EMORY UNIVERSITY
A PEINCESS OF JUTEDOM
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A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM.
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And at all Railway Bookstalls, Booksellers, etc.
A
PRINCESS OP JUTEDOM
& ftotel
BY
CHARLES GIBBON
AUTHOR OF " HEART'S DELIGHT," " FOR LACK OF GOLD, ' " IN HONOUR BOUND,"
"QUEEN OF THE MEADOW," ETC.
LONDON
JOHN AND ROBERT MAXWELL
MILTON HOUSE, ST. BRIDE STREET, LtJDGATE CIRCUS
AND
SHOE LANE, FLEET STREET, E.C.
1887
{The right of translation is reserved,']
TO
Wilson Barrett
3e $tt0aibe this
AS A TOKEN OF ESTEEM AND OF GRATITUDE FOR THE PLEASURE
AFFORDED ME BY HIS INTERPRETATION OF
" MERCUTIO," " HAMLET," AND OTHER CHARACTERS;
"AND ALSO IN MEMORY OF A LONG AND VALUED FRIENDSHIP.
CHARLES CIBBON.
London, 1S86.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PA HE
i. into the mist 1
ii. the event 11
iii. the first consequences 15
iv. an awkward business 21
v. under suspicion 27
vi. "in light and shadow" 32
vir. father and daughter . . . 37
viii. the will 43
ix. a clue 46
x. inquiries of importance 52
xi. baffled, but still pursuing 59
xii. two theories 64
xiii. packet no. 10 ^1
xiv. curious ...... . 76
xv. something wrong 81
xvi. a respite 85
xvii. an appeal 89
xviii. the juteocracy 96
xix. a solemn debut ....... 100
xx. a strange workshop 110
xxi. the news goes round 118
xxii. undercurrents 123
xxiii. marrying for money 129
xxiv. what does it mean ? 136
xxv. a defiance 140
xxvi. departure of the " lindores " .... 148
xxvu. counterplots 153
xxvui. a sage counsellor 158
vlll
CHAPTER.
xxix.
xxx.
xxxi.
xxxii.
xxxiii.
xxxiv.
xxxv.
xxxvi.
xxxvii.
xxxviii.
xxxix.
xl.
xli.
xlii.
xliii.
xliv.
xlv.
xlvi.
xlvii.
xlviii.
xl1x.
l.
1.1.
lii.
liii.
li v.
lv.
lvi.
lvu.
lv1ii.
lix.
lx.
lxi.
txir.
CONTENTS
a plain question
a woman's wiles
more light
another chance
Johnnie's treat
investigations .
a strange excursion
hope ....
a check .
on guard .
a flirtation
by a thread
the crisis .
a scapegoat found .
"still the wonder grey!
the martyr
the soothsayer
the worst of it
" we can bear thai "
doubt and fear
tne turn of the TIDE
a mystery explained
under sealed ORDF.IiS
almost mad
the great failure .
drawing close .
mistaken fidelity .
link by link
farewell, baldovik !
where "the other" wa
a bold stroke .
through the darkness
getting into harbour
the last gasp .
PAGE
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20S
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234
238
240
244
252
257
260
268
. 271
. 273
. 282
287
. 294
. 301
, 306
. 310
. 319
. 325
. 331
. 337
341
A PRINCESS OE JUTEDOM
CHAPTER I.
INTO THE MIST
LARGE room, lighted by three windows, which
overlooked the docks and the broad waters of
the Tay.
The furniture was all of a ponderous kind,
made of oak which would enduie for ages. A
massive table occupied the centre of the room. A massive
writing-table, with numerous drawers and an upright back of
pigeon-holes, stood by the window farthest from the door.
One wall was covered by a huge cabinet, and at the inner
end of this was an iron door covered with oak and studded
with huge rivets. On the other walls hung maps and charts,
a picture of a huge factory, and paintings of steamers and
sailing-vessels. A small bookcase contained a choice selec-
tion of those books of reference most valued by men engaged
in extensive commercial enterprises. The floor was covered
by a thick Turkey carpet which would have rendered the
heaviest footstep inaudible.
Everything was in scrupulous order ; the most fastidious
housewife could not have discovered a speck of dust any-
where. This was the room apportioned to the head manager
of Messrs. Carmichael and Co., jutespinners and shipowners
—the latter department branching off into a variety of
important trading operations.
John Carmichael, the founder and still the chief of the
B
2 A PRINQjjjQg Qp JfjTEDOM
firm had begun life as a weaver in a small cottage near
Lochee some sixty years ago. He was now accounted a
millionaire.
The manager, Rudolph Feuerheerd, was seated at the
writing-table. Various documents lay before him ; but at
present they received no attention. His elbows rested on
the desk, his eyes and brow were covered by his hands, the
long fingers of which were thrust through his thick brown
ln.ir.
By-and-by he lifted his head and dropped his hands 011
the desk. Although his position had been one suggestive
of an agitated mind, there was not the least sign of such a
condition on his strongly-marked and rather handsome
features. But the circle of bushy brown moustache and
beard which covered the lower part of his face would have
concealed any ordinary expression of emotion.
Mechanically he picked up a quill, and with the feather-
end began absently to trace invisible figures on the blotting-
pad.
" lie cannot hold out for more than two days now," Mr.
Feuerheerd was saying to himself. " William Carmichael
is to be hero to-day. He brings the keys of the private
deed-box, and then ? . . . David is a mere boy, and does
not count for anything in my reckoning. The question is,
shall it be the daughter or the widow ?"
He continued to draw those invisible figures with the
quill, his ruminations having come to a halt. They were
presently resumed.
"Of course the daughter would be the more satisfactory
bargain, but that confounded fellow Grant has caught her
fancy—I could see it as plainly as if she had confessed it
to me that day when he was starting on his last -voyage.
The fancy might be overcome, but it would take time, and
that is just what I cannot afford. The prospective widow
is free—for she cannot yet have thought about a second
spouse. The old man's illness was too sudden to have
permitted that. Under her name everything—yes, every-
thing—might b© taken possession of at once."
Another pause, and then the speculation was continued.
" She is a handsome woman, and cannot be more than
a year or two older than myself. "With her I should have
everything and everybody under my thumbr and that con-
INTO TEN MIST 3
founded blunder with the Egyptians, Turks, and Brazils is
running me into a nasty corner. . . . But then I have a
kind of liking for the girl."
He got up and stood at the window, looking blankly
out at the busy traffic of men and women, heavily-laden
horses, carts and waggons, at the masts of ships and the
funnels of steamers, at the Newport ferry-boat puffing across
the glistening Firth, and at the passengers hurrying on
board The Lass o' Gowrie for Newburgh and Perth.
"Well, I can wait. If the old man will only obey
Nature's call quietly to-morrow or next day, I can get out
of this corner without much difficulty. The risk is not a
great deal more than I have run before. Yes, I shall wait
and see how to make the most of my chances."
He resumed his seat; then, taking the mouthpiece of
one of a series of speaking-tubes that were ranged in front
of him, he called :
"Mr. Todd."
After a few seconds there came the answer, in a some-
what squeaking tone :
" I'm here."
" Will you step up, please ?"
Presently an oldish man with thin gray hair, threadbare
broadcloth, but particularly fine linen collar and cuffs, made
his appearance. He had a pen behind one ear, a pencil
behind the other, and a large letter-copying book in his
hand.
" Have you found the copy of the letter, Mr. Todd ?"
inquired the manager suavely.
" It's not here. I have gone over every page twice,"
answered the old clerk.
" Ah, then it must be in one of the other two. It is
important that we should find it to-day, as Mr. Carmichael
wishes me to bring it to him without fail this afternoon.
You might sit down at the table there and run over the
books."
The little man glanced at the manager with an expres-
sion of impatience and suspicion, as if he were mentally
saying : " You know quite well it is not in any of them."
But without a word he took the books, seated himself as
directed at the square table in the centre of the room, and
began his task.
B 2
4 A P HINGE SS OF JUTE DOM
Feuerlieerd took another of the speaking-tubes and
asked for Mr. Whitelaw, who, being the cashier, was the
person next in importance to the manager himself.
Mr. "Whitelaw was a gentleman of middle age, precise
to a degree in bearing and dress, as became one holding a
position of trust and responsibility.
" What time did Mr. William say he would be here ?"
inquired the manager.
" At half-past three, and it is now twenty minutes past
four," replied Mr. Whitelaw, with a severe expression of
disapproval at this neglect of an appointment. Whatever
might happen, the cashier was punctual to a moment, much
to the discomfort of some of the junior clerks.
" Ah, we must not be particular about half an hour or
an hour with him," said Feuerheerd, with a deprecatory
smile, as if he were painfully conscious of the necessity to
apologise for the conduct of his principal's eldest son.
"You know he has had no business training, and you must
remember that under present circumstances he has many
calls upon him, and must be much excited. I should excuse
him even if he forgot the appointment altogether."
But Will Carmichael had not forgotten it, for the handle
of the door was turned briskly, and he entered the room
with the air of one who was conscious of being monarch of
all he surveyed. He nodded carelessly to Feuerheerd, who
rose and bowed; to Whitelaw he flung an indifferent
"How do you do?" But he touched old Johnnie Todd
kindly on the shoulder as he said :
" So they are keeping you at the grindstone still, old
man. Never mind. A good time is coming."
Mr. Todd looked up in the man's face with an expres-
sion of dismay.
" Oh, JMr* William, how can you talk of a good time
coming, and your father "—he was about to say dying, but
softened it into—" your father as he is at this minute ? "
Will Carmichael was a slim-built man of about thirty-
five, sandy complexion, and restless disposition. He won
for himself the title of " Wild Will," not having taken to
his father's or any other business. On leaving the Uni-
versity without obtaining a degree, he had roved all over
the world, his brain full of great speculations, the prac-
ticability of which had never been put to the test. Some
INTO TEN MIST 5
said that his father's second marriage had unsettled him,
although it was known to the family that he had a sincere
affection for his half-sister, Margaret. Others said that
he was too light-headed ever to do any good; others,
again, that he ought to have been compelled to work for
a living.
Yet he had never done anything particularly wicked so
far as was known ; but he only appeared at his home at
long intervals and for brief periods. The father, although
a hard-headed man in other respects, always excused the
son, and believed that he would "settle down like other
folk after he had had his fling." His worst fault was that
he was always seeing great possibilities where other people
only saw mad dreams and inevitable ruin to any one who
attempted to realise them. Nevertheless, some of these
" mad dreams" were attempted by others when he had
been persuaded or forced to give them up as hopeless, and
they had succeeded.
This introduced an element of bitterness into his im-
pulsive nature; he felt that he was misunderstood—nay,
mistrusted—whilst others reaped the reward of his ideas.
The bitterness became intensified by every remonstrance
addressed to him, and he had now almost reached the point
at which, in his own words, there was nothing for it but
" to throw up the sponge."
Result—he occasionally, then frequently, took a great
deal too much champagne at dinner, and was too indifferent
to reckon the number of " nips " he took between whiles^
But the father still hoped that he would " settle down."
" Well," he said in his off-hand way, turning from Mr.
Todd to Feuerheerd, "my father tells me that you have
suggested I should look at the papers in his private
despatch-box, and take back the key to him. He says I
need not do more than look at the endorsements, and count
the packets, as he has a list of them at Baldovie."
" We wait your pleasure, sir," said the manager suavely;
but it was evident that there was no friendly feeling between
the two men.
" Let us get it over at once, then. I don't see the use
of it, but as it is to satisfy him we must do it. I have
been travelling night and day for a week, and do not believe
I have had six hours' real sleep all the time. So I am
6 A PRINCESS OF JVTEBOM
pretty well knocked up, and want to get the thing over as
quickly as possible."
At a sign from Feuerheerd the cashier unlocked the
iron door, and then unlocked the huge iron safe which
stood within the fire-proof chamber. From the depths of
that receptacle he brought the small but heavy iron
despatch-box. It was secured by a letter-lock, the secret
of which was known only to the father and son.
"Wild "Will opened the box after a little difficulty, read
the endorsements of the packets (there were not many),
and counted them, whilst Mr. Whitelaw, writing to his
dictation, made an inventory of them. ' Holding one in his
hand longer than he had done any of the others, Mr. Car-
michael frowned.
" The will!—why did he not leave that with the
lawyers ? Was it your suggestion, Mr. Feuerheerd ? "
The manager looked surprised at this abrupt question.
"I did not even know it was there ; but I do not think
it could be in a safer place."
"Maybe, and of course he knew best," said Will,
laying the packet in its place. " There are nine packets,
Mr. Whitelaw ; and this sealed packet which my father
gave me to place with the others makes ten. Make a note
of it simply as the tenth packet."
His attention was diverted for a moment by Mr. Feuer-
heerd suggesting that a note should be made of the
endorsement.
" There is no writing on it at all."
" Then we had better mark it. Allow me."
He was standing, pen in hand, beside Will, and, taking
the packet from him, marked on it " No. 10." The move-
ment was so swift that Will had no time to object, even if
he had thought of doing so. When he had the packet in
his hand again, he said :
" Put it down as No. 10, Mr. Whitelaw."
The cashier methodically obeyed, whilst Will relocked
the box.
" Permit me to make a suggestion, Mr. Carmichael,"
said the manager. " Mr. Whitelaw and I have duplicate
keys of the strong-room and the safe in which that box is
deposited. Would it not be well that, lest the event which
we fear should occur—we all sincerely hope it may not, but,
INTO THE HIST 7
you know, we never can foretell what may happen—would
it not be well that under the circumstances you should put
your seal on the box ?"
"Sensible idea. Thank you. Mr. Todd, will you
oblige me .with wax and a light ?"
Having relocked the box, he affixed his seal across the
seam where the lid overlapped the sides.
" There ! that is done," he said, with the air of one
who is glad to have accomplished an unpleasant duty. " I
hope the seals will be broken with my father's own hand.
