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Hew £2)ttfOtl TORONTO, CANADA WILLIAM BRIGGS EDINIJUROH AND LONDON OLIPHANT, ANDERSON & FERRTER f -JTBfi^ 560K7 Entered according to Act of the Parilamcnt of C'anada, in the year one thousand eight hundred and eighty-nine, by William Brioos, l3ook Steward of the Methodist Bool; and Publishing House, Turuuto, at the Department of AgriuulLuru. V] •J X X CONTENTS. OHAP. r. MIRTRKSS AND MAID, , II. TATHER AND SON, , III. IN THE NICIIT, , IV. FATHER AND DAUOHTER, V. UNLOOKED-FOR NEWS, . VI. TWO SCHEMERS, VII. A STRANGE HOME COMINO, VIII. RIVALS, , , IX. SHADOWS, , , X. WHAT IT COST, , XI. AT HIS MERCY, , XII. BREAKING IT, . XIII. KIRSTY TO THE RESCUE, XIV. CONCLUSION, « « PAOR 7 16 28 39 62 64 7f? 92 107 119 131 145 158 172 V n :4' m m ,r,'-i;^;,'*'^-*-- ^•i«».^ THE SECRET PANEL CHAPTER I. MISTRESS AND MAID. HE mistress's surely no* hersel* the day, Kirsty ? ' ' Ay, what like should be the maitter w'i' hor, lass V queried Kirsty rather scornfully, and turning her eyes keenly and quickly on the rosy- choeked damsel wlio had ventured to express so bold an opinion. * If ye keepit yer e'en on yer wark, Effie, and "flowered less at things and folk ye hae nae bu.^incss wi', it wud be better for ye. Avva' and scoor yer knives, and dinna fash yer heid wi' Miss Dempster's looks.' Somewhat abashed, EfTie turned meekly away, took the knife-board and the bath-brick from their places, and silently began to her work. Her senior 7 8 THE SECRET PAXEL. I I went on swiftly with licr ironing, and tliore was a Ion*: silence in the kitchen at Druinkeillour. As Kirsty Forgan deftly and skilfully plaited the border of her mistress's caps, her face wore an expression of thoui^'ht and anxiety which betrayed an anxious minil. Little wonder, for in the upper room her mistress whom she had faithfully loved and served for forty years was drawin<^ near death's door. Ay, even though the indomitable will and endurance kept her from succumbing altogether, and though she still rose and dressed at the same hour every day, the iron resolution giving a strange measure of strength to the feeble body, the truth could no longer be hid ; and Miss Dempster of Drumkeillour was failing every day. Kirsty's mournful cogitations wore presently interrupted by the loud and hasty ringing of Miss Dempster's bell, and in a minute she was running up-stairs with a speed surprising at her years. The summons came from the dining-room, which was Miss Dempster's favourite resort, and when her faithful servant entered she was sitting languidly by the fire, shivering with cold, though it was one of the mildest and loveliest of September days. A frail, worn woman was I^obina Dempster now, old before her time, her keen dark eyes looking out from I wns a ir. As ) border press ion anxious om her served T. Ay, durance though r every asure of )uld no keillour resently of Miss running The ch was en her lidly by one of lys. A ow, old at from i 1.; ,v} MISTPFSS AND MAID, s!iii(lowy hoUowH willi a striingc yt^iirning gleam which indicated !i iiiiiul ill at ease. 'Are you busy, Kirsty ? Can you stay with mo for half an hour ? ' she asked, and her eyes wandered for a moment to some open letters on her lap; then Kirsty knew that h(!r mistress had something of importanee to communieatc to her. She took oH' her white apron, rolhul it up, and, laying it on a chair at the door, advanced to the fire. * I'm no' that busy bit that I ran bide as long as ye want me, ma'jim,* she said, her sharp voice strangely softened, her eye growing even tender in its glanee as she gazed on the worn and wasted face of her ailing mistress. ' Very well, Kirsty ; sit down. I want to read these letters to you,' said Miss Dempster; and with trembling fingers she put up her heavy gold eye-glass and lifted the open sheets from her lap. *I did not tell you, Kirsty, that two days ago I sent a letter to my niece in ''^'diuburgh, the daughter of my brother David, you know,' said she, looking over her eye-glass into her faithful servant's face. * No, ma'am, ye didna tell me,* said Kirsty quietly ; but a look of surprise, not unmingled, it seemed, with satisfaction, crossed her face as she spoke. ' In this weakness which has come upon me, ro THE SECRET PANEL. ! 1 I Kirsty, I felt a strange yen ruing to look npon one of my own kith and kin,' continued Miss Dempster ; ' and though I cannot forgive nor forget the wrong my brother Dnvid did to me in my youth, I felt no bitterness against his cliild, so I wrote to her two days ago, and this is her answer. It has given me a great disappointment, Kirsty — very great; but doubtless the girl was iniluenced by her father. Hear what she says : — " EDiNBimon, Si'Ytttmher \Mh, " My dear Aunt, — I received your kind letter and invitation to Drumkeillour ; the latter I would gladly have accepted but for two reasons, which I had best put down, as you say you like to be told the truth. The love and duty I owe to him who has ever been the best of fathers to me forbids me to go where he could not be made welcome, and I fear I could not be at home nor happy with one who feels so bitterly against him. For these reasons, I feel it better for me to remain at home, although I would gladly be of any conifv*rt to }uu if I could. I regret to hear of your failing health. Hoping you will soon be better, I am, your dutiful niece, " Maggie Dempster." * What do you think of that, Kirsty ? ' queried Aliss Dempster, her cheek flushing slightly. * Is that the sort of epistle, tliink you, that a young girl should send to an old woman ? ' ^^mmi MISTINESS AND MAID. IT pen one L'lnpster ; le wrong felt no her two ;iven me ;at ; but r father.. her l^th. etter and Id gladly had best 16 truth. er been dicre he )uld not bitterly tter for ladly be to hear soon be jTER. » queried y. 'Is ung girl ' I couldna wunner at the lassie, Miss Dempster/ said Kirsty candidly. *I like the spunk o' the crater. She maun be her faither's bairn. Ay, ay, an' yet her e'en never lichtit on Drumkeillour.* Deeper grew the colour on Miss Dempster's pale cheeks, and her thin lips closed together resolutely, telling of inward annoyance. But that Kirsty was her privileged friend, she had ordered her to hold her peace. *At the same time, Kirsty, I wrote a letter to my old friend, Gavin Wardrop of Dundee. What, think you, had I to say to him ? ' * The deil only kens, ma'am,' quoth Kirsty, with more energy than courtesy. *Ye had little adae, . that's a' I can say aboot it. Drumkeillour was never the better o' a Wardrop, no, nor npvei will be.* * Be quiet, Kirsty,' said Miss Dempster quickly - and impatiently. * How often have I told you to speak with more respect of those I hold in esteem ? Let me tell you the plan I had in my head, but ,^ which this child of David Dempster's has spoiled, little guessing, poor thing, how her prospects in life would have been brilliantly altered by it.* * Weel, ma'am ? ' said Kirsty inquiringly, and "Waited with some anxiety to hear the unfolding of her mistress's plan. *This Maggie Dempster, my niece, must be a "4^'. w 12 THE SECRET PANEL. younijf woman now, Kirsty,' said Miss Doiiipster ; 'and young Gavin Wardrop, as you know, iias grown to manliood. I wnntcil tliem both to come to J)rumkeillour, in the hope that wlien they were thrown togetlier they miglit k\arn to care for eacli other. In the event of tliat lia]>])ening, it wds my intention to leave DrumkeiUour to my niece, and the greater part of my means to Gavin Waidrop ; on condition, of course, tliat he married lier. A good phin, was it not, Xirsty ? ' ' 'Deed, ma'am, I canna s;ay it's guid,' said Kirsty bluntly. 'Sic mairrnges, ma(U^ by ither folk, an' hingin' on monev an' gear, never turn oot week As for young Wardrop, if he be like liis faitlier ' — Here Kirsty vigorously pulled herself up. The subject was one u[)on wliicli she and her unstress could never hope to agree ; and the less slie said about it the better. 'Hear how dilferently Gaivin AVardrop rei)lies to my invitation,' said Miss Dempster, witliout noticing Kirsty's candid remarks ; and, unfolding another letter, she read slowly and complacently : — " Castle Strf.et, Dfxdee, Scpfemher lifh. "My dear ]\Iiss D.-.mi'stkr. — T am lionoured to-day in receiving tlie very kind note in wliich you ask my son to si)end a few days with you at Druni- keil you 11 up wl vol ubo we bov >\y MI STRESS AND MAID, n Doi)ip.^t,er ; viiow, Las 1 to come they were ! for eacli t '.vas iiiv e, aiul the r(h"op ; oil A good lid Xirsty folk, an' oot weel. lier '— lip. The mistress slie said ei)h'es to iJOticiiiL;- another th. lonoiired licli you : Druiu- keilloiir. Need 1 say h<;\v v(iiy gladly he .vill accept yoiii' iuvilalioii su kindly and gracefully given? For iiiv.self, the si'^hl of your I'aniiliar handwriting stirred uj) many nicujories, ]>oth painful and sweet, upon which it is not wise to dwell. Clavin will travel as yon desire to-morrow afternoon, arriving at Cupar tthout live o'clock. AVe are busy just now ; but were we ten times more hardly pressed, I would spare the boy to yc»u and Drumkeillour. Hoping you are in good health and spirits, I am, my dear Miss Dempster, unalterably yours, " GaVIX AVAliDItOP." * There, Kirsty, that is the letter of a friend and a gentleman,' said ]VIiss JJempster, with a kind of quiet tiiunqtli ; \ery din'erent, is it not, from the curt re})ly sent by David's girl ?' 'Maybe, ma'am,' said Kirsty slowly and doubt- fully, and with a very sombre expression on her honest face. 'Kirsty, I hope you will not let your old prejudice against the faiher cause you to judge unjustly of the son,' saiel ]\liss Dempster severely. ' rtcmember, if you fail in courtesy to him while he is at Drum- keillour, I shall l»e seriously disi)leased.' '1 houp he'll no' be like his faither, that's a',' said Kirsty. ' Uh, ma'am, it gars me grue to see ye so easily dcceiNcd. Ye ken weel eiieuch what character (Ja\in \\'ai(h far and gets his his net. e for it. kent it mg syne, than for ?' :ton your her hand t, she did ween lier icuvrence n. Her iel' " un- 3 ain, I pron at himsel' riise tae p o' the in such obb'ged h you' ' Dispense wi' me, ma'am ! ' echoed Kirsty. ' Tliat wild be a l)Oimie tapsalteerie. Xa, na, I ken wlian I'm weel aff', if ye tliniia; a bonnie kittle o' fish you an' I)i'und\eil]»>ur wml be withoot Kirsty Forgan.* So saying Kirsty retired ; but after slie shut the door, she liad to wipe lier eyes with lier apron, for they were wet witli honest ti-ars. Her heart was heavy for her mistress, whom she loved with all the true love of her faithful heart. Eobina Dempster and Drumkeillour were all Kirsty Forgan had to live and care for on earth. Left alone, ]\Iiss Deui))ster read and re-read the smooth, llatteringly-expressed letter written by Gavin Wardrop. Perhaps she may be excused for ponder- ing and lingering over its perusal, for its writer had been the lover of her youth, the hero of her girlhood, about whom had centred romantic hopes and fond dreams destined all to be destroyed. But in age the resolute old woman cherished these Iougj "one dreams, lived again those briglit days, recalling their bitter-sweet memories one by one. And in the kitchen faithful Kirsty, very short-t(?mpered to her young handmaiden, thouglit gloomily of the coming guest, with a fear in her heart that he would bring with hnu sorrow and trouble to Drumkeillour. I; f,i:s*c>i- •;■'-■ * •. 1 CHArXEE 11. FATIIEU AND SON. jN the private ruoiii of a solicitor's office in Castle Street, Dundee, sat two gentlemen, deeply engrossed in conversation. That they were father and s(jn was at once evidenced by the close resemblance between them. Both were handsome men in the ordinary acceptation of the term, yet a close observer would detect in the shifting, deep-set eyes, and in the peculiar curve of the lips, certain traits of character which would make him wary of trusting either. An exceptionally clever man was Gavin Wardrop the elder, though certain whom he had wronged called him by less dignified and more forcible terms. But Gavin Wardrop could afford to laugh at those who called him a cunning rogue and such-like — he was a rich man, and his position in Dundee wu.-i assured. He liad his linger Hi !ijc,"''^"^ ^i^^}'',:. ^t t^., ".