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S Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one thousand eight hundred and eighty-nine, by William Brioos, Book Steward of the Methodist Boole and Publishing Uouae, Toronto, at the Department of Agriculture. t i I i ^m^ SHADOWED LIVES. ) ♦♦ < CHAPTER I. GOSSIP. LITTLE village which looked a very haven of peace and rest. A straggling street ol picturesque irregularly built houses, with a burn wimpling past the doors, on its way to the glen beyond. Sheltering hills, heather clad and crowned by sturdy firs on one side, and on the other miles and miles of fertile plain smiling with many a daisied meadow and yellow corn field. A place so far removed from the busy world that one would think its inhabitants secure from its care and strife. Not so. There were care and worldly-mind edness in their hearts, and an insatiable love of gossip. There was no railway station in Strathlinn, but the market town of D , eight miles distant, was accessible by coach thrice a week. Wednesdays and Saturdays were days of unusual stir in the sleepy little village. The coach arrived from D at mid-day, and woe betide the stranger whom business or pleasure constrained to visit The Linn. No stone was left unturned to dis- cover who he was and whence he came, and his antecedents and projects were dissected with scientific minuteness. The Linn Arms (high sounding title for so tmy an hostelry) was the rendezvous for the gossips, GOSSIP. for its buxom landlady had a weakness for tattling, and her siilmg room was the most comfortable in the village. She was a widow, with five rosy rollicking children, and a heart big enou;;h for as many more. A true friend in sickness and in health, in joy or in sorrow, was Mrs. Scott. Trouble seemed to melt away beneath the cheery smile on her kindly face. There was a lack of good society about The Linn ; it was not a place to which prosperous business men would retire to pass the evening of their days, nor was it sought after by maiden ladies of independent means, though the exquisite beauty of the surrounding scenery might have tempted many to make it their residence, in spite of the drawbacks. The minister and the doctor composed the aristoc- racy, and the latter could scarcely be included, for he dwelt fully two miles distant. He was a young man, lately come to The Linn, and had purchased from the Laird of Glentarne the small property of Clunj'. Rumours were afloat that a fair young wife was in the clever doctor's head when he made his purchase. It rnay have been so. Hamilton of Glentarne was lord of the manor. Far and near the smiling homesteads owned h's sway. And the old home of the Hamiltons was as fair an heritage as any man could desire. The grey old castle, with its weather-beaten towers and turrets stood upon a richly wooded slope overlooking The Linn, and commanding a magnificent view of the plain beyond. At the time of which I write the Laird of Glentarne was still a minor, and the only child of his widowed mother. They dwelt alone at the old castle, and it was whispered that it was not so happy a home for her since the old laird died, and that her son inherited all the vices of his race without the virtues. In time it may be ours to prove the truth of these whisperings. A still sultry summer day. GOSSIP. A cloudless sky above, and a brooding sunshine over all. TIk" f.iiiit rustle of leaves in the suninier woods, and the dreamy clur|)in.; of sleepy birds. No sound stirring the quiet in the village street save the luiin of the bees, and the occa-^ionul tlan^ of the hammer the bla< k^milh wielded in ills miylity hand. In the wide j)',)rch of the Linn Arms stood the buxom landlady, gazing up the street, with one plump hand shading her t\es fr(jm the sun. She wore a light calico dre^s, and a lace cap adorned with hu^^e red roses. She had discarded the badges of her widowhood shortly after her bireavcment, a procceiling much commented on by the neighbours, though not one of them venturel to hint tlu'U she did not mourn her husband sincerely in her heart. The forge w:^s directly opposite the inn, and the blacksmith's pretty cottage adjoined. It was there Mrs. Scott's interest ceiiired. She was privately wondering whether the smith's wife was too busy to feel incHned for a frieiitlly chat. As if divining her wish her neighbour at that moment threw open the cottage door, and sauntered down to the garden gate. She was an angular woman, and a bony, with an eagle eye and a thin hard face. She wore a brown wincey dress, and a blue neckerchief crossed upcn her bosom. Her rough hair was brushed tightly back from her brow, and fastened in a hard knot behind. An unpleasant woman to look at at any time, and especially unpleasant on a bright summer day, when everything else was beaut ilul. " Fine day, Nancy," sounded Mrs. Scott's cheery voice through the stillness. *' Craps should ripen the day." " Maybe," retorted Mrs. Irvine, abruptly and sna[>[)islily. '♦ It's a hantle warmer than need be, I'm thinkin'." 8 GOSSIP. " Hoo's a* wi' ye the day,** inquired her neighbour, rot noticing the cross-grained speech. ** Was that Jock I saw come hame tiie day." " Ay, 'twas Jock, ye may be sure ; bad ha'pennies aye turn up," returned Nancy, opening the gate and crossing the road. "Maister Bruce paid him aflf yestreen for idleset, an' he just cam hame as cool as ye Hke. He disna care a bawbee, he says ; he disna want tae be a grocer." " What does his faither say ? " enquired Mrs. Scott, sympathetically. ** His faither ! " echoes Nancy, scornfully. " Ye ken brawly what Sandy Irvine is, Jean, a saft, daidlin' crater, wi' no a thocht in his heid but eat, an' sleep, an' smoke that confoondit pipe. If it wasna for me haudin' at him there wadna be muckle wark dune ower by. Men folk's naething but heart breaks." Why Mrs. Irvine had ever entered the bands matrimonial, or how Sandy had ever screwed up courage to ask her, remain to this day inscrutable mysteries. " Jist some men,** corrected the widow, remember- ing her own husband. " They're no a' bad." Nancy Irvine shook her head. "An* as for bairns," she said, grimly, "they're beyond speakin' o'. I've jist ane, an' he's a hantle mair bother than he*s worth. I dinna ken hoo ye manage five.*' "They're guid bairns,** said the widow, with motherly pride. "Geordie's jist his faither ower again." At that moment a shadow fell across the sunlit path, and a slight graceful girl passed them, with a smile and a cordial good afternoon. Her face was one of the sweetest eyes could rest on, not because of its beauty, but because Heaven's own sunshine shone GOSSIP. bour, that with ower upon it Even Nancy Irvine's grim mouth relaxed with momentary softnesH, for the minister's only child was dear to every one of his people. " It's gaun tae be sune, I hear," whispered Mrs. Scott eagerly. " Doctor Forbes is geitin* a heap o' braw furniter hame tae Cluny, an' my guid-brither's gotten an order for some o' Miss Haldane's things. It'll be a sair day for the minister when she gets mairret, though she's no gaun faur awa." " Nae doot," admitted Mrs. Irvine. " Deed, if she only kent it, she's better the noo than ever she'll be. Lassies are no wise mairryin' an' fleein' intae a peck o* troubles." " I'm thinkin' the wundll no get leave tae blaw on the Doctor's wife," said Mrs. Scott. " An' they'll be a braw couple, a perfect sicht for sair een." " She'll be gaun up tae the schule tae tea wi* Miss Kenyon the noo," said Nancy Irvine. " The twa's never pairtet I dinna like that Miss Kenyon, she's ower quiet an* sleekit." " Nancy 1 " exclaimed Mrs. Scott, indignantly, ** ye're the first that ever said an ill word aboot her. My certy, if some folk heard ye ye wadna be richt. There's no her better in a* The Linn, nor oot o'd aither." " Humph," said Mrs. Irvine, ** Vm no sayin' Od there's that Jock awa intae the smiddy tae pit his faither aff his wark," and Nancy started off like an arrow. Mrs. Scott watched the lank awkward looking lad slouching into the forge, and when the next moment she saw his mother administer a smart slap on the side of his cheek, and heard her shrill tongue calling him for iaziiiess, she retired into the house, her sides shaking with silent laughter. CHAPTER II. FORESHADOWINGS. 