I am going straight to Baldovie, and will give him the
key. You can put the box back in its place now, Mr.
Whitelaw."
Having seen this direction obeyed, and the doors of the
-safe and strong-room relocked, Will Carmichael placed the
inventory in his pocket, and with a careless " Good after-
noon, gentlemen," departed.
The outer door of the office had not ceased swinging
behind him, when it was thrust open again, and a hand was
laid on his arm. He turned sharply and saw the anxious
face of the old clerk, Johnnie Todd.
"Jess is very anxious to speak to you," he said
nervously.
" All right, Todd ; but I must have, an hour or two's
nap. Say that I shall be at your house this evening."
" She is very anxious," repeated the old man, looking
appealingly at him.
"So am I anxious to see her, poor lass ! but I don't
want the folk at Baldovie to know anything for a few days
yet, and I cannot get away till after dinner without attract-
ing attention—perhaps rousing suspicion. Say I shall come
as early as possible."
"We expect Culross will be in the Firth to-night, and
she wants to see you before he comes on shore."
" Oh, I'll make it all right with him—have no doubt of
that. Good-bye."
He got into a cab which was waiting for him, and drove
home. He was fatigued, and would have been glad to
have had forty winks on the way. But he was not gifted
with that blessed equanimity which enables some people to
keep their brains refreshed by snatching a few minutes'
sleep at any time, in any place, and under any circum-
8 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
stances. He had matter enough in the uncertainty of his
position to keep his nervously speculative mind in full work
in spite of every effort of will. The message which the old
clerk had given him at the door of the office had also con-
tributed its share to the elements of mental disturbance
which possessed him.
His father's house, Baldovie, occupies a pleasant site
amidst tastefully laid-out grounds, fringed with wood—
chiefly birch and fir trees—on the heights between Dundee
and Broughty Ferry. It is one of the numerous mansions,
or palaces, as they may be called, erected during the last
forty years or so by the merchant princes of Jutedom.
Architecturally, it was less pretentious than some of its
neighbours, but it conveyed at the first glance an impres-
sion of solidity, space, and comfort.
On entering the house Will's first inquiry was about his
father.
"He is sleeping, sir," replied Currie, the butler, who
had opened the door for him.
" When he awakens, ask the nurse if I can see him, and
let pie know. You will find me in my room."
"Yes, sir. There is a letter on your table that came
by last post, and a note from the doctor."
Will nodded, and proceeded upstairs to his own room,
which was always kept in readiness for him, no matter how
long- his absence might be. With a sense of much relief he
seated himself in a large arm-chair in front of a bright fire.
Beside the chair was a table on which lay newspapers,
writing materials, the doctor's note, and the letter referred
to by the butler.
After a few minutes' rest, he looked at the doctor's
note, which simply advised him not to see his father again
till next morning, as the interview of the forenoon had
already exhausted him to a perilous degree.
" That's all right," was the son's thought, as he laid the
note aside, and drowsily opened the letter which had come
by post.
Having read it, all sign of drowsiness disappeared. He
rose and paced the floor, impatient and irritable; but
this mood presently gave place to a better one, for he
laughed as if at some absurdity.
" What a silly jade she is !" he was thinking. " Can
INTO THE MIST 9
she not trust me ? What stupid freak is she up to that she
can make such an appointment as this ? But I must keep
it, for there will be no sleep for me until I have set her
mind at rest. The whole thing was a piece of mad and
bad blundering on my part. She must suffer nothing that
I can save her from."
Then his steps became slower, he halted by the fire,
brooding, and half unconsciously thrust the letter behind
the mirror which rose from the mantelpiece to the ceiling.
He reseated himself, rested his head back, and dozed until
Currie came on tiptoe to say that dinner was waiting.
Every one in the house moved on tiptoe and spoke in whispers.
After dinner Will Carmichael put on his overcoat and
a fox-eared cap.
"You need not wait up for me, Currie: I shall not be
home till some time to-morrow forenoon."
Currie responded solemnly, "Very well, sir;" and in
his own mind considered that his master's son would have
been acting more in accordance with propriety if he had
remained at home during such a period of suspense than by
going out on a mysterious excursion at that time of night,
more especially as it was evident that Mr. William had
partaken of wine freely.
But Mr. William, when sober, was not a person likely to
be subject to the counsel or control of any one, and much
less so when " elevated " by wine. Currie would have said
that he was by no means intoxicated, but " just had plenty."
He went out. The night was dark, and there was a
great white mist rising from the Firth. Having got out-
side the gates of Baldovie, he walked smartly along the
road in the direction of the Ferry, and then he halted at a
little wayside inn, which was more like an ordinary cottage
than a place of refreshment for man and beast. But before
railways had diverted traffic from the ordinary roads it had
been a thriving house of call. Now the proprietor depended
more upon the products of the adjoining farm than the sale
of liquor.
Will Carmichael entered. The place was dimly lighted
by paraffin lamps, and he could see that two men were
seated at a table in a little room to his right. The sound
of their voices was low, and they appeared to be emptying
their jug of toddy very soberly.
10 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
He asked for a glass of toddy, drank it, and went out.
He crossed the road, and made straight for the beach.
The mist became thicker the nearer he approached the
water.
Presently the form of a big man appeared like a shadow
in the mist close by him. He stopped, and the man
stopped.
" Is that you, Maister Carmichael ?"
" Yes ; who are you ?"
" She sent me to fetch you, as she canna come hersel'
poor body. The boat's waiting, and we can round the point
in half an hour. She's crying sairly for ye. The howdy's
wi' her, and the bairn will come hame afore mornin'. Come
this way."
Will's mind was somewhat confused by the information
the man gave him as well as by the liquor he had taken,
and he followed the guide mechanically to the shore. But
when he found the water touching his feet he hesitated.
" The mist is so thick that I cannot see the boat," he
said, drawing back.
" Here is the boat; loup in, and I'll push her aff. . . .
What are you feared for, man, when the poor lass is just
daft wi' crying for you ?"
Will hesitated no longer. He stepped into the boat;
the man pushed it off the sandy beach, wading up to the
knees in water before he clambered in himself.
Then he took the oars, and rowed Will Carmichael out
into the white thick mist.
*****
Late that night there was a light in the manager's room
at Carmichael and Co.'s office ; but the light was so care-
fully shaded that it could scarcely have been observed
from without, even if the heavy shutters had not been
closed.
The doors of the strong-room and the safe were open ;
the man had the private despatch-box before him. There
was an expression of satisfaction on his face, and his eyes
were bright with triumph.
He closed the box; carefully sealed it, as it had been
before, with the seal of Will Carmichael.
Then there was darkness.
THE EVENT
11
CHAPTER II.
the event
Margaret Carmiciiael's was a fine face. The mouth and
chin expressed this sentiment plainly—" There's nothing
ethereal about me ; I am a woman with appetites and pas-
sions." But there was also something in the soft blue eyes
which suggested a depth of tenderness in the nature of
their owner, and a constancy of. mind that could rise to
devotion. There was no special beauty in the features
apart, but they made up the face of a woman one could
love—not at first sight, perhaps, but at third and better
sight, for there was truth in it.
That was Margaret Carmichael, the only daughter of
John Carmichael, whose marvellous success in his dealings
in jute, as a millowner and shipowner, had obtained for him
amongst his friends the nickname of " King of the Cow-
gate," the place where merchants of all degrees were wont
to congregate—a place famous in the history of Dundee as
the Rialto in that of Venice.
He was a cautious, but a generous and considerate man.
One notable incident will suffice to illustrate his character.
When he learned that his daughter (the elder child of his
second wife) had given her affections to the young skipper
of one of his own vessels, whose only fortune lay in his
youth, energy, and talent, the father remained silent for a
few minutes. He did not frown or look angry, only
thoughtful. His daughter, who had come herself to tell
him the state of matters, observed him calmly. She knew
that he would decide justly and wisely, and she was pre-
pared to abide by his decision, whatever it might be, with
one reservation, namely, that if she was not to give her life
to Norman Grant, it should be given to no other man.
The father spoke :
" That's a pretty story, Marget, to settle a thing like
that without a hint to me, until there was never a thing
for me to do barring to say yes or no. Suppose I say no ?"
He smiled with a kind of grim amusement at the prospect
of this exercise of his parental authority.
" Then I shall tell Norman that he is not to come here
12 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
again, and that he is to try, as I will try, to avoid our
meeting in future," she replied calmly.
" That's a most sensible and dutiful answer, Marget, my
lamb," said Mr. Carmichael, nodding his bald head ap-
provingly. " But supposing 1 was to tell you that
Feuerheerd had been a most useful man to me, and that,
when my time comes, there will be nobody but him to carry
on the business—we need not speak about Will, and David
is too young for anything—and supposing I was to say that
I should like you to take him ? "
" I should say, father, that I am sorry to disappoint you
in the least thing that you have set your mind on ; but that,
as I never thought of Mr. Feuerheerd, and never can think
of him even as a friend, I should refuse to obey you."
Mr. Carmichael tried to put on a frown. He had passed
through the Town Council; he had been a Bailie, and for a
term the Provost; he would have been elected to Parlia-
ment if his health had permitted him to accept the very
cordial invitation given to him by the electors on the retire-
ment of the sitting member, who had suddenly blossomed
out of Radicalism into full-blown Conservatism. As a
magistrate he had known how to awe culprits by a frown ;
and he tried it now with his daughter, but she was unmoved.
Finding that his magisterial expression had no effect, he
shook his head in a kind of mild despair.
" Wilful woman will have her way," he said with a sigh;
"but Norman is the son of the minister, and he's a fine
chap. He has his way to make yet, sure enough; but I
think he'll make it. I began with a bawbee ; but I was
willing to work, and I got a handloom, and out of that hand-
loom has grown the big factories and the big ships—and in
one of the ships Norman Grant is my skipper."
" He is proud to serve you, father."
" Oh, I dare say—especially when he counts on carrying
off as a prize my bairn and her siller, and "
" He never thought of siller," she interrupted firmly, but
without excitement.
" Maybe, and, to tell the truth, I do not believe he ever
did. But that is just the fault I am feared about. He never
did think of the value of siller. I have seen him myself
when he was a bit laddie give tippence in the Greenmarket
for a useless toy, and there was no other reason for it than
THE EVENT 13
that a hairn was greetin' to get it. That's no business-like,
as you can understand."
" But he made the bairn happy, and most likely went
back to school hungry, for I have no doubt he spent the
money for his lunch on the bairn."
" That was my opinion," said the old man, with a
grimace, " and that was what for I took him up to Lamb's,
and got him a fine mutton-pie. Losh ! you should hae seen
how the poor laddie swallowed it—he was as hungry as
though he had come out wanting his porridge in the
morning. I aye liked the loon after that, but I do not
approve of his thoughtlessness about the siller. He might
have been charitable, and yet kept enough to buy a scone
for himself."
The latter sentence was spoken with an assumption of
extreme disapproval.
"You forget that he wanted to get a particular toy for
the bairn," suggested Margaret.
" Then he should have bargained for it, and saved a
bawbee onyway. Hows'ever, he is a decent lad, he has come
of a good stock, and he has done me good service. His
father, the minister, is an honest man, and has been a kind
friend to us. I will not allow siller to stand between you,
Marget, and the lad you think is the one to make you
happy. I believe Norman will do it; he has more of your
way than Feuerheerd, and then he belongs to our own
country. So, when Norman comes back from Calcutta, you
can say that I agree to the match—always providing that
he does what I tell him."
And that was the pleasant news which Margaret—or
Marget as she was always called—was engaged in writing
in the pretty arbour at the foot of the strawberry-beds of
Baldovie.
The interior of this arbour was in reality a very snug
room, capable of accommodating half-a-dozen ladies at tea.
There were comfortable chairs, a table, a pretty Gothic
window at each side, rustic pillars, round which clematis,
honeysuckle, and roses climbed.
So in the bright day of autumn, with the roses still
blooming and shedding their perfume around, Marget sat
telling her lover how kind her father had been, and how ill
he lay at this moment—so ill that she feared the worst.
U A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
At that point she raised her head, listening, the pen
poised in her hand, and her face turned a little towards
the window behind her.
Surely some one was watching her !
In answer to' that thought, a shadow fell _ across the
doorway, and its substance presently appeared in the form
of a gentleman, who, bowing respectfully, and with hat in
hand, said in a subdued voice :
" I trust that you will pardon this interruption, Miss
Carmichael; but as Mr. William has not yet returned,
your mother desired me to find you and acquaint you
with the change which has taken place during the last hour
or so."
" My mother sent you to tell me of the change, Mr.
.Feuerheerd ?" she said in a frightened undertone, as she
rose and gathered up her papers. " Then my father is
worse ?"
"The doctor told us that although we were not to
despair, we were to he prepared for the worst," he replied
gravely.
" You do not mean "—she found a difficulty in uttering
the words —" you do not mean that the worst has come ?"
He bent his head slowly, as if his sympathy were too
deep to permit him to make use of the commonplace phrases
customary in conveying such an intimation as he had
brought.
She stood still for a moment, staring at him as if unable
to realise what had happened. Then, with a half-suppressed
sob, she darted by him and ran to the house to seek her
mother.
He gazed after her until she disappeared. Then, having
put on his hat carefully, he followed, with slow steps, and
hands clasped behind him.
" Mr. William has not succeeded in infecting her very
deeply with his distrust and suspicion," he was reflecting
with much self-satisfaction.
THE FIEST CONSEQUENCES 15
CHAPTER III.
the first consequences
The intimation that John Carmichael, of Baldovie, was
dead caused a profound sensation in Jutedom ; and in that
sensation surprise almost predominated over regret. For,
although Mr. Carmichael had attained his seventieth year,
he had been, till within a fortnight of his death, a hale,
fresh, active man,, who had never known any serious illness
in the course of his long, hard-working career.
