in ink painting
Binting Portrait Painting School, prompted at NAFA , together with many of the artist-
by his belief that art can develop the minds friends mentioned above. The objective of the
of the masses. The school offered classes such course, which had the full support of Tan Ping
as portrait drawing in watercolour, oil and Chiang, head of the Fine Arts Department of
charcoal. In 1922, Sun Peigu and others set NAFA , was to promote Chinese traditional
up the first fine art academy in Singapore: calligraphy, painting, and seal carving. I then
the Singapore Academy of Fine Arts for moved to Singapore in the late 1990s after
Overseas Chinese. In 1935, the decision to set retirement, and began teaching ink and figure
up the Singapore Society of Chinese Artists painting part-time at NAFA . Having lived here
(SOCA) was made at a gathering of local for a decade, I have gained a deeper and more
Chinese artists. It was Yong Mun Sen, then comprehensive understanding of the country’s
vice-president of the SOCA , who mooted the historical progress, social situation and natural
idea of forming the Nanyang Academy of Fine environment. It is no small feat that Singapore
Arts (NAFA). NAFA was eventually founded has transformed from a small fishing village into
in 1938, with Lim Hak Tai at the helm as its a prosperous, modern, and highly-developed
founding principal. NAFA’S establishment garden city of international acclaim.
marked a new chapter in the development I am deeply moved and full of admiration
of art in Singapore. Its pioneering efforts in for the contributions made by the pioneers of
fine art education produced graduates such as Singapore’s art scene, as well as the dedication
Tan Kian Por, Tan Kee Sek, Lee Hock Moh, demonstrated by the artists of today. Although
Nai Swee Leng, Wee Beng Chong, and Poon today’s artists face tremendous difficulties in
Lian—all of whom are influential artists in having to make a living in a multicultural and
Singapore’s art scene. Many alumni have also multiracial environment, they have inherited
returned to teach at their alma mater, carrying the qualities of dedication and commitment
on the mission of art education that was from the previous generations, who often had
embraced by the first-generation artists. to make sacrifices for the sake of their artistic
I have always had an affinity with pursuits. It is my firm belief that the younger
Singapore. I first arrived in the early 1990s, generation’s single-minded devotion to art
when I was invited to hold a joint exhibition will stand them in good stead to overcome the
 9

challenges posed by globalisation and rapid Wu Yongliang is a professor at the China Academy
technological advancement. of Art, member of the Chinese Artists Association,
Mr Yeo Mang Thong, a scholar who council member of the Pan Tianshou Foundation,
specialises in the pre-war art history of honorary principal of Siming Painting and Calligraphy
Singapore, is a good friend of mine, with Academy, member of Xiling Seal Art Society,
whom I often exchange views on calligraphy vice-dean of the Hangzhou CPPCC (Chinese
and art. His scholarship is a reflection of People’s Political Consultative Conference) Art
his personality, exhibiting commitment, Institute, and artistic advisor to the Siaw-Tao
sincerity, rigour and meticulousness. He has Chinese Seal-Carving Calligraphy & Painting Society.
devoted decades of his life to researching the Born in 1937 in Yin County, Zhejiang province,
subject, and has had his findings published on Wu graduated from the Zhejiang Academy of Fine
numerous occasions. He accomplished all this %VXW[MXLEWTIGMEPMWEXMSRMR½KYVITEMRXMRKMR
while working as a senior civil servant full- 3XLIVXLERFIMRKEREGGSQTPMWLIHEVXMWXMR½KYVI
time at the Ministry of Education. Yeo spared ERH½RKIVTEMRXMRKERHXLIxieyi (freehand) style,
no effort in searching for relevant historical he also pioneered an innovative technique for
materials—which were almost lost, or even XIEGLMRKERHTVEGXMGMRKPMRI½KYVEPHVE[MRKWMR
forgotten—which he then systematically the yibi (expressive) style. His works have been
gathered, consolidated and preserved. In this collected by the National Art Museum of China,
respect, reading this book was a refreshing Shanghai Art Museum, Zhejiang Art Museum,
experience for me, and Yeo’s contributions are Ningbo Museum of Art, Lu Xun Memorial Hall
remarkable, even if largely overlooked. Based (in Beijing, Shanghai and Shaoxing), Zhongnanhai
on what I have gathered from his writing, (headquarters of the Communist Party and
and coupled with my actual experience living Chinese government), Tokyo Imperial Palace,
in Singapore in the past, I humbly submit Vatican Museums, and Xiling Seal Art Society,
this foreword as requested by Mr Yeo, while among others.
conveying my heartfelt congratulations to the
author on the launch of his book.

Wu Yongliang, at the Leisurely Cloud

and Reclining Mountain Pavilion in
Pleasant Garden (May 2016)