< office in entlemen, on. That lenced by 5oth were Dn of the t in the curve of )uld make ally clever li certain dignified rop could cunning and Ilia his linger Gaviu ^^''ardrop. — Page. 16. B If n ill ' 'I |H!rly in hard. She's almost in her dotage, you kiu)w, and if you can onlv fan tlie flame of her ire ai,'ainst that brotlier of hers, the thing's done. You needn't stick at a trifle, you know. You can put words in liis moutli. Tell her you knew of him in Edinburgli, and how lie speaks disrespectfully of her. You understand ? ' Guy nodded. 'It'll be rather dreich work; but I'll do my best. There is no will already made, I suppose ? ' 'Ah, you must find that out. There's no account- ing for old women's wdiims, you know, and if you stay, say, a week, at Drundveillour without becoming master of the situation, you are not what I take you for. You deserve to be disappointed, that's all' Guy the younger laughed, and it was rather an unpleasant sound. * Ah, well, I suppose I'll need to be off shortly,' he said, yawning, and rising from his chair. * Will you be across while I am at Drumkeillour ? ' * Not unless the old lady expresses a desire to see me. We mustn't overdo the thing,' said the father shrewdly. * I haven't been within the gates of 'Hi' lATIJER AND SON, n long am e the old heir ? ' ill hard, d if you ,t brother Lick at a s mniitli. 1 how he iiid ? ' my best. ) account- id if vou becoming take vou all.' rather an f shortly,' keillour ? ' ire to see ;he father gates of Prumkeillour for twenty vi'iirs ; but the Cupar folk linds lon't ki'ovv how inucli of Us revenue Iinds its way into my pockets every year. Ha ! ha ! But if once . Kobina iJempster were otl' and i)ruinkeillour mine or yours, whicli would be the same thing, I'd snap my lingers at them. I have one or two old scores to wipe off with them, and I will some day, too.* \ ' If Drumkeillour e^er is mine, I'll take precious good care it isn't quite the same thing,' muttered Guy to himself. ' I'm going to do a little business now on my own account, and there'll be no sharing of profit, you bet, there won't.' With this dutiful resolution, Guy Wardrop took up his portmanteau, and, giving his father a careless nod, turned to go. 'Well, you'll drop a line occasionally, and let me know how the thing goes on,' said the old man. *And I almost forgot, there's an old dragon of a servant woman, of the privileged domestic order, you know. You'll need to keep an eye on her. Unless she's in her dotage too, she'll prove the lion in the path. She hates me, too ; and you will probably come in for a share of her ill-will.' * Oh, I'll manage her,' said Guy confidently, little V dreaming what was the nature of the task. * If she's troublesome, I'll get the old lad}^ to dismiss her.' So saying, he departed, full of hope and anticipa- I Hi 20 THE SECRET PANEL tiou, t(» put his aniiiilflo ri'snliitiinis into exccutiow. He travelled to Cupar hy the train arriving at five o'clock ; and as it wiis a dreary, wet afternoon, he was j;lad to see .a carrijiLje on the Station liridge, and to hear the fat, hi/y-lookinj^' eoaclinian in shabhy brown livery iiKpiire for Mr. Wardrop. (luy stepped forward, gave the man a condescending nod, tossed up his portmanteau to the hox, and jumped into the comfortable interior of the velnele as if it were verily his own. In huge disgust, Dunlo]), who was a cousin of Kirsty Torgan's, and not uidike her in nature, gave the fat, well-fed greys an unusual pull, and caused them to trot ofl' at a pace quite surprising for animals not accustomed to exert themselves. Leaning back in his corner, (iuy Wardro}) gave himself up to pleasing visions of the future. In the near distance he beheld lumself laird of Drum- keillour, freed from the drudgery of professional labour, and at liberty to enjoy life, as one of his tastes could so fully enjoy it when time and oppor- tunity ofi'ered. He pictured himself the head of the sporting gentry in the neighbourhood, on equal terms with those who now regarded him in somewhat the same light as he reijarded the coachman drivinsr him at that minute. of the county fami *robably he would marry into one s, and then it would be con- :-*\ 4 11' I A THE R AND SON, 21 excculiou. \v^ at tivo .'inoon, lie >ri(l{,'e, and ill shabby iiy stepped lod, tossed d into the vere verily IS a cousin in nature, pull, and surprisin<^ hem selves. Irop gave ). In the )f Drum- ^oi'essional ne of his id oppor- ad of the ual terms what the ving him into one be con- venii'iit to droi) his own relatives; for his mother, poor creature, was the very essence of vulgarity, her large fortune, made in the spirit vaults in the l)ack Kow of Kirkcaldy, alone having made her palatable to Mr. (Javiii Wardrop. He had married her, and having secured her thousands, had carefully kept her out of sight, and poor Mrs. Wardrop found herself a mere nobody, and, what was much worse, speedily discovered what had been her husband's motives in making her his wife. As may be imagined, it proved a most unhappy alliance, and there was neither peace nor comfort in the house of Wardrop. Guy's pleasurable meditations were interrupted by the sudden stoppage of the carriage, and, looking out, he saw that they had reached the gates, and that the • man waited for the lodge-keeper to throw them open, As they swept into the grounds, Guy looked about him with the liveliest interest. It seemed to be a fine old place, and the lawyer's keen eyes took in at a glance the wealth of valuable timber which studded the park, magnificent old trees such as he had veryj rarely seen before. The autumn leaves were upon them still, but their brighter tints had flown, and they were whirling to the ground in the chill autumn wind, and being beaten and sodden by the drenching rain. In a few minutes, a sudden curve in the 2^ THE SECRET PANEL. avenue brought the house before his view, a solid square pile of masonry, its gables clothed with ivy as old as the trees in the park. A flight of broad steps gave entrance to the hall, and as the door stood wide open, Gavin Wardrop could see the plain, substantial elegance of the interior even before he entered. Jumping from the carriage, he offered John a shilling, which that gentleman rather con- temptuously declined. Guy reddened a little, and turning away, ascended the steps to the door. A red-cheeked country lass met him there, and asked him to step upstairs to his rooms, and her mistress would see him shortly. Kirsty ]^'organ had not thought fit to set any of the guest-chambers in order for the lawyer's son, consequently Guy was rather taken aback at the exceeding plainness and simplicity of the apartment into which the damsel showed him. It was scrupulously clean, certainly, hut was not possessed of any luxuries whatsoever, its furnishings being of the most meagre description. Having showed him his rooms, Effie hastily dis- appeared, as if glad to be relieved of any attendance upon him. About fifteen minutes after, however, when Guy was staring rather ^loomily out of the window, she knocked at the door, and requested him to step downstairs to the drawing-room. By the FATHER AND SON, 23 "J, a solid with ivy of broad the door the plain, before he le offered ther con- ittle, and door. A md asked • mistress had not s in order as rather simplicity wed hira. was not irnishings istily dis- ttendance however, it of the ested him By the learth sat Miss Dempster, attired in state to receive 'her guest, though, poor lady, she looked ill enough to be in bed. When the drawing-room door opened she essayed to rise to greet the son of her old lover ; but with consummate tact and skill, Guy sprang forward, and very gently placed her in her chair. •Dear Miss Dempster,' he said, in the gentlest tones, * pray do not rise. I am deeply grieved to see you look so ill.* Miss Dempster looked gratified, and, motioning him to a chair on the opposite side of the hearth, fixed her eyes with keenest interest on his face. Gavin Wardrop bore the scrutiny well. ' So you are Gavin Wardrop's boy/ she said at length, in her feeble, tremulous voice. *You are very like your father. It was very good of you to come so -far to humour an old woman's whim. You are welcome to Drumkeillour.' *I thank you. Miss Dempster. So old and dear a friend of my father's is entitled to whatever duty or respect I can pay,' he said kindly. ' You have your father's voice as well as his smile, boy,' said Miss Dempster dreamily. * Do you think you could bear to spend a few days here beside a desolate old woman, eh ? * *It will be a pleasure, Miss Dempster/ said Guy €1 ■i'<. 1 'f- : 24 T//E SECRET PANEL. promptly. 'What a fine old place you have here! I have often heard my father speak of Drumkeillour, and of the happy days he spent here long ago/ *Ay, ay, he has not quite fo'gotten then/ said Miss Dempster, with a pitiful smile. 'Yes, your father and I an^ very old friends, estranged by circumstances in our youth. Now talk to me about yourself. You have entered your father's business, I am told. Ts the work to your liking ? ' ' It is one's duty, Miss Dempster, to do one's work faithfully and uncomplainingly, even against inclina- tion,' said Guy, with assumed earnes' ness. * I will confess the drudgery of a lawyer's office is not the path of life I would have cut out for myself ; but I am glad to be able to help my father, who is, as you know, getting up in years.' ' 1 like tlie respectful way in which you speak of your father. The fifth commandment is too little heeded by the youth of the present day,' said Miss Dempster, in well-satisfied tones. ' Tell me, then, what life would you choose if you w^ere permitted \ Talk to me freely. I liave been your father's friend for many years, and I am deeply interested in you' * I should like a quiet country life. Miss Dempster,' said Guy cautiously. ' When I was a lad my neart was set on farming, but my father wouldn't hear of it.' J®. FATHER AND SON. 25 m :ago. then/ said 'Yes, your fcranged by 3 me about :'s business, one's work nst inclinri- 3S. * I will is not the elf; but T ) is, as you I speak of too little said Miss me, then, 3ennitted \ er's friend I in vou ' )eni2)ster,' my neart lear of it; 'A quiet country life, and yet you look as if you "would shine in town society,' said Miss Dempster musingly. *Ah, well, things might have been difi'erent. If that headstrong girl would only be reasonable and considerate, all might be well. But then I am talking an old woman's foolish nonsense. Of course, you have not dined. Dinner will be served at six ; ah, there is the gong. Mr. Guy, will you give me your arm to the dining-room ? ' In a moment Guy was at her side adjusting the white wrap about the poor bent shoulders, and, offering his arm, carefully guided her steps down- Stairs. Her gait was uncertain and feeble, and the pale, worn face gave indicati< ns of weariness and pain, yet even in her great weakness she struggled through the regular routine of her days as if deter- mined to die in harness, if the expression might be applied to one whose only labour consisted in attend- ing to the trifling formalities of life. As they entered the dining-room, Gavin Wardrop was quick to note the elegant appointments of the table — the plate alone, he told himself, was worth a small fortune. Behind Miss Dempster's chair stood Effie Gourlay, looking somewhat confused and dis- concerted, as if unaccustomed to the place. * What are you doing here, Efiie ? ' asked Miss m a6 THE SECRET PANEL. Dempster sharply. * Why is Kirsty not in her place ? ' * She wouldna come, ma'am/ explained Effie nervously. ' I said ye wud be vext, but she woukhiu come.' Up rose the flush of wrath in Miss Dempster's pale cheek. ' * Go down, Effie, and tell her I desire her attend- ance instantly. How dare she do such a thing ? ' Very thankfully did Effie Gourlay escape ; and when they were left alone, Miss Dempster turned to her guest with a faint smile. * You have not seen Kirsty yet, but your father knows her vary well. She is an eccentric creature. I have indulged her too much, and she presumes a little at times ; but she is a faithful creature — yes, very faithful,* she repeated with a sigh, her heart misgiving her already for sending such a sharp message to her old friend. After the lapse of several minutes the door was pushed open, and in marched Kirstv, very red in the face, and took up her place behind her mistress's chair. * A helping of soup for Mr. Wardrop, Kirsty,' said Miss Dempster rather meekly, for she perceived tliat Kirsty's 'birse' was fairly roused, and slie icgrt^lted FATHER AND SON. 27 not in 1 ler lined Edie ;lie wouldiui Dempster's her attend- thing ? ' scape ; and r turned to 'our father ic creature, presumes a iture — yes, her heart a sharp door was red in the mistress's irsty,' said eived tlmt leureltc'd not having allowed Effie to wait upon them without lemark. Kirsty, with the utmost scorn and as ungraciously as possible, filled the plate and placed it before the stranger. She was a proud woman in her way, and it didn't suit her to wait upon this young upstart, whose grandfather had worked at the loom in luT father's weaver's shop in Freucliie. There were other reasons, too. which made her dislike and distrust the AVardrops ; she could never forget that terrible time long ago when Gavin Wardrop the elder had so nearly had Drumkeillour in his clutches, had not David Dempster come home just in time from foreign parts, and spoiled the cunning lawyer's little game. And now they liad turned up again, doubtless to try and impose upon poor Miss Dempster in her weak old age ! It was more than Kirsty Forgan was able to stand. ]\iiss Dempster was rendered so uncomfortable by her domestic's ominous demeanour, that she never vohmteered a remark, and only replied to her guest in monosyllables ; but when Kirsty at length retired, she turned to him with a word of apology on her lips. Guy passed it off with his usual ready tact; but he registeicd a vow to pjiy with interest the contempt he saw so ])lainly expressed in Kirsty Forgan's eyes. ■i *, ■i\y'\ i I m t ■wiiMiiiii Ihii %M^m^^ jj«^^v/^' nV»»vK .