'HE School Stood at the further end of the village. \\\ A long low white-washed building (it was before *15^ the advent of the School Board), its wide door- %^ way sheltered by two giant elms, towering above the low wall of the school-house garden. That wall could not have been intended for a barricade again;;t intruders, for the school children scaled it unmolested, and made satisfactory acquaintance with the master's fruit trees under his very eyes. It is recorded that he has been known to shake the trees himself and help them to fill pockets and aprons. Surely that is a pleasant record, and one which some of us would do well to imitate. On that July afternoon the door and windows of the school house were flung wide open, and though the hum of voices sonnded pleasantly enough outside., when combined with the close hot air within, it became infinitely trying. The master was giving them the Bible lesson which invariably closed the labours of the day, and once or twice his hand stole wearily across his brow as he gently tried to gain silence and an attentive hearing. He was not a young man, neither could he be called old, though his thin hair was plentifully streaked with grey. His forehead was high and broad, and deep thoughtful eyes looked out from beneath strongly marked brows. The mouth was as tender and mobile as a woman's. It was a tine FORESHADOWINGS. II village. ; before e door- ; above lat wall againijt olested, naster's that he id help lat is a ould do 's of the Ligh the outside, became em the s of the f across and a.i neither air was ad was ked out mouth s a hue face, one which men and women instinctively tnisted, and on which Httle children loved to look. Chrisiophi-r Kenyon was a man of much learning, of simple yet refined tastes, of childlike faith in the God above him, and a heart full of love and kindness to every living creature — ore of these rare unselfish natures, which we may encounter once in a life time, not oftener. He was the idol of his scholars, though with the thoughtlessness of youth tliey did not scruple sorely to try his patience. Punctually at four (the school master was methodical in his habits), he gave the signal to disperse. In a moment the orderly room was a scene of wild coiifusion. Overturning desks and forms, knocking down books and slates without pausing to pick them up again, the children rushed pell meli into the still sunshine. In two m'Viutes the master was alone, and he stood in one of the windows watching with a dreamy smile, the light-hearted band trooping out of the playground. One figure lingered in the doorway, evidently longing, yet fearing to go back and talk to the master. It was a girl's figure clad in a loose pinafore and a short dress, beneath which peeped cut a bare foot whose perfect symmetry a queen might have envied. She could not be more than fourteen, but already face and figure gave promise of a beauty which in woman- hood would be marvellous. The features were delicately cut, the eyes were violet and shaded by exquisite lashes; while the small shapely head wore a crown of golden hair, loosely co.ifined in a blue ribbon. When the master at length came to the door, she looked at him shyly as if her courage failed her. " Well, Lizzie," he said, bending his deep kindly eyes upon her face, *' Is there anything I can do for you ?" She raised her eyes to the grave thoughtful face, and said in a voice, which the broad guttural Scotch could (I 11 12 FORESHADOW INGS. id )! I I |i II llili i! ;i not make unmusical, "Please sir, I'm vext I didna dae what ye telt me the day. I'll hae my lessons perfect the morn," and before he could answer, she sped from him with step as light and fle>..'t as a gazelle's. He remembered then that she had disobeyed him early in the day, and well pleased with the oddly expressed repentance, he locked the door, and went home to relate the little episode to his sister. Outside the playground, a tall handsome lad patiently awaited the penitent's coming; and he turned to meet her with a question on his lips, " I'm gaun doon the glen tae fish. Lizzie, are ye comin'?" The girl shook her head. " Ye needna waited for me, Jamie Duncan,'* she said pettishly, *• I'm gaun straicht hame." A slight shade of disappointment crossed the lad's fine open face. " Come on, Liz," he said coaxingly. " Uncle Peter cam frae Embro' last nicht and brocht me a bonnie new rod, It'll catch a big troot every time ye drap in the line." Lizzie looked incredulous. "Whauris't?" " I left it i' the hoose till I saw whether ye wad come or no. We'll gang up past Lea Rig and get it." ** Weel, if ye'U carry my bag and let me fish maist o* the time," she stipulated, " I'll gang for a wee while." ** Come on then," said Jami readily, never pausing to consider the extreme selfishness of her arrangements, and the two strolled leisurely down the village, and into the uy-path leading to the glen. " Walk slow, Liz, and I'll gang up tae tlie hoose for the rod and mak' up on ye ''.fore ye get tae the brig." Lizzie nodded, and swingi:\g her hat ovei' her arm, went on. When he joined iier again she found her tongue in admiration of the rod, and soon the two stood together upon the old bridge, Lizzie receiving her first lesson in the art of angling. It was a pretty I on I th( pel art PORESHADOWINGS. «3 didna erfect , from He arly in tressed >me to e ihe ed the with a ae fish. "Ye e said ; shade n face. ; Peter bonnie e drap ye wad 1 get it." )h maist i while." pausing [ements, and into cose for e brig." ler arm, und her the two eceiving a pretty picture. The girl in her picturesque dress, her face flushed with momentary excitement, and her eyes dancing with pleasure, anxiously watching the line dipping into the sparkling water, and the boy leaning against the moss grown-parapet, delighted with his companion's manifest enjoyment of his favourite amusement In Jamie Duncan's nature also, there was something of the unselfishness which characterized the schoolmaster. In after years he had sore need of it all. The pair did not dream of curious eyes watching them scarcely a hundred yards away. Under a great beech tree almost hidden by its spreading boughs, two gentlemen were lounging, and for a time conversation had been at a discount. The younger of the two was only a youth, small of stature, and slightly built, and his sallow face was stamped with the weak indecision which had been the curse of the Hamiltons from the beginning. His eyes were languidly closed, and even in its repose, the face was not pleasant to look upon. The features were passable, but the expression was absolutely repellent Cold, sctering and selfish were the long thin lips, and they were a true index of the heart within. His companion looked at least ten years his senior, and in personal appearance at least was infinitely his superior. His figure was tall and well proportioned, and the face undeniably handsome, yet in it also there was a subtle something, which repelled a close observer. In Ralph Mortimer's face there was no trace of weak indecision, for there was none in the soul within. " I say, Jasper," he said, after watching the picture on the bridge for a minute or two in silence. " Look there I a regular landscape. Who is the girl ? A perfect beauty, by Jove I " Jasper Hamilton indolently raised himself on one arm, and glanced in the direction indicated. i m u rORESIIADOWINOS. " Ob, that's Falroner's girl, the tenant of the Home Fftrm. You know liim." " Yes, 1 believe I've seen the fellow," returned Ralph. "And who is her cavalier. Quite interesting they look, 'pon honour." "Duncan is iiis name," returned Jasper Hamilton, res.uming his old position ; '* farmer's son up at Lea Rig." " 1 think 1 hear Maud's rapture if she could see that. She would think her a regular