§
10

Foreword
— P RO F E S S O R M AS A H I RO U S H I RO S H O J I

On a February day in 1995, I was casually Chinese characters, are also used in Japanese.
browsing through the Chinese section of Although Yeo’s book looks plain and simple
Popular bookstore in Bras Basah Complex. on the outside, it contains a wealth of
Suddenly, a book caught my attention; it was information. In fact, I relied heavily on it for
Xinjiapo zhanqian huaren meishushi lunji (Essays the 1997 exhibition. For example, most of my
on the History of Pre-War Chinese Painting knowledge of the artist Tchang Ju Chi is from
in Singapore), written by Yeo Mang Thong. I Yeo’s book. The strength of the book lies in its
had not heard of the author or the publication use of primary sources—such as newspapers
before, but the book seemed to be quietly and journals published during the lifetime
waiting for me. It was exactly what I needed. of the pre-war artists concerned—as the
I was then a curator at Fukuoka Art basis for its findings. While the book served
Museum, and was preparing for an upcoming as a rich source of first-hand information for
blockbuster show slated to open in 1997. my research, on hindsight, I think I gained
Modern Art History of Southeast Asia was to even more by learning about the author’s
be a comprehensive survey of modern art in dedication and commitment towards
Southeast Asia, and was the first of its kind in research. Furthermore, Yeo never hoarded
Japan. I spent three months visiting ten cities the material that took him so much time and
in Southeast Asia between 1994 and 1995 to effort to collect; instead, he shares it with the
conduct research, and Singapore was one of public and younger generation of researchers
the destinations on my list. in this field: “noble” would be the best word to
During these research trips, I met describe this selfless attitude.
with many artists, viewing artworks and Regrettably, I did not get the chance to
conducting interviews. I also visited art meet Yeo on that visit to Singapore, and it
museums, universities, libraries and other never crossed my mind that I would ever do so.
institutions to survey artworks and gather I finally had the privilege of meeting him last
information. In Singapore, I visited the year—twenty years after I first encountered
bookshops frequently. Back then, there was his book—through a curator from National
very little research being done in the area. Gallery Singapore. At the meeting, Yeo
Furthermore, available material on the subject informed me that he has expanded on his
was widely scattered, and would have required research on pre-war art history in Singapore,
tremendous energy and time to put together. filling the gaps with information he had
Even though I was able to come up with a uncovered in recent years. I had no doubt that
framework for the exhibition, my progress such a publication would greatly contribute to
was much slower than anticipated. the research of art history in the region.
I read Yeo’s book many times over on The publication of this book is a
these research trips. Although I have never testament to Yeo’s remarkable achievements.
studied the Chinese language, I could grasp Since the 1980s, he has been looking at old
the gist of what was written as kanji, or newspapers and magazines, and presenting
 11

his findings in meticulously and systematically teaching at the university, he curated Modern
written publications. It is admirable that Yeo Paintings of Mongolia: Its Origin up to Today (Tokyo
recognises the advertisements and cartoons in Station Gallery, 2002), Cubism in Asia: Unbounded
these old publications as important research Dialogue (National Museum of Modern Art,
material; often regarded as “kitsch” and distinct Tokyo, 2005) and 50 Years of Modern Vietnamese
from high art, they have often been overlooked Art: 1925-75 (Tokyo Station Gallery, 2005). In
as research sources. Yeo’s work is undoubtedly recent years, Ushiroshoji has helped his students
significant, and provides researchers looking to organise annual exhibitions on modern Asian
at Singapore’s pre-war art history with fresh art. He is also published in journals, with his
insights and new perspectives. most recent articles being “The other as the lost
Lastly, I would like to take this opportunity innocent me: Gauguinism in Southeast Asian art”
to offer my heartiest congratulations to (Bijutsu Forum 21, 2010), “The diary of Luong
Mr Yeo Mang Thong on the publication of Xuan Nhi: a Vietnamese painter’s journey to Japan
this book, and to the field of Southeast Asian in 1943” (Tetsugaku nenpo [Annual of Philosophy],
modern art history. Kyushu University, 2010), and “Art of Southeast
—Masahiro Ushiroshoji, 1st May 2016 Asia Under the Japanese Occupation, 1942-45”
(Tetsugaku nenpo [Annual of Philosophy], Kyushu
§ University, 2013).

Masahiro Ushiroshoji is a professor at the

Graduate School of Humanities in Kyushu
9RMZIVWMX][LSWTIGMEPMWIWMRXLILMWXSV]SJ½RI
art. A graduate from the university’s School
of Letters, he joined the Fukuoka Art Museum in
1987 as a curator, working on exhibitions
on modern and contemporary art in Asia. These
include the Asian Art Show (all four editions from
XS VIKEVHIHEWXLI½VWXI\LMFMXMSR
on Asian modern art in the world; New Art from
Southeast Asia (1992); and The Birth of Modern Art
in Southeast Asia (1997). In 1999 he was appointed
as Chief Curator, and was put in charge of setting
up the new Fukuoka Asian Art Museum. He
organised The 1st Fukuoka Asian Art Triennale 1999,
the commemorative exhibition that celebrated
QYWIYQ´WSJ½GMEPMREYKYVEXMSR-RLINSMRIH
Kyushu University, continuing his research into
Asian modern and contemporary art. While
This page intentionally left blank.
 CHAPTE R I

P R E -WA R ( 1 8 8 6 – 1 9 41) ART ACTI V I TI ES O F

THE C H I N E S E C O M MUN I TY I N SI N G AP O R E
TH ROUG H A N A R R ATI V E FR A M EWO R K
O F D I AS P OR I C B O N DS
14