*,^^ >v. v CHAPTER III. IN THE NIGHT. OCTOE BOXTHROX, I'll speak a meenit wi' ye, if ye please.' So said Kirsty Forgan one October morning, coming into the hall just as Effie was letting the doctor out after his daily visit to her mistress. '"Well, Xirsty, what is it?' asked the old man kindly ; for he saw that Kirsty was much put about. ' Come in here, sir, jist a meenit, if ye please,' said Kirsty nervoucly ; and opening the library door, she motioned the doctor to enter. When they were togetlier in the room, greatly to Doctor Bon- thron's surprise, Kirsty burst into tears. ' AVhy, Kirsty, what on earth is wrong ? If it is grief for your poor mistress, try and bear up. It will be a real release for her. Neither you nor I, Kirsty, know how great a sufl'erer she has been,' 28 Tr-^ ^ a meenit October IS lettiiii: O stress. old man it about. I please,' 5 library len they tor Boii- If it is np. It u nor I, 3en.' IN THE NIGHT. 99 *It's no' that, Doctor Bonthron, though I'll miss her sair ! * said Kirsty brokenly. * It's thae Ward- rops, sir ; could ye no* help me to get them oot o* Drumkeillour ? As sure's I'm a livin' wummin, they're tryin' to get her to wull the place to them. They're never awa' frae her, an* she'll no* let me say a word against them.' 'Where's David Dempster?* asked the Doctor gravely. *The best thing you can do is to send for him. In his own interests and those of his daughter, he ought to be here at a time like this. Miss Dempster cannot last above a couple of days now ; and it is quite possible she may slip away before that.' 'I gar'd Effie write to Mr. Dauvit oot o' x'"^s Denipster*s knowledge. I daurua tell her, ye ken, I she's that ill at him,* said Kirsty. ' That was eight I days past on Monday; but he's never answered it; jan' I'm at my wits' end.' * Has your mistress made no will, Kirsty ? ' ' No' that I ken 0'. I spiered at Mr. Wilson, the jwriter in the Boniiygate, yesterday, if she hi*d ever feaid onything to him, but he said no. But guid only kens what thae Wardrops hae gar'd her dae. It'll be nae surprise to me though they should get iPrumkeillour and a' she hag/ m \vm. 30 THE SECRET TANEL. 'It is a bad case, Kirsty. Gavin Wardrop is certainly not a man of principle, but Miss Dempster's is an old infatuation. I'll speak to Mr. Wilson, and see what he would advise. In the meantime try and reason with your mistress. Point out to her what a sin it will be to will her possessions past her own kin. Should there be no will, of course it will all pass to David Dempster, as next of kin.* 'There's nae will yet, I believe, or the scoondrels wadna be sae desperate attentive to her,' said Kirsty irefully. * It very near gars me throw to see them makin' theirsel's sae muckle at hame in Drumkeillour. Young Guy's aye here, ye ken, an' the auld loon comes an' gangs. Effie attends on them. I'se warrant they dinna get muckle o' my countenance.' Doctor Bonthron could not but smile at the energy with which Kirsty spoke. He felt sorry for her distress ; but he was not a man who interfered in other people's business, and it was a great deal for him to offer to speak to the writer concerning Miss Dempster's affairs. He seldom gave or invited con- fidences, and had Kirsty not been sorely driven. Doctor Bonthron would have been the last person to whom she would have applied. Not much comforted, though a trifle relieved by her outburst, Kirsty showed the doctor out, and went away u[)stairs to lier mistress. IN THE NIGHT, 3» She was lying in the host bedroom — a large beautiful chamber on the drawing-room floor — whither she had been moved at her own desire, having taken a strange dislike to her own room. Kirsty stepped lightly across the floor, and, observing that her mistress had fallen into a sleep, sat noiselessly down by the bedside, and, folding her hands on her lap, gave herself up to the sorrowful and foreboding thoughts which crowded in upon her mind. Tears of compassion stood in her honest eyes as they looked on the worn face of the sufferer, who was without doubt approaching her end. She had served her faithfully and well, for love and not for gain, and had borne with her perverse and eccen- tric ways as none other could or would have done. What was to become of her after Miss Dempster was gone ? she asked herself ; for should her fear prove too well grounded, and Drumkeillour pass into strange and unworthy hands, it would be no home for her. Nay, she knew that she would be sent about her business with'>ut delay. * Kirsty,' said her mistress, in a feeble whisper ; and in a moment the faithful soul was bending anxiously over the bed. * Yes, ma'am, what is't ? Are ye ony easier ? * The sufferer shook her head. I 32 THE SECRET PAAEL. * Is Gavin Wardrop in the house ? ' ' Yes, ma'am ; at least, the son is lying at his ea«?o on the dinner-room sofa,' said Kirsty, striving, but in vain, to soften her voice. * When will his father be back ? He left last night, didn't he? When did he say he would be back ? * * 'Deed I didna spier, but I'se warrant ye he'll no' be long. He comes an' gangs to Drumkeillour as it comes up his back, mair's the peety,' said Kirsty, with a strange, indignant sob. * Oh, ma'am, I maun speak. I dinna ken what thae ill men hae been sayin' to ye, but weel I ken it's nae guid, exceptiu for themsel's. Miss Dempster, oh, dinna pit Drum- keillour by the Dempsters a'thegither, whatever yc dae ! It wad be an unco sin.* 'Who said I had p.t Drumkeillour by the Dempsters ? ' asked iVIiss Dempster querulously. 'You jump too quickly to conclusions. It rests altogether with -Maggie Dempster. She has the keeping or losing of Drumkeillour in her own hands.' 'Eh, I wish the entail had never been broken,' muttered Kirsty fervently. ' Then thae scoondrels couldna hae dune muckle herm. The bawbees tlioy micht hae gotten, but no' Drumkeillour.' ' What are you saying, Kirsty ? ' asked her mistress I • ; IN THE NIGHT, 33 fretfully. 'I am niucli displeased at your lack of courtesy to my guests. I expected difl'erently from you.* ' I canua help it, ma'am. Guests, did ye say ? Jjonnie guests. They're jist like corbies waitin' till the breath's oot to devour what's left,' said Kirsty, unable to control herself. ' Oh, ma'am, I wunner that ye are sae blind ! What wad I no' gie to see ^Maister iJavid cross the door-stane o' Drumkeillour this very day V * Never in my lifetime, Kirsty ; never in my life- time!* said Miss Dempster with feverish eagerness. * When he blighted my life in the summer of my days, I swore that I should never 'ook upon his face again, and that he should never again, while I lived, cross the threshold of Drundveillour. I have kept my vow. in the spirit and in the letter, and will till death.' Kirsty was silent, only sorrowfully and hopelessly shook her head. 'Oh, ma'am, that's no' a speerit in which I wad like to meet death,' she said at length. 'Are we no' telt to forgi'e oor enemies. If we dinna, lioo fan we expect to be forgiven ?' ^liss Dempster impatiently shook her head. ' No more, Kirsty ; I am not afraid to die. I have lived a consistent, upright life. At least, I havu )ii:ver yilayed the hypocrite. t.\ jff '§ 34 THE SECRET PANEL, ■t 'Weel, ma'am, 1 tliiiik ye sliouldna spca"k nae mair,' said Kirsty \varuingly. ' I (loot I hae letteii ye say ovver muckle as it is.' * No, no ! I feel a strange measure of strengtli to-day, Kirsty. It may be tliat my sickness is not yet unto death. When Mr. Wardrop returns to Drumkeillour, I will see him at once.* *Wull I no' send for Mr. Wulscn, the writer, ma'am ? ' asked Kirsty almost pleadingly. * He's an honest lawyer, wlia wudna wrang either deid or livin'.' 'What do I want with Mr. Wilson? No, no. Gavin Wardrop has always managed my affairs, and will do to the end. I have ever found him the soul of integrity and honour. Those who say otherwise, Kirsty, lie against a < ^od man.' In spite of her sad anxiety, Kirsty Forgan could have laughed aloud. And yet it was a cup of deep bitterness to her to hear hpr mistress speak in such terms of the black writer of Dundee. It showed too plainly that the old wild love whicli had poisoned her girlhood, and, because disappointed, had em- bittered all her life, reigned paramount still. A sad and heavy day was that for Kirsty Forgan ; never had Efhe Gourlay found her such an indulgei;'., careless judge. In generaly the two were at constant IN rilE NIGHT. 35 war, EfTio rebelling at times aj^ainst the housekeeper's old-fashioned notions and rigid ways of working, so different from the slip-shod rule of modern domestics. Miss Dempster continued easier throughout the day, and seemed so much improved in every way, that in the afternoon Gavin Wardrop, crossing the ferry, walked from Tayport into Cupar, and telegraphed in ci])her to his father, that in the meantime he need not hurry back to Drumkeillour, as Miss Dempster was talking of getting out of bed. Gavin Wardrop had been a fortnight now at Drundveillour, and he was getting very tired cf his task. Miss Dempster did not give them much satisfaction either, for, though apparently much pleased to have them with her, she absolutely declined to talk about her decaase, or about the disposal of Drumkeillour. If she died in the same frame of mind, their game would be lost, and Drumkeillour would pass to David Dempster. They were at rest, however, on one point, and firmly believed that as yet there existed no scrap of writing to indicate how she desired her possessions to be disposed of. She had led them to believe it by urging, in reply to their pleadings, that there was time enough to make her will when she felt convinced that she was about to die. She had also given young Gavin some satisfaction, by telling •1 ;^i 3<5 THE SECRET PANEL, him his unwearied care and attention to her would not go unrewarded. Seeing her mistress so mucli better that night, Kirsty consented to rest for a few hours, and allowed Effie to take her place. So at eleven o'clock, Effie was installed in the nurse's chair, with due instructions to keep awake, and to call Kirsty immediately if she thought there was any need for her presence. Worn out with anxiety and want of sleep, Kirsty was no sooner in bed than she fell into a heavy, dreamless slumber, all unconscious of how very poorly Effie was attending to her duties. The poor girl, unaccustomed to late hours or night nursing, in spite of her vigorous efforts to keep her eyes open, speedily fell sound asleep also ; and even when her mistress stirred and asked for water, she did not hear. Unaccustomed to being thus neglected, Miss Dempster raised herself on her elbow, and seeing Effie in her chair fast asleep, lay down again, and fell a-thinking. Whatever the train of thought, it seemed to move .her greatly, for tears were cours- ing down her cheeks, and she had much ado to still the sobs which would certainly have awakened her careless attendant. After a little, the eight-day clock on the stairs rang one, and then a strange thing happened. Very noiselessly