shepherdess. By Jove, what a face ! and the figure will be as perfect in a year or two." " Jf you like, since you speak of your sister, Ralph," said his companion, " I'll get my mother to ask her down while you are here." Ralph Mortimer listened with a sneer on his lips. " Ask Maud here," he repeated, " your lady mother would not do that even for you, my dear fellow, she only tolerates me because I'm your shadow whom you can't get rid of, but Maud ." " I can ask who I will to Glentarne," interrupted Sir Jasper haughtily. "My mother would be courteous to any of my guests." *' Yes, Lady Hamilton never jails in courtesy," admitted Mortimer, the scorn deepening in his face, " but she can and does make your guests deuced uncomfortable sometimes when they don't happen to please her fastidious taste. You are not altogether your own master, Jasper, as long as the old lady is to the fore." The covert sneer brought the hot blood to Jasper's sallow cheek, but he did not resent the disrespectful allusion to his mother. ♦' The old lady knows whether or not I am my own master, I fancy," returned he with a half laugh. " She has discovered that I decline to remain tied to the maternal apron string, much as she would like it." Ah well, indeed, that the all-patient, loving mother I i rORESHADOWINGS. «S Home eturned cresting amilton, up at if she regular gure will Ralph," abk her is lips, y mother How, she hom you terrupted courteous :on never he scorn oes make nes when ste. You IS long as Jasper's respectful 1 my own h. "She ed to the ke it." g mother did not hear the cruel words, she had borne much already. " i>et us disturb the embryo lovers," suirgested Mortimer, chaii^ini^ the ihcine. " I want to hear the houn speak as well as get a beUer look at her. Come on." " No need to get up," returned the other lazily, *' I'll bring her. lazzie," he .shouted, ** come here. 1 want you." The girl started at the unexpected summons, and turned her surprised eyes to the spot where they lay; while the indignant blood surged to Jamie Duncan's face at the imperious voice. " Dinna look round, Lizzie," he whispered. " It's the laird and his friend ; but even the laird has nae business tae speak tae you like that. Dinna gang." Lizzie hesitated between awe of the laird and her reluctance to leave her companion. " Dinna gang, Lizzie," repeated he earnestly. " If t>iey want ye, let them rise." She turned her head and dropped the line into the water again, trembling at her own temerity in daring to disobey a personage so important as Sir Jasper. " You don't seem to have much influence there," laughed Mortimer, enjoying his friend's defeat, and noting the angry light flashing in his eyes. " Since the mountain wont come to Mahomet, he must go to the mountain I suppose. Come on." They botli rose, and leisurely crossed the velvety turf to the water's edge. Mortimer went close to Lizzie, and bending his bold eyes upon her fair downcast face, uttered a few words of praise, plain enough even to her unaccus- tomed ears. She was woman enough already to feel pleased by the notice of such a great gentleman as the laird's friend. But Jamie Duncan's soul chafed .ij Id PORFSHADOWINGS. alike at the words and the manner in which they were spoken. " Come awa hame, Lizzie," he said, touching his cap to Sir Jasper. "We've bidden ower lang aheady." He took the dripping rod from Lizzie's hand, and waited for her to accompany him. " You can go, Duncan," said the laird imperiously ; " Lizzie's way is ours. We can see her safely home." He did not dare to disobey ; yet he lingered a moment hoping the girl would prefer to go with him. But she turned away with the gentlemen without so much as answering his parting greeting. Hurt and angry he shouldered his rod and set off home, little dreaming that the first act of the tragedy of Lizzie Falconer's life and his had been played that summer aitemooD. they were ching his aheady." land, and periously ; y home." ingered a i^ith him. ivithout so Hurt and ome, little of Lizzie it summer CHAPTER IIL THE KENVONS. 'T was five years since Christopher Kenyon and his sister came to The Linn. Beyond the fact that they were orphans and of English birth, the gossips knew nothing of their antecedents. The application for the vacant mastership had been sent in the usual form, accompanied by exceptionally high tes- timonials. It bore the London post mark, and in due time the master arrived, bringing with him the grave, quiet, sad-eyed girl whom he introduced as his sister Sara. At first they were looked upon with suspicious eyes as unknown intruders, who must be tried before being received into full intercourse with the dwellers in The Linn. Th 3y lived in strict seclusion, seeking kindness or favour from none ; until their unobtrusive gentleness and kindness of heart won them the few friends they cared to possess. To them it was evident that the past had some terrible sorrow which still shadowed their lives. Though Sara Kenyon was in- variably serene and cheerful, she seldom laughed, and there was a tinge of sadness in her rare smile, which made it infinitely sobering. The strong, tender, per- fect love between the brother and sister was something wonderful ; hers was the stronger nature, and the schoolmaster was nothing without her. On the evening of the fishing expedition they were together in the sitting-room. He was busy with the registers, but he paused every few minutes to listen B i8 THE KENYUNS. and respond to the cheerful voire which was the dearest on earth to him. No, I am wrong ; there was unotlier, but of her he dared not dream. The window was oj)cn, and the evening breeze swayed the wliite curtams to and fro and played with a stray ringlet on Sara Kcnyon's brow, as she sat within their shade sewing busily. I do not know that many people would have called Sara Kenyon beauti- ful, for her face lacked colouring and regularity of feature. Soft brown hair, whuh no brush would induce to lie smooth above the low while brow, sweet hazel eyes, fringed by long l.ishes, a straight nose, and a grave womanly mouth, with lips slighdy drooping were her only beauties ; but it was a face which once seen would linger in the mind like a i)leasant memory. She looked five or six-and-twenty, perhaps more. It was dilhcult to define her age, for her figure was wonderfully girlish in its outline. Her dress was almost severe in its simplicity, and she wore no orna- ment but a small gold brooch, with a flashing stone in its centre. It was a diamond of rare purity and lustre. "Kit," she said presently, peeping round the curtain, " when you are done we might go to the manse for a little while. Mary has not been here this week." " Yes, Sara." The schoolmaster was a man of few words, but the look whicli acconi))anied his answer told how gladly he would go anywhere with her. Miss Kenyon folded up her work, and laid it in the basket by her side, and, leaning her arm on the window sill, looked out into the flower-laden gatne, *' I am ptember." Cenyon, in ik it would »o offers to les, I don't es so much nter, at any th us till we are tired of him," she said, " and you can imnKJnc when that will be. John persuaded him. O barOf you don't know how good he is." *' How old arc you, Mary?" The abrupt question surprised her listener. "Twenty-one next month." " You are very young, child,** she said gravely, and suddenly drawing her into the arbour they were passing, she placed both her hands on the girl's shoulders, and looked into her fare, a stran^'e i)athos in her own. "My darling, I hope G'"-' will be good to you in your married life, and that your husband's love may never fail you. Though I shall never be blest as you are, my prayers for your happiness are none the less sincere." " Sara ! " She would have uttered the questions oti her lips, imt something in that patient, sorrowful face, kept them back, but her eyes filled with sudden tears. Miss Kenyon stooped and kissed her, the only time she had ever done it, and said in her quiet cheerful voice, " Come, dear, we must go in