VISUAL CULTURE encapsulates the politics, diasporic experience can be explicated in two
economy and culture of its time, and reflects ways: Firstly, the Chinese diaspora never severed
the historical phenomena of different periods. their cultural connections with their country
In recent decades, art historians have come to of origin. Hoping to practise and promote
include a wide variety of visual images as objects the culture of their motherland overseas, they
of study in their writings.1 Similarly, this essay is introduced, in newspapers, masterpieces of
also diverse in its scope of inquiry, which ranges Chinese calligraphy and calligraphic models.
from traditional lyrical poetry exchanges among They also bolstered the rich diversity of art forms
the literati, commercial advertisements, plaques that had been developed in the course of China’s
of temples and Chinese guild halls, to seal long history by engaging in activities such as
carvings, allegorical illustrations in newspapers, poetic exchanges, composing poems of specified
as well as cartoons and woodcuts. However, the subjects, inscribing plaques and exchanging
main sources of my research are the Chinese- paintings as gifts, and seal carving.
language daily newspapers of pre-war Singapore, These Chinese migrants were emotionally
which are essential in this study.2 Through my attached to their motherland and were
use of diverse visual materials, I hope to broaden concerned with the political situation and
and deepen our exploration and understanding economic developments in China. This can
of the art activities of the Chinese community in be seen in “allegorical pictures” that were
pre-war Singapore. critical of current affairs in China, such as
The period under study herein begins commercial advertisements with slogans that
in 1886, the year that the Chinese calligrapher emphasised the need to “reclaim China’s rights;
Zhong Dexiang began selling his calligraphic promote Chinese goods;” even art schools
pieces in Singapore, and ends in 1941.3 were founded with the mission to “invigorate
After that, Singapore fell under Japanese [China’s] industries.” By the Second Sino-
Occupation, from 15 February 1942 to 5 Japanese War following the Marco Polo Bridge
September 1945. During this time, all art Incident, cartoons had become a tool used by
activities were controlled behind the scenes by the Chinese in the resistance movement against
Japanese military and government officials, as the Japanese. Art exhibitions travelled south
well as Japanese cartoonists. Instead of serving from China to raise funds for war-relief efforts,
traditional visual aesthetic functions, cartoons and art activities of the Singapore Chinese
and art exhibitions were used as propaganda community were liveliest during this period in
tools by the Japanese to broadcast decrees and a show of spirited support.
keep the local populace ignorant.4
This essay approaches its subject from
the perspective of the Chinese migrants in CONTINUING THE MANY-
pre-war Singapore. Living in a foreign land, SPLENDOURED LEGACY OF
these Chinese bore diasporic sentiments,
THE CHINESE ARTS
longing for their homeland and maintaining
frequent interactions with her. This underlies
the unique character of pre-war art by the Calligraphy Models And Masterpieces
Chinese community.
The art activities of the Chinese community After the founding of Singapore in 1819, its
viewed in terms of the complex emotional local Chinese population grew steadily, and
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 'Do you ever ride, Dulcie?' asked the latter.

'How can I ride now? In papa's time I had a beautiful little Welsh cob, on
which I used to scamper about the shady lanes and breezy moors in
Devonshire. I can see still in fancy his dear little head, high withers, and
short joints.'

'You shall ride with me,' said Finella, in her pretty, imperative way. 'I
have three pads of my own.'

'But I have no habit.'

'Then you shall wear one of mine. I have several. A blue or green one
will be most becoming to you; and though you are as plump as a little
English partridge, I have one that will be sure to fit you.'

'Thanks. Oh, how kind you are.'

'Now, let us go to the stables. I go there once every day to feed "Fern," as
you shall see.'

Sandy Macrupper, the head-groom, always thought the stables never

looked so bright as during the time of Finella's visit. He had known her
from her childhood, and taught her to ride her first Shetland pony. He was a
hard-featured and sour-visaged old man, with that peculiarity of grooms, a
very small head and puckered face. He was clad in an orthodox, long-
bodied waistcoat, in one of the pockets of which a currycomb was stuck,
and wore short corded breeches. He was always closely shaven, and wore a
scrupulously white neckcloth, carefully tied. His grey eyes were bright and
keen; his short legs had that peculiar curve that indicates a horsy individual.
And when the ladies appeared, he came forth from the harness-room with
smiling alacrity, a piece of chamois-leather in one hand and a snaffle-bit in
the other.

'Good-morning, miss,' said he, touching his billycock.

'Good-morning, Sandy. I want Fern and Flirt for a spin about the country
to-day after luncheon;' and the sound of Finella's voice was the signal for
many impatient neighs of welcome and much rattling of stall-collars and
wooden balls.

Fern, the favourite pad of Finella—a beautiful roan, with a deal of Arab
blood in it—gave a loud whinny of delight and recognition, and thrust
forward his soft tan-coloured muzzle in search of the carrot which she daily
brought to regale him with; but Flirt preferred apples and sugar. Then,
regardless of what stablemen might be looking on, she put her arms round
Flirt's neck, and rubbed her peach-like cheek against his velvety nose.

On hearing of the projected ride, at luncheon, Lady Fettercairn's face

grew cloudy, and she took an opportunity of saying:

'Finella, you are putting that girl, Miss Carlyon, quite out of her place,
and I won't stand it.'

'Oh, grandmamma!' exclaimed Finella, deprecatingly, 'this is only a little

kindness to one who has seen better times; and she had a horse of her own
in Devonshire.'

'Ah! no doubt she told you so.'

The horses were duly brought round in time: Fern with his silky mane
carefully and prettily plaited by the nimble little fingers of Finella—a
process which old Sandy Macrupper always watched with delight and
approval. And Dulcie, mounted on Flirt, a spotted grey, looked every inch a
lady of the best style, in an apple-green habit of Finella's, with her golden
hair beautifully coiled under a smart top-hat, put well forward over her
forehead. She was perfect, to her little tan-coloured gauntlet gloves, and
was—Lady Fettercairn, who glanced from the window, was compelled to
admit silently—'very good form indeed.'

Escorted by Shafto and a groom, they set forth; and, save for the
unwelcome presence of the former, to Dulcie it was a day of delight, which
she thought she never should forget.

Dulcie, we have said, had been wont to scamper about the Devonshire
lanes, where the clustered apples grew thick overhead, on her Welsh cob,
and now on horseback she felt at home in her own sphere again; her colour
mounted, her blue eyes sparkled, and the girl looked beautiful indeed.

She almost felt supremely happy; and Finella laughed as she watched her
enjoying the sensations of power and management, and the independence
given by horse-exercise—the life, the stir, the action, and joyous excitement
of a thorough good 'spin' along a breezy country road.

Shafto, however, was in a sullen temper, and vowed secretly that never
again would he act their cavalier, because the girls either ignored him by
talking to each other, or only replied to any remarks he ventured to make
and these were seldom of an amusing or original nature. Indeed, he felt
painfully and savagely how hateful his presence was to both.

Despite Lady Fettercairn, other rides followed, for Finella was difficult
to control, and in her impulsive and coaxing ways proved generally
irrepressible. Thus she took Dulcie all over the country: to the ruined castle
of Fettercairn, to Den Finella, and to the great cascade—a perpendicular
rock, more than seventy feet high, over which the Finella River pours on its
way from Garvock, where it rises, to the sea at Johnshaven.