and swiftly Miss Dempster slipped out of the opposite side of the bed, IN THE mCHT. 37 ^ put on her slippers, and taking licr dressing-gown, and a shawl from beliind the door, stole out of tht' room, Efhe sleeping and snoring loudly all the while. Oh, if Kirsty could * but have seen with what soft footfall Miss Dempster stole downstairs, walking with speed and ease marvellous in one thought to be so near death ! Her step never faltered, her hand on tlie rail of the stair did not tremble. She had never appeared stronger or more self-possessed in her life. Swiftly the weird figure glided across the hall, entered the library, and closed the door. In another minute one of the candles on the escritoire was lit, and Miss Dempster, hastily, yet quietly and methodi- cally, got out writing materials, and, seating herself, began to write. Words flowed easily and quickly from her pen, and the statement was endorsed with her name in full, the date, and very hour at which she wrote it. That done. Miss Dempster returned the writing materials to their places, folded up the sheet of paper, and, crossing over to the fire-place, tapped with her finger on the oak panels of the wall Her eyes were beginning to see unsteadily now, and her ears could scarcely detect the hollow sound which indicated the sliding panel — a secret known only to herself. At length, however, the spring, obedient to her touch, flew back, the folded ii?ti m h!l m 3« THE SECRET PANEL. paper was hastily pushed in, hack it slid to its place, and Miss Dempster staggered blindly from the room, leaving the candle burning on the escritoire. Not so swift or so steady were her steps as she slowly ascended the wide stair. She groped her way slowly and painfully, for there was a film gath^nng about her eyes ; a strange sense of suffocation and languor oppressed her whole being. Strength only lasted ' till she had thrown off her dressing-gown, then she fell upon the bed, and feebly gathered the clothes up to her throat with a low moan of pain. And still Effie slept on. In the grey, cheerless dawn, Kirsty Forgan, having in her fatigue slept longer than she intended, came hurrying into her mistress's room, only to find Effie asleep, and Miss Dempster lying very white and very still upon her bed. Too white and still to be in life ; alas ! in the silent watches of the night, Eobina Dempster had laid down the burden of earth, and the poor suffering, wasted frame had at last found peace. CHAPTEE IV. FATHER AND DAUGHTER. BE you more wearied than usual to-night, papa ? ' * Perhaps I am, Maggie. The hot weather is trying, and our office, as you know, is not the most airy place in existence. I found it very close to-day.' A quick, impatient sigh broke from Maggie Dempster's lips, and she hastily walked over to the window, not caring that her father should see the rebellious tears welling in her eyes. Just at that moment Maggie Dempster found life to be very hard, and her usual sunny serenity was marred by a feeling of discontent. It is not an easy thing for us to see those we love suffer, and be unable to help. There was a long silence in the quiet little roomj 39 i ssi w ■ v 7 ■ . 40 T//£ SECRET PANEL and at lengtli MagLjio returned to the side of lier father's chair, and laid her firm young hand lightly on his grey head. ' Father, I wish I could do something,' she said, with a quick catch in her voice. * When I watched you coming up the street to-night, and saw how old and grey and feeble you looketl, I felt my heart juyt like to break.' * You do a oreat deal, Ma^Gjie, mv dear,' said the old man gently. ' When you work about the house all day, and teach that weary music at night, what more could you do, my girl ? It often grieves me to think of what you do, and you a Dempster too. Ay, ay, lassie, the old stock has fallen low. ■ * Yes, but we are the old stock still, father,' said Maggie proudly. ' Nothing can rob 41s of our birthright. We may be poor enough in the world's goods, but we are Dempsters of Drumkeillour yet.' * Ay, lassie, but that will do little enough for us,' said the old man mournfullv. * What do the sordid wealth-seekers in this dreary city know or care for the Dempsters of Drumkeillour ? The name to them is only an empty sound.' A shadow crossed again the fair face of th6 young girl, and, turning away, she began to roll up some sheets of music preparatory to going forth to s FATHER AND DA UGHTER, 41 her ovoiiing labours. It was a pathetic thing to ' look at these two — the old man and the maiden — who bore so immistakeably in their appearance and surroundings the marks of higher birth and nobler fortunes. The maiden especially, in her proud young beauty, was one at whom even a casual observer Wvuld look twice. She was verily fair to see. Tall and lithe, her figure was yet a dream of grace ; her face, if a trifle too grave and sad to attract ac first, possessed that rarer charm of exquisite feature and expression. The brown hair was worn like a crown above the broad white brow, and there was pride and dignity as well as womanli- ness in every gesture and movement. But her dress was poor and shabby. The little hands which nature had made perfect were red and rough with the work they had never been intended to perform. The old jnan was bent and feeble-looking, his hair as white almost as the driven snow. His face was worn, and thin, its expression that of a man to wlioui life is all care, unrelieved by any gleam of joy ; yet it was not quite so with David Dempster, so long as his daughter, his Maggie, his one treasured ewe lamb, was with him in his home. * I dreamed of Aunt Robina last night, father/ snid Maggie more cheerfully. ' Such an absurd and ft 49 THE SECRET PANEL, foolish dream ! Do you know I saw her quite plainly standing by me exactly as you have described her to me, only she seemed very old, and bent, and withered, and he;* eyes were so black and bright they seemed to read into my very heart/ * She had very piercing eyes, child, when I saw them last. They glared upon me in anger terrible to see,' said the old man musingly. * And yet what I did was for the best, and out of my disinterested love for her, only she could not see it. But for me, Drumkeillour would have been the prize of as unscrupulous an adventurer as ever lived, and probably your aunt would have been in her grave.' *Yes, father. I have often heard you tell the story,' said Maggie, smiling a little. * Perhaps some day Aunt Eobina will give you the credit for a generous motive. Poor old thing, in spite of all her money and her great possessions, I wouldn't change places with her ; though I do wish sometimes when I see you needing little comforts very badly — yes, I do wish I could put my hand deep down into her money bags, and pilfer some of her gold. There now, I must run. Good-bye, my dearest of fathers. 1 shall be back just as quickly as ever I can.' * As quickly as Frank will let you, eh, my dear ? ' said the old man, with a pleasant little nod, at winch J heft alo Dempsti * I fC( last niui half ale girl ? < pride, I why sin night. 1 thought So s rose, 0] side ta bottom which was ^ the pa on his meacjrf daintii preten It make simple old 11 FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 43 wliich Magi^ie blushed and ran out of the room. Left alone, the passing brightness faded from David Dempster's face, and a bitter sigh escaped his lips. * I feel myself breaking up. The struggle cannot last much longer,' he said, in his absorption speaking half aloud. 'And what is to become of my poor girl ? God only knows ! But for that old Dempster pride, I. would sue to liobina on her behalf, and yet why should I be proud ? I'll do it, ay, this very night, this very moment, lest if I dwell upon the thonqht I rue it.* So saying, and with forced energy, the old man rose, opened the little desk which stood upon the side table, and took out writing materials. At the bottom of the desk lay a small account -book into which he peeped carelessly, and then, seeing that :*■; was Maggie's housekeeping book, he turned over the pages, the shadow of grief and care deepening on his face. It was a sad and touching record, each meagre item neatly entered with a precision and daintiness which would have honoured a more pretentious cause. It required no little scheming and planning to make twenty shillings per week cover even the simple expenses of the little household, and as the old man read, his eyes grew dim with tears, and V^-iMi 41 rilE SECRET PANEL. sumethin!::^ like a groan escaped his lips. Twenty siiillings per week — scarcely the wages of tlic commonest labourer. Sucli was the meagre pittance David Dempster could call his so long as he was able to sit on his stool in the ollice of Messrs. Macdowall & West. Yet he was a Dempster of Drumkeillour, and in the old home his hard-visaged, close-fisted sister lived among her heaps of gold, keeping up an old grudge in her heart agains!: tlie sole kin she hiid surviving upon the face of the earth, David Dempster tossed aside Maggie's account book, took up the pen, and began : — 'CuccLEUCH Place, Edinbukqh, Octohvr 186- ' My deae Eor.iNA ' — And there he paused, for memories crowded thick and fast upon him — the phantoms of other days, the ghosts of joys and sorrows which in youth brother and sister had shared together, gathered about his heart, shutting out all the burden and care of the present. He felt himself a boy again, li'»ht of heart and fleet of limb, huntin'jr for birds' iicsts in the bjnnie woods of Drumkeillour, or wadiu'T- barefoot in ihe silver waters of the Keillour l»iirn, or trotting proudly on his little pony beside his father's Bonnie Jean wlien he rode her into FATHER AND DAUGHTER, •15 mm Cupar iimrket. Ay, tlicse were lia|)})y days, 'tiie iuild laird's time,' of wliicli Cupc.f folk often regret- fully spoke, the time when Drumkeillour had been a name held in honour and love in the country-side. Whih^ her father was thus communing with tiie far-off past, IMaggie w\as rapidly threading her way through the busy streets to the quieter thoroughfares on the north side of the New Town. Her young face wore an expression of deep thoughtfulness, yet it WHS not sad. In jMaggie Dempster's heart was a (It'Cp well-spring of happiness which took the sting from all the carking care of her daily life. ' If Frank were only finished with his college course, and had begun practice, how ha[;py we would be ! ' she said to herself as she turned into Abercromby Place, where abode tlie two pupils to whom she gave nightly lessons in music and singing. Her em[)loyers were rich people, but not conspicuously generous or benevolent, consequently Maggie Demp- ster wrought very hard indeed for her slender salary. The mother was an accomplisliod lady herself, and exacted the utmost jirecision and closest attention from the young person employed to teach her girls. Maggie, however, was so faithful and conscientious by nature, and discharged so scrupulously every duty she had undertaken, ihat Mrs. Sinclair could ,„,.„ I y '; W I If? 46 THE SECRET TAX EL. not be otlier\vi;i!e than satisfied. liut it was siul drudgery for poor Macrgie, and her work was irksoiiKj to her ; whetlier beeause it must be always a trial to a musician to teach those who are not musical, or whether because something of the; old Dempster pride made her rebel, I cannot tell. lUifc no one ever heard her comi)lain, and her siglis of weariness aud discontent were hidden from the world. A strange restlessness possessed ]\Iaggie Dempster tliat night, and she could not concentrate her attention on her work. Even Flora's frequent discords passed unheeded, a circumstance which considerably astonislied tlie child, accustomed as she was to her teacher's gentle but lirm corrections. It was an unspeakable relief wlien the hour of drudgery was over, and she could bid her pui)ils good night. Dusk had been closing in when she entered the house, and wlu-n she again stepped into the quiet street it was dark, except where the faint exquisite radiance of the harvest moon brightened the gloom. It yy.i.s a harvest moon yet, for the summer had been late and cold, and it was a connnon saying tliat Yule W(juld be U])on farmer folk before tliey got the coin on tlic liigli lands safe under thark and rojMi. How (juict it was, thouglit Maggie, a."