or I am afraid Mr. Haldane will be out to look for us," so they went back to the house. Before many minutes had gone another visitor came to the school-house. Returning from a long ride, Dr. Forbes caught sight of a sweet face at the window, and springing from his horse he lied it to the gate, and came up the garden path. "Won't you come in. Doctor Forbes," said Miss Kenyon, but the young man shook his head. " Not to-night, thank you. Miss Kenyon." he said, leaning against the side of the window, " Where has Mary gone. M iss Kenyon laughed. " Not very far. Do come in and look for her." It was easy to see that the ftt THE KFNVONS. Il'lll ' ilii II young doctor was a welcome visitor in the school- master's house. He was one of the friends Christopher Kenyon and his sister had made in The Linn. " Where have you been, John," asked the minister. Vulcan looks as if he had ridden a good many miles to-day." "Thirty or thereabouts I believe," returned he, with a glance at the noble animal at the gate. •' I was at D — — in the afternoon, and had to return by Glentarne ; Lady Hamilton is not well." Mary peeped round the curtain, and met a tender glance from her lover's grey eyes. "I saw Lady Hamilton out driving yesterday, John," she said, **and 1 thought she looked remarkably well." " She will never be well till her mind is at ease," returned the Doctor gravely, " Jasper Hamilton is at the bottom of his mother's illness." " Is his visitor gone," inquired the minister, " he is no favourite with Lady Hamilton.'* " How could he be ? Little as I have seen of Mr. Ralph Mortimer, I have formed my own opinion of him. He will be the ruin of that weak lad unless he breaks off his friendship with him." What was it that brought the grey pallor to Sara Kenyon's face, and almost forced a cry from her lips. She moved away from the window, before they had time to note the change in her face, and sat down in the shadow, pressing her hand to her heart as if to still its throbbing pain. She dared not meet her brother s eyes, but in his face also there was an undefinable change. " Lady Hamilton tells me Mr. Mortimer is to leave Glentarne to-morrow," continued the Doctor, not knowing how Sara Kenyon's ears were strained to hear his words. " She did not say much, but it was easy to see the relief she felt." su d( I i THE KKNYONS. •s school* isiopher minister, ny miles rned he, He. ♦' I return by a tender ly, John," bly well." at ease," ilton is at :r, " he is en of Mr. )pinion of unless he or to Sara her lips, they had It down in IS if to still r brother s ndefinable is to leave >octor, not strained to but it was I I ^ "Poor I.ndy Hamiiion!" breathed Mary, in tones of infiniti' piiy. •* Viil«:an is growitv^' inij)aticnt, so I must go," sai'^ 1 1 :llil j;,.;'I:;. 26 MOTHER AND SON. Within the curtains at the western window a gentleman stood idly drumming his fingers on the pane. Four years had not made Jasper Hamilton's slight figure more manly looking, but it had deepened the all- absorbing selfishness in his efferninare face. Once or twice the lady glanced round, but no word escaped her lips. " What a wretched dull hole this is," muttered Sir Jasper, turning from the window and flinging himsflf into a chair. " It's enough to put a fellow into the blues." His mother's sensitive ear shrunk from the coarse words. " Your father spent all his life here, Jasper," she said gently. " He did not think it dull." "My father was a — that is everybody isn't bom with such a contented mind. I've been thinking seriously of putting up Glentarne to the hammer. It's too out- landish for me." " There have been Hamiltons of Glentarne since it was built," returned Lady Hamilton, a slight flush rising to her pale cheek. " Have you no respect for the old name and race." " None. It's a beggarly inheritance," returned the young man, rising and pacing moodily up and down the floor. " If I had the cash the place would bring, the old name and race could go to the dogs." ** And spend the money at foreign gaming tables, Jasper," said his mother sadly. " Oh, my boy ! that was a bitter lesson Ralph Mortimer taught you. It is ruining you." The hopeful scion of the grand old race did not answer. He was evidently revoivmg something in his mind. •' Talking of the old name, mother," he said suddenly. " Unless I marry it must die out." -aim it \m MOTHER AND SON. 27 gentleman ne. Four ght figure 1 the all- It no word Jttered Sir ng himsflf ¥ into the the coarse sper," she. : bom with 5 seriously ;*s too out- ne since it light flush respect for :uined the and down uld bring, »» ng tables, boy! that ou. It is e did not ting in his he said ■i " Why should you not marry some day ? " said his mother listlessly. '* Time enough yet." '• I'm four-and-twenty now, so if I mean to bring a wife to Glentarne the sooner the belter; don't yuu think so?" " If you choose wisely, yes," returned Lady Hamilton, in the same hsiless tone ; but the next words roused her. " Mother, I have chosen ; wisely too, I think, and I hope to brmg my wife home belore the year is out." ii-he sat up suddenly, and looked at him with a very searching look. " You have kept it very close from me, your mother, Jasper," she said slowly. "Who is your promised wife?" Under that steady gaze his eyes fell, and he moved uneasily from its range. '' 1 don't expect you to be pleased with her; you never are with my friends," he saiil rudely. " The future Lady Hamilton is Ralph Mortimer's sister Maud." " O Jasper." That was all, but the poor lady fell back in her chair, and something like a wail escaped her lips. In her heart of hearts there had been a lingering hope that when Jasper married it would be a good woman, who would use her influence to turn him from his evil ways, and she had dreamed of better days in store for (Jlentarne. The hope was gone, and despair had filled its place. There was a long silence. Then Jasper Hamilton came to the fire, and stood looking into his mother's face, no shadow of softening in his own. *' You have never seen her, mother," he said coldly, ^1 !i| 28 MOTHER AND SOW. " It might be as well to reserve your opinion till then." "My opinion," repeated Lady Hamilton; "I passed none." " You looked a great deal," he said. " Why should you object to Maud Mortimer being my wife." " She is no tit mate for a son of our house, un- worthy though he be," returned she. " Although I do not know her, I speak from rcHable knowledge of her." "It will be as well to cwme to an understanding," he said then. •* Of course, when my wife comes to (ilontarne, she will be absolute mistress from the beginning, and I hope you will welcome her here and try to make her happy." The bowed figure rose suddenly and stood before him, and he almost quailed beneath the look of out- raged dignity in the pale worn face. *• I am your mother, and have done much for you, but this I will not do," she said haughtily. " That day Maud Mortimer enters this house, I leave it for ever. Till now, the women of your house have been of gontle birth and t- blemished famej yours will be the first mesalliance in the record of the tamily. Had Maud Mortimer been a peasant girl, lowly of heart and pure of life, I would have done what you ask, not only willingly but gladly ; but 1 have nothing but scorn for the woman, the mention of whose name was the signal for a sneering jest from »he frecjuenters of the gaming tables at Homburg." Jasper Hamilton's sillow face grew almost livid in its i)assion. He bit his thin lips till they bled, but he could not deny the truth of his mother's words. She went to him then, aU the old gentleness in her face, and laid her thin hand upon his arm. " Jasper, is it too late ?" she asked in low winning tones. " Can't you free yourself from these hateful MOTHER AND SON. «9 )pinion till lilton; "I Vhy should fe." house, un- hough I do Ige of her." irstanding," e comes to J from the er here and :ood before ook of out- ich for you, ly. " That eave it for have been )urs will be mily. Had ^ly of heart rou ask, not lothing but ; name was