Returning slowly from one of these rides, with their pads at a walking
pace, with the groom a long way in their rear, Dulcie, breaking a long
silence, during which both seemed to be lost in thought, said:

'Troubles are doubly hard to bear when we have to keep them to

ourselves; thus I feel happier, at least easier in mind, now that I have told
you all about poor Florian.'

'And I, that I have told you about Captain Hammersley,' replied Finella;
'though of course I shall never see him again.'

'Never—why so?'

'After what he saw, and what he no doubt thinks, how can I expect to do
so? My greatest affliction is that I must seem so black in his eyes. Yet it is
impossible for me not to feel the deepest and most tender interest in him—
to watch with aching heart the news from the seat of war, and all the
movements of his regiment—the movements in which he must have a
share.'

'Things cannot, nay, must not, go on thus between you. The false
position should be cleared up, explained away. What is to be done?'

'Grin and bear it, as the saying is, Dulcie. Nothing can avail us now—
nothing,' said Finella, with a break in her voice.'

'Finella, let me help you and him.'

'How?'

'I shall write about it to Florian. I mean to write him now, at all events.'

Despite all she had been told about the antecedents of the latter, Finella
blushed scarlet at the vision of what Hammersley—the proud and haughty
Vivian Hammersley—would think of his love-affairs being put into the
hands of one of his own soldiers; but Dulcie, thinking only of who Florian
was, did not see it in this light, or that it would seem like a plain attempt to
lure an angry lover back again.

'Unless you wish me to die of shame,' said Finella, after a bitter pause
—'shame and utter mortification—you will do no such thing, Dulcie
Carlyon!'

The latter looked at the speaker, and saw that her dark eyes were flashing
dangerously as she added:

'He left me in a gust of rage and suspicion of his own free will; and of
his own free will must he return.'

'Will he ever do so, if the cause for that just rage and suspicion, born of
his very love for you, is not explained away?'

'No, certainly. He is proud, and so am I; but I will never love anyone

else, and mean in time to come to invest in the sleekest of tom-cats and die
an old maid,' she added, with a little sob in her throat.
 'And meanwhile you are in misery?'

'As you see, Dulcie; but I will rather die than fling myself at any man's
head, especially at his, through the medium of a letter of yours; but I thank
you for the kind thought, dear Dulcie.'

So the latter said no more on the subject, yet made up her mind as to
what she would do.

The circumstance that both their lovers, so dissimilar in rank and private
means, were serving in the same regiment, facing the same dangers, and
enduring the same hardships, formed a kind of sympathetic tie between
these two girls, who could share their confidences with each other alone,
though their positions in life, by present rank and their probable future,
were so far apart.

They never thought of how young they were, or that, if both their lovers
were slain or never seen by them again through the contingencies of life,
others would come to them and speak of love, perhaps successfully. Such
ideas never occurred, however. Both were too romantic to be practical; and
both—the rich one and the poor one—only thought of the desolate and
forlorn years that stretched like a long and gloomy vista before them, with
nothing to look forward to, and no one to care for, unless they became
Sisters of Charity; and Finella, with all her thousands, sometimes spoke
bitterly of doing so.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE EVENING OF GINGHILOVO.

Much about the time that the conversation we have just recorded was
taking place between the two fair equestriennes, the subject thereof, then
with the troops in the laager of Ginghilovo, was very full of the same matter
they had in hand—himself and his supposed wrongs.

'She never could have really cared for me, or she never could have acted
as she did, unless she wished with the contingencies of war to have two
strings to her bow,' thought Hammersley, as he lay on the grass a little apart
from all, and sucked his briar-root viciously. 'Perhaps she thought it was her
money I wanted—not herself. Ah, how could she look into her glass and
think so!'

Ever before him he had that horrid episode in the shrubbery, and saw in
memory the girl he loved so passionately in the arms of another, who was
giving her apparently the kisses men only give to one woman in the world
—a sight that seemed to scorch his eyes and heart.

'Yes,' he would mutter, 'one may be mistaken in some things, but there
are some things there is no mistaking, and that affair was one of them.'

Perhaps at that very instant of time Finella was posed, as he had seen her
last, with 'Cousin' Shafto, and the thought made him hate her! He felt
himself growing colder and harder, though his heart ached sorely, for the
'soul-hunger of love' was in it.

'Well, well,' he would mutter, as he tugged his dark moustache; 'what are
called hearts have surely gone to the wall in this Victorian age.'

His bitter memories would have soon passed away, could he have seen,
as if in a magic mirror, at that moment Finella, in her riding-habit, on her
knees in the solitude of her own room, before a large photo of a handsome
young fellow in the uniform of the 24th (his helmet under his right arm, his
left hand on the hilt of his sword), gazing at it, yet scarcely seeing it, so full
were her soft eyes of hot salt tears, while her sweet little face looked white,
woe-begone, and most miserable. But now the bugles sounding on the
various flanks of the laager, when about six in the evening a general hum of
voices pervaded it, and the order 'Stand to your arms!' announced that the
enemy was in sight of the trenches.
 In front of the old kraal of Ginghilovo, behind an earthen breastwork and
abattis of felled trees, were the 60th Rifles, in their tunics of dark green, and
sailors of the Shah with their Gatling guns, which they playfully called
'bull-dogs and barrel-organs.'

They were flanked by some of the 57th and two seven-pounders; the
Argyleshire Highlanders, then in green tartan trews, held the rear face; and
the defences were prolonged by the Lanarkshire, the 3rd Buffs, and some
more of the Naval Brigade with a rocket battery.

Every heart in the laager beat high, and every face flushed with intense
satisfaction, as two sombre columns of Zulus appeared, spreading like a
human flood over the ground, after crossing the reedy Inyezane stream,
deploying in a loose formation, which enabled them to find cover behind
scattered boulders and patches of bush.

