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Updated: June 17, 2025
One day, Rupert Holliday with Pat Dillon had met their friends Lord Fairholm and Sir John Loveday, whose regiment was quartered in the town, at the principal wine shop, a large establishment, which was the great gathering place of the officers of the garrison.
Captain, Sir John Franklin, KCH; Commander, James Fitzjames; Lieutenants, Graham Gore, Henry T. Le Vesconte, James William Fairholm; mates, Charles T. des Vaux, Robert O'Sargent; second master, Henry F. Collins; surgeon, Stephen Stanley; assistant surgeon, Harry D.S. Goodsir; paymaster and purser, Charles H. Osmer; master, James Reid, acting; fifty-eight petty officers, seamen, etcetera.
"You did me an ill service, my lord," he said, turning to Lord Fairholm, "by holding me back when I would have taken my proper place. I shall never hold up my head again. But it will not be for long, for when he has killed Rupert I will seek him wherever he may go, and force him to kill me, too." "My dear Dillon, I knew what I was doing," Lord Fairholm said.
"Keep cool yourself," said Beth dryly. "I'm all right." Dr. Dan glanced at her sideways, and saw that she was laughing. When they arrived at Fairholm, he made much of the incident. "If I hadn't had my wits about me, there would have been a smash," he vowed. "But I happened to be on the spot myself, and Miss Beth behaved admirably.
Even if her faculties have not atrophied for want of use, all that should have been cultivated lies latent in her; she has nothing to fall back upon, and her life is spoilt. Beth stood idly drumming on the window-pane for long hours after the boys had gone. Then she got her battered old hat, walked out to Fairholm, and wandered over the ground where she had been wont to retrieve for Jim.
Lord Fairholm had asked him to tell no one; but he meant, no doubt, that he should tell none of his brother officers. On Hugh's silence, whatever happened, he could rely, and he would be useful to hold the horses. At any rate, if not wanted, he could return. "Ay, Hugh, you can come; and look you, slip a brace of pistols quietly into each of our holsters."
At preparation that evening she sat so that she could see the river, and watched it idly instead of working; and presently there floated into her mind the rhyme she made when she was a little child at Fairholm "The fairy folk are calling me." Suddenly she caught her breath, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkled, her whole aspect changed from apathy to animation, and she laughed.
"Shall I read you some verses?" he asked, "which he must have composed, poor fellow, on board the 'Stormy Petrel, though he probably wrote them at Fairholm afterwards." "Yes, do." And Montagu, in his pleasant musical voice, read me, with much feeling, these lines, written in Eric's boyish hand, and signed with his name.
"It was clear that either he or you had to meet this German cutthroat." "But," Dillon asked, in astonishment, "why would you rather that your friend Rupert should be killed than I?" "You are not putting the case fairly," Lord Fairholm said. "Did it stand so, I should certainly prefer that you should run this risk than that Rupert should do so. But the case stands thus.
As often, however, as, with no greater change than touching the free ends of the wire with her thumbs, Mrs. R. established again a direct contact with the instrument, it again moved. The motion again ceased, as often as that direct contact was interrupted. This simple narrative, made to me by the late Mr. George Fairholm, carried conviction to my mind of the reality of the phenomenon.
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