quenters of lost livid in ^led, but he vords. She in her face, people, and begin life anew away from their influence. Ralph Mortimer has done much harm already. He has shown yo\i how to waste the revenues of (ilen- tarne, and I tremble to think what will be the conse- quence of bringing his sister here. With that hold upon you he can do more than he has done yet, and I fear the end will be ruin for the house of Hamilton." " My wedding day is fixed for the fifteenth of July," he said, moving from her, and shaking off her pleading hand. '* You talk a lot of nonsense, mother. Ralph Mortimer is as good a fellow as I have met anywhere. If you really mean that the same roof cannot shelter you and Maud, you have ample time to make your own arrangements." He turned upon his heel, and quitted the room. Like one turned tO stone his mother stood where he had left her. Then she dropped upon the hearth, and pressed her hands to her eyes, as if to shut out some horrid vision. A long low moan escaped her parched lips. ** Woe, woe, woe. Utter ruin is at hand for the house of Hamilton V ow wmning lese hateful M w SB m CHAP r K R V. SAUCY lU'AlITY. inner anrupiiy, "jjiies a tlouce young woman, Miss Kcnyon." The fanner ot Cllenlarnc Mains was standing in the window ot the kitchen, with his pipe in his mouth and his hands in his pockets. lie liad just come in from tMe hay field, ami evidently somelhmg o( importaricc nas occui)ying his thougiit. Far beyond the grey towers of ( ilentarne the western sky was radiant with the setting sun, and a warm golden glow lay upon the still farmyanl, and crept into every corner of the large old-fashioned kitchen. At the fire- place, where, though it was midsuuuner, a fire burned cheerily, the farmer's wife sat in an arm chair with a stocking in her hand. A pleasant motherly woman was Mrs. Falconer, still youthful-looking, although she was in her tifty-sixth year. "Jamie Duncan cam tae me in the hayfield the nicht, Peggie, an' socht oor Lizzie." A pleased smile stole to the mother's lips. "Ay! I was thinkin' he wadna be lang. What did ye say ?" *' Say, wife," echoed John Falconer, wheeling round !i;' SAUCY HKAUTY. 5« ?o,c:s. John ; n tac scimI J v^^ an' a .1 hoo kind 's a tlouce (ling in the mouth and inc in from importaiice the western arm golden t into every At the lire- fire burned JKiir with a erly woman Ithough she layfield the )S. , What did jeling round and taking his pipe from his mouth; "I said he rnirht tak' her, and my blessin' wi' her. I kent that yr wad say the same thing. I'm mair satisfied than I can tell. It's time the l)airn had something lac settle her. She 's abonnie lass, Peggie ; but liiere's mair nonsense in lier heid than I hke tae sae." " lias he said onything tae Lizzie yet," in([uired the mother gravely. '♦ I'se warrant he spcired at her afore me ; but here she is. I maun hae her askit." Through the open door c.imc the sound of a sweet voice singing a snatch of song, and in a moment more Lizzie Falconer came in, all unconscjrnis of the subject her father and mother hid been discussing. The father's eyes followed her with a new interest as siie set down the basket and began to count the eggs. IJonnie ! The bairn was as lovely as a pott's dream. F,al|)h Mortimer had spoken truly. In womanhood, Lizzie Falconer's face and figure were simply perfect. " Lizzie, my lass," said the farmer, slyly, ** I've fund not what mak's Jamie l)uncan sae fond o'comin'ower here tae crack aboot the craps." *'Ay, faither." The words fell carelessly from the pretty lips, t a slight blush rose to the fair cheek. " It '11 be a fine doon-siliin for you U[) at Lea Rig, Lizzie," continued he, in a grave tone, "an' as guid a man as ever trod the earth." The dainty head turned suddenly, and the blue eyes filled with surprise. *'A doun-sittin' for me at Lea Rig, faither! Ye speak gey sure. What's putten that inlae your heid ?'* •'Jamie Duncan cam tae me the nicht, Lizzie," said the farmer, laying his broad, brown liand on his daughter's slender shoulder, " and a.sk'd if 1 wad gie him my lassie for his wife." fe h .;;! II!::!;! illli! 3* SAUCY BEAUTY. She slipped from her father's detaining hand, and turned again to her work without speaking. " Has Jamie said onything tae you yet, Lizzie?" " I dinna want to be marri.: yet, faith er," returned the girl, evasively. *' Jamie Duncan micht hae let me alane. D'ye want tae get rid o' me ?" "Ye ken brawiy, bairn," said the farmer, gravely, " that ye're the very licht o* my e'en ; an' it's because I lo'e ye sae weel that I want tae see ye wi' a guid man o' yer ain afore my wark's dune. An' baiih yer mither an* me are weel pleased wi' Jamie Duncan. Ye may think yersel' weel aff, Lizzie. There's mony a lass about The Linn wad gladly stand in yer shoon." "Mither, hoo mony eggs wuU 1 pit up for Miss Kenyon?" A slight shade of displeasure crossed John Falconer's face at the wilful ignoring of his speech. " Listen, Lizzie," he said again, laying his hand upon the girl's shoulder. "I doot ye've been playin' wi' Jamie Duncan this while; but, mind ye, though he lo'es ye, he's as prood as a prince. Dinna gang ower far, or ye'll rue't. He's no a man tae dangle for ever at a lassie's tail.** ** If Jamie Duncan disna like tae wait my time, he can gang aboot his business," said the young beamy, saucily, as she tied her hat over her golde*i hair, and swung her basket over her arm. "There's mair chiijjs than him wad be gled enough to wait on me, I'm thinkin'. Mither, I'll no bide late." And before her father could reply to her daring speech, she was half across the farmyard, and the echo of her careless song was borne back to them on the soft evening breeze. " I'm no weel pleased the nicht, Peggie," said the farmer. "I doot we'll hae some trouble wi' Lizzie afore she's settled." ut »a# SAUCY BEAUTY. 33 land, and izzie ?•' " returned lae let me r, gravely, ;'s because wi' a guid ' baith yer e Duncan, sre's mony ^er shoon." p for Miss Falconer's hand upon playin' wi' though he gang ower gle for ever ny time, he jng beauty, 1 hair, ami mair cliiips on me, I'm her daring nd the echo hem on the le," said the e wi' Lizzie "Nonsense, John," replied the mother, with gay pood humour. " She's only a bairn yet ; sense'll come by-an'-bye. What dis men folk ken aboot lassies* ways? She's jist as fond o* the lad as she can be, but a wee saucy yet ; sheMl come roond by-an'-bye." " Weel, I hope sae," said the farmer. " 1*11 hae tae gang up tae tlie field again, tho'. 1 doot it's gaun tae be wund ; an' we'll hae the last o' the hay in the nicht. It's been a graund harvest, thank the Lord." " I'll send 'jp a bite an' sup tae the men in a while, John," cried bis wife after him, as he left the house. *' Aboot nine, maybe." In the meantime Lizzie Falconer was making her way slowly, by a round-about road tiirough the fields, to the village. When she come to tlie stile which separated her from the road, she saw a tall figure in the distance, which one glance told her was Jamie Duncan. Flscape was impossible, so, preferring to wait for him rather than to meet him on the road, she set down her basket, and leaning against the stile, played idly with her hat strings. He quickened his pace, and in a few minutes was at her side. " Faither's awa' back tae the fields again," she said, with a shy drooping of her eyelids, " I thocht I micht as weel wait an' tell ye." " Ye ken brawly it was you I wanted tae see, Lizzie." "Ye've been oot every nicht I've been at the Mains, for a week back. What does it mean? Are ye no gled tae see me ? " " Maybe," was the reply, and Lizzie kept her eyes upon her hat, as if her life depended on it. " Has yer faither no said onything tae ye aboot me, Lizzie," was the next question, and to that also she answered, coolly — " Maybe." " Lizzie," said the young man, very seriously, " ye've .jp' Ill :U 34 SAUCV HKAUTY. tried me. s.iir this while hark, an' if it had been ony l)()(ly l)iit ycrscT I \v;uhia h.u- |)iiiU'n up wi't a in'-cmt. ]>ut I'm m'ltii)' tired o' yniir (i)(|iictiin'. 