He had been endowed with an even temper, and he had
lived temperately. He had been prosperous beyond his
wish, whilst he had remained throughout undisturbed by
ambitious passions, which so often embitter great success
by discontent at its not being greater. Above all, Mr.
Carmichael had been supremely happy in his domestic
circle since his second marriage. Even the disappointment
he experienced on account of the unsettled disposition of
" Wild Will"—the son of his first union—was tempered by
his .own cheerful optimism. To the last he was comforted
by the belief that "Will would take a thought and mend."
Those who had met him on the Exchange or in the
streets a fortnight previous to the announcement that he
had passed away, declared that they would have insured
him for twenty years more at least. Then heads were
shaken thoughtfully, as this new illustration of the uncer-
tainty of human life was recorded in their memories. One
subject wras much canvassed in offices and homes, namely,
in what manner had he distributed his vast wealth ?
Dr. Deuchars was an old friend of the Baldovie family,
and, as a friend, a frequent visitor. Professionally he
attended to the ailments of the establishment; but in that
capacity he had never much to do with the master of the
house. John Carmichael used to say at times, with a
humorous smile, in the course of their chat:
"You may pheesic awa' at other folk, doctor, so long as
it pleases them to feel the better for it; but you'll get little
credit in dealing with me."
And the words were prophetic ; for the poor doctor got
anything but credit in dealing with his old friend's fatal
illness. At first he had regarded it as a slight cold due to
16 A PRINCESS OF JTJTEBOM
the east wind ; but there was a sudden and extreme pros-
tration of the patient's strength which caused him to
summon to his aid an eminent physician from Edinburgh.
They had a consultation, and a course of treatment was
adopted, which appeared to be producing the most satis-
factory effect.
The patient was the best a doctor could wish to deal
with. He was quiet, clear in intellect, and obedient to
every detail of instructions. As he improved, a telegram
was, by his desire, sent to his eldest son ; and Wild Will
had travelled homeward as fast as trains and steamers would
carry him.
There was an interview between the father and son
alone. The time occupied was about an hour. Will
departed on the mission entrusted to him, and immediately
afterwards Dr. Deuchars paid his second visit that day.
He was alarmed by the change in his patient for the worse;
and insisted that no one, save the nurses, should see him
again without his sanction.
On leaving, the doctor telegraphed again for the eminent
physician. That gentleman arrived on the following after-
noon, only to witness the peaceful close of John Car-
michael's life.
The doctors, having exhausted their skill, stood at the
foot of the bed, waiting for the end. On one side knelt the
wife clasping her husband's right hand; on the other, their
son David, clasping the left hand, his cheek resting on it,
whilst big tears forced their way from his eyes.
On the dying man's face there was a placid smile.
" I have set the house in order, guidwife," he said
clearly, although faintly. " Take care o' your mother, David,
like a guid lad ; and Marget—be kind to her. I see she
is no here ; but you needna send for her."
Then he pressed their hands, sighed gently, and the
rest was silence.
The doctors retired to the dining-room, where luncheon
had been laid for them.
"Well?" said Deuchars, with a look almost of dismay.
Eor the first time in his career, he owned himself puzzled
about a case. " What is your opinion ?"
" Heart disease—latent, unsuspected—and some sudden
THE FIRST CONSEQUENCES 17
agitation has finished the good man in spite of all we
could do."
"Ay. Then it must have been his conversation with
that roving son of his, "William, that has done it. I men-
tioned to you how changed I found him on coming in
yesterday."
" Then it is a pity he was sent for. At any rate, he
ought not to have been permitted to see the patient without
your leave."
" But I had no idea he could have been here so soon."
" Well, we have done our best," rejoined the Edinburgh
physician; and, having prescribed that flattering unction
for his own conscience and his colleague's, he dismissed the
case from his mind with the calmness which is born of
professional exigency and familiarity with death.
But Dr. Deuchars was not consoled ; and having gone
so far as to admit that he himself might have made a mis-
take, it was by no means extraordinary that he should
suspect the possibility of his eminent coadjutor making a
mistake too. This suspicion helped him to endure the
self-dissatisfaction which for the time oppressed him. It
was true that he had done his best; that was the most
consoling reflection of all.
However great the affliction which befalls a family,
some one must attend to the ordinary duties demanded by
the occasion; and amidst the sorrow of Baldovie Mrs.
Carmichael remained calm. She gave her directions quietly,
although her eyes were throbbing with suppressed tears.
Everything was to be done in order, exactly as he would
have wished it to be done. She attended to every detail
with as much care as if he were still the supervisor, ready
to express satisfaction or the reverse.
She was a tall, handsome woman, not more than forty-
five. She had been a girl scarcely out of her teens when
she accepted the hand of John Carmichael; and, notwith-
standing the disparity in their years, she had never "rued
the bargain." She enjoyed the greatest triumph that a true
wife can desire—she made her husband happy.
So, wishing to do precisely as he would have directed
her to do, had he been permitted to speak, she put aside
her tears until there might be leisure to indulge in them, and
proceeded to do the work which had fallen to her hands.
Q
18 A PRINCESS OF JUTE BOM
One of her first tasks was to make inquiries about Mr.
William. On learning from Currie that he had gone out
on the previous night, saying that he would not return
until some time next day, she directed inquiries to he
made for him at the office and at the houses of his friends.
Three days passed, and to all the inquiries about
William Carmichael there was a uniform answer—no one
had seen him.
This was strange, and would have been alarming but for
the eccentric habits of the man, to which they were all
accustomed. It was, however, most embarrassing to the
mistress of Baldovie at this sad crisis in the affairs of the
house. It was well known that she and her stepson looked
coldly upon each other—or, in the homely phrase, that
"there was no love lost between them"—although they
preserved an outward semblance of civility during his rare
appearances at Baldovie. There were some who whispered
that Will's roving propensities had developed only after the
instalment of his stepmother. However that might be, his
courtesy to her was scant, whilst she never neglected any-
thing which, being neglected, could be interpreted as a
mark of disrespect to his father's son.
It became imperative to appoint the day for the funeral.
Mrs. Carmichael had delayed as long as possible in the
expectation of the absent son's return, so that he might
express his wishes on the subject. After consulting with
the lawyers of her husband, the date was at length fixed.
No one could surmise how much she regretted that the
son who had travelled so far and fast at the intimation of
his father's illness should not be in his place now. Besides,
there was something in his inexplicable disappearance at
such a time which, despite her knowledge of his peculiar
ways, made her feel uneasy.
It was impossible that he could be ignorant of his
father's death if he were anywhere in the country ; for the
newspapers had paid handsome tributes to the memory of
the late merchant, and had cited at length the benefits he
had conferred on the royal burgh. But Will had been so
singular in his ways of coming and going that it was only
the peculiar and painful state of affairs at present which
provoked any surprise at his absence.
Mrs. Carmichael was in her own room—the one next to
TIIE FIRST CONSEQUENCES 19
that in which all that remained of her husband lay—when
Currie informed her that Mr. Todd from the office desired
particularly to see her. Knowing that the man had been a
favourite with his master, she told Currie to show him into
the library, and she would see him there.
Mr. Todd stood near the door, nervously turning his
hat round on his umbrella, when the widow entered the
room.
" Good evening," she said in her quiet, rich voice. " I
hope you have brought some message for us from Mr.
William."
" It is not precisely from him, mem, but it is about him,"
he answered, with an effort to control the agitation which
was threatening to deprive him of the power of speech
altogether.
"Any news about him will be welcome," she said.
" Will you not be seated, Mr. Todd ? . . . Have you
learned where he is ? "
" I'm real sorry to say no ; but I'm half feared that I
can guess."
" Then let me know your guess."
Johnnie Todd felt and looked awkward. With a hand-
kerchief he wiped his brow and head.
" I wish I could tell you without showing what an auld
fule I am to be taken in by twa bairns—for they are no
more than bairns compared wi' me."
Mrs. Carmichael looked at him in surprise—wondering
whether the man was weaker in his intellect even than he
had been represented to her, or whether he had been
drinking.
" I do not understand you, Mr. Todd."
"No, no," he murmured with a sharp note of despair,
as he gently swayed his frail body ; " nobody understands
me now that he has gane awa\"
She felt the cry without understanding it, and en-
deavoured to recall him to the object of his visit.
" I will try to understand you, Mr. Todd, for his sake,"
she said"gently. "You were going to tell me something
about Mr. William."
"Ay, ay—yes. On that afternoon he came to the
office, he promised to come to our house at night. But he
did not come. We waited for him till it was time for me to
o 2
20 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
go -to the office next day. We waited the next night, and he
aid not come; and we waited again, and he did not come.
Syne we were frightened when we learned that he was not
at Baldovie either; and Jess nigh lost her judgment—poor
thing ! Jess is my granddaughter, ye ken."
" But why did you expect him to go to your house on
the evening after his visit to the office ? "
" Because he had guid reason to come, and was on the
way from Russia for the purpose when he got the telegram
about his father."
" Well, but do you know anything about him now ?"
"Yes—that is—he did not come to us, and he went out
of this house saying he would be back next day. Well, on
that night a man took Mr. William's card to Bauldie
Munro—the fisher, ye ken—and said he wanted a small
boat for his master. Bauldie was in the way of letting
Mr. William have a boat at ony time, and seeing the card
had no doubt it was all right. He gave the boat to the
man."
" What then ? "
She was beginning to suspect what the climax of his
story was to be.
Todd spoke under his breath.
" The boat was found to-day, keel upwards, in the
Firth."
" Then he is drowned !" she exclaimed.
" That is what we believe ; but they are seeking for the
body now."
Mrs. Carmichael was silent for a few minutes. This new
calamity had for a time quite overcome her. But she
quickly rallied—there might be some mistake.
" But if he promised to visit your house that night, what
did he want with a boat ?"
" I cannot tell."
" What did he want to go to your house for, and why
should he be travelling from Russia to visit you as you
have said he was ?"
" It was not to visit me, Mrs. Carmichael," the old man
said despondently -r " I told you that I was an auld fule,
and it was the twa bairns that made me sae. He was not
coming to see me, but to see his wife."
"His wife J"
AN AWKWARD BUSINESS 21
" Ay, his wife. Jess Culross that was—Jess Carmichael
that is ; and she was sair wanting to see him, for there will
be a bairn to the fore in a week or less."
CHAPTER IV.
an awkward business
Mrs. Carmichael was endowed with a degree of self-
possession which to mere acquaintances and to superficial
observers suggested a cold,"even an unfeeling, nature. Her
husband and her children knew better. Underneath the
calm exterior there was a sensitive organism which was'
capable of any self-sacrifice for those to whom she was
attached.
She was emotional in the sense of being quick to feel
pleasure or pain, quick to sympathise with the pleasure or
pain of others. In early days she had been impulsive in her
likes and dislikes'; but after a certain bitter experience, her
emotions were brought under the control of a strong will, the
existence of which had been unsuspected by her most inti-
mate friends.
She was now slow to give confidence, and quite as slow
to withdraw it. Once she trusted a man, woman, or child,
the trust was not withdrawn until falsehood revealed itself
so plainly that it would be folly to doubt. She was, how-
ever, so cautious in her judgment of character that she
rarely made mistakes. She had, in brief, acquired the
power of holding her feelings in strict subjection to her
judgment; and it was from the bitter experience already
hinted at that she had learned the value of this power.
The experience was commpnplace enough; many women
pass through half-a-dozen similar episodes without any
serious consciousness of being the worse or better. She
had given the whole wealth of her ardent nature to a man
incapable of appreciating the prize within his grasp. He
rendered her the greatest possible service by proving his
worthlessness before it was too late.
He went abroad to fill an important position in a com-
mercial house. He was to return for her in a year, by
which time he would have a home provided for her recep-
22 A PEINGESS OF JUTEDOM
tion. But before the year was out, and without the least
sign to her, she learned through an ordinary newspaper an-
nouncement that he had changed his mind, and had married
the daughter of a wealthy merchant.
Deserted in this callous way, the girl at first imagined
that her heart was closed for ever against all mankind.
By-and-by she was able to say to herself—" I hope they
will be happy." A little while longer, and she looked back
on that miserable passage in her life with a feeling of pity,
as if the girl whose tenderest sentiments had been trifled
with had been some one else—some one she had known and
taken an interest in long ago.
She heard that the man was successful, and she was
pleased. She heard that he had made a fatal blunder in
his choice of a wife, for which no financial success could
compensate him, and she was sorry. But she was as much
disassociated from that incident in her early days as if
the experience had never been her own.
She told John Carmichael all about it when, in time of
sore need, he had come to the rescue of her father, and she
had discovered that he was fond of her.
"Say nothing more about that," said John, with his
kindly smile, "and I hope you will contrive not even to
think of it. If you maun hae something to think about—
think about Me!"
He laughed at this sally of egotism, and she laughed
too, for she understood quite well that there was no egotism
about the man. She also understood quite well that, in
his straightforward mind, there was not the remotest idea
of making his services to her father the basis of a claim for
self-sacrifice on her part. She knew that he spoke because
he liked her, and that he would have acted as he had done
even if she had not been in existence. She was sure that
he would not accept her as a reward for doing what he
thought right to do. He was only trying to make her
understand that the episode she had related to him was a
thing to be forgotten.
She was grateful; she could trust him, and there was
no call for any sacrifice. As years went by she loved him
more and more, and she sometimes wondered how she could
have mistaken the girlish fancy of former days for that
perfect devotion and esteem by which man and woman are
AN AWKWARD BUSINESS. 23
fitted to pass their lives together, helpful to each other, and
useful to those around them.
That old incident, however, influenced her character
and conduct. In a special degree it made her charitable
towards the blunders of young people in their associations
with each other, and tolerant of their misconceptions
regarding the qualities requisite for the perfect union of
two lives.