^ hbH t»))HKfl Mwny I'vom t.ho d»»nr. lu^.kin';' tirst, ny I'ATIIKR Axn DAUr.nrKR, 47 and tlion down tlie stroot witli a jn-ctty gosturo of t'xpectaiicy whicli someljody wiitcliini^' from iind(;r iIkj .sliadu of the trees in the gardens saw very well, and loved to see. Next minute a tall figure strode across the street, and kiss(-d .M.iggie — yes, without the slightest hesitation, under the veiy gas-lamp, too; hut then nohody saw, and if they did what matter ? had he not a perfijet riglit to do so ? ' Oh, Frank, you really shouldn't ! ' said Maggie in very mild reproof. ' Think if ^Mrs. Sinclair saw, she would be (piite sure to dismiss me, as not being a prc»j)er preceptress for her daugliters.' ' 1'hat wouldn't be a very great calamity, Maggie,' said the offender calndy, as he took her hand on his arm * Xever mind, my darling, the day is coming when we'll astonish ]\Irs. Sinclair and a few others of her order ; and how are you to-night ? ' 'Quite well, Frank, only a little restless,' said ]\raggie ; and it was exquisite to see with what utter confidence and love her beautiful eyes travelled to tlie dear face bent upon her in tenderest interest. 'I believe it's a dream I had last night about iumt rol)ina. You have heard me speak of Aunt Eobina, Frank ? ' " That old dragon at Drundveillour, you mean. I lK",r your pardon, Maggie, bnt Fm right enough/ I I !■'■■., & ;r* i' '4i^. ;'■-: 48 THE SECRET PANEL h" liiuulietl Fiaihc. 'Yes, what did you dieain al)out her ? Xotliin<,' pleasant, of course' ' Not very. I tlioiiL^dit she was standing by nic in the ni^^ht reproachin^Lj me for not coniin^^' lo Drunikeilkmr, and she did look so awful! Jiut vmi know, dear, I couldn't after such a letter, could [ C 'Not likely. Your aunt is another we will Ik; even with when we set up our brougham, Maggie,' said Frank teasingly ; but he drew himself \\\) tu his tall height, as if he quite meant what he said. ' How is your father to-night ? feeling better, I hopi'.' ' I don't think so, Frank. I sometimes think papa has a yearning after the old phice. When one comes to think of it, it is no wonder he cannot quite forget it, and this is no life for him* 'What was the historv of the estrangement, Maggie ? I have never heard it yet.' * Oh, it is a long story. Papa could tell it better than I ; but you know grandpapa was so angry over his marriage with mamma that he disinherited him ; and evervthing was left to Aunt Piobina. Xct long after grandpapa's death, a Dundee lawyer with whom he had done some business began to come a great deal about Drumkeillour, and Aunt Eobina got quite infatuated with him. It was quite the talk of the country-side, and when papa heard of it he was iiupiirc Wardrd was on lliroiiLiI jtajta ii known went (d all claii \\\(\ wo I ^Vardrc near 1) t'orLiave agaui. spoiled she di( Tliat ii vou nn ho wil trusts linnie £ 'Yej AIaufc in a few minutes the lad returned with the message that Mr. Dempster had no more time to waste, and that if i\Ir. Mae- dowall had anything to say to him, he eould address him to Drund^eillour. Mr. Macdowall l)it his li)), and wished his partner would come in. How hliu'l l)oth had been, not to have guessed that Demj)st(r was something other than he seemed ! A Dempster of Drund ii i;'f;: •i^Sfe-.i .v*-><\\ m m. ' %■ :i \ 1. ,t,' '■ 1 1^ :;■ '■'%\m I ' I'- , if: } 66 THE SECRET PANEL. knew wlien to hold her tongue ; but, like tlie majority of silent people, she kept ]:er eyes wide open. It was a very small trifle, indeed, wliich escaped her ; and though Kirsty did not suspect it, Ei?ie had so ingeniously put two and two together, that she knew exactly how matters stood in Drum- keillour, and being of a slower, more calculating nature than impulsive Kirsty, she could have given her some information on points which Kirsty did not quite understand. But she wn":; too prudent to say anything, or to volunteer information unasked, knowing full well how quick Kirsty would be to resent it. ' If Dauvit Dempster disna come to Drumkeilloiir the day, Elhe,' said Kirsty, ' I'll be obleeged to gang to Embro' nivsel', an' tell him the on2;auns. "What richt hae twa writer bodies to rummage the mistress's drawers and desks, I wad like to ken. I dinna ken whieli I like warst. The vounsi ane's a sly fox ; his shiftin' e'en an' smooth tongue are jisl made for leein'. Can ye no' speak, lassie ? Ye hinua seen muckle. but ve micht ken there's something wranu.' • "Whaur are they the noo ? ' asked Etlie, as stolidly as if she were askiiig if she would put the kettle on. * Thev're in the library, Effie Gourlav ; an' thev hae drawers o\\v\\ that has been under lock an' key siu' \ih 1 1.', TWO SCHEMERS. 67 ever I cam' to Drumkeillour,' said Kirsty. * If Pauvit Dempster dinna mak' haste to Drumkeillour, I doot he may find it's gane past him after a'. I'm sure I dinna ken what writers were made for. They dae mair mischief than doctors, and that's no' little. Eh, they're a black crew.' ' D'ye ken what I wad dae, if I were you, Kirsty ? ' said Eifie quietly. * No, lassie ; what's that ? * ' I'd gang into the library, an' I'd sit tliere, an* watch, jist as oor Jenny watches the mice,' said Effie, polishing a tumbler till it shone again. ' An' I wadna heed what they said. I'd watch that they didna steal naething till the maister comes. That's what I wad dae ; though I dinna ken muckle, I wadna let them twa dae what they like wi' the mistress's things.' Kirsty turned round and stared into the face of her handmaiden in genuine astonishment. ' Dod, lassie, wha wad hae thocht ye had as muckle gumption ! ' she exclaimed. ' Twa heids is better than line yet, I see. I'll jist dae that. It micht be worth yer while to keek in after a wee an' see the girns on my gentlemen's ill veesages. I'll jist awa'.* And, chuckling to herself over Eflie's bright idea, Kirsty retired with haste up the kitchen stairs and filtered the library. .t': " \ '^' '^ '^M ■I 11 :H I* I :1 ,,, ^Si) II ii 68 THE SECRET PANEL, « i ' Well, my woman, wliat do you want now ? ' asked llio old man, looking up in a sharp, displeased way from his inspection of the papers littering the centre tahle. * That's my hnsiness,' was Kirsty's rather un- expected retort, and, walking over to the octagon window, she sat down in the shadow of the heavy moreen curtains, and folded her arms with delibera- tion across her chest. Mr. Wardrop stood up and looked at Kirsty in haughty inquiry. If a glance could have withered her, she miglit have shrunk away under the lawyer's look. But Kirsty was not thin-skinned, and now that she had taken one step, she was prepared to enjoy a tussle with him. Slie liad nothing to lose; he could do her no harm, and she miglit do good service for Drum- keillour by oi)enly defying him. * What do you mean, eh ? Do vou know who von are speaking to, eh ? ' he asked, in his blustering fashion. ' I suppose you think because your mistress is away tljat you are of some importance here. I will soon teach you otherwise. Leave the room instantly. How dare you intrude so impertinently here ? * * Ay, I ken brawly wha I'm speakin* tae, an' he kens me/ said Kirsty, with a slow nod. * Gang on wi' ycr honest, ; ye. As a hantle It w mingled face. ] and she •We laird ar Kirsty us.' T nienaci; arrives tinence TIVO SCHEMERS, 69 11^' th wm. wi' ycr investigations, Maister Wardrop. If they bo honest, yc'll no' heed nie. I'll no' fash ye, I'se warrant ye. As for gaun oot 0' here, I micht set you oot wi' a liantle niair face/ It would be difficult to describe the look of mingled rage and annoyance on Gavin Wardrop's face. Kirsty, however, was master of the situation, and she knew it well. ' We had better suspend our examinations till the laird arrives,' he said to his son, loudly enough for Kirsty to liear. * Doubtless he will be able to help us.' Then, turning to that resolute person, he added menacingly, ' Look here, woman, directly Mr. Dcmpsier arrives he shall be informed of your gros.-^ imper- tinence to \Q\\Y late mistress's lecjal advisers. He (loul»tk\ss will punish you as you deserve.' ' Ay, dootless he wull, honest man,' said Kirsty, and her eyes tilled again. * Blitliely wull I tak' my (arnin's frae liini. Him an' me's no' frien' tae ane anil her. What wad I no gie to hear his tit on tlie • i'Mir-stanc «j' Drumkeillour I' \\\ sour silence Gavin Wardrop gathered up tlie papers and returned them to tlieir places in drawer and eabinet, then father iuul son quitted the room, k-aving Kirsty victorious. I laving thus been worsted ill the house, thev took their hats and strolled out of H 'r. ''til I '1 ,1*' SI" if 70 THE SECRET PANEL, doors, and as the day was fine and mild for October they could enjoy their talk undisturbed. * "What are we staying here for ? ' asked young Gavin, as he lighted his cigar. * The game being up, l:i i r iier we get back to town the better. Do you su]"«|'!tc the new laird will have anything to say to us?' ' Don't be in such a hurry, lad. We'll wait and see,' said the old man cautiously. * It's a pity now that I didn't come myself instead of sending you. I could have put the screw on the old lady, I beHeve. Anyway, I should have had something for my pains.' ' There isn't a scrap of anything in the shape of a will,' said Gavin more contentedly, soothed by the fragrant fumes of his Havanna. * It'll be a fine change for Dempster and his daughter. I'm sure they'll not appreciate the place half so well as I could have done,' he added, looking round on the wooded slopes and fertile valleys watered by the flowing Eden, thinking with envious regret what a fair heritage it would be for any man to call his own. * Talking of the game, it is not quite up yet,' said old Gavin, in his slow, cautious way. * It's like playing a game of chess, boy, and we have one more left on the board. You must stay here and marry David Dempster's daugliter.' ' \Mie^ in liis an fallit'.r wi 'Fact,' only way now.' ' It's a his sou { pill you ( ' Druii thick enc the old s ' But • indoors, said you out nn coniforta es})(V'iMl her Ljoh ' Not motlicr tOLrelher niucli lo The s in youn remark.^ TWO SCHEMERS. 71 • * "Wliew ! ' The cigar fell from young Guy's lips in liis aiJiazemeiit, and, standing still, he regarded his father witli a hlank stare. 'Fact,' said old Guy with a sagacious nod ; * it's the only way you can ever get your finger in the pie now.' * It's all very well for you to lay plans for we/ said his sou grimly. * It's easy enough to p scribe the pill you don't have to swallow ! * * Drunikeillour and its moneybags 01 Id make a thick enough gilding for even a very bitter pill,' said the old schemer quietly. ' But the girl may be as ugly as that old dragon indoors, and have as bad a temper, for aught I know,* said young Guy. * Think of a fellow having to drag out nu existence with such. It is not easy to live comfortably witli a woman you don't care a fig for, espocially if she have nuihing to recommend her but her ,l;u1(1.' ' Xot so bad as you would think, my boy. Your mother and I have managed to live very comfortably tOLTellier for nearly thirty years, and there wasn't much love in our case to bcjin with.* The slightest possible shade of contempt gleamed in young Gavin's eyes as he listened to his father's nnuarks, whit:h he felt to be in the worst of taste. m I. ^ !,'M;i' r :i; •< \ ■ 1 t'll ■ 7« THE SECRET PANEL. Rut he made no reply, save by giving vent to an unpromising grunt. ' But the chances are that David Dempster's [jirl will be desirable enough, so far as looks are mn- cerned, and there can't be much wrong with her disposition. Her father was always a good sort of a chap, selfish a little, and her mother was one of tlie few angels there are here below, so I don't think you need concern yourself about that.' ' Suppose she won't have me, what then ? ' 'There shouldn't be much fear of that, boy, at your age, and with such an appearance,' said tlie old man, not without })ride. ' Women are all fools, more or less. Flatter them, and you can make anything,' you like out of them. Why, even I, old as I am, would not be afraid to go in and win.* ' There are few like you, dad,' said young Guy, with a dry laugh which implied a great deal. 'But how am I to get acquainted with the girl ? I can t stay here unless they ask me.* 'You must contrive to get an invitation sonioliow, but we will leave that for after consideration. AVe must see what like they are. Surely they will be here some time to-day.