Now, when on the eve of an action, Hammersley, like every other officer,
felt that new and hitherto unknown dread and doubt of the result which has
more than once come upon our troops of all ranks, born of the new and
abominable system which in so many ways has achieved the destruction of
the grand old British army—'the army which would go anywhere, and do
anything'—by the abolition of the regimental system, and with it the power
of cohesion; but the worst, the so-called 'territorial system,' had not yet
come.

Encouraged by the countenance and praises of Hammersley, Florian left

nothing undone to win himself a name, and had already become
distinguished for his daring, discretion, and acuteness of observation among
all the Mounted Infantry when scouting or reconnoitring, and his further
promotion seemed now to be only a matter of time.

Both courted danger, apparently with impunity, as the brave and dashing
often do: Florian with a view to the future; Hammersley to forget. Soldiers
will make fun, even when under fire, so some of his comrades quizzed
Florian in his old laced tunic, and dubbed him 'the Captain;' but Vivian
Hammersley thought, how like a gentleman and officer he looked in the
half-worn garment he had given him.
 Through the long, wavy, and reed-like grass two columns of Zulus crept
swiftly on in close rather than extended order, and furiously assailed the
north face of the square held by the Highlanders, flanked as usual by
extended horns, and all yelling like fiends broken loose, while brandishing
their great shields and glittering assegais, till smitten with death and
destruction under the close-rolling Highland musketry.

They were commanded by a noble savage, named Somapo, with

Dabulamanzi and the eldest son of Sirayo as seconds.

Almost unseen by the darkness of their uniforms, the Rifles lay down
flat behind their shelter-trenches; the barrels of their weapons rested firmly
on the earthen bank, enabling them to take steady and deadly aim, while
dropping in quick succession the cartridges into the breech-blocks without
even moving the left arm or the right shoulder, against which the butt-plate
of the rifle rested, and their terrible fire knocked over in writhing heaps the
Zulus, who, in all their savage fury and bravery, came rushing on ten
thousand strong and more.

'Their white and coloured shields,' wrote one who was present, 'their
crests of leopard-skin and feathers, and wild ox-tails dangling from their
necks, gave them a terrible unearthly appearance. Every ten or fifteen yards,
and a shot would be fired, and then, with an unearthly yell, they would
again rush on with a sort of measured dance, while a humming and buzzing
sound in time to their movement was kept up.'

Meanwhile the laager was literally zoned with fire and enveloped with
smoke; yet within it no sound was heard save the rattling roar of the
musketry, the clatter of the breech-blocks, and triumphant bagpipes of the
Highlanders, with an occasional groan or exclamation of agony as a bullet
found its billet.

In the fury of their advance and struggles to get onward over their own
dead and dying, the Zulus from the rear would break through the fighting
line, jostling and dashing each other aside, and rush yelling on, until they
too bit the dust.
 The booming of the Gatling guns and the dread hiss of the blazing
rockets were heard ever and anon amid the medley of other sounds, and for
half an hour the showers of lead and iron tore through and through the
naked masses, where the places of the fallen were instantly taken by others.

By half-past six the shrill yells of the Zulus died away; but in mute
despair and fury they still struggled in hope to storm the laager, when, if
once within its defences, the fate of all would be sealed.

Four times like a living sea they flung themselves against it, and four
times by sheets of lead and iron they were hurled back from the reddened
bayonet's point, while some remained in the open, firing from behind the
bloody piles of their own dead, which lay in awful lines or swathes of black
bodies with white shields, a hundred yards apart, in rear of each other.

At last the survivors gave way, and all fled in confusion.

'Forward, the Mounted Infantry!' cried Lord Chelmsford.

And these, under Captain Barrow and Hammersley, sprang with alacrity
to their saddles, slinging their rifles as they filed out of the laager.

'Front form squadron!' was now the order, and the sections of fours
swept round into line.

'Come on, my lads!' cried Hammersley, as he unsheathed his sword and

dug the spurs into his horse; 'forward—trot, gallop! By Jove! an hour of this
work

'"Is worth an age without a name!"'

And away went the Mounted Infantry over the terrible swathes at a
swinging pace.

Like most of the few officers of that peculiar and extemporised force,
Vivian Hammersley had been accustomed to cross country and ride to
hounds, and to deem that the greatest outdoor pleasure in life.
 Tattoo, Florian's horse, fortunately for him in the work he had to do that
evening, proved to be a tried Cape shooting-horse, accustomed to halt the
moment his rein is dropped, and to stand like a rock when his rider fires. An
experienced shooting-horse requires no sign from his master when required
to stand, and on hearing a sound or stir in the bush is alert as a dog scenting
danger or game.

Florian loved the animal like a friend, and often shared his beer with
him, as Homer tells us the Greek warriors of old shared their wine with
their battle-chargers; we suppose it is only human nature that we must love
something that is in propinquity with us.

The Mounted Infantry overtook the fugitive Zulus, and fell furiously,
sword in hand, upon their left flank, but not without receiving a scattered
fire that emptied a few saddles.

The routed fled with a speed peculiarly their own; but Captain Barrow
and his improvised troopers were in close pursuit, and from the laager their
sword-blades could be seen flashing in the evening sunshine, as the cuts
were dealt downward on right and left, and the foe was overtaken, pierced,
and ridden over and through.

In this work the force necessarily became somewhat broken, and

Hammersley, who, in the ardour of the pursuit, and being splendidly
mounted, had outstripped all the Mounted Infantry and gone perilously far
in advance, had his horse shot under him.

'Captain Hammersley—Hammersley! He will be cut to pieces!' cried

several of the soldiers, who saw him and his horse go down in a cloud of
dust, and in another moment he was seen astride the fallen animal
contending against serious odds with his sword and revolver. And now
ensued one of those episodes which were of frequent occurrence in the
service of our Mounted Infantry.