So, after the first few moments of dumb amazement at
the assertion of Johnnie Todd that his granddaughter was
the wife of William Carmichael, and likely soon to become
a mother, she quickly reviewed the whole position.
Jess was a pretty girl, frank and kindly in disposition,
educated, and gifted with some talent for music, which,
under proper direction, might have proved valuable to her.
Still, she was not the one whom William Carmichael would
have been expected to fix upon for his wife. Of course no
third person can explain—it is doubtful if the two persons
most concerned can explain—why a union is decided upon.
But Will had such extravagant notions about everything
that it was almost impossible for any one to conceive how
he should have entered on such a match as this, even
when all allowance had been made for the merits of the
girl.
The widow was startled by the question—could it be
possible that her stepson had deceived Jess ? The agita-
tion which this idea created made her for a space overlook
the other question as to Will's fate.
" When were they married ?" she inquired anxiously.
" About a year ago, in the registrar's office," answered
Todd, shaking his head in bitter regret at his own share in
the melancholy proceeding.
" But why was it done in secret ?"
" He did not want his father to hear anything about it
until he was ready to settle down; and before he could
make up his mind to settle he wanted to put some specula-
tions he was busy with in going order. When he went
away six months ago he promised to be back before the
bairn was born, and then he was to tell his father every-
thing. He was meaning to do it, I am sure. But that is
no the worst."
" What can be worse ?"
24 A PBINCESS OF JUTE DOM
"He got me and Jess to keep the marriage hidden from
the Captain—her father. Do you no ken about him ? He
is as proud as Lucifer, but he hasna got such command of
his temper as I am given to understand the master of ill-
doing has. Gavin Culross is a furious man, and has the
notion that all the world is against him, and he wTould have
had the whole business proclaimed outright. I cannot
understand how I came to give in to them, hut Mr. William
said it would be right enough before Culross came home ;
and noo, Mr. William is drowned, Culross will be here at
any minute, and the facts cannot be kept from him longer,
for the bairn will tell everything. The Lord only kens
what he will do in his fury to Jess and to me !"
The old man trembled, and glanced nervously towards
the door, as if dreading the immediate entrance of the
wrathful Culross.
But his words had recalled the widow to that second
question, and with an inward shudder she saw in imagina-
tion Will Carmichael's ghastly face floating in the Tay. She
promptly turned from this painful vision, and forced herself
to give attention to the immediate state of affairs.
" The position is a most unpleasant and unfortunate
one, Mr. Todd." She was quite sensible of the common-
placeness of the comment, and yet she was unable to find
anything except the commonplace phrase. She could not at
that time reproach the man or his granddaughter, and
she could not cast reflections on her stepson, whilst she was
still ignorant of the details of all this strange marriage.
So, through commonplace, she drove straight to what
common-sense dictated. "We must do what we can to help
and comfort your grandchild."
" Ay, ay, that is like you, Mrs. Carmichael," interrupted
Todd. " I wish it had been in me to take heart of grace and
come to you sooner."
" I wish you had, Mr. Todd. Much pain might have
been spared to all of us. Say to your grandchild that I
shall see her without delay, and that every arrangement for
her comfort will be made. We must also endeavour to discover
the man who obtained the boat in Mr. William's name."
Todd brightened with relief at finding Mrs. Carmichael
so ready to acknowledge Jess, and to take care of her ; but
at the last words he shook his feeble head in despair.
AN AWKWARD BUSINESS 25
" I'm doubting that will never be done, mem. Bauldie
says he wouldna ken the chiel frae the man in the moon—
the night was that misty, and he kept out of the light.
Then Mr. Feuerheerd "
At the mention of this name the mistress of Baldovie
scrutinised her visitor keenly as she interrupted him :
" What has he to do with it ? "
" He has been doing everything that mortal man could
do to find him. He has been to the Fiscal and set the
police at work, and he has had Bauldie at the office to question
him."
She stood for a little while gazing thoughtfully down-
ward. Then—
"It is strange that Mr. Feuerheerd has not told me
anything about the boat."
" I heard him say to Mr. Whitelaw that there was no
use fashing you about it until something definite was
learned, as he thought you had sorrow enough and con-
fusion enough to thole at present. He said we should, every
one of us, do all that we could to lighten your burden ; and
Mr. Whitelaw agreed that he was quite right."
Again she was thoughtful and silent. Presently, lifting
her eyes to the old man's anxious face, she inquired :
" Does he—Mr. Feuerheerd—know about this marriage,
and what is to happen so soon ?"
"No, no ; that is unkenned by onybody but ourselves,"
was the excited response. " And I am feared to let it be
kenned until Jess, poor lassie, is gotten over her trouble."
" But it must be made known for her sake, as quietly as
we can, but without hesitation," said Mrs. Carmichael
resolutely. " The story is strange enough, but knowing Mr.
William's peculiar ways of doing things, I have no reason to
doubt you, unless you have been yourself deceived."
" It is no possible—that is just clean impossible.'
" Then Mrs. William Carmichael shall be placed in her
proper position immediately, otherwise I should blame myself
for neglecting an important duty, notwithstanding the cir-
cumstances under which it is thrust upon me. There will be
some scandal, no doubt, but we must hold our tongues and
bear it."
"Oh, mem, you make my heart burst wi' gladness!"
exclaimed the old man, clasping his hands, whilst his knees
23 A PRINCESS OF JUTFL02I
trembled under bim as if he were about to fall on them to
express his gratitude. " I looked for little but angry words
from you, as was my deserving for being such a fule ; and
instead of that you give me the only glimpse of sunshine I
have had since I agreed to let the bairns hae their way and
to hold my tongue. I canna thank you, mem—it's beyond
me to do that. But Jess will be the happy woman, and—
and—I'm no feared for the coming of Culross now."
He looked as if that thought had given him new
strength, for he pulled himself up as if he were prepared to
face any danger, although his feeble frame would have
rendered his attitude of defiance comical but for the serious
character of the position in which he had placed himself.
" You must show your gratitude, Mr. Todd, by being
calm and attending to my directions," said Mrs. Carmichael
quietly.
" IH do your bidding, mem, without fail, whatever it
may be," he answered mildly, and yet with an assertion of
that self-importance weak natures display when conscious
of the perfect good faith with which they have always
acted whenever entrusted with any commission, however
badly they may have performed it.
"Then you must please take my message to Mrs.
"William. No doubt Mr. Feuerheerd, who has been very
attentive and useful, will be here this afternoon, and I shall
speak to him about this boat incident. But should you
learn anything new, I want you to come to me, whatever
the hour of the day or night may be."
" I'll do that, mem ; and little enough it is to do for
you, who have made my heart so light. But, you see—"
he paused as if puzzle'd—"you see, mem, things do
happen in the night, and I would not like to come tirlin'
at the door in the small hours."
" Have no hesitation on that account. I shall give
directions that you are to be expected at any hour, and
that I am to be immediately informed of your arrival."
Johnnie Todd made his awkward bow.
" Yery well, mem; since it's your pleasure you need not
fear but I will do your bidding."
He was moving towards the door, when she stopped him
and spoke in a somewhat hesitating manner :
" Mr. Todd, I hope—nay, I believe that I can trust you."
TJNDEB SUSPICION 27
" Trust me, mem !" he exclaimed in great surprise.
Then he added with fervour: "Ay, wi' your life. Was not
John Carmichael my upholder through all my troubles, and
do I not know that he looked upon you as the supreme
blessing of his life ?"
" Thank you, Mr. Todd. Then I wish " Again she
hesitated, whilst she scanned the excited features of the
old man closely. "I wish,'" she proceeded with forced
calmness, " that you would tell me what is your opinion of
Mr. Feuerheerd ? "
It was Johnnie's turn to hesitate. He fidgeted with
hands and feet; he looked down and up, but always
avoided the keen questioning gaze which was fixed upon
him.
" I know nothing ill about him," he said at length,
uneasily; and his manner suggested that, although he
knew nothing to the discredit of Messrs. Carmichael and
Co.'s manager, he suspected a great deal.
She took her answer, not from his words, but from his
manner. She had learned from her husband that whilst
Johnnie was regarded by most folk as a "natural," and
was one in many respects, he was a shrewd and clever
fellow whenever his sympathies were excited. He had
been a faithful and useful servant to John Carmichael in
the early days of struggle, and in consequence a place was
made for him in the counting-house, which was to be his
for life whether he worked or not, for, curiously, Johnnie's
incapacity for active service increased as his master's fortune
developed.
" Enough, Mr. Todd," she said in her calm way ; " you
will let me know all that, you see and hear of Mr. Feuer-
heerd's doings."
He bowed, and departed wondering.
CHAPTER V.
under suspicion
The instructions Todd had received continued to puzzle
his feeble mind all the way home. They were curious,
because they indicated that Feuerheerd was suspected of
28 A PRINCESS OF JUTEEOM
something—either in intent or deed—and because he him-
self had long suspected the clever and" urbane manager,
although he had never dared to hint a doubt of that impor-
tant gentleman's probity.
Johnnie was full of gratitude for the kindly way in
which Mrs. Carmichael had received his confession about
the secret marriage of Jess and Will, and he would not
have hesitated to obey her in anything she might have
directed him to do, however desperate its nature.
But in addition to that, he was moved in this matter by
another impulse, which made him a very willing servant.
He hated Feuerheerd as thoroughly as it was in him to hate
anything or anybody. The reason for this hatred was that
Mr. Feuerheerd, under cover of being a great friend of her
father, had paid some attentions to Jess, which had been
so little pleasing to her that she resented them with a
vigour and indignation that humbled the man, and conse-
quently made him her enemy. That he was ignorant of
her marriage with his master's son, she and her grandfather
believed. He made no sign of any knowledge on the sub-
ject, although he did not try to conceal the vexation he felt
at his rebuff.
Johnnie was aware that he might have vented his spleen
on him, and had not done so. On the contrary, Feuer-
heerd, who was always civil to everybody, was more than
usually civil to Johnnie after the unpleasant event.
Johnnie, so far from accepting this increased courtesy as a
token of friendliness, was frightened by it. He suspected
every word the man spoke and every action he performed,
with the deep conviction that the meaning of them was not
the one which appeared on the surface.
He discovered nothing, however, that could justify the
opinion he had formed; and at times he was sorely exer-
cised in mind by the fear that he was possessed by some
evil spirit, which was prompting him to wrong in thought
an honest man. He prayed that he might be delivered
from such wickedness, but he could not overcome his dis-
like or get rid of his suspicions.
It was, therefore, a relief to find that he was not sin-
gular in the feelings with which he regarded Feuerheerd;
and the fact that Mrs. Carmichael shared them not only
relieved him, but gave him assurance that his suspicions
UNDER SUSPICION 20
were likely to lead him to some discovery which might be
of importance to the folk of Baldovie.
But to the perfect content which this thought would
have inspired there was one great check. The late John
Carmichael was acknowledged to be a shrewd judge of
human character as well as of jute, and he had placed
implicit confidence in his manager. He had not only
expressed his approval of that gentleman's conduct of
affairs, but warmly admitted that he was indebted to him
-for several valuable improvements in the manufacture of
jute into saleable fabrics. It was therefore currently reported
that Feuerheerd was likely to be soon admitted to a partner-
ship in the great firm of Carmichael and Co.
Feuerheerd was the son of a small Hamburg manu-
facturer, who in the course of business visits to Dundee
had met the lady he had chosen for a wife. Rudolph's
first commercial experiences had been obtained in his
father's establishment; but he had been educated in Eng-
land. Whilst still a youth he had been employed for a
couple of years in Mr. Carmichael's office. Next he pro-
ceeded to Russia, and thence to India, where he made the
culture of the jute plant his special study. In the Delta
of the Ganges he discovered the possibility of certain
improvements in the washing and drying of the plant,
which would result in producing a finer fibre for heckling
and weaving purposes, than had yet been brought into the
market. In the bleaching, also, he thought much could
be done, and he studied chemistry with the same assiduity
that distinguished him in every task he took in hand.
He carried the results of his observations and experi-
ments to John Carmichael, who at once entered into a
business arrangement with him, by which he was appointed
manager of the works, and a partnership at no distant date
seemed assured. And the confidence reposed in him by
the head of the firm was reflected in the almost envious
admiration which he obtained from the men of the Cow-
gate. Some of them would have been well pleased to
transfer him from the Carmichael house to their own; but,
somehow, Feuerheerd could not be tempted by any bribe to
leave his present position. So he was generally respected
for his fidelity, as well as admired for his skill, which had
the endorsement of success,
30 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDO'M
Of all these things Johnnie was well aware, and hitherto
he had instinctively watched the man's doings in a furtive,
timid, wondering way, doubting himself as much as the.
object of his observation. But now that Mrs. Carmichael
had directed him to watch, he could do so without any
feeling of self-reproach. He was gratified, too, by the con-
fidence she reposed in him, and explained it by the simple
thought, " Weel, the guidman trusted me afore her, rest
his soul."
He would have been still more proud of his intuitive
scent for foxes had he known that his doubts of the honesty
of the popular Mr. Feuerheerd was shared by another person
for whom he entertained a kind of affectionate reverence.
That was Marget.
When a mere child, she had declared with a child's
frankness that she did not like Mr. Feuerheerd. As she
advanced in years her sentiment did not change, but she
learned to be silent on the subject. When obliged to meet
him as a guest at the social gatherings at Baldovie, or else-
where, she was studiously polite, and considered that no
more could or should be required from her., She had no
reason for her desire to avoid him, and did not try_to find
one beyond this :
"There are so many people in the world to like that it
is not worth while bothering ourselves about those we
cannot like."
She repeated the axiom often to herself, and occasionally
bestowed the benefit of it on some of her young friends who
might be afflicted by similiar repellent instincts regarding
people they were obliged to meet and be civil to, whilst
they were all the time wishing them far enough. These
petty social ordeals are felt much more keenly by young
folic than by their elders, to whom experience has brought
the gift of toleration or indifference.