1 maun hae ay or no the niclit. 1 hac tell yc, twenty limes ower, hoo 1 lo'e ye, an' prayed ye lac be my wife. Is it tae be ay or no?" She raised her head, with the mischievous smile vshich had turned lialf the iieads in ihe cijuntry biile, and said coolly— "I'm no in a serious mood the nicht, Jamie; I'll tell ye some other lime." lie cauL;ht one ot her hands in his own, and looked into her face with impassioned eat;erness. "Lizzie, dinna torment me like this. Ye dinna ken hoo muckle yer answer means tae me. God forgi'e me, I believe I wor'^hip the very ground ye walk on." It was impossible to listen to tiie earnest voice without being moved ; for one moment a softened, almost tender lii;ht filled the saucy eyes, but it passed almost as quickly as it came. " Jamie Duncan, I'm daft stan'in' here at this time o* nicht, an' me has tae gang lae the schule an' back afore darkenin'. Guid nicht. I'll list«;n tae ye some ither time," she said, carelessly, and with one dart from her mischievous eyes, and a parting smile on her sweet lips, she caught up her basket, and hurried down the road. With his whole heart in his eyes, the young man watched the dainty figure out of sight. As he turned to leave the stile a close carriage came swiftly along from the direction of Glentarne. He paused a moment, and as it swept rapidly past caught a glimpse of its solitary occupant. It was Lady Hamilton on her way to the railway station at D . To-morrow was Sir Jasper's wedding day, and she had bidden farewell to Glentarne. The bitterness of death was in her soul. lecn ony iKiun h.ie lies ower. Is ii tae )\is smile lUry sule, amie ; I'll nd looked (Unna ken iod forgi'e walk on." nest voice softened, It it passed It this time Ic an' back Lie ye some 1 one dart mile on her tnd hurried young man lS he turned iwiftly along d a moment, impse of its I on her way rrow was Sir n farewell to in her soul. CHAPTER VI. HUSBAND AND WIFE. GAIN", on a fair summer afternoon the landlady of the Linn Arm-> an \ mmhi 1 1\ In. " \\ 1 . I il u- 1 nunti ihi- tin Sn \\ illt nn l>»i»( lii let huni' \'»M\,iil h,»r iboi lit \\\f Inli o' I In- I itm )>. t-'l ool , jin' tli» \ lot^V tlu- hoi .. •< \>o\ n\u\ jMiM ilif I .»nii^♦» I'm OnnK^n' tl>i It s no <»,\(' nun Kli in* »I:U' :>« tins liilih '•« h;init' I onnn" WInMshi.l Inn (hnniiMnm'" (\\\\\ rt rlon«< o\ «hi"»l in tin* ili-^Lint »• i'.;m •• n:nnn)|i nl thf .i|>|>r:n,in» «» o( ri i-.un.im*. Il «l»o\i' np inpnllv. nnM tbongh U \\\\\ n«'»il wlun ^>;^';^in^ tlii>>ni:h 1 he Inin. i\ \\'c\Av » hcrt w:i<» iitim-d whiih ^Mr |,1^|VM «h«l niM »l< \}m ii> noHr»' Uy i^i** •<'\n< l(p«5, «<:it ln«» t)r«lv u»ilil»<| >v»U\ \hi^ ni\snr';«? o1 *il»'ni ntv Ihi' r.uMj onlt'nK. »* oulv r.xnj'hi :\ ^Innpso ol n «l;nk li.nnlmMnr i:\n\ wiih (l;i'ih\nii M.u k evr"*. nn(< tlu' noxl nnn\Uf llie t ;ntiagc l>,i«l xxhuloti o\»l o1 stoht "How nnu h finthn is il ti> ('Irntitvtir. |.'1'?|wm?** inq\nv. ,^ \ .■m\\ HrinnUon ni i.Mn><; •>! nn IliMf \vi;nnn"5««. " 1 Auy «U\A«i tno«\. .in;niil, btMi«lu\>i oviM luM, his Ini o sofwnrM l>y rt gUain of ton*1oinoss. *Sfi\ tlioiv iwv the ji.-ites." " 1 nm fil.K. to ht .n ii," trtunuM! her lulyship unovn* ionslv. her exes \v;in»1ovin^ siijx nihon'slv ionn«l as ihev sxvopt lip the \\h\c rt\t nne innlev the "^hiit'i- of mih»>n. as they entered the ohMashioned 1 "n ^reh. It uexer hnd n t;\iier mistress. There xvere a f« w seiv.mts xviiuin^i m the h;ill. The housekeeper came forward, anti would have sinikcn, 4 M!»'^fHVt» AMII WirPL 1/ ( In li- r nn I' <• '1 nun;', •»! vhii \\ Sir »', will) !» >nl«<'>K' t < urt', Willi « riiniiim* ]rt'']>f kvlirn tlu y \va\\. Tlio re 8iH>k(M), « luit l»»'i Mumt'-qq m\i|ii |tMql lift, ^fiviiii; tn lifM liMqliiiHl, •" Sriul mun»' no*' iill'i ni*' In «»li»\v iM»' my Mtunm^ ),is|»»'f ; iHi'l liM •liniKi It.- MM tht' i!iM»' « wiilnii lli»' «li lUln^ ittoin (Innt, miivj'Vmy lln- ntnm wiili i nnt* inpl " I lUn t tilin- lo sjlrvv Vnll \nMI innMm, my Inly," «!ll»l Ml" jtini.ini. " lln'\ (im- inn mi lln^ (lout " ' jq tlim lln- ili;nvmif ttiMiiif'" iii<|iin'(| h^r l!nlyq|ii|t, ininnit', Ini H:n^lnn|i |i|;n k rytq on tin' Innisi k»'rji»»i's |,H •'. " I <;iin \ m» '* " V.s. iiiv l.nly " •'('in Snm. iliini» will rrf|nJro to lip i|nin> llirrr," sin- hikI Inill lo In m» II " \\ rjl, I miii •jniir Hiidy. | liopc ilnn' iiin iio» iiniiiv nnn*- q|;iiiq (o « limli." Mis. rnnnnit ;Mimv»'ir«l iiolliiii^ Sln« I«m| ||i»< wjiy, li, I wln'lc sniil q\vi' ||||^ with somiw ninl iiiili|iii;iiMni. " riicHn wnip I ,;nlv I IfiinillrMrq, Sii |!m|iri*H niMllirr'q, roonm. my l.nlv." sin- t^MnJ, ;is qln- tliitw n|i« n m doni on lilt in XI liinliii^. " lln ir ma miinif^ loonijir*! toom, iiml (Im'vsih); loom. 'I liry nrn jiisf jn sin- Irll llir|,i." I ;nlv ll;mnlion wnil (toiii loniii to room willi ||m> R.-imn IniH ;iimm«Ml, Inih « nmrm|itii(nin mmir on In r lioq " well, lliny am olv oin's i;r( ;ii ^i.invnnn^(^ m (he hoiisn. Now, will yoii 8«;ii(l ii|» inv tmnks niui some one in w;iit hc, with the same careless smile. " Wiiy couldn't she stay; 1 should not have interfi-red with her." " Are you ready to go to the dining room, Maud," repeated Jasper Hamilton. ** Dinner is on the table." " She might, at least, have stayed to welcome me," she said, again utterly ignoring his request, "an' -j wi j - •'"-^ — —- 40 iiushanp anp wikf,. " Tt i« no pnrt of wilrly l<' waitin/^ for her hroiher. The glorious snah^ht Hooded the whole room, arui lav hrif^ht and beantilnl orj Sarah Kenyor)'s face. It w IS ^rave and sad, and lu-r eyes were heavy. When nine pealed from the cluirc h t( wer, she oj>ened the sitting room thjor. "Are you nearly ready, Christo[))ier ?** "l-'oimn^, dear," and in a niinnte the sehoolmaster took his seat at the table. His sister poured out his tea, and handed it to h..n in silenre. " Will you come back with the midday coach, Kit?" she s;iid at length. " No ; I think I shall walk home," returned the sehoohnasler. "I have some books to f^et, and there would be seareely titne to catch the coach." ♦' Don't forget yourself in the bookslioj)s at I) as you used to do in London somefune.," his sister said with a sli[;ht smile. " lie sure and <:orne home to tea. Mary is eominj^ down this aflernootj, and the doctor, too, if possible." "Yes; I shall be hotne, dear. There is the horn I I did not think it was so late." " Kit," she said, layinj^ her hand upon his shoulder as he was opening the door, "Lady Hamilton will be here to day." 42 A COOL RF.CF.rriON. " I scarcely think she will come at all, Sara," he said. " \\ ha'i end would it serve?" "Heaven knows," replied Miss Kenyon. "Kit, I have been thniking lately it will be belter for ub to leave The Linn." " We have been very happy here, Sara," said the master gently, and as he opened the door a Hood of sunlight da/./.k'd their eyes. "But \vc can talk this over another time." He stooped and kissed her, as was his wont, and turned down the garden path. At the gale he paused, and, iv. it struck with a sudden thoui^ht, went back to the doorstep. "If you think she will come to-day, Sara," he said slowly, "and if it would help you, 1 shall slay at home. What I have to do can be done next Saturday." " No, no, Kit. I know it would only vex you to be obliged to meet her again. 1 am no coward, sir, and 1 think I shall manage best alone. Now, go. ■"I'here is the coach coming up, and — remember to be home to tea," and with a parting smile Miss Kenyon shut the door, and went back to the breakfast table. After luncheon that afternoon. Lady Hamilton ordered the pony carriage to be brought round to the door. " 1 am going alone,** she said, as she took the reina from the groom's hand. "If Sir Jasper returns before me, tell him I have gone to the village, and will be home before dinner." " Very well, my lady," replied the man, glad to be relieved from attendance ujion her. Further acquaint- ance with their new mistress had not impressed the servants with her amiability. She touched the ponies with her whip, and they started off at a pace which brought them to The Linn in fifteen mmutes. She drew up at the gate of the schoolhouse, and step[>cd I she slii gonl frie/ A COOL RF.CF.FIION. 