Florian saw the sore strait in which Hammersley was placed, and had,
quick as thought, but one desire—to save him or die by his side. At that part
of the field a watercourse—a tributary of the Inyezene River—separated
him from Hammersley, but putting the pace upon Tattoo, he rode gallantly
to face it. Rider and horse seemed to possess apparently but one mind—one
impulse. Tattoo cocked his slender ears, gave a glance at the water,
sparkling in the setting sun, and, springing from his powerful and muscular
hind-legs, cleared the stream from bank to bank—a distance not less than
fifteen feet.

'Well done, old man!' exclaimed Florian; 'you are game!'

'Hurra!' burst from several of the troop, some of whom failed to achieve
the leap. So Florian rode forward alone, and in less time than we have taken
to record it, was by the side of Hammersley, who was bleeding from a
wound in the left arm from an assegai launched at him by one of three
powerful savages with whom he was contending, and in whom Florian
recognised Methagazulu, the son of the famous Sirayo.

The last shot in Hammersley's revolver disposed of one; Florian shot a

second, 'and drove his bayonet through the side of Sirayo's son, whom
others were now returning to succour, and, lifting Hammersley on his own
horse, conducted him rearward to a place of safety, covering the rear with
his rifle, pouring in a quick fire with an excellent aim till a dozen of his
comrades came up and received them both with a cheer.

Though wounded, Methagazulu did not die then, for, as we have

elsewhere said, the close of the war found him a prisoner in the gaol of
Pietermaritzburg.

But for the succour so promptly accorded by Florian, another moment

would have seen that savage, after wounding Hammersley by one assegai,
give him the coup de grace with another; as it is a superstition with the
Zulus that if they do not rip their enemies open, disembowelling them, as
their bodies swell and burst when dead, so will those of the slayers in life;
and so firm is their belief in that, that after the victory had been won at
Rorke's Drift many of the Zulus were seen to pause, even under a heavy
fire, to rip up a few of our dead who lay outside the entrenchment; and
cases have been known in which warriors who have been unable to perform
this barbarous ceremony have committed suicide to escape what they
deemed their inevitable doom.
 Florian tied his handkerchief round Hammersley's arm, above the
wound, to stay the blood, till he left him safely with the ambulance
waggons and in care of Staff-Surgeon Gallipot; and though faint with the
bleeding, for the wound was long and deep—a regular gash—Hammersley
wrung the hand of his saver, and said:

'My gallant young fellow, you will have good reason if I live—as I doubt
not I will—to recall this evening's work with satisfaction.'

'I shall ever remember, sir, with pride that I saved your life—the life of
the only friend I have now in our decimated regiment since I lost poor Bob
Edgehill.'

'It is not that I mean,' said Hammersley faintly, 'but, if spared, I shall see
to your future, and all that sort of thing, you understand.'

'I thank you, sir, and hope——'

'Hope nothing,' said Hammersley, closing his eyes, as memory brought a

gush of bitterness to his heart.

'Why, sir?'

'Because when one is prepared for the worst, disappointment can never
come.'

Florian knew not what to make of this sudden change of mood in his
officer, and so remained discreetly silent.

'Have you any water in your bottle?' asked Hammersley.

'A little, sir.'

'Then give me a drop, for God's sake—mine is empty.'

Florian took the water-bottle from his waist-belt and drew out the plug;
the sufferer drank thirstily, and on being placed in a sitting position, with a
blanket about him, strove to obtain a little sleep, being weary and faint with
the events of the past day.
 'Whoever he is, that lad has good blood in his veins, and he has no fear
of lavishing it,' was his last thought as he watched the receding figure of
Florian leading away his favourite Tattoo by the bridle.

Our total casualties at Ginghilovo were only sixty-one; those of the

Zulus above twelve hundred. The story of the encounter might have been
different had another column of ten thousand men, which had been
despatched from Ulundi by Cetewayo the day after the march of Somapo,
effected a junction with the latter.

Etschowe, the point to be relieved, was now fifteen miles distant; but
Colonel Pearson in his isolated fort must have heard of the victory, for
Florian, when out with a few files on scouting duty, could see the signals of
congratulation flashed therefrom.

After the fierce excitement of the past day, he felt—he knew not why—
depressed and almost sorrowful; but perhaps the solitudes among which he
rode impressed him when night came on.

Lighted up by hundreds and thousands of stars, the clear sky spread like
a vast shining canopy overhead, and then the great round moon shed down
a flood of silver sheen on the grassy downs where the black bodies of the
naked dead, with fallen jaws and glistening teeth and eyes, lay thick as
leaves in autumn, and Tattoo picked his steps gingerly among them.

And in such a solemn and silent time, more keenly than ever, came to
Florian's mind the ever-recurring thoughts of Dulcie Carlyon and of what
she was doing; where was she and with whom—in safety or in peril?

Next morning Florian—as he was detailed for duty to the front with the
Mounted Infantry, paid a farewell visit to Captain Hammersley, whom he
found reposing among some straw in a kind of tilt cart, and rather feverish
from the effects of his wound, and who had been desired to remain behind
in the laager for a little time, though he could with difficulty be prevailed
upon to do so.

Preceding the march of the column, the Mounted Infantry under Barrow
filed forth at an easy pace in search of the enemy.
 It was scarcely a new experience to Florian now, or to any man with the
army in Zululand, that of putting a savage to death. Every rifle slew them
by scores, when a hundred rounds of ammunition per man were poured into
the naked hordes in less than an hour's time.

Lord Chelmsford left some of the Kentish Buffs, the Lanarkshire, and
the Naval Brigade to garrison the laager at Ginghilovo, and marched for
Etschowe with the 57th, the 60th Rifles, and Argyleshire Highlanders,
escorting a long train of Scottish carts, laden with food and stores, preceded
by the Mounted Infantry scouting far in advance.

