Gabrielle and Walter were seated together under one of the big oaks at the edge of the tennis-lawn at Connachan. With May Spencer and Lady Murie they had been playing; but his mother and the young girl had gone into the house for tea, leaving the lovers alone. "What's the matter with you to-day, darling?" he had asked as soon as they were out of hearing. "You don't seem yourself, somehow."
All I know is that the girl is back with her father, and that he knows much more than he ought to know." "Murie could not have assisted her," Flockart declared decisively. "The old man suspects him of taking those Russian papers from the safe." "How do you know he hasn't cleared himself of the suspicion? He may have done. The old man dotes upon the girl." "I know all that."
Cullen, ibid. 1865, p. 145; Mr. Flower, in 'Proc. Zool. Soc. 1865, p. 747; and Dr. Murie, in 'Proc. Zool. Soc. 1868, p. 471. In this latter paper an excellent figure is given of the male Australian Bustard in full display with the sack distended. This bird has on its neck a long, thin, cylindrical fleshy appendage, which is thickly clothed with scale-like blue feathers.
He wrote that he'd spoken one night to you when at supper at the Savoy. You had a bevy of beauties with you, he said." Both men laughed. In the old days, Edgar Hamilton had been essentially a ladies' man; but, since they had parted one evening on the station-platform at Oxford, Hamilton had gone up to town and completely out of the life of Walter Murie.
As he was speaking she was wondering if she dared go to Walter Murie and tell him everything. What would her lover think of her? What indeed? He would only cast her aside as worthless. No. Far better that he should remain in ignorance and retain only sad memories of their brief happiness. "I am going to Glencardine to-night," Flockart went on. "I shall join the mail at Peterborough.
At six o'clock that morning she had written a long letter to Walter Murie. She had not mentioned the midnight incident, but she had, with many expressions of regret, pointed out the futility of any further affection between them. She had not attempted to excuse herself.
They strolled on together through the wood, and out across the open corn-fields. The moon had come forth again, the storm-clouds had passed, and the night was perfect. Though she was trying against her will to hold aloof from Walter Murie, yet she loved him with all her heart and soul. Many letters she had addressed to him in his travels had remained unanswered. This had, in a measure, piqued her.
As full of high spirits as of high principles, he was in every way worthy the name of the gallant family whose name he bore, a Murie of Connachan, both for physical strength and scrupulous honesty; while his affection for Gabrielle Heyburn was that deep, all-absorbing devotion which makes men sacrifice themselves for the women they love. He was not very demonstrative.
To those who had made mention of the Whispers among them his friend Murie, the Laird of Connachan; Lord Strathavon, from whom he had purchased the estate; and several of the neighbouring landowners he had always expressed a hope that one day he might be fortunate enough to hear the whispered counsel of the Evil One, and so decide for himself its true cause.
Now, the manatee has not the slightest trace of a pinna or external ear, a small orifice, like a slit, representing that organ. To quote the precise language of Murie in the Proceedings of the London Zoological Society, vol. 8, p. 188: "In the absence of pinna, a small orifice, a line in diameter, into which a probe could be passed, alone represents the external meatus."