Miss Graham is a
dangerous woman. She has a very beautiful smile; but she is the sort of
woman who can smile and murder while she smiles. But she may be made a
very useful tool, notwithstanding."
"A tool?"
"Yes; a good workman takes his tools wherever he finds them. I may be
in want of just such a tool as Lydia Graham."
All went merry as a marriage-bell at Raynham Castle during the bright
August weather. The baronet was unspeakably happy. Honoria, too, was
happy in the novelty of her position; happy in the knowledge of her
husband's love. His noble nature had won the reward such natures should
win. He was beloved by his young wife as few men are beloved in the
heyday of their youth. Her affection was reverential, profound, and
pure. To her mind, Oswald Eversleigh was the perfection of all that is
noble in mankind, and she was proud of his devotion, grateful of his
love.
No guest at the castle was more popular than Victor Carrington, the
surgeon. His accomplishments were of so varied a nature as to make him
invaluable in a large party, and he was always ready to devote himself
to the amusement of others. Sir Oswald was astonished at the
versatility of his nephew's friend. As a linguist, an artist, a
musician, Victor alike shone pre-eminent; but in music he was
triumphant. Professing only to be an amateur, he exhibited a scientific
knowledge, a mechanical proficiency, as rare as they were admirable.
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