The whole column wore the white helmet, but the dark green of the
Rifles and the green tartan trews of the Highlanders varied the colour of the
scarlet mass that marched up the right bank of the Inyezene river, with
drums beating and bayonets flashing in the April sunshine.

Along the whole line of march were seen shields, rifles, assegais, furs,
and feathers strewed about in thousands, cast away by the fugitives who had
fled from Ginghilovo, and here and there the Kaffir vultures, hovering in
mid air above a donga, or swooping down into it with a fierce croak,
indicated where some dead men were lying.

Briskly the troops pushed on to rescue Colonel Pearson and his isolated
garrison, which, during a blockade that had now extended to ten weeks, had
been in daily expectation of experiencing the fate of those who perished at
Isandhlwana; and surmounting all the natural difficulties of a rugged
country, intersected by watercourses which recent rains had swollen, by
sunset the mounted men under Barrow were close to the fort, and heard the
hearty British cheers of a hungry garrison mingling with a merry chorus
which they were singing.

Under Colonel Pemberton, the Rifles pushed on ahead with Lord

Chelmsford, just as an officer on a grey charger came dashing round the
base of the hill surmounted by the fort.

'Here is Pearson, gentlemen,' cried the Commander-in-Chief.

'How are you, my friend?'

 'Old fellow—how are you?' and grasping each other's hand, they rode on
towards the fort, where the General was received with an enthusiasm which
grew higher when the Argyleshire Highlanders marched in with all their
kilted pipers playing 'The Campbells are coming.'

The fort was destroyed and abandoned, and on the 4th of April the
united columns began to fall back on Ginghilovo, the Mounted Infantry as
usual in front, but clad in the uniform of that service—a Norfolk jacket and
long untanned boots, all patched and worn now.

It was justly conceived that the laager would not be reached without
fighting, as a body of Zulus, led in person by Dabulamanzi and the son of
Sirayo, was expected to bar the way, and consequently serious loss of life
was expected; but so far as Florian was concerned, he felt that he could face
any danger now with comparative indifference, and his daily pleasure
consisted in carefully grooming and feeding Tattoo; and Florian, as he rode
on, was thinking with some perplexity of the farewell words of Captain
Hammersley.

'Good-bye, sergeant—we have all our troubles, I suppose, whatever they

are, and I should not care much if mine were ended here at Ginghilovo.'

'I should think that you cannot have much to trouble you, sir,' was
Florian's laughing response as he left him.

CHAPTER XIV.

NEWS FROM THE SEAT OF WAR.

It was a soft and breezy April morning. The young leaves had scarcely
burst their husk-like sheaths in the alternate showers and sunshine; the
lambs were bleating in the meadows, the birds sang on bush and tree, the
white clouds were floating in the azure sky, and the ivy rustled on the old
walls of turreted Craigengowan, when there came some tidings that found a
sharp echo in the hearts of Dulcie and Finella.

Arm-in-arm, as girls will often do, they were idling and talking of
themselves and their own affairs in all the luxury of being together alone,
near a stately old gateway of massive iron bars, hung on solid pillars,
surmounted by time-worn wyverns, and all around it, without and within,
grew tall nettles, mighty hemlock, and other weeds; while the avenue to
which it once opened had disappeared, and years upon years ago been
blended with the lawn, for none had trod it for 146 years, since the last loyal
Laird of Craigengowan had ridden forth to fight for King James VIII.,
saying that it was not to be unclosed again till his return; and he returned no
more, so it remains closed unto this day.

And it has been more than once averred by the peasantry that on the 13th
of November, the anniversary of the battle in which he fell, when the night
wind is making an uproar in the wintry woods of Craigengowan, the low
branches crashing against each other, a weird moon shines between rifts in
the black flying clouds, and the funeral-wreaths of the departed harvest
flutter on the leafless hedges, a spectred horseman, in the costume of Queen
Anne's time, his triangular hat bound with feathers, a square-skirted coat
and gilded gambadoes—a pale, shimmering figure, through which the stars
sparkle—can be seen outside the old iron gate, gazing with wistful and
hollow eyes through the rusty bars, as if seeking for the vanished avenue
down which he had ridden with his cuirassed troop to fight for King James
VIII.; for sooth to say, old Craigengowan is as full of ghostly legends as
haunted Glamis itself.

Finella had just told this tale to Dulcie when a valet rode past the gate
and entered the lawn by another with the post-bag for the house. From this
Finella took out a newspaper—one of the many it contained—and with
eager eyes the two girls scanned its columns for the last news from
Zululand, and simultaneously a shrill exclamation, which made the man
turn in his saddle as he rode on, escaped them both.

The paper contained a brief telegraphic notice of the conflict at the

laager of Ginghilovo, and with it the following paragraph:
 'Captain Vivian Hammersley, of the unfortunate 24th Regiment, led a
squadron of Barrow's Mountain Infantry; and having, with the most brilliant
gallantry, pressed the flying foe much too far, had his horse shot under him,
and was in danger of being instantly assegaied by several infuriated
savages, who were driven off and shot down in quick succession by
Sergeant Florian MacIan, who mounted the wounded officer on his own
horse and brought him safely into the lines, for which noble act of humanity
and valour he is, we believe, recommended for promotion by Captain
Barrow, of the 19th Hussars, commanding the Mounted Infantry, and by
Lord Chelmsford. The fatal day of Isandhlwana has made many
commissions vacant in the unfortunate 24th Foot; and we have no doubt
that one of them will be conferred upon this gallant young sergeant.'

'Oh, Dulcie, let me kiss you—I can't kiss your Florian just now!'
exclaimed the impulsive Finella, embracing her companion, whose eyes,
like her own, were brimming with tears of joy and sympathy.