43 Sara," he " Kit. I for uj> to ' snid tho I llood of talk this wont, and le ])aiiscd, nt back to a," he said Ly at home, lay." rex you to ONvard, sir, Now, j^o. mber to be ss Kenyon ast table. Hamilton 3und to the Dk the reina ;urns before ind will be , glad to be er acquaint- pressed the 1 the ponies pace which nutes. She ind stepjjcJ out. Gathering her rich skirts gracefully over her arm, she went leisurely up the garden path, and tapjjcd at the door with the end of the whip she still held in her daintily-gloved hand. It was opened innnediately, not by Miss Kenyon, as her ladyship had expected, but by Mrs. Forbes, who had come from Cluny only a few minutes before. Intense amazement was in Mary's face wiien she found herself face to face with Lady Hamilton. *' Is Miss Kenyon at home?" inquired her ladyship, in cool ' 'ear tones, which penetrated to the room where Sara Kenyon was busy. " Yes, she is at home," replied Mrs. Forbes. " Will you come in, please ? " lUit befoie she could accept the invitation, Sara Kcnyon's light step sounded in the lobby. She came forward, very pale, but calm and selt-|)Ossessed, and she did not at first look at I^ady Hamilton. "Will you go in, ])lease, Mary?" she said, laying her hand on Mrs. Forbes' arm. " 1 shall talk to Lady Hamilton here." In sore amazement, Mrs. Forbes obeyed. Then Miss Kenyon looked full at her visitor, with a slightly enquiring gaze, but with no shadow of recognition in her face. " Wf 11, Sara, how are you?" asked her ladyship, familiarly; "you don't look very glad to see me." She stretched out her hand, but Miss Kenyon moved away, as if afraid that it would touch her. " What is your business with me. Lady Hamilton ?" she said in a low quiet voice. " 1 have a visitor, as you see, and you must not detain me long." " Oh, come now, Sara," said Lady Hamilton, slightly disconcerted, "don't talk like that. Let by- gones be bygones, and say you are glad to see an old friend." m ■It ! -.T.',I ■■^mmt 44 A COOL RECEPTION. t» " It would not be tnie if I did say it," said Sara Kenyon, a red spot rising to either check. " If that is your errand, 1 am sorry it 's fruitless. Allow me to bid y ju good afternoon." Lady 1 1 am il ton bit her lip, and an angry gleam shot through her dark eyes. "When Rnlj)h told me you were here, I congratu- lated myself that 1 would not be without a friend when 1 came to Glentarne," she said. " Wont you make up, as the children say, and visit me sometimes at that wretched dull place up there," she pointed with her whip in the direction of Glentarne, and waited Miss Kenyon's answer. " It would ill befit the schoolmaster's sister to place herself on a footing with the lady of Glentarne," said tiie low quiet voice, with an unmistakeable scorn in its tones. "1 naust bid you good afternoon, Lady Hamilton." " The schoolmaster's sister is still Squire Kenyon's daughter," said her ladyship calmly. *' How is Chris- topher? He and I used to be great friends." There are limits to human endurance. Sara Ken- yon's lips were firmly set, and the red spot burning on either cheek told the indignation she would not utter. *' Lady Hamilton, I must bid you good afternoon," slie repeated. " And 1 must also ask you not to in- trude upon me again. Remembering the past, I am amazed that you are not ashamed to do it. I thank }ou lor your otifered friendship; but 1 must decline it, once for all." "Time was, when you would not have turned Maud Mortimer froia your door," said my lady bitterly. *' Well, good afternoon, Sara, since you wont ask me in," she added, suddenly recovering her equanimity. " And if you should think better of it, I shall be glad to see you at Glentarne whenever you like to come." m I -"' and A rnoi. rithtion. 45 said Sara " If that How me to gleam shot : congratu- riend when you make mes at tliat ;d with her aited Miss ter to place tarne," said le scorn in loon, Lady e Kenyon's jw is Chris- Is." Sara Ken- burning on d not utter, afternoon," u not to in- i past, I am it. I thank it decUne it, urned Maud dy bitterly, ont ask n-^e equanimity, shall be glad ; to come." Miss Kcnynn closed the door and left her visitor on the step, wiihoul ollciini^ a reply to llic friendly invitation. Ai;ain Lady Hamilton threw her skirts over her arm and swept down the path, a careless smile curving her scornful lips, but anger and bitter humiliation in her heart. In the sitting room, in much surprise, Mrs. Forbes awaited her friend. She looked at her anxiously when she joined hor, and saw that she was unusually agitated. She sat down at the table and leaned her head on her hands. •• You are surprised that Lady Hamilton should come here asking for me, Mary," she said at last. ' Yes," Mary admitted frankly. " Years ago — before we came to Strathlinn — I knew her and her brother well." Very bitterly were the words spoken, and there was unutterable pain on Sara Kenyon's face. " Some other time, Mary," she said, rising, " I shall tell you the story of Christopher's life and mine, but not now. Forgive me if my manner is strange to- night ; I have many painful memories to ui)Set me. Now I must go and see after tea. Kit will be home in a very short time." "There he is now," said Mary, "and John with him. I wonder where he picked him up." The tea table that night was not so happy as it generally was, for there was a shallow on the face of its presiding genius. Early in the evening the visitors took their leave, because' Mary felt that Miss Kenyon wished to be alone. And on the way home, as a matter of course, she confided the incident of the afternoon to her husband, and they marvelled over it together. >i • iimm '>f\'"^'v'^r' ^T^'-~^^''Cv *)^^'^kot^ CIIATIKR VIIL HAPPV I^OVK. "T^Y the middle of Scptctnhcr not a stook wns left I .1| stMiidiiii: )i) the coiulu ItU .ilxiiii Tin' l.mii. Am JL/ c.iily and bount ful harvest h.id hern the result ^0 of a fnie seed mnc and a warm (hy suunnei ; and the winter hade hiir to he a cheery one. The rro|)s on the Lea Kig were universally admitted to he the tinest in the chslriet. Old Simon Duncan had resigned the farm niana,i;enient entirely into jamii s hands, and it amply rei)aik wns left LiMii. All 1 the result y suiniiK'i ; one. 'I'lu' iitted to l»o iiMCiin had ito Jamie s labour tlu- 'Tiu-y lived the hill-loi), 311. It was r had been said Simon His only )ride of his erest in lilo osure, early lis const itti- . frail weak weather the :re too well er blast, the J grey rainy Duncan was the Lea Rig tnly waiting MAPI'V l.nVK. 41 I,i/7ie I'nlror.rr's word to Ihid^ a mistress to the f.irtn. She siill kepi hini at aim's lc|v''i, thoujj;h he lolloacd her like a shadow. Yet sohi. •limes a sweet hope whispered in the tme manly heart, that the lime was at hand when she would not say him nay. I)miii:; the winter months strange stf)ries catne from (ilentariM-, fiunishiii}^' never-ending; ^'ossip for the villagers. 'I'l-e servants told of avvhil strife between the ill niat< lied pair, of <|uarreis so violent that they sometimes feared there would be murder done ; for the Laird's unj^over- nahle temper was roused by his wife's increasing extravagance, and most of all by her contemptuous ignoring of his authority. Lady Hamilton was uol received into county society, but she tilled the house with her own friends — a gay set of fashionable men and women, whose character and antecedents she did not too strictly investigate. Ay, Iasj)er Il.imilton's mother was well away from Gleniarne ; the (;ld house iiad fallen very low. 'I'ite Kenyons were still at Tlie Linn; Lady Hamilton had not again troubled the snhoobhouse with her presence, and though being so nar Glentarne, the brother avfd sister had never happened to encounter lier. That year the winter was severe and protracted ; it was late in March belore the last snow-storm disappeared under the hrst breath of Spring. But April was a glorious month, and ere it closed, wood and meadow were clothed with the delicate freshness of the loveliest season of the year. Though busy with jhe seed-time, Jamie Duncan found time and opportunity of seeing Li.'zie Falconer ofiener ti:an he had ever done befor-i. Taking his wife's advice, John Falconer never again mentioned Jamie Duncan's name to his daughter, and he was beginning to see that, after all, young people and their love affairs are best left alone. Just before sundown on the first evening in May, the young man . ^..