But, since childhood, it was only to her father that
Marget had ever openly expressed an opinion about Feuer-
heerd. The man was never referred to in all her con-
fidential intercourse with her mother.
When she was only fifteen he had playfully called her
" Sweet, proud Margaret," in consequence of the coldness
with which she received every attempt he made to con-
ciliate her.
UNDER SUSPICION 31
She in no way resented this description of her character;
it set her thinking, and the result was that she crossed the
borderland between mere girlhood and womanhood. From
that time she became thoughtful, and studiously careful in
her words and acts ; and from that time she observed the
polite demeanour towards Feuerheerd which puzzled and at
times annoyed him.
But he did not give the slightest indication that he was
either puzzled or annoyed. Whatever ulterior designs he
might be framing he could bide his time for completing and
executing them in the most advantageous way which cir-
cumstances should direct. Meanwhile he was consoled for
Marget's indifference by the unbounded admiration and
friendship bestowed on him by her young brother* David.
The frank, generous-hearted lad was fascinated by the
countless devices which Rudolph Feuerheerd exercised for
his amusement. David was always ready to leave the
companions of his own age whenever Feuerheerd had an
hour or a day free to spend with him. He initiated him
into the art of cunning fly-making for angling in every
stream and loch in Forfarshire and Perthshire ; he carried
him off on shooting excursions ; he watched his play at
football, cricket, and lawn tennis, and gave him valuable
suggestions which enabled him to overcome all his weak
points in the various games. Most interesting of all, he-
taught him amusing experiments in chemistry and electricity
which enabled the lad to astonish his young friends, and
filled him with delight accordingly.
Notwithstanding the difference between their ages,
David Carmichael regarded Feuerheerd as his closest chum
and dearest friend, to whom he confided every thought and
wish of his own, as well as innocently betraying confidence
by telling all he knew of the thoughts and wishes of others.
Marget noted the growth of Feuerheerd's influence over
her brother, and regretted it the more because aware that
she had no power to curb it. David would not listen to a
word or hint that implied the least discredit of his chosen
friend. She knew that a warning, however delicate and
gentle, would only arouse the whole strength of his generous
spirit for the defence of the maligned one, to whom he
would in consequence attach himself more firmly than ever.
It was one of the youth's most striking characteristics that
32 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
he invariably stood np as the champion of the weaker side,
whether in argument or play or fight.
She, therefore, wisely refrained from attempting to
persuade him that he should observe some discretion in his
intercourse with Feuerheerd, or to suggest to him that he
was mistaken in believing that a man so much his senior
was likely to give so much time to him without having
some ulterior object in view. The fact that a man so much
his senior, and whose talents were so frequently extolled by
his father, should have selected him as his most intimate
friend was the strongest of the elements of attraction which
Feuerheerd exercised over David. He was flattered by his
preference, and proud of it.
So, Margaret quietly endeavoured to counteract the
influence, which she felt to be dangerous, by using all her
affectionate skill ta keep her brother beyond the range of
the magnet. She joined him in his home studies and
amusements, and claimed his escort to garden parties,
picnics, and such like gatherings of young people. To this
David submitted with fairly good grace, for he was very
fond of her ; but he resolutely struck against attending her
to charity tea-meetings and such lectures as did not jump
with his own inclinations.
She was content, however, for the means adopted sue-
ceeded to some extent in limiting the hours he would
otherwise have spent with Feuerheerd.
As has been said, she had not hitherto troubled herself
much with the question ivhy she should have such a strong
objection to this trusted assistant of her father. Therefore
she had no sense of neglecting her duty when her efforts to
guard David were relaxed—at first a little, and then a great
deal—under the influence which had taken possession of
herself in the course of the past two years.
CHAPTER VI.
"in light and shadow"
The important change which every man and woman under-
goes once in a lifetime was wrought in Marget, by Norman
Grant.
"IN LIGHT AND SHADOW>' 33
Hft. was the minister's son, a "bold, honest fellow, strong
and active, who, taking life as a gift to be thankful for,
expressed his gratitude in a cheerful disposition and an
eager desire to lighten the burden of others. From the
days when he began to toddle he importuned father,
mother, and sisters to take him down to the shore to play.
He saw the big ships passing up and down the Firth, fol-
lowed their movements, and studied their rigging with
eager eyes. He had little pleasure in any toys that were not
boats, but they would pacify him in his most fractious moods,
however rudely they might he constructed of paper or wood.
Soon little Norman became an expert modeller of crafts
of all kinds, rigged and fitted with an accuracy which
astonished even experienced mariners. With dismay
the worthy minister observed this passion for the sea, and
did his best to counteract it, hut without effect. At the
age of ten Norman declared that he was to be a sailor, and
at fourteen his mind was unchanged. A year later his
father allowed him to make a voyage in a whaler to the
Davis Straits, hoping that a smart experience of sea-sick-
ness would effectually damp his nautical ardour, and induce
him to pursue his studies at St. Andrew's, so that in time
he would be duly qualified for the pulpit.
The lad was sick enough on his first voyage, but he
returned more decided than ever that his call was to the
sea, and not to the pulpit. Then the minister yielded,
taking comfort in the knowledge that whether ashore or
afloat our fives are in the hands of the Master. But
Norman's determination was a keen disappointment to the
good man. He had five daughters, but only the one son,
from whose birth he had looked forward to the proud day
when he should see him formally installed as his assistant
and successor. He could not see that hope finally dispelled
without a sigh.
But Mr. Grant soon had reason to be satisfied that he
had done right in abandoning his own wishes, and yielding
to those of his son. The rapid progress of the young man,
the high favour which he won from officers and men,
astonished and puzzled the minister. He could not under-
stand whence the lad had derived his seafaring qualities,
unless it might be from his mother's grandfather, who had
been a fisherman,
B
34 A PRINCESS OF JVTFDOM
Then his heart swelled with pride when he saw Norman
presented with a testimonial subscribed for by townsmen
and seamen in recognition of the service he had done in
rescuing from destruction the passengers and crew of a large
Dundee vessel, which he had discovered foundering in the
North Sea.
Norman having passed his examinations with high
honour and obtained first-class certificates, they—father,
sisters, and friends—were all proud of the young skipper,
and he himself was the only person who appeared to be
insensible that he had done well, and accomplished feats of
bravery with rare skill and presence of mind.
Marget became conscious of a glow of pleasure as she
listened to every fresh report of Norman's success; and
when the time came that he spoke out in his manly way,
telling her that it was she who had inspired him with
courage and strength to accomplish whatever good work he
might have done, she was glad, although quite well aware
that he would have, done the good work nobly whether he
had been inspired by thoughts of her or not.
So she gave him the answer which made him glad—she
gave him herself, and he believed that Fortune had no
higher gift to bestow, unless it might be to endow him with
the power to make her happy.
He had spoken on the eve of his departure on a six
months' voyage; and, as the time was so short, it was
agreed that he should delay telling her parents how matters
stood until he returned.
" But it seems to me," he said with a bright smile, as
he held her in his arms, " that asking their leave now is
placing them in the same position as the man who locks the
stable door after the horse has been stolen."
They enjoyed that little joke, and she assured him that
her father and mother would consider her happiness before
everything else. Then alter he had gone away she planned
what was to be a grand surprise for him—she would tell her
parents, and the news of their consent should be his first
welcome home.
She was so happy in writing the letter of joyful tidings
to Norman, that the calamity which prevented its comple-
tion stunned her the more, and filled her with self-reproach
at the idea that she should have been sitting there, blithe in
UIN LIGHT AND SHADOW" 35
the present and in anticipation of the future, whilst her
father was dying. She felt as if she had perpetrated some
great sin.
It was no consolation to her to remember that she had
never for a moment imagined or been warned by any one
that her father's illness might prove fatal. Accustomed
to his unvarying health, and assured by himself in his
cheery way that he would be on his feet again in a day
or two, she had experienced no serious alarm on his ac-
count. Now she felt that she had been selfishly blind to
his dangerous condition, and had neglected to give him
the sympathetic attention he would have had if the truth
had been known to her.
If she had known !—it was bitterness, indeed, to think
of the little services she would have rendered him, and
which would have comforted him. And now it was too
late ! She was even too late to receive one parting word.
She would never outlive the remorse which this thought
engendered.
In this state of mind she was unable to continue the
letter she had been writing ; and so, instead of the bright
welcome intended for him, Norman would be met by the
black-bordered announcement of the death of his friend—
her father.
She would have liked to throw herself on her mother's
breast and cry " Comfort me ! " But there she pulled up,
for this was selfishness again—it was her duty to try to
comfort the widow. So she put her arm round her mother's
neck, saying distractedly:
" Why was it we could not do anything to save him ? "
" Hush, child !" was the response, with a look of alarm,
as if she considered the wish almost impious. But she
spoke tenderly. "We must learn to feel as well to say—
' His will be done.'"
Marget was instantly impressed by the sense that she
had perpetrated a new act of wickedness, and withdrew into
herself disheartened. She would have been glad to speak
with David then; but of course he had gone to Feuerheerd.
That name roused her from the depressed condition into
which the nervous shock had thrown her.
" Where is Will ?" she inquired abruptly.
" We do not know," was the sad response; and then the
d 2
36 .4 PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
additional sorrow and fear of the house were made known to
her.
Mrs. Carmichael understood her daughter, and therefore
confided everything to her about Will's secret marriage and
his mysterious disappearance, concluding rightly that by
directing the girl's thoughts into channels where she might
hope to be of some use, her immediate grief would be
alleviated. The result was precisely what she had expected.
Marget became silent and thoughtful. She was ready
to obey every call her mother made upon her, and was only
sorry that the call was not more frequent. She was think-
ing much about the strange position in which they were
placed. She wished that Norman could have been there to
guide them through the maze. But instead of Norman
there was Feuerheerd for ever at hand, unobtrusive and
apparently necessary.
On the morning of the day appointed for the funeral she
received a letter from Norman, and according to his calcu-
lation his ship might be expected to arrive in the Firth any
day that week. Perhaps even on this day.
*****
Although the offices and factories of Carmichael and Co.
were, of course, closed for business on the day of the funeral,
three gentlemen were in the manager's room early in the
forenoon. They were dressed in mourning, and spoke in
subdued voices.
"This is the private deed-box, Mr. Dalgleish," said
Feuerheerd softly, with his hand on the box which Mr.
Whitelaw had just removed from the safe and laid on the
table. "Mr. William placed his own seal on it when he
called here on the day of his mysterious disappearance.
He did so in the presence of Mr. Whitelaw, Mr. Todd, and
myself. Will you be kind enough to examine the seals ?"
Mr. Dalgleish was a white-haired, benevolent-looking
old gentleman, the head of one of the most respected firms
of law-agents in the town—Dalgleish, Ogilvy, and Co. He
examined the box carefully, as a matter of duty.
"The seals are undisturbed," he said cahnly, as he
removed his gold eyeglasses, and wiped them with his silk
handkerchief.
"Then we now resign it to your custody, sir. Mrs.
Carmichael will, no doubt, have found the key in her
FATHER AND DAUGHTER, 37
husband's room at Baldovie. I have told her that it was
not likely to be found on his key-ring, as Mr. William had
it here, in order to examine the papers, and to place in the
box a packet which is marked No. 10."
" Thank you, Mr. Feuerheerd. We can go to the house
now," said Mr. Dalgleish, taking up the box by the handle.
A brougham was waiting for them at the door, and the
lawyer and Mr. Whitelaw entered it. As Feuerheerd was
about to follow, his arm was grasped by a burly man, whose
sun-tanned face and apparel indicated that he was a seaman.
"Any news of the villain yet?" he growled, but in an
undertone.
"None," answered Feuerheerd. "As I told you, he
has bolted in order to wait until the scandal has blown
over."
" Damn him !" muttered the man, as he turned away,
and Feuerheerd entered the brougham.
The man, with head bowed and hands clenched, hurried
along Reform Street and up Constitution Hill. At the
entrance to a small cottage he halted, pushed open the gate
fiercely, and without any warning entered the parlour.
Jess Culross was kneeling by the side of a cradle. She
was startled by the entrance of the man and looked up.
" Father !" she exclaimed, as if in terror.
He pointed towards the cradle menacingly ; but for the
moment passion seemed to deprive him of the power of
speech.
CHAPTER VII.
father and daughter
Gavin Culross was not the kind of man that even the
bravest and strongest of his own sex would have cared to
tackle without good cause when his passion was aroused.
He was about the average height, strongly built, with
rather long arms and big hands. Although over fifty-five
years, he retained the suppleness and energy of youth. His
muscles were so developed by constant exercise that they
were like cords of steel, and he had the grip of a vice. It
was said that once in a gale he had held the rope of a jib-
sail till the wind tore the canvas into tatters.
38
A FRINGE SS OF JUTEDOM
In ordinary moods his expression was suggestive of a
spirit of reckless joviality, as if, having suffered the worst
buffets that Fortune could bestow, he was resolved to make
the most of what opportunities for enjoyment were left to
him. But the face was also capable of expressing the
darkest Jury ; and that was the appearance it presented
now as he stood before his daughter, pointing wrathfully
towards the cradle.
" You look scared," he muttered huskily, and there was
a note of pain in the sound. "You have good reason for it."
Jess rose, trembling a little, and advanced a step
towards him; but he drew back with a growl, and she paused.
" You came in so suddenly, father," she answered
softly ; and now, the first shock of surprise being over, she
looked at him steadily with an affectionate light in her large
dark eyes. " I am not very strong yet, and was not
expecting you to come home without giving us some
warning."
"Warning for what!" he interrupted fiercely. " Warning
so that you might have had time to hide your shame."
She was a beautiful girl, dark and graceful, and of a
gentle disposition. But the flash of indignation which for
an instant glistened " 1 * licated that she had
although she had it more under control.