Hammersley had received a wound of which no details were given; and

that circumstance, by its vaguity, filled the heart of Finella with the keenest
anxiety. Oh, if he should die believing what he did of her, when she had
been and was still so true and loyal to him!

The intelligence rather stunned her; and for some minutes she remained
paralyzed with dismay. She was powerless, with all her wealth, to succour
in any way her suffering lover, and no resolution could shape itself in her
mind. He might be dying, or already dead, for the fight had taken place
some days ago—dying amid suffering and misery, while she remained idly,
lazily, and in comfort amid the luxuries of Craigengowan. Even Dulcie
failed to console her; and declining to appear at the breakfast-table, she took
refuge in her own room, with the usual feminine plea of a headache.

'Florian, poor dear Florian! so good, so brave, so fearless!' said Dulcie to

herself aloud; 'how glad I am he has achieved this, for her sake!'
 How sweet and soft grew her voice as she uttered the name of the lost,
the absent one, while an hysterical lump was rising in her throat, and
Shafto, who had seen the paper and knew the source of this emotion, looked
grimly in her face, with twitching lips and knitted brows.

'I have no chance,' thought he, 'with these two girls—either Dulcie the
poor or Finella the rich. Yet why should I not contrive to bend both to my
purpose?' was his evil afterthought. 'Well,' said he aloud; 'you have seen the
news, of course?'

'Yes, Shafto,' replied Dulcie in a low voice, while her tears fell fast.

'So—he is not killed yet!'

She regarded him with bitter reproach.

'Don't cry, Dulcie!' said Shafto, with a little emotion of shame, 'or you
will make me feel like a brute now.'

'I always thought you must have felt like one long ago,' retorted the girl,
as she swept disdainfully past him.

As Lord and Lady Fettercairn had no desire to bring the name of Captain
Hammersley on the tapis, no reference whatever to the affair of Ginghilovo,
or even to the Zulu War, was made in the presence of Finella.

Even if the latter had not been engaged, as she still could not help
deeming herself, to Hammersley, and had she not a decided, repugnance to
Shafto, her pride and her whole soul must have revolted against a mariage
de convenance. She had formed, girl-like, her own conceptions of an ideal
man, and beyond all whom she met, in London or elsewhere, Vivian
Hammersley was her 'Prince Charming;' and in a day or two her mind was
partially set at rest when she read a description of his wound, a flesh one,
inflicted by an assegai, and which was then healing fast, but, as she knew,
only to enable him to face fresh perils.

To be bartered away to anyone after being grotesquely wooed did not

suit her independent views, and ere long her grandparents began to think
with annoyance that they had better let her alone; but Lady Fettercairn was
impatient and irrepressible.

Not so Shafto.

He had a low opinion of the sex, picked up perhaps in the bar-parlour of

the inn at Revelstoke, if not inherent in his own nature. He had read
somewhere that 'women love a judicious mixture of hardihood and flattery
—the whole secret lies in that;' also, that if their hearts are soft their heads
are softer in proportion.

Lady Fettercairn was somewhat perplexed when watching the young

folks at Craigengowan.

She shrewdly suspected, of course, that Finella's coldness to Shafto was

due to the influence of their late guest Hammersley, though she never could
have guessed at the existence of the wedding-ring and diamond keeper he
had entrusted to her care; but she failed to understand the terms on which
her 'grandson' was with her companion, Miss Carlyon, and, though there
was nothing tangible or reprehensible, there was an undefined something in
their bearing she did not like.

Sometimes when talking of Devonshire, of Revelstoke, of the old town

of Newton Ferrars, the dell that led to Noss, of the Yealm, the Erme, and the
sea-beat Mewstone as safe and neutral topics, the girl seemed affable
enough to him, for memories of her English home softened her heart; but
when other topics were broached she was constrained to him and icy cold.

Was this acting?

To further the interests of Shafto by keeping him and Finella isolated and
as much together as possible, Lady Fettercairn did not go to London and
thus seek society. Fashionable folks—unless Parliamentary—do not return
to town till Easter; but Lord Fettercairn, though a Representative Peer, cared
very little about English and still less about Scottish affairs, or indeed any
interests but his own; so, instead of leaving Craigengowan, they had invited
a few guests there—men who had come for rod-fishing in the Bervie, the
Carron and the Finella, with some ladies to entertain them, thus affording
the girl means of avoiding Shafto whenever she chose.

The stately terrace before the house often looked gay from the number of
guests promenading in the afternoon, or sitting in snug corners in wicker
chairs covered with soft rugs—the ladies drinking tea, the bright colours of
their dresses coming out well against the grey walls of the picturesque old
mansion.

Among other visitors were the vinegar-visaged Lady Drumshoddy, and

Messrs. Kippilaw, senior and junior, the latter a dapper little tomtit of a
Writer to the Signet, intensely delighted and flattered to be among such
'swell' company, believing it was the result of his natural brilliance and
attractions, and not of respect for his worthy old father, Kenneth Kippilaw.

The latter—a rara avis, scarce as the dodo and his kindred—was
intensely national—a lover of his country and of everything Scottish; an
enthusiast at Burns' festivals, and singularly patriotic to be what is locally
termed a 'Parliament House bred man.' Thus the anti-nationality or utter
indifference of Lord Fettercairn was a frequent bone of contention between
them; and so bitterly did they sometimes argue about Scotland and her
neglected interests, that it is a marvel the Peer did not seek out a more
obsequious agent.

'Like his uncle, the late Master of Melfort, Mr. Shafto must go into
Parliament,' said old Mr. Kippilaw; 'but I hope he will make a better use of
his time.'

'What do you mean?' asked Lord Fettercairn coldly.

'By attending to Scottish affairs, and getting us equal grants with

England and Ireland for public purposes.'

'Stuff—the old story, my dear sir. Who cares about Scotland or her
interests?'

'Ay, who indeed!' exclaimed old Kippilaw, growing warm.