* Even while he spoke, the train in which David Dempster and his daughter had travelled from T^VO SCHEMERS, u Kiliiibur^h was steaming into Cupar station. When they ali;4hted, David Dempster looked about liim with a St.auge, swift, almost mournful glance, for there wt>re many changes here, and he did not see a familiar face. None of the ollicials were old enough to re- iiiiiuiber him ; yet few could have recognised in the bent and broken-down old man tlie noble youth wliom Cupar folk had loved to call the young biird of Driuiikeillour. How peaceful and serene looked tlie old town in the clear October light ! the same quiet, sleepy, picturesque place he remembered of yore. As they drove slowly up the Bonnygate in a hired carriage, he sat back in his corner, as if afraid any sliould recognise him ; but Alaggie, with all the curiosity of youtli, peered out of the open window, interested beyond measure in the little town of which she liad heard so often. As may be expected. Miss Deuijister's death and the future of Drumkeillour were topics of absorbing interest just then to the town's folk, and when David Dempster had given the cahnian the order to drive to Drumkeillour, the man liad looked hard at him, wondering with all his might whether he was to have the honour of driving the new laird. The road to Drumkeillour traversed li stretch of finely cultivated country, and, though the harvest was all ingathered on the low-lying lands, the- HI; I'Ul ; 1 m i:i; I V. II I ■\'i w I i I' S!!l!liv;; 1' V ■ h.!;, '■ 74 THE SECRET rA.\EL. stul)l)lc fK^ldswitli th(Mr friucrcs of antiimii-liuod (hmn liad ;i beauty all tlieir own. Tlui loavcis had iii,i bej:jiiii t() fall yet, for tlierc liadliccii no wild winds or fierce raijis to disturb them ; these ([uiet, .i^^oldcn dav.^ were like the sunny Idink before^ the breakiniLj of the storm. The weatlier-wise predicted an eailv and a hard winter, for tlie hawtliorn bloom had been too plentiful in early snnmier, tlien tlie swallows li:itl taken iliulit before the harvest was well l)(>uun, \\\\\ the robins had lonij;- been in their ])lace. I>ut as yet all these signs bad failed, for the weather was nnui and balmy, and there were as yet no indications df a storm. After half-an-hour's drive, jMaggie, still jieoriii'^ out, saw a venerable stone gateway in the distimro, wliicli her heart told her was tlie entrance to Drum- keillour. * Papa, is this it ? ' she asked breathlessly. Then the old man sat up, and looked out, all lii^ listlessness gone. ' Ay, ay, Maggie, this is Drumkeillour.* Then they swept through between the ivied pillar- into the cool dim shades of the beech avenue. Oh the thousand lively and variegated hues on tlic-'' noble trees, silent witnesses to the age of I)rnjii- keillour ! i\Iaggie felt awed as she looked out upon Tlf'O SCriEMF.RS. 75 tlicir f,Miark'(I and kiioittMl trunks, and at tlio lin«;o lioiiuhs inturlacini:' overh.iad ; and, williout kiiowini: why, slie troniblod in every limb. It was a stranj^'o experience for David Dempster, tliis lonely, sad lidiiie-eoniinj^^ to the house of his fathers, from vvhieli he had been exiled so Vnv^. ' Oil, da(hly, how^ lieantifwi ! what a homo! Oh, I (luu't wonder that j-^w loved it so ! ' she exclaimed, when at length the fine old house, clothed with the beauty of centuries, was revealed to her excited gaze ; but still her fatlier spoke never a word. He had forgotten her ; he was oblivious to the interests and concerns of the moment. The old man's heart and thoughts just t^ien were in the land of long ago. Mt. \ ■, ■: % Iiiii .: 1 hi. F^^^^-^-^ CHAPTER VIL A STRANGE HOME-COMING. FFIE, that's no' coach- wheels, is't V askot] Xirsty Forgan, starting up from the cup of tea with which she was calmiug li^r excited nerves. 'Ay is't/ answered Effie, and running into the still-room, which commanded a partial view of il-i front entrance, she peered anxiously out. ' It's Jamie Anderson's cab, an' there's a gentleman an* a leddy in't. Eh, sic a honny sweet leddy, Kirsty ' she called out, but Kirsty was already half-way up the stair to the hall ; and Eihe returned to tiu; kitchen to find the teapot upset on the table, and i brown stream flowing above the pat of fresh buttiT on the plate. * Weel, I never ! Things is jist gaun clean tapsalteerie,' said the damsel, as she proceeded to rectify the accident. She had cause for the exclama- 70 tion, for tliiii^L,^ ? a matter Wide U1)()U tlic eyes ht to Drum graceful tenderly oould SC{ young 1 towards his fath )iiade t ' Oh, a hundi cried, cl one, qu: ' Tha is alnu with a real I)( ' A}' Kirsty VUUllL'' • o of itB l(t A STRANGE HOME-COMING. 77 tion, for when did careful Kirsty ever do sucli a tiling ? H<"td it been EfRe herself, it niiijht have been a matter of small account. Wide open did Kirsty throw the hall door, and out upon tlie steps, all her heart shining in her honest eyes ; her welcome, at least, would not be wanting to Drumkeillour's rightful heirs. She saw the slim, graceful figure of a young girl alight first, then very tenderly assist the old man, whom Kii'sty Forgan could scarcely recognise as David Dempster, the gay young laird of long ago. But when he looked towards her and smiled, her doubts fled, for that was his father's dear smile, the winsome blink which had luade the auld laird so dear to every heart. ' ()h, Maister Dauvid, my dear, welcome hame ! ii hundred thoosand welcomes to Dr^unkeillour ! ' she cried, clamping her two hands over his outstretched one, quite overcome. ' Thank you, Kirsty ; yours is the kent face in what is almost " the strange land " to me now,' he said, with a mournful smile. ' This is my daughter — a real Dempster, isn't she, Kirsty ? ' ' Ay, ay, a real Dempster, true enough,' said Kirsty, looking with keen interest upon the winsome young face, and the lissom figure which had a dignity of its own, as became a daughter of Drumkeillour. ■ ■•' i 1 m ■ . *■ 1' i ■ 11 ! ■ 1 j ' ■ ■■* t. 7S THE SECRET PANEL, ' Eh, sir, it's tlic blink o' the sun to see ycr farn n.i^uin. llielit ^i^led lun I that ye ha'e come at las;. for there ha'e been honnie ongauns this while, 1 ran tell ye, in Dnnnkeillour. You're no' a nieenit cnvcr sune. r)Ut come in, come in. There'll be pleiiiv tinu^ to crack eft(u- hand.' So saying, Xirsty, alninst beside herself in her excitement an;y, * Eh, Maister Dauvid, what way did ye no' couic when I sent for ye inair nor a week syne ?' 'I did not get your letter, Kirsty. Probably i; had been wrongly addressed.' ' I (hirstna spier at tlu^ mistress whaur ye bad' ^■^' ken ; but I kenl that last time we heard o' v it was some gate idjoot llolyrood, so I jist sent ii (Ml cliauee.' ' It is five v<.'ars since we left the little cottage ai illiith'" lilt I A STRANGE HOME-COMING. 79 ii! '1' St. Leonard'c, Kirsty,' said David Dempster. 'No arrangeiiieuts have beeu made for the funeral, I sui)pose ? ' * 'Deed, sir, hoo I'm to tell ye I dinna ken, but Wardrop, the writer, ye ken, has ta'en a hantle upon hissel, an' I believe the bids are a' oot the day,' suid Kirsty, with an indignant catch in her voice. •i\y, there's bonnie .ongauns, I can tell ye, in Drumkeillour.' ' Wardrop ! By what right did he presume to take so much upon himself ? He knew I was alive. Did he suppose me incapable of performing these duties ? ' asked David Dempster, with a heat which astonished Maggie not a little ; she never remembered having seen her father's even serenity so disturbed bufore. * Dinna spier his richt. lie kens nane but iiiipidence,' said Kirsty. ' But here they come, the aukl cock an' the young, as croose as ye like,' she added grimly. * My certie, they'll get the odds putten on them noo.' 'Take my daughter upstairs, Kirsty, while I speak to those gentlemen,' said David Dempster, and again I^Iai^^gie looked at him in amazement. Where was the old meek humility wliicli had so often touched and pained her ? All gone, and in its place a new m i'lite m^ i'\ n V\- 8o THE SECRET PANEL. dignity and hauteur of manner which became him rarely welh He was a Dempster of Drumkeillour now beyond a doubt, and, oh, did not Kirsty Forgan chuckle to herself as she led her young mistress upstairs ? If only she could have been present to see ' the odds put on the Wardrops,' her cup of satisfajtion would have been tilled to the brim. The Wardrops had been interrupted in their confidential chat as tliey emerged from the shrubbery by the sight of Jamie Anderson's cab driving ra])i(lly away from the house. Instantly surmisiog who liuu arrived, they made haste indoors, eager to greet the new laird and his dau' 'liter. ' Mr. Dempster ! ' exclaimed th-^ old man, advancing effusively witli outstretched hand. * May I bid you welcome, «ir, to Drar!''ceillour.' David Dempster coldly bowed, and ignored the offered hand. He had not forgcjtten the past, though Gavin Wardrop seemed to desire that he should. * Will you step in here, sir ? ' he said, quietly opennig the library door. *I have several tilings to inquire about. Doubtless you will be able uiid willing to accord me all the information in your power. Your son, I presume '{ * •Yes. Mr. Dempster, my only boy, TIk^R'' ^tnlwin* tSmf l,;i,L:i A STRANGE HOME-COMING, 8i fellows make us quite old fogies, don't they ? ' said (Javin Wardrop jocosely, to hide his bitter chagrin at the reception accorded him. ' He may come in, I su[»])ose ? He is my partner now, and in all my secrets, if I have any. Ha, ha ! ' David Dempster nodded ; but there came no shadow of an answering smile on his grave face. ' You have been the legal adviser of the late Miss Dem])Ster for several years, I believe,' he said, when the door was shut, and lifting his keen eyes in- quiringly to the lawyer's face. ' Yes ; Miss Dempster did honour me with her confidence,* was the reply. ' I am prepared to render an immediate and faithful account of my stew;ird- ship, Mr. Dempster. I flatter myself that neither Drumkeillour nor Pitskene has been the worse for me.' David Dempster smiled very slightl^ but made uo remark on that subject. ' I am told you have sent out invi'^ntions for the funeral,' he said. 'Did my sister authorize you to do so ? ' 'No; it is purely out of consideration for you, sir/ said Gavin Wardrop quickly. ' Pardon the remark, but you have been so long away from the district that you must be comparatively a btranger in it. iii 89 THE SECRET PANEL, V \. There have been many changes, as you will find ere you have been long in Drumkeillour.' * Did you send them in my name ? ' 'Yes,' answered the lawyer rather confusedly, for he was uttering a deliberate lie. * I am sorry if I have presumed, Mr. Dempster. I assure you it was purely out of regard fur your late sister and her interests that I took any concern in the matter.' David Dempster waved his hand deprecatingly, and looked at his watch, * You return to Dundee to-night, I presume, or are you staying in the town ; In any case, I shall be glad if you will dine with us. There will be time enough for us to discuss business matters by and by. But I may as well tell you that it is my intention to ask my old friend, Mr. Wilson (who, I am glad to learn, is still alive), to investigate my legal affairs.' So saying, David Dempster walked out of the room, leaving father and son staring at each other in helpless rage. It was very long, indeed, since Lbey had been so humiliated; without a doubt, their J. ime \.'as v^holly lost. ' Let me get out of this cursed place,' said young Gavin, paie with anger. ' Confound him, he made my blood boil ! It made kjc sick to see you smile A STRANGE HOME-COMING. 83 and fawn upon him, when he was trampling on you all the time — a needy lawyer's clerk, too ! Who is he that he should give himself such intolerable airs t > ' Softly, softly, boy,' said old Guy, with a peculiar sly glance of his shifting eyes. 'We'll turn the tables by and by. That hot temper of yours will be yjur undoing, if you don't watch yourself. We will just go cautiously. Trust me, we'll get the whip liand of Mr. David Dempster some day, and then we'll pay him out. All things come to those who wait.' 'He has virtually turned us out of the house,' fumed young Gavin. 'Are you going to stay and eat his bread after the way he has treated us ? ' ' Of course I am, and I'll have it buttered on both sides too,' chuckled old Guy. * Calm yourself, my lad. I want to see the girl, and so do you, if you would only think of it. Who knows, slie nuiy assist unwittingly to make her father pay sweetly for this day's work. Old Wilson, confound him ! to step into my shoes. That means a few hundreds a year from my pocket into his, and yet the old pious hypocrite is as rich as a Jew. But we'll be e.ven with them all.' While the lawyers were thus relieving their i.