" I do not think you understand my position," she re-
plied, with a flush of pride on her cheeks.
He was astounded by her calmness, and retorted
savagely:
" I understand it too well. I understand it better than
you do yourself. You have "
She held up her hands as if to shield herself from a blow,
and he stopped.
" You cannot understand it, father, or you could not speak
to me as you are doing," she said firmly. " I know that it
was wrong of me to keep the secret from you ; but I be-
lieved, and he believed, that it .was only to be for a few
months, and you were away all the time."
"Ay, ay, the villain took advantage of that," he mut-
tered, and began to pace up and down the room as if he were
on the deck of his barque.
" If you mean Will Carmichael, he is no villain but an
inherited something
passionate nature,
FATHER AND DAUGHTER 39
honourable man," she exclaimed indignantly, but immedi-
ately checked herself. "For not telling you everything
sooner I ask your forgiveness, father ; but I will not listen
to any ill words spoken even by you of the father of my
bairn. I did hope that you would have seen grandfather
and Mrs. Carmichael before you came here."
" What should I have seen Mrs. Carmichael for ?"
" Because, then, you would have learned that there was
nothing to be angry about, except our silence. Oh, I wish
you had seen them first. I am not strong enough to speak
for myself yet. If you had even seen grandfather he could
have explained."
There were sobs in her voice, and she seemed to be about
to burst into tears.
The man halted abruptly in his walk, and regarded her
with feelings in which pity and affection contended for the
victory over wrath and scorn.
" I had no need of any explanation from the doitered old
body," he said in a somewhat subdued but still stern
' manner. " I have heard all—more than you know your-
sell1—from one who has discovered everything. I have
learned that you and your grandfather have been cheated
by a devil."
She was gazing at him, uncertain how to speak so that
she might soothe and not provoke his anger, knowing that
there was a point at which his passion became ungovernable.
At that stage he said and did what he never meant to say or
do—he became in fact temporarily insane—blind to reason
and insensible to the dearest ties of affection, as the
drunkard is in his wrath.
" How cheated, and by whom ?"
She contrived to utter the question with a self-
possession which seemed to irritate him.
" Do you mean to say that you do not understand ? Do
you mean to tell me that you do not know Will Carmichael
does not intend to acknowledge you or the baim "
" Oh, hush, hush I' she interrupted quickly, whilst
stretching her arms over the cradle as if to protect the
child. Then with a sob she went on : " Think, father, you
are speaking of one who is absent—one who is perhaps
dead."
" Dead !—ay, as much as I am. I know the whole farce
40 A J? HINGE S3 OF JUTEDOM
he has played on you all, so that he might get off to enjoy
himself until the scandal about you has blown over. He is
alive and laughing at his dupes "
" Alive !—I am glad of that! " she cried, her pale face
brightening at the assurance that Will lived, and forgetting
the evil implied in the other parts of her father's communi-
cation.
"Glad that he is alive!" muttered Culross with a
vengeful glitter in his eyes. " So am I, for I shall find
him, and then, by the Lord, he shall reckon with me for
the wrong he has done you."
The brightness instantly vanished from her face, leaving
the pallor more marked than before.
" What is it you mean ?" she asked, again bewildered
and frightened.
" Did he not promise to come to you on the night when
he was last seen ?"
"Yes-"
" But instead of coming here he went in the opposite
direction—the dooms scoundrel. Do you not see yet ?"
" See what ?"
" That it was Will Carmichael himself who got the boat
from Bauldie Munro "
"But Bauldie would have known him, and he says it
was a man he had never seen before."
" That was part of the play. It was Will Carmichael
himself, I tell you ; but he had muflled himself up so that
Bauldie could not see his face, and he did not speak more
than a dozen words through his happings."
" What then ?"
" Why, the rest was easy. He set the boat adrift so
that folk might think he was drowned."
" But if he wanted folk to think that, why should he
seek to hide who he was from Bauldie ?"
The appositeness of the question staggered him for a
moment, and then seemed to aggravate him.
" That was another part of his play. He showed him-
self at Jean Scourburn's, and that was enough. Had he
allowed Bauldie to ken him he would have been kept back
by his jabber and speirings about his home-coming. So he
made believe to be his own servant. Now he is off to
enjoy himself, and he took care to get a haul of siller for
FATHER AND DAUGHTER 41
the purpose. On that very day he got five thousand pounds
from his dying father."
" Who told you all this ?"
" It was—but I will mention no names. It was one
who has kept an eye on him for my behoof and yours, and
who had the chance of discovering his treachery. Do you
not believe what I tell you ?"
Jess bent over the cradle crying. It was not, however,
as Culross thought, because she was convinced of Will Car-
michael's guilt, but because she saw how hopeless it was
to attempt by any argument to satisfy her father of his
innocence. She had more than a suspicion whence the
story emanated, and she knew that it was false.
Words and arguments would have had no effect on him;
hut the spectacle of her wordless grief did reach his better
nature. He sat down, elbows resting on his knees and
brow on his hand.
" Jess, my bairn, Jess ; I hae had a heap to thole, and
this seems to hurt me more than all the rest." He muttered
this bitterly, with clenched teeth, as if angry with himself
for giving way to emotion. " For fifteen years misfortune
has held me in a cruel grip. I that should have shared the
luck of John Carmichael, was hurtled from my place by the
falsehood and fraud that was charged against me. Against
me—me—that never wronged mortal creature of a penny.
They were forced to own that there was a mistake, but I
was ruined—name and credit gone, and siller wasted in
defending myself."
She passed to the side of his chair and rested her hands
sympathetically on his shoulders.
" But I could lift my head amongst them, and laugh at
the curs that slunk away from me because I was poor—I
could even pity them whose ^fortunes I had made by run-
ning the blockade over and over again. They left me in
the slough when trouble came—all except one ; and now
that one is dead, and his son has given me the hardest blow
that I have yet had."
He stopped, and she spoke in low, earnest tones.
"If Will is alive, father, as you say, I thank God, for
he will soon prove that he has done us no wrong."
He jerked his head away from her with an impatient
"Hoots."
42 A PRINCESS OF JUTE BOM
"Listen to me for a minute, father," Jess implored.
" Mrs. Carmichael has been like a mother to me, and came
just in time to save me from a great danger, for—for we
did not think the bairn was to be born so soon." Her voice
trembled as she spoke this with natural shyness; but the
necessity of the position wrung it from her. " Everything
that I in my ignorance and fear had overlooked she did.
Her daughter Margaret calls me sister. They have no
doubt of him. I have no doubt of him. Why is it that
you who know least of all about the matter should be so
hard on him and me ?"
" A thousand fiends curse him !" exclaimed Culross,
starting to his feet, with all the rage which had been for a
space subdued again in the ascendant, " Do not speak to
me about him again. Mrs. Carmichael and her daughter
are kindly folk; but they are blind because they wish to be
blind, like you. We need have no more words on the
matter until I choose to speak, and when that time comes
I shall have settled accounts with him."
"Are you going away?"
"Ay," he answered with his hand on the door, "I am
going to the funeral."
"You will come home afterwards ?" she questioned timidly.
" I do not know; but you can get a bed ready for me."
The door closed behind him, and Jess, utterly ex-
hausted, laid herself on the bed. This interview, to which
she had looked forward with so much terror, had passed,
and it had not been in any way so dreadful as in her imagi-
nation she had expected it to be. Most people pass through
the same experience, and still find it difficult to understand
that trouble anticipated is more painful to bear than when
it actually befalls us.
But what was the meaning of his announcement that
Will was alive—only pretending to be dead in order to
escape from his responsibilities to her ? It was stranger
even than the strange story of his disappearance, about
which she had not yet been able to form any definite
opinion. She hoped that Will was alive; but Mrs.
Carmichael would not allow her to speak on the subject
until she had regained her strength. Indeed that lady had
not intended her to learn what had been discovered about
Will's disappearance,' but the grandfather in his senile
THE WILL 43
way had told her everything, whilst under the impression
that he was not saying more than was necessary to soothe
her. He had not hinted, however, at the possibility of Will
Carmichael being still alive.
Jess felt that her duty was to tell Mrs. Carmichael im-
mediately what her father had said. But she was still too
weak to go to Baldovie, and this being the day of the
funeral she shrank from intruding upon her with any mes-
sage. Then again, was the information she had to give
of sufficient importance to warrant her in disturbing the
mistress of Baldovie ?
Jess knew that her father was utterly at fault about her
Will's intentions, and that he had been in some way hood-
winked by one who had a purpose in deceiving him. But
to keep back what she had heard from one who had been so
kind to her as Mrs. Carmichael would be foolish if not
ungrateful. Everything that could give hope to the afflicted
family would be a blessing at this juncture.
So she determined to write and ask Mrs. Carmichael to
come to see her as soon as she could find leisure.
One thing was perfectly clear in her mind, that if Will
Carmichael was alive and did not come to her, knowing her
position, he was kept away from her not by his own wish
but by force.
CHAPTER VIII.
the will
Every mark of respect by which it was in the power of the
community of Jutedom to express its regret for the loss of one
of its most honoured members was shown on the day of John
Carmichael's funeral. Blinds were drawn down, shutters
were half closed, flags were hung at half-mast 011 all the
vessels in the harbour, as was also the flag on the Old
Steeple in Roodyards burying-ground, where, long ago, the
master of Baldovie had selected his last earthly resting-
place ; and muffled bells tolled solemnly.
The Provost, Magistrates, and Town Councillors, and
the official representatives of the various charitable institu-
tions to which the deceased had given munificent support,
44 A PBIN0E88 OF JUTEDOM
were present, whilst the roads between the house and the
cemetery were lined with tradesmen, mill-hands, sailors,
and the " orra " characters of the town. The crowd waited
in respectful silence and with patience in spite of a keen
east wind.
The simple religious service of the Scottish Church was
-conducted in the large dining-room of Baldovie by the
Reverend Matthew Grant, who delivered his words of con-
solation and hope to the family with deep emotion; for
John Carmichael had been a good friend to him as he had
been to so many others. The minister alluded to the miss-
ing member of the family whose fate was still uncertain,
and prayed for his speedy return in good health, and pre-
pared to carry on the beneficent work which his father had
not lived to complete.
Then the procession passed away from the house, the
widow and her daughter Margaret watching it from the
window with sad eyes. In the absence of his half-brother,
David was placed in the position of chief mourner and first
pall-bearer. As the poor lad felt the cord slipping through
his hands, whilst the coffin descended into the grave, he
bent his chin on his breast and sobbed to himself, so that
no one heard—" My father." He stood still, looking down
on the coffin when the others had moved away.
An arm was passed under his, and a kindly voice whis-
pered in his ear :
" Come away, David ; you will feel better when you get
into the house. At any rate there will be no need to hide
your grief, and we are always easier at such times as this
when we can have a good groan without anybody look-
ing on."
This was Feuerheerd, and he led David back to the
carriage.
About half-a-dozen carriages returned to the house, and
the crowd slowly dispersed, some repeating anecdotes of the
late "John" when he was a weaver—"naething mair nor
oursel's "—some talking of his generosity, and others com-
menting with doubtful approbation on his conduct during
various strikes amongst his mill-workers. But all agreed
that he was " a rale guid sowl at boddom." One of his
sayings was especially quoted by those who felt discon-
tented with their lot. " He used to say that ' thirty years
THE WILL 45
syne we were a' sma' bodies, but the Rooshin war and the
American war changed us into big bodies, no to mention
that a wheen o' us were changed into big rogues, forbye.'"
The group which assembled in the dining-room of
Baldovie for the second time that day comprised, besides
the family, a number of distant relations who had suddenly
appeared from various parts of the country, some of them
sorry enough for the loss of a friend, all of them—poor and
well-to-do alike—eager to know to what extent they were
to benefit by the will.
As the lawyer of the deceased, Mr. Dalgleish, with
much solemnity, placed the private deed-box on the table.
Mrs. Carmichael sat on his right hand, and to her he chiefly
addressed himself. Marget was on his left, and David stood
behind him.
" This sad event has been so sudden, Mrs. Carmichael,"
the old gentleman began, with a mixture of friendly con-
dolence and professional bluntness, " that I did not receive
my last instructions direct from your late husband. That,
however, is of little consequence, as Mr. Carmichael, being
a prudent man, had duly arranged the disposition of Jiis
kffairs some time ago ; and we will find in his will, as well
as in some holograph writings which he from time to time
prepared, every information necessary for our guidance in
endeavouring to carry out his wishes. I believe you have
found the key of the box, Mrs. Carmichael."
" It was in the drawer of the desk which he kept in his
bed-room," she said, handing the key to the lawyer.
"I understand that Mr. William Carmichael affixed
these seals to this box after he had examined its contents
and placed in it a packet entrusted to him for that purpose
by his father," continued Mr. Dalgleish. "I very much
regret that it should be my duty to break the seals in the
absence of Mr. William. I trust his absence will be brief.
But instructions are conveyed to me in a letter from my
friend and client, the late Mr. Carmichael, to open this box
when the occasion should arise, and to read the will."
With professional deliherateness, Mr. Dalgleish fixed his
gold-rimmed eye-glasses, broke the seals, opened the hox,
and produced the will, which he proceeded to carefully
smooth on the table. Every movement was noted by eager
eyes, and every word was listened to with breathless
interest.
46 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
There were considerable bequests to a number of insti-
tutions, legacies of varying amounts to friends—the minister,
Mr. Grant, was included among them—and relatives. His
clerks and servants were all remembered in proportion to
the period they had been in the testator's service, and a
small sum was left to each of his mill-hands.
The bulk of his property was divided in this way :
Baldovie and its belongings, with a suitable sum for its
maintenance, and the annual interest of one-third of his
whole estate, were bequeathed for her lifetime to Mrs.