^ !!■( i 48 HAPfV I-OVR. I'M stepped into the kitchen at Glentnrne Mains. His nigliily visit had become an iiistiiuiion now, and the farmer often said, jokingly, to his wife, that he "wad miss Jamie's crack when Lizzie gaed up tae the Lea Kig." You will perceive that there did not exist a shadow of doubt in his mind regarding her future lot. Lizzie was sitting in the window when her lover came in, and she bent her head demurely over her sewing, and answered his greeting in a scarcely audible whisper. He took the seat the farmer offered him, but he seemed absent and pre-occupied, and did not join in the conversation with his usual readi- ness. ** It's a bonnie nicht, Lizzie," he said, suddenly, interrupting the farmer in his prophecy regarding the harvest, " wad ye mind gaun oot a bit wi* me ?" Lizzie lifted her head, and flashed a glance of her bonnie blue eyes upon his face, and a slight blush rose to her own. But she spoke no word, only sewed on with increased industry. " Ay, bairn, gang awa'," said the mother, with a sly glance at her husband. ** Ye hinna been outside the door the day ; but dinna bide ower lang." "Very well, niither," replied the young damsel, wonderfully submissive, and without waiting to heai more, she caught up her hac and slipped out, leaving Jamie to follow. " It'll be settled the nicht, guidwife," said the farmer, well pleased. " Weel, it's a lang lane that has nae turnin'." Whether or not the proverb was aptly applied, it seemed to afford them amusement, for both had a hearty laugh over it. Meanwhile the young pair had taken the winding path to the glen, and were walking in unusual and incomprehensible silence. i * ( HAPPY LOVE. 49 " Leddy Hamilton's brither cam' tae the castle the day," said Lizzie, at length feeling that something must be said to break the embarrassing silence. '* Did he?" inquired her comi)anion, without much show of interest. '* Lizzie," he broke otf suddenly, " d'ye mind the day you an' me cam doon tae fish at this very bit, an' you gaed aff hame wi' the Laird and his friend?" "Ay, I mind," said Lizzie, absenUy; "it's a long time ago." " Lizzie, I was sair angert that nicht, for I lo'ed ye then, 1 think, tho' 1 was only a laddie," said the young rian, half jestingly. *' Ye wadna leave me noo as ye did then, wad ye, Lizzie ? " For a moment the saucy eyes full of mischief met his, but they fell beneath his gaze, and she turned away her head to hide the crimson on her face. " Lizzie, stand here a meenit," he said to her in low earnest tones, " 1 hae something tae say tae ye the nicht." "Say awa* then, and be quick," she said, laugh- ingly. " Lizzie, are ye gaun tae be serious wi' me noo ?'* he asked, bending his grave winning eyes upon her face ; " I've waited lang and patiently on ye tae listen tae me as ye promised last sinmier." " Weel, is that a', Jamie?" she asked, with a, bewitching glance into his face. " I've heard a' that, an' mair, afore." He caught both ner hands and held them fast, and bent his head till she was oblit^ed to look at him. " Lizzie, gie me ?y or no the nicht ; if it's tae be * no ' tell me frankly, an I'll bear it like a man, but if ye thnik ye can even care for me, nae maiiter hoo little, tell me the noo, fur I can bear this suspense nae langer." D so HAPPY I.OVE. mm The girl was a born roqmtre. *• Hoo niiirkle o' that's true, Jamie?" she uskcd, (larin;^ly. '-My mither whiles tells me that I can safely believe aboot a third o* what you chaps say tae me." At that moment the sharp bark of a dog, followed by u long low whistle, starded them. "There's the laird," said Lizzie, " and my leddy's brither. Jamie, come on name." The young man turned his head, and saw Jasper and Ralph Mortimer leisurely approaching, with dinars in their mouths, and a i)ack of doi^s at their heels. "Stand here, Lizzie," he said, gently, "an' wait till they ])ass." " Very weel." She broke a twig from the tree, and bent her eyes upon it, while the gentlemen drew nearer to them. "The Hebe I admired so much last time I was here, Hamilton, upon my word!" said Ralph Mortimer to his companion, "and her cavalier too. Have the embryo lovers grown into lovers in earnest. Tlie deuce ! what a beauty she is, — worth coming to this vile place to catch a glimpse of a face like that." Jasper Hamilton sneered. " You always were a fool about women, Mortimer," he said. " The girl's nothing extra ; she's go.^g to be married I hear. Ah ! good evening, Duncan.'' " Guid e'enin*. Sir Jasper," returned the young man, touching his hat, and unconsciously moving in front of Lizzie, chafing at the look of insolent admiration Ralph Mortimer bent upon his darhng's face. " Have you forgotten me. Miss Falconer," said Ralph Mortimer, moving nearer to Lizzie ; " I can hardly hope that among so many admirers so un- deserving a one as I should be remembered." A coarse laugh broke from Jasper Hamilton's lips, and Jamie Duncan's face grew pale with anger. HAPPY LOVE. 5« He drew Lizzie's arm within his own, and, not d.irinjj; to trust his voice, he touched his cap a,L;ain to the laird, and led her in an opposite direction. " Ye needna hae been in sic a hurry, Jamie," said Lizzie pettishly ; *' ye wasna ceevil t le the laird." " Lizzie!" The word was uttered in a tone of such min,:^led sorrow and surprise that it touched her in spite of herself. " Will ye no come in, Jamie," she said in the win- ning way she knew so well how to assume. " It's no late yet." " Late enough by the time I get hame," he replied coldly. *' I'll see yr tae the door, but nae further." She made some gay careless reply, then the two crossed the farmyard in silence, and stopped outside the porch at the kitchen door. Duncan held out his hand, saying, in constrained tones, " Guid nicht, Lizzie; it's time ye were in." She laid ner hand upon his and looked into his face with a shy tender drooping of her eyelids. '• Lizzie ! ye'll drive me mad," he said hoarsely. *' For guid sake gie me some hope or send me awa a' thegither. I canna gang on like this. WuU ye be my wife or no." " if ye'll hae me, Jamie," she said. " Could ye no see that 1 lo'ed ye a' the time ?" A sudden light of a great joy broke upon the true earnest face as he took his hrst lover's kiss from Lizzie Falconer's lips. 'i tl ^W^f^ i r i| CHAPTER IX. A BliTKR AWAKKNINO. JUNE'S loveliest days were fleeting, and still Ralph Mortimer remained at (iieniarne. What kept hini there was known only to himself, and one «/;, other. For the tirst few weeks Jamie Duncan ^as as supremely blest as an accepted lover ought to be. Lizzie did not avoid him now, and slie had given him a shy promise to come to tlu I,ea Rig before the year was out. One evening Lady Hamilton and her brotlicr found themselves alone together in the drawing-room at Glentarne. There were no visitors in the house, and Sir Jasper had not yet left his dressing-room. " Ralph," said Lady Hamilton, " Jasper is getting very tired of you." '* And so are you, ma chbre," added her brothtfr carelessly. " Well, I am scrry to inconvenience you, but 1 am not tired of you yet. In fact, I've been seriously thinking of staying till the 12th. The moors on this charming domain are really worth going over, and it will save me coming down again." "The 1 2th," repealed her ladyship slowly. "That is six weeks hence. Ralph, you cannot mean it ; for you must see plainly that Jasper wants to be rid of you." " Bah I what is that to me ; you ought to know by this time, Maud, how little I study Jasper Hamilton's likes or dislikes." ■i A BITTI R AWAKKNINO. 53 "You were not wont to be so fond of (r'Tilarne,*' Rai