> m \ i V , 1, i;; tliil IIHH 84 THE SECRET PANEL. minds, Maggie Dempster had been shown to tlie guest-chamber, and was there removing her travelliii;' garb, Kirsty standing by, putting in a word here and there, thoiigli rendered more silent than usual by her unspeakable tliankfulness and joy. Oh, to see a young maiden again in Drumkeiliour, what a joy that was ! wdiat a joy, too, to look on her sweet young face, and watch her swift, graceful move- ments, as sl\e flitted about the room 1 It was no marvel that the faithful soul wlio loved Drum- keiliour and the Dempsters so well should be almost overcome. * I should like to see poor Aunt Robina, Kirsry,' said Maggie. * Will you take me to her room ? ' ' Ay, that wull I, my lamb,' answered Kirsly readily. ' «Tist come this wav.' Mis? Dempster's rooms were on the same flat as the truest - chamlx'r, and when Maggie followed Kirsty into the darkened stillness, she involuntarily drew in her breath, impressed by the solemnity of the place. On the higli tent-bed, with the dark moreen curtains closely drawn, lay the mortal remains of the mistress of Drundveillour, and while Kirsty approached to uncover the face, Maggie drew aside the window hangings and pulled up the blind to admit a more clKMMfu] liaht into the gloomv mom. A STRANGE HOME-COMING, 85 'l.:t. Then slio stopped back to Kirsty's side and looked upon the face of the kinswoman slie had never seen in luT hf(\ ' I did not tliink Aunt liobina would look like tliat,' she said to herself, in a wliisper. * Surely she IS mncli changed.' ' Ay, my daughter, she is changed indeed,' said licr father, wlio had found his way upstairs to the cluuiiber of deatli. ' She has a noble, beautiful face, papa,' said j\L\L:.izie, sli|)[>inL,f her liand within his arms. 'Look- ing at it, 1 cannot think it was she who kept up bitterness in her heart so long.' ' The majesty of death lias set its seal upon her, Maggie,' said the old man gently. * Av, ay, my poor sister.' Deep emotion struggled with him, for in that serene and Ijeautiful face he saw the sister of his lovt', as he remembered her at her best in the days of long ago. 'How did she die, Kirsty ? ' he asked the faithful SMul wlio was crying quietly over this meeting of the living and the dead. ' She w\as gey sair distressed, but slippet awa' cannilv at the hinner end,' she answeivd. * Oh, Maister Dauvid, mv man, if she wad but •Mm 'm ') if: ti. 86 THE SECRET PANEL open her e'en and bid ye welcome to Drum. keillour.' David Dempster smiled somewhat mourn full v and drew his daiigl iter's hand yet mure closuly within his arm. ' Come, Maggie, we have been here long enou ^h; he said ; and Maggie obeyed him, nothing lotli. ' Mr. Wardrop and his son will dine with -is to-night, Kirsty/ he said, when they were out upoii the landing. ' I suppose we will not have long to wait.* * Dine ! ' repeated Kirsty. ' Wull they no* break fast and sup an' a' ? They're bidin' here.* ' They understand that I expect them to leave to-night,' said David Dempster, w^Lereat a look of delighted satisfaction leaped into j'^irsty's eyes. * I kent ye wad pit the odds on them, sir,' slie repeated emphatically. *Eh, if only ye had come quicker.' Then Kirsty retired down to the kitchen, and, unable to contain herself, made a confidante of Eifie while she was putting the finishing touches to the dinner. David Dempster took Maggie into the drawing- room, and it seemed to the girl that the old-fashioned, cosy room, with its rich but somewhat faded A STRANGE HOMECOMING, 87 furiiisliiiigs, was a place strangely familiar, like the realization of a half-forgotten dream. 'There is th? harp, my dear, on which your •^raudmotlier used to play. She was a highly accompli -^hed woman, and a beauty as well. I remember as a boy thinking in the kirk ^liat my mother was like an angel from heaven when she wore her white bonnet and white silk plaid, and my father used to look at her as if he thought so too.' 'Is there no portrait of grandmamma in Drum- keillour ? ' asked Maggie, touching with hesitating, reverent finger the strings which had been silent so long. ' Yes, my love ; you will see the family portraits iu the dining-room. Ah, there is the gong. Come, my dear, and I will take you down.* To Maggie it was the most astonishing thing in the world to see the perfect naturalness and dignity with which her father comported himself in these changed circumstances, and already the life they had only quitted that morning began to fade away, and to appear unreal and shadowy, as if it had long been left behind. When they entered the dining-room, Maggie started to see two gentlemen standing on the hearth-rug, and the colour leaped to her checks H, "i ■'X'^ — ■> IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1^128 12.5 2.0 lit lU u IL25 i 1.4 Nil M y] v: ^J> ^^. it to Drundanllour, though nearly three months had elapsed sinee the change in the lives of the Pempsters. And this was Christmas week, the first week of the college recess. toi\ and the young student was free from books and work for the tVw pree lUUS lays he^ was* to ay^ud nt Drinnki^dlour witli In" M RIVALS. 93 darling. 'Let me look at you, ^Maggie,' he said, turning her face round to his and looking into it with passionate eyes. * My darling, you are lovelier than ever. Oh, Maggie, how I love you ! * ' Do you, Frank ? * [Maggie's innocent eyes, full of perfect love and trust, uplifted themselves shyly to his, and a little tieuuilouc smile played about the sweet lips as she spoke. ' Don't you believe it, Maggie ? * 'Yes, when you look like that. What a long, long time it is, Frank, since we stood together like this ! ' * It makes it all the sweeter, to me at least,* said Frank promptly. * Now, Maggie, I have been working very, very hard, and have had precious little to cheer me on. You must be very good to me now.* *I mean to be. Yes, you have been working hard, Frank. Take care of yourself. There is not so much need for it now.* ' Yes, there is. Greater need,* said Frank gravely. ' I must be able to offer you some equivalent for all you will give to me, Maggie.* ' Why ? If I have enough for both, Frank, is not that the same thing?' asked Maggie wistfully. u. 94 THE SECRET PANEL, 'Not quite,' answered Frank, with a sli^'ht smile. * Majjgie, you will never change to me ? My darling, I believe my life would be wrecked were you to throw me over now. I could not live without you.* ' Frank, do you see or feel uny change in me ? ' 'No; but I live in constant dread. Here and now I am perfectly happy and at rest, but directly I am back at the old dreary round of life I am beset with tormenting fears. You see I never know what you may be about, you elf.' Maggie laughed, and leaned her head contentedly < n his arm. * I am so happy, Frank ; so very, very !ii. -^py. I really feel as if I had not a care in the world.' 'That is good. Please God you may be always able to say as much. You were made for sunshine and happiness, Maggie,' said Frank fondly. 'And you have had your share of sorrow.' ' Doesn't papa look happy and young? Oh, Frank, what a joy it is to me to see how thoroughly happy he is ! and how they all love him ! They say there never has been such a laird in Drum- keillour.' ' I believe it. I see he is bound up in the place. * M- RIVALS. 95 It will not be so bard for liim to part with you as it would have been six mouths ago.* 'Oh, but he will not need to part with me for ever so long. It will be a great while before you are ready for me, Frank.* ' Not so very long. I go up for my final in April, you know i and I shall do well, Maggie.* ' How well, Frank ? ' ' I have made up my mind to carry ofif the highest honours. I have worked for it night and day, and I will succeed.' ' How determined you are, Frank ! ' ' It is for your sake, sweet.' ' How proud I shall be of you, Frank ! — but there, are we not staying here too long ? What o'clock is it?' ' Six.' * Oh, then, we must go. Mr. Wardrop arrives at half- past six, and we dine at seven ; and I have a new frock to put on, Frank, all in honour of you. There, now, are you not longing to see it ? ' ' I don't care what you have on so long as I see you, Maggie.' 'Oh, but you must. I like to be admired,' laughed Maggie. ' Well, let us go in now.* !',(«. \ I, \% m ■ rife' I f* 96 THE SECRET PANEL. * Wardrop ? — is that tlie old lawyer you used to be so bitter ai^ainst ? * * Oh, no ; it's his son. He is sucli a nice fellow, Frank. I hope you will be friends.' ' What's he coming here for ? ' * Why, because papa asked hitn, of course ! It was most thoughtful of papa ; for, of course, he guessed we should want to be a great deal togethtT, and yet you don't seem one bit grateful. Gavin Wardrop has been here ever so often. He sonic- times comes over from Dundee and stays from Friday till Monday.' * Oh, does he ? I wasn't aware of that before.' * Dear me, Frank, how can you look so ! I sliall begin to think you must be jealous, and how delightful that would be ! ' said Maggie jokiiiL^ly. though the light fingers on his arm gave him a very loving pressure. 'If I were really jealous, my darling, I doi)'t think you would find it particularly delightful,' he said ; and as they left the shadow of the trees, he took her to his heart again as if he would never let her go. The Christmas moon was high in the wintry sky, shining upon them in goodwill and peace, a happy young pair who loved each other passing well, and who hoped that one day they might walk the RIVALS. 97 \v;iy of lifi! to^'ctliLT. So loiii^ (lid tlicv liiiifor, that when Jit lust tliey sped iiilo the house, tlicy hud only fi\(! niiiuitcs wherein to dress for nt, nnconseions of Ma,L;.;ie's loving approbations, Frank ate his dinner ill nnpromisin*: silence, and felt nnntterablv relieved wIk'Ii it was over, and Maguie rose to go to the drawing-room. He innnediately followed herlliere; wliiU^ Gny Wardrop, mnch against his will, remained to smoke a cigar with tlie old gentleman. *Kow then, ^Maggie,' said Frank, when they were alone together, * what was the use of telling me Clny A\'ar(lrop only came here because your father asked liini i The fellow comes to see you, and no other. !'— ' I will not listen to you, Frank,' interru})ted Alaggie in her sweet, wilful way. 'That is the way of men ; they are never happier than when trying to make dispeace. Guy AVardrop and I are very good friends, and I enjoy his conijKiny. He at least thinks I am worth talking to. There now ! you deserve that for the way you behaved at dinner to-niirht.' F ii iff I ! til'. - i irr~- t' I'A hi ' . [O 1} . ; ;,, JUM 11 ;;_ :. 100 THE SECRET PANEL. ill Ii; 'Does lie know that you belong to me, I should like to know ? ' asked Frank, witli that calm air of proprietorship which made Maggie's heart thrill. ' I didn't tell him, you may be sure.' slie said demurely. * Then somebody must, if only for his own sake, poor beggar,' said Frank, more charitabl)' now, for when they were alone he felt secure in his darling'.^ love. * It's a shame, you know, to let him come ou false pretences. He's doing his best to win you.' * How very penetrating you are, Frank ! Nobody ever suspected such a thing, and I don't believe a word of it. Don't you think I would know that, if anybody did ? * * Don't know ; you see, I've been made a fool of, so it makes me quick to detect the signs in others,' said Frank grimly. ' Oh, Maggie, I wish you had never left Edinburgh. I, at least, was huppier there.' 'Frank, dear, you are making yourself and me miserable without a cause,' said Maggie, with tliut grave earnestness which sat so exquisitely upon her. *I do ascire you, you are mistaken; Guy Wardrop only comes here because he knew my aunt, and because papa and I are kind to hiiii. RIVALS, loi He has no sisters, and we are just like brother and sister — indeed we are.' ' My darling, I am a cross, jealous bear, but it is because I love you so,' said Frank fondly. ' Maggie, promise me nothing will ever come between us. My hopes are all built upon you, and for your sake I shall succeed in life ; only don't leave me. How could I live without you, my little woman ? ' ' Frank, I fear you love me too much. It makes me afraid sometimes when I think how much I am to you ; and yet it makes me very happy too.