Carmichael, and at her demise to be equally divided amongst
his three children or their heirs. To Margaret, one-third
of his estate under trustees ; to "William and David in
equal shares, the whole residue of his property, and the
entire interest in the business of Carmichael and Co., with
the mills, machinery, offices, ships, and everything belonging
thereto.
Mrs. Carmichael and Mr. Dalgleish were appointed
trustees.
" Now, there is this packet, marked No. 10," proceeded
the old lawyer, in his grave, methodical way; " no instruc-
tions have been given to me regarding it; but doubtless
they were given to Mr. William Carmichael. In his absence
—temporary absence, we hope—it has been suggested to me
by Mr. Feuerheerd that we should delay opening this
packet for a few days. With Mrs. Carmichael's approval
I shall do so, and. in the meanwhile I will replace it in the
box, which will remain under my care."
Then the company dispersed, some pleased, others hiding
disappointment under solemn looks, but all speculating
about the future of Margaret Carmichael, whose inherit-
ance would make her richer than some of the royal
princesses.
CHAPTER IX.
A CLUE
On the forenoon of the following day the S.S. Lindores
entered the Victoria Dock, Norman Grant master. Having
performed all pressing harbour duties, Norman hastened to
A CLUE 4?
the manse, where he was received with ecstatic joy by his
crowd of sisters, and with calm pleasure by his father.
He had not been at home for ten minutes before he
was informed of what had happened at Baldovie. The
young captain was startled by this marvellous news, and
determined to proceed at once to the house in order that
he might offer Marget what consolation it was in his power
to give. The minister was ignorant as yet of the very
important personal interest his son had in the fortunes of
the heiress, and did not think of mentioning what a large
proportion of the late millionaire's wealth had been be-
queathed to her. The girls were full of it, but had not
time to enlarge upon it.
As for Norman, the thought of the great change which
this event made in the position of his betrothed never
occurred to him ; for, as she had declared to her father, in
wooing her he had forgotten all about the siller. Had he
remembered it, he would probably have refrained from
telling her of his love, or at any rate delayed the revelation.
At present he considered nothing more than that his
lass was in sorrow, and he was bound to hasten to her
without a moment's delay.
"When he reached the house she was in Will's room.
She had been inspired by the hope that amongst her
brother's papers in one of the drawers, or somewhere
about, she might discover a clue to the cause of ■ his
disappearance.
She forgot her task the moment Norman entered ; and,
as they stood with hands clasped, looking into each other's
eyes, they were for a brief space oblivious to everything
except that they were together again, loving each other
more than ever, if that might be possible. And yet they
were unconsciously both subdued by the sense of the great
shadow on the house.
There was of course much to tell him about her father's
good-natured acceptance of their engagement, and about
her mother's approval with only one reservation—-.that they
were not to be in too great a hurry, but to wait a little
in order to make quite sure that they fully realised the
nature of the contract which they desired to make.
As if they did not understand it perfectly well! As if
there could be the very remotest possibility of either of
48 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
them faltering in their love or—most disagreeable sugges-
tion of all—of either of them regretting their union !
The extravagant absurdity of such suppositions would
have made them both laugh with scorn if the sad sur-
roundings of their present position had not, whilst drawing
them closer together, rendered them submissive to a long
period of probation. Had her father lived there would have
been no necessity for further probation; but, under the
circumstances, they must wait until time had softened down
the grief of the family.
Besides, there was the troublous question about the
fate of Will Carmichael to be settled before any new arrange-
ments could be entered into; and until something definite
was learned concerning him, Marget felt that she could not
dare to think of her own happiness.
"I cannot bring myself to believe that poor Will is
drowned," she said, " although I find it more difficult to
believe that he could stay away from us at such a time as
this, unless he is travelling in some out-of-the-way place,
and is ignorant of what has happened."
" Maybe he has met with an accident," suggested Nor-
man, resting his hands on the back of a chair behind him.
" Perhaps ; but in that case surely some of the people
who are inquiring after him would have heard about it before
now."
Norman was puzzled by that natural view of the case,
but he hazarded another surmise.
" Men have been picked up by vessels at sea, and for
weeks have had no means of letting their friends know that
they were safe."
She shook her head.
" The boat was found in the Firth, and not very far away
from Munro's cottage."
"Then the "
Norman stopped; and in order to hide his confusion,
pretended to be carefully reconsidering all that he had heard.
He had on his lips the assertion, "Then the body must have
been carried out to sea, or it would have been found before
this." But quickly, conscious of the pain which an opinion
of this kind from turn would have caused, he contrived to
substitute a lame supposition in which he had not the
slightest faith;
A CLUE 49
" Then, the boat being found so near home, perhaps ho
was not in it when it capsized."
"We hope it may be so ; but then the problem is, why
is he not here ?"
Norman was satisfied in his own mind that the man was
drowned; but he could not bring himself at that time to
deprive Marget of the comfort which hope still afforded her.
In consequence, he felt awkward in discussing the subject
with her, for he could not conscientiously endeavour to
strengthen the hope which he believed to be doomed to
disappointment. As a last resource, in order to escape the
expression of a decided opinion, he inquired :
" Has he left no clue of any kind as to what he was doing
—as to what projects he was engaged in?"
" None, that we have yet been able to discover. But I
learned from Currie this morning that when Will came
home from the office, that evening we saw him last, there
was a letter waiting for him. I suppose Currie did not
like to admit his habit of examining all the letters and
trying to guess who the senders may be, or he would have
told us sooner. The letter was marked 'Immediate' —
with two strokes under the word—and it was addressed in
a woman's writing."
" There is the clue, then," said Norman, much relieved
to have something tangible to speculate upon. "You will
unravel the whole mystery if you can find that letter."
" I have been trying for the last three hours to find it.
You know Will was always very careless about his letters
and papers, and used to fling them out of his hand wher-
ever he might be sitting or standing. I used to scold him
often for tempting the servants to pry into his affairs. But
he would only laugh and say, 'Muckle good may it do them.
They are welcome to all the secrets that may be of any use
to them.'"
"Had he no fixed place for any documents which he
might have occasion to refer to ?"
She almost smiled at the question.
"I do not know what he may have done elsewhere, but
when at home his only method of preserving letters which
he did not burn was to gather them up in a pile and pitch
them into any drawer or box that happened to be close to
him. I have examined all these piles, and the letter we
E
50 A PRINCESS OF JUTEBOM
want is not amongst them. He must have burnt it or taken
it with him, for nothing in the room has been touched by
any one except myself since he went away."
"Have you looked in the fireplace for any scraps of
paper ?"
" I was just going to do that when you came in," was
the answer.
She stooped to peer under the grate ; then she stirred
the ashes cautiously with the poker. But neither under
nor in the grate were there any signs of burned paper visible.
She rose with an air of disappointment, and began mechani-
eally to shift the ornaments on the mantelpiece from one
place to another, but without result.
Suddenly she uttered an ejaculation of hopeful surprise,
and plucked from behind the mirror the letter which Will
had carelessly thrust in there.
" What is this ?" she exclaimed in much excitement.
" Have I found it at last ?—Yes."
She opened the letter, read it, and stood still staring at
it in dumb amazement.
" Well ? " queried Norman, after a spell of silence, " what
is it ?"
She hastily folded up the letter and replaced it in the
envelope.
" I must take this to my mother at once," she said in
much agitation. " I think this will help us, but I do not
understand it, and cannot show it to you until mother has
seen it. She will ask your advice about it. Wait here till
I come back."
She hurried out of the room, leaving her lover in a
state of perplexity as to the cause of her excitement,
and considerably bothered by the thought that the
Woman he loved was in a distressed state of mind, and
he could not discover any way in which he could be of
use to her.
Mrs. Carmichael was in the library, carefully examining
her late husband's papers—a task that was materially
lightened by the methodical order in which they had been
kept—when her daughter entered with flushed cheeks, and
holding out the important letter in her hand.
_ "Anything wrong, Marget?" inquired the mother,
using the abbreviated form of the name, as was the custom
A OHUE 51
of the family, because it was the form which the father
liked best. " Has Norman brought bad news ? "
" It is not about him, mother. Read this : I have this
moment found it in Will's room—hidden behind the
mirror."
Mrs. Carmichael read the letter carefully several times
before speaking. It was brief, evidently written in haste,
and in distress of mind.
" Wednesday.
"Dearest Will,
" I must see you to-night. I cannot remain here,
because father is coming home, and I dare not. meet
him until you have put things right. At nine o'clock this
evening you will find a faithful friend waiting for you on
the road opposite Jean Scourburn's place. He will bring
you to me. Come, for God's sake, without fail.
" Ever your loving
" Jess.''
"This is very singular," observed Mrs. Carmichael
thoughtfully. " Here is a note which I received from Mrs.
William an hour ago, saying that she wanted to see me to-
day if possible ; and I have ordered the carriage to be ready
immediately after lunch."
"Has she said nothing to you-about this appoint-
ment ?"
"Not a word ; and that is what perplexes me. She
says that she expected William at the cottage that evening,
and she certainly was in no condition to leave home. . . .
The writing of the two letters seems to be by the same
hand."
"Seems to be," said Marget (we, too, will use the
favourite name).
"Yes, only seems, ibr I suspect—there, I cannot yet
put my fears into words."
" What is it you fear ?"
" That this letter to William was not written by her,
but by some one who wished to decoy him for an evil
purpose."
"Who could wish to harm him?" said the daughter
with a slight shudder.
e 2
52 A FRINGESS OF JUTEDOM
" That we must find out," was the calm response. " I
shall now go to Munro's place first, and take him with me
to Mrs. Scourburn's."
"Will you not take me with you ? "
" I shall do better alone. Have you told Norman ?"
" Not yet."
"You may tell him everything ; and I will have a talk
with him on my return. He can call in the evening, if he
does not care to wait."
She said this with a smile, well knowing that she would
find the lover there on her return. She repeated the
message to himself as he stood beside the carriage to see
her off.
CHAPTER X.
inquiries of importance
Bauldie Munro's cottage was at the end of a row, fronting
the Firth.
" Come ben," w&s the cordial answer to a knock at his
door.
Raising the latch, Mrs. Carmichael entered and saw
Bauldie seated by the fire, smoking.
There was a very decidedly fishy odour in the little room,
and the arrangement of its contents could not be described
as tidy. Nets in piles, bladder and cork floats, and brown
wicker baskets formed a litter about the floor, whilst oars
and a variety of fishing-boat tackle rested against the wall.
But what might appear confusion to an outsider was straight
enough to Bauldie and his spouse Kate.
She supplemented her guidman's earnings by hawking
fish; moreover, she had to prepare the bait and keep his
duds in order, so that she had little time to be "per-
nickety," as she called it, about "redding up the house."
That was for "fowk wha could bide at hame a' day, and
had naething else ado." The Munros were comfortable in
their way, for they now had only themselves to provide for.
Of ten children three were dead, and the others were working
on their own account.
"Weel, neebor," said Bauldie without looking round,
" what's your wull ?"
INQUIRIES OF IMPORTANCE 53
" I want to speak to you, Munro, about the boat which
some one obtained from you by using the name of Mr.
William Carmichael."
"Eh, mem, I didna notice wha it was that cam' in," he
said without the least discomposure, but with inherent
courtesy he laid aside his pipe, rose and put forward the best
chair for his visitor. "Will you take a sate ?"
" Thank you."
" It's odd that you should come in the noo, Mrs. Car-
michael," Bauldie continued with the solemn air which he
assumed when saying grace ; " very odd, indeed, I may say,
for I have been sitting here this last half-hour or mair
trying to make out what the sorrow is the meaning of the
business."
" Well, have you formed any guess ?"
" Never a glint of guess or rizzon can I get out o' it, for I
hae been clean bamboozled by a visitor that came to me last
night and this morning."
" Who was he ?"
" Wha should it be but Gavin Culross, and what he says
is that this is just a ploy o' Maister Willum's to gar folk
think he is drooned because he has gotten some lass into a
misfortune, and wants to get quit o' her."
" Culross is mistaken," said the lady emphatically.
"You may be assured that Mr. William had no such inten-
tion as is attributed to him."
" That is my opinion, mem; for although Maister
Willum was ay a thrawn cratur, he was never an ill-mean-
ing ane, and sae I tell't the skipper; but save's!—he
wouldna hearken to a word in his favour. Syne he let out
the most extraordinary notion I ever listened to."
" What was that ?"
" He says it was Maister Willum himsel' that got the
boat frae me ! But although it is a while since I hae had
a word wi' him, and the night was misty, I canna see how
he could hae cheated me, let him try as he might."
" I do not believe you were mistaken in thinking that
the man who came to you was not Mr. William. Now, I
particularly want you to try and remember what the man
was like—how was he dressed ?"
"I couldna say that, for I didna pay muckle heed to
him. I'm sure he was braider in the shoulders nor Maister
54 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
Willum. Of course an extra coat or twa would hae made
tliat difference ; but lie was three or four inches taller, and
I canna see how he could manage that. And, forbye, the
voice wasna in ony way like his."
" Can you recollect nothing of the man's dress ?"
"Noa thing excepting that he had a sou'-wester on his
head, pulled down half ower his een, and a big muffler that
smoored him up to the nose."
"You would not know him again if you saw him ? "
" That is clean out o' the question, for he wasna wi' me
mair nor ten minutes, and I never got a right look at him.
I thought that it was a' right when he gied me the card—
that's it yonder on the mantel—and supposed he was a
serving man that Maister Willum had picked up in's
travels !"
" Can you think of no sign by which you would know
him again ?"
" Fient a sign can I think o' that would help me to ken
him again."
"That is most unfortunate," she said slowly; "but
you are satisfied that the man could not be Mr. William
himself."
" Perfectly satisfied on that score. The notion is just
ridiculous nonsense ; and sae I tell't the Fiscal and Cukoss
baith."
" Then I want you to go with me to Mrs. Scourburn's.