* These sweet moments were interrupted just then by the entrance of David Dempster and Guy Wardrop, and in an instant Maggie changed from the earnest, loving maiden to a gay, changeful creatare, full of laughter and sunny jest, which rippled from her lips like some summer stream. The very change in her might have infused con- fidence and pea'"'^ into Frank's heart ; bnt he could not read between the lines, and he fancied her face brightened and her whole manner changed when Guy "Wardrop entered the room, Frank Macleod had at least one staunch ally in Drumkeillour ; for Kirsty Forgaix, after one long, keen, searching glance into his face, had mentally decided that he would do, that he was worthy of '1 ■ i '■' \\ • ■ mi, C02 THE SECRET PANEL, her bopnie bairn, and that the sooner they were married the better. Kirsty had transferred all her love for the old Dempsters to the new laird and his daughter, but there was one point upon which sAe and they could never hope to agree, and that was the Wardropg. * Nothing less than a revelation from above,' she was wont to say, would ever cause her to change her mind, or to forget her lifelong grudge against the Wardrops. She was vexed to see them come, and glad to see them go, and right well did she know what was the object of their coming, only she made a mistake in not giving young Guy credit for any disinterested motive in his wooing of Maggie, the heiress of Drumkeillour. If the truth must be told, Kirsty did not consider Guy Wardrop capable of such a feeling as love. Having satisfactorily settled in her own. mind that Frank Macleod was the right man, she immediately resolved, with her usual practical way, to put him on his guard, to give him a hint as to how matters stood, and to advise him, if need be, to make sure of Maggi': witl^out delay. Kirsty was not troubled by any thought of the disparity in circumstances between the pair — if they lored each other, nothing more was needed, in her opinion ; for, in spite of hei eccentricities, there was "^ spice of sentiment hidden >\y RIVALS. 103 away in her heart which would have astonished those who only kr-^vV the bristly exterior. She had her opportunity somewhat unexpectedly that night, and, as was her wont, took advantage of it at once. She had gone into the dining-room, and catching a gleam of Miss Dempster's white shawl through the open window, slie stood still for a few moments, and watched the pair walking to and fro under the trees in th«. park. It was not Frank who was beside her, but young Wardrop, who seemed more earnest and devoted than Kirsty liked to see. Her eyes flashed indignantly, and she muttered something under her breath not at all complimentary to Gavin Wardrop, Where was the young gentleman from Edinburgh, she wondered, that this should be allowed to go on ? Just then, to her astonish- ment, he came into the room, and she turned round and looked him anxiously in the face. She was wondering whether she might venture, on their very short acquaintance, to speak a little of her mind. * I have come for . a book Mr. Dempster left here, Kirsty,' he said in his kind, frank way. * Did you see it ? ' •Ay, I saw'd an put it whaur it should be in fl'M ■il:ll- r'M.i I ! i I 1 ■ i'\ Mir ' 104 THE SECRET PANEL, the library. I carina lairii the laird to keep thiii;^rs in their places,' she said in her comical way. ' liidc there, an' I'll bring'd till ye.' Kirsty was not mauy seconds gone, and, as sliij placed the book in his hands, she looked at liiiu again with a peculiar, wistful earnestness which made him say involuntarily, ' Well, Kirsty ? ' * Oh, sir, I dinna want to be impident ; an ye niaunna mind what I say,' she said then, almost hurriedly. 'When ye cam' in, ^ was just watchiu' Miss Maggie an' young Wardrop. Maister MacltMxi, sir, I canna think ye like to see thon ony mair nor me.' Frank's face flushed, and the cloud settled on his brow. * Ye'll no* mind me, sir, it's no' ooten impidence, though I'm but a servant wunmiin ; but, oh, Maister Frank, he comes o' a bad stock, an' I'm terrified for the bairn an' for Drumkeillour. He has a fine, sweet way wi' him, but he's fause at heart,' said Kirsty, in her earnestness laying her hand on his arm. * If ye wud jist mairry her as sune's ye can, sir, it wad be a braw day for us a'. I ktii ye hae a true heart by the blink o' yer e'e. I hae l3een fain to see ye mony a time, though I kent ye maun be guitl, else ye wud never have been Miss Maggie's choice.' I'll RIVALS. 105 i^;r:i!::i 'I hope to deserve your good opinions, Kirsty,' said Frank. * I will not forget what you have «aiJ.' So saying, he stepped out of the window and walked straight across the turf to where the pair wc^re slowly sauntering to and fro in the moonlight. * ]\Iaggie, come and walk as far as the loop gates with me/ he said quietly, but ill a voice which made Maggie turn to him at once, and lay her hand on his arm. She blushed deeply as she did so ; for, of course, ilie truth must be plain enough to Gavin "VYardrop uow. ' Will you be so good as to take that book to Mr. Dempster ? lie is in the drawing-room,' Frank said very courteously ; anu Gavin Wardrop was so astonished that he mechanically took the book and wont away. ' ^^)u have brought the book, Guy,' said the laird when Wardrop entered the drawing-room. M ihtiii^lit you were out with my daughter. I suppose J rank would claim her, eh ? ' and the old man ihueklcd a little to himself as if he rather ei I joyed it. ' \Vho is ;\Ir. Macleod, Mr. Dempster? Has he Wk .:!»«,,;., flit I .[ i: ut.r I !•:;; .,:" m 'iiiff. m ■ ji. iPS:-. li'i.' m io6 THE SECRET PANEL. right to claim Miss Dempster's company ? * asked Gavin Wardrop shortly. * Plight ? Well, I should think he has a better right than any other, as things go,' laughed the Inird. * Is it possible that you did not know he is liiy dauohter's affianced lover ? * iiliiji t ■ 1 ' * {■•■ CHAPTEE IX t^ SHADOWS. RANK had only a very few days to spend at Drumkeillour, and these were to him a strange commingling of happiness and misery, of hope and misgiving fear. Ke was by nature impulsive, hasty, and a trifle jealous, and his acute perception of the difference in Maggie Den p- ster's position and his own made him feel and imagine things which had no foundation in fact. Maggie seemed to enjoy Gavin Wardrop's company, as did all who came in contact with him, for he possessed in no small degree the art of pleasing. AVlien lie left Drumkeillour at the end of the week, .\1 aggie felt that some shadow had risen between them, and she was conscious of a change in Frank wliich pained her deeply. It was not that he was less devoted and affectionaLO, but the old sunshine X07 lU!'! ':'i!, 1 'I: 1 , ■ l'' 1, •'i' { ' 1 ■ m 1 1 1?; ML io8 THE SECRET PANEL, seemed gone from him, and he was a quiet, moody man, as dififerent from the Frank of other days as could well be imagined. Do not blame him though he misjudged and misunderstood Maggie, for he had much to try him, and the very intensity of his love was a torment to him. He left Gavin Wardrop at Drumkeillour, and took his departure with a gloomy foreboding that the victor remained in the field. 'Frank is much changed, Maggie,' said David Dempster that night after he had gone. * I fear he is studying too ha::d, poor boy, in spite of my many warnings. 'Yes, he is changed, papa,* said Maggie with a sigh ; and Gavin Wardrop saw a bright tear glisten on the brown eyelash, and involuntarily bit his lip. Maggie paid no attention to him just then, her heart had gone back almost with longing to the old Edinburgh days, which, though full of anxiety and toil, had not lacked their own deep sweetness, which now she could not call hers. Gavin Wardrop had been taught almost from infancy to study and trade upon human weakness, and having keenly observed the gradual gathering of the cloud between the lovers, remained at Drumkeillour, sure that he might turn it to his own advantage. He had vowed to iilii SHADO WS. 109 win Maggie Dempster, not for her wealth, but for herself. His love for her was like a fierce lava tide of passion, which her utter inditterence only iucreased. He had been taught to scheme and wait the fulfilment of his ends, and so he determined to scheme and wait for this the greatest desire of his life. ' Have I not outstayed my welcome at Drum- keillour, Miss Dempster ? ' he asked in a low voice, and moving nearer to her side as he spoke. *0h, no,' answered Maggie, with a swift bright smile, which made his pulses thrill. * What put such a thing into your head ? "We should be dis- consolate without you. Where would papa's game at chess be in the evenings ? You know how he enjoys beating you.* ' It is time I was thinking of going home, though,' said Wardrop. * It is not the best thing for me to remain here.* * Why ? ' Maggie asked impulsively ; and the in- stant her face flushed the deepest carmine, for re- membrance of Frank's warning rushed into her mind. *I cannot think that you do not know. Miss Dempster,' said Gavin Wardrop in low, meaning tones ; and for the moment Maggie felt as if she ' ,1 II V I!' 'i' :i 1 ^4ti^ 1 m \ \ ■ ;.• ;a I'^i |4 1 ■1 1 1 Nil' 1 ■''< were under a spdl, which prevented her niovciin'iit or speech. Her father liad left tlie room, and ilicy werr alone in the tire-lit room — when had niiin ;i better occasion tb plead his suit ? ' It wen; lu'tlcr for me had I never couk^ to Drundveillour, Ma;^i^ie,' said Gavin Wardrop, forgetting in one moment liis resolve to bide his time, and speaking in passiunatc tones, \/hich told how deeply he felt what he said. ' I have been mad to come here time after time, to live in the sunshine of your presence, to worslii]> you, and indulge in dreams which I know now weiii only purest folly. It was cruel, cruel, Maggie, to have kept me in ignorance that you were already bound.' * I did not know — how could I ? — that you — you thought so much of me,' said Maggie tremblingly, and with the hot blood rushing to and receding from her cheek. * I did not mean to be cruel, and I am very, very sorry. Oh, do you not believe it ? ' * I must, if you say it,' said Gavin Wardrop. ' I know I am mad, presumptuous ; but I have thought once or twice that perhaps I might not need to sue in vain. Maggie, I love you as my own soul. I would be content with so little in return, and I would devote my life to your happiness.* ' SHADOWS. Ill * I thought papa had told you that * — said Mag^'ic, growing very pale. ' That you were engaged to Macleod. Yes ; and I have watched you, Maggie, and I know how un- worthy he is of your heart. He does not, cannot love you as I do, else he could not treat you with such utter indifl'erence,' said Gavin Wardrop, unconscious that he was damaging his own interests, and lower- ing himself in the estimation of the woman he so madly loved. He saw the beautiful face grow paler still, and the sweet, proud lips take a sudden, unwonted curve. * Mr. Wardrop ! ' the clear young voice rung out sharply, and without a falter in its tone, 'you forget, I think, that you are talking of my future husband, who loves me, and whom I lova It is unworthy of you to blame him when he merits no blame. It is for me to accuse him of indifference. I am ashamed of and disappointed in you. I thought you were my friend.' ' That is the way of women, to mock those who love them with an offer of empty friendship,' said Gavin Wardrop, and in his keen pain a look of bitter scorn came upon his face. ' I thank you for the lesson you have taught me, Maggie Dempster. I am pleased that you have used me to wliile away ^¥\'i ^*i:l :^ ''■..r\; il! rW^' i'lltl,.: Silt ill!, I 112 THE Sr.CRET PANEL. '■] an idle hour in your lovi'r'.s abscnoo ; and I sliall renicMubcr it witli Lrratiludc all uiy life' Ma;4Li;ie, territicd and astounded at those liarsli. HneeriuL? \vor(l«, looked at hini a moment in iii(H'^ii;iiii in(i[uiry, and then lied from the room. She nuist lui aione, to think out tlie min^h'd e.\})erien('es of tliiit day, to reeover from the >^hoek (lavin Wardrop had j^aven her, and to examine herself in order to see Nvhother he had aecused her without a e.'iuse. SIk; came out of the ordeal blameless. She had trealcil Gavin AVardroj) as she mi<;ht have treated a Liirl friend, with ]»erfeet frank sincerity, and he had mis- understood her, that was all. Aut now it was so cljiin!Li;ed — so sadly, iiiis('ial)ly cliaiiLjcMl. SIu^ Inokiid round dis- contonti'dly al tht* piutty and luxurious dressin*,'- ronni wliicli liad ,L,nvtui her such [)l('asuro, and ^^avc a si.Ljli tor llic littlo altic l)c