We may learn something from her."
" I'se gae wi' you willin' enough, but Jean kens nothing
more nor me."
Mrs. Carmichael's first step in the investigation she had
determined upon carrying out herself did not seem to
promise a satisfactory result. But, although disappointed,
she was in no way disheartened. She had made up her
mind to expect many disappointments—perhaps many
causes of bitter chagrin—before she accomplished her aim.
She proceeded to the carriage, and was presently fol-
lowed by Bauldie, after he had called to a neighbour to tell
the guidwife, if she came home before him, whither he had
gone, and that he would be back soon.
Mrs. Carmicliael beckoned him to a seat in the carriage,
and that was an honour which he would have accepted
without hesitation if he had been dressed in his " Sunday
INQUIRIES OF IMPORTANCE 55
claes ;" but not being so prepared, he preferred a humbler
place which offered him more personal ease.
" Thank you, mem. I'll just loup up aside the
coachman."
But Bauldie was proud to think that, whilst he chose
to sit beside the " flunky," he might have been riding in
the carriage "cheek by jowl wi' the lady" if he had liked,
as he took frequent occasion afterwards to remind his
spouse.
Jean Scourburn was standing in her doorway. She was
a tall, gaunt woman. Some people said she had seen fifty
years at least; but it would have puzzled the most cunning
judge of the physical signs of age to say what hers might
be. ' The skin was yellow and parched; she had high
cheek-bones, a pointed nose, the decided marks of mous-
tache and beard, and a prominent chin—all suggestive of
age. But the activity of her movements and of the keen
gray eyes glancing out from beneath the high crescent of
frills and flutings which adorned the front of her scrupu-
lously white " mutch," indicated the possession of energy
that is only associated with the idea of youth.
Jean had been left by her father in possession of the
little inn, of the farm attached to it, and of sundry tene-
ments situated in various parts of Broughty Ferry and
Dundee, besides, as was reported, a substantial sum in the
bank, and a number of valuable bonds over heritable
property. To all these she had added considerably during
the past fifteen years.
She was regarded with a curious kind of respect for
several notable qualities. She. was shrewd in bargaining in
small ways and big ways; she looked on male creatures
with contempt; and she was always in litigation with
somebody. The Sheriff, the Provost, and the Bailies
froaned in spirit when they heard announced "Jean
courburn, pursuer;" for they knew that days of worry
were in store for them. Her spirit of litigation was so keen
that she had carried several cases to the Court of Session ;
she had once already gone as far as the House of Lords, and
there was every prospect that she would carry a case there
again.
She was, therefore, a person looked upon with some awe
by everyone who had dealings with her; and there was not
56 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
a lawyer in the burgh who did not think twice before agree-
ing to act as her agent in any case ; for they had to reckon
with her daily "visitations," her iteration of instructions,
her cross-examination of procedure, and, worst of all, the
possibility of becoming themselves the defenders in an
action for some supposed neglect of duty or error.
Jean's legal eccentricities did not stop here. Notwith-
standing her contempt for the male sex, she suddenly
appeared in the office of a young writer, with the request
that he should draw up a marriage settlement for her.
Pleased by the prospect of business with a person who had
so much to do in the law courts, the gentleman proceeded
at once with his task. When he came to the place where
it was necessary to fill in the name of the prospective
husband, he paused, and asked as delicately as might be
what was the name of the gentleman ?
" Whatna gentleman?" exclaimed Jean, quietly staring
at him as if she doubted that some of his faculties were
wanting.
" Why, the name of the gentleman who is to be honoured
with your—your hand," stammered the young lawyer in
much perplexity.
" You are just to leave that blank, and we can fill it in
when the time comes. I dinna ken mysel' yet what the
creatur's name may be. This is just a provision lest Provi-
dence should afflict me wi' a man when I am ower doitered
to ken what I am doing. You might aiblins hae a chance
yoursel', young man, if you carry out my wishes preceesely
and with economy."
The astounded lawyer with some difficulty suppressed
the shout of laughter which was choking him, and hastily
completed the draft of the singular deed, and so earned his
fee.
Being thus a personage of importance, Jean Scourburn
was in no way flustered by the stoppage of the Baldovie
carriage at her door. Indeed, she did not stir from her
position, but simply looked on, a little curious certainly, at
the spectacle of Bauldie in his rough working-clothes seated on
the box beside the coachman in his plain but smart livery.
Bauldie descended from his exalted position, and, in
obedience to the instructions of Mrs. Carmichael, advanced
to the cottage.
INQUIRIES OF IMPORTANCE 57
" Hoo's a' wi' you the day, Mistress Scourburn ?" lie
said.
"As weel's I can expect to be wi' sae mony weighty
affairs on my hands."
" Ay, you were ever an active body."
He designed this for a compliment; but Jean's ac-
quaintances, and especially her servants, would have
regarded it as a piece of severe satire, for she was one of
those uncomfortably active beings who could never sit still
herself, or allow any one else to do so. She had two maidens,
who, under her directions, discharged all the duties of the
house, dairy, and byre, and they declared that the mistress
could not be quiet even in her bed at night. Winter and
summer they were never allowed to spend a minute in sleep
after five o'clock chimed on the hoarse bell of the old-
fashioned eight-day clock which stood like a coffin against
the kitchen wall.
" Folk would need to be active to haud their ain, nowa-
days," was her dry response.
" Naebody can say you havena dune that," Bauldie
went on, with an evident desire to put her into good-
humour. " Do ye see wha's in the carriage ?"
" I'm no blind yet."
" Mrs. Carmichael wants to hae a word wi' you about
Maister Willum."
"Weel, I'm here; and I havena forbidden her the
house."
Bauldie softened this somewhat ungracious permission
for the lady to enter the house into :
" Jean's ready to gie you ony information she can, if
you'll step into the house."
Mrs. Carmichael at once complied. She knew the
woman's character pretty well, and remembered that they had
only escaped litigation at her instance in the matter of a
strip of land on the borders of Baldovie by a generous con-
cession on their part; but she did not know that Jean
regarded the concession as in no respect generous, but
merely as an acknowledgment of her rights, and that she
was often disposed to regret having settled the matter
without going into Court. She had lost the honour and
glory of a victory over the great man of Baldovie.
After the usual civilities, which were stiffly received
58 A PRINCESS OF JUTE ROM
notwithstanding the conciliatory manner of the visitor,
Mrs. Carmichael proceeded to the immediate object of her
call.
"You are, of course, aware of our anxiety about Mr.
"William Carmichael," she said, " and as I understand that
you were the last person who saw him, it might he of
service to us if you could remember exactly how he looked,
and what he said, when he was here."
" He looked as though he was in a terrible way about
something ; and what he said was that he wanted a tumbler
o' toddy."
"Was that all?"
"No a word more. I dare say you ken that I am no in
the way of speaking much with the folk of Baldovie."
Jean had crossed her arms, holding an elbow in each
hand, and assumed the dignified air of one who resents
being troubled with other people's affairs. She was, in
fact, saying to herself, "If daft loons will go and drown
themselves, or make away with themselves, for their ain
nefarious purposes " (for she, too, had heard the story which
Culross was carrying about, although he concealed the name
of the girl who was supposed to be wronged), " what for
should honest folk he fashed about them?"
Mrs. Carmichael paid no attention to Jean's assumption
of superiority. At another time she might have been
amused by it, but at present the interests involved in her
inquiries were too serious to permit her to consider or he
amused by the eccentricities of those with whom she came
in contact. After thinking for a moment, she said with
quiet earnestness:
" I must beg of you, Mrs. Scourburn, to remember that
we are at present in much distress of mind about the absence
of Mr. William, and that we shall be most grateful to any
one who will give us the slightest hint by which we may
be enabled to find him—alive or dead. You surely will
not refuse to help us so far as you can ?"
"I never said that I would."
Jean answered sharply enough ; but she was impressed by
the widow's appeal. There was a vague sense of triumph
in having the mistress of Baldovie coming to her as a sup-
pliant under any conditions; but, at the same time, she
was sorry for her.
BAFFLED, BET STILL PERSUING 59
"Then," continued Mrs. Carmichael, "was there abso-
lutely nothing else passed between you, except what you
have mentioned ?"
"I am always very particular in my averments, as you
ought to ken by this time," retorted Jean, inclined to bn>
indignant at the idea that it was possible for her to make a
mistake.
"You must please excuse my anxiety, Mrs. Scourburn,
and be sure that it does not mean any doubt of your
accuracy. But you know that in a case like this the
smallest circumstance may prove of great consequence in-
tracing the truth. Were there no guests in your house
that evening except Mr. William ?"
Jean was mollified by the first part of the lady's address,
and at the question which closed it her keen eyes twinkled
as if with some sudden recollection.
"'Deed was there !" she exclaimed, with no sign of
excitement; "twa gangrel bodies were in the parlour when
he came in, and they gaed out soon after him."
" Did you know them ? "
" Na ; they were never in the house before, to the best
of my knowledge."
She added the latter words on the principle of observing
the usual legal precaution against a charge of perjury.
" We must find these men," said Mrs. Carmichael, rising,
" and I depend on you to help me, Mrs. Scourburn."
Then she returned to the carriage.
CHAPTER XI.
baffled, but still pursuing
The cottage in which Johnnie Todd resided with his grand-
daughter was his own property, and was known as Braeside
Cottage. It was a substantial little building of gray stone,
with four apartments on the ground-floor and two attics
above. The two rooms on the left-hand side of the passage
or hall did double duty as parlours and bedrooms ; the first
being occupied by the grandfather, and the second—the one
pverlooking the garden—by Jess. On the other side were
the kitchen and the general room, which served all the
60 A PBfflOFSS OF JTJTBDOM
purposes of dining, drawing, and, when required, bed-room,,
for in a recess there was a bed on which a door closed, as if
it were a cupboard.
The garden was large enough to occupy all Johnnie's
leisure hours, and to require the occasional assistance of a
gardener, the feu having been purchased at a time when
ground was much less valuable than it has become during
the past ten or twenty years. It had been secured by Todd
with the assistance of his son-in-law, whose affairs were then
in a prosperous condition, and Culross had therefore had
no scruples in making Braeside his refuge when his fortune
was wrecked. For some years, however, he had made little
use of it, as he lived mostly on board his barque ; but
the general room with its box-bed was always ready for him.
Having dismissed Bauldie with a few words of thanks
which he valued more than the silver token she forced
into his hand, Mrs. Carmichael next proceeded to Brae-
side. She had gained nothing so far except the faint
hope that the two men who had been in Jean Scourburn's
when Will called there might be found, and that from
them something might be learned. Still, the prospect
was so vague that she could descry no speck of reassuring
light in it. Patience alone could serve her ; and she could
be patient.
She would not allow herself to believe that a man could
thus suddenly disappear from the world without leaving
some trace of his fate somewhere.
Jess was in bed ; the doctor had been horrified at the
idea that she had been out of it, and warned her that the
excitement she had undergone threatened to produce serious
constitutional consequences. At the same time he directed
the nurse not to allow her to get out of bed until he gave
permission.
The young mother looked so very ill that Mrs. Carmichael
hesitated to disturb her with the questions she had come to
ask about the mysterious letter.
But Jess brightened up so much at her appearance that
it seemed as if new life and strength had been flashed
through the enfeebled frame.
" Oh, Mrs. Carmichael, I knew you would come ! I am
so much better at the sight of you. How good you have
been to us I Will—our Will—is the only one that can'
BAFFLED, BUT STILL PURSUING 61
thank you as I would like to do if I could," she said ex-
citedly, reaching out her hands. "And he will be able to
do it himself; for my father was here yesterday, and he
says that Will is alive and safe."
She did not even think at the moment of the cruel
suggestion which had accompanied that assurance.
" I trust it is true," said Mrs. Carmichael, in her calm,
kindly way, which was most soothing to the feverish invalid ;
" and if it is true, 1 am sure that something we do not
understand keeps him away from you at this time."
" That is what I say—thank you, thank you for bearing
me out in it! I know they are wrong in saying that he
wants to run away from me ; and if I could only find some
way of showing father that he never meditated such a thing,
I should be quite well in a day."
The letter Mrs. Carmichael had in her pocket
would afford the proof Jess desired, provided she had not
written it. But, convinced as she was on that point, Mrs.
Carmichael hesitated to put her belief to the test. She
overcame the feeling and produced the letter.
" Is that your writing ?"
Jess glanced at it, and answered promptly :
" Of course that is my writing."
Mrs. Carmichael drew back in dismay, fancying that the
girl's reason must be quite gone. Then she put the paper
in her hand.
"Look again," she said nervously ; "read, and tell me
if you wrote that."
Jess, much amazed, read the letter quickly, and
it dropped from her helpless hand.
" Oh, Will, Will, Will—who can have done this ?" she
moaned, closing her eyes and shuddering.
" You did not do it ?"
" Me—no ! how could I ? We were waiting here for
him all the evening—all the night—grandfather and me,
and he never came. I have no friend that I would send to
him except grandfather, and he never left me. . . . Oh,
Will, my Will, you have been murdered by some villain !"
"Do not think that," said Mrs. Carmichael with
restored energy now that all doubt as to the possibility of
Jess having written the letter was removed ; and, with more
excitement than she was accustomed to display, she con-
62 A FRINGE SS OF JUTEDOM
tinued: " Think rather how we can discover the person who
has been able to imitate your handwriting so closely that
even you yourself were deceived at first sight."
"Yes, yes, that is what I ought to do—that is what I
must do !" cried the young mother, clasping her hands and
looking wildly into space ; " but I can think of nobody—
I can think of nobody who would want to do such a wrong
to him and to me."
" Have you not written to any one who might be—
jealous of Will ?"
Mrs. Carmichael said this with as much delicacy as it
was possible to impart to such a question. She found it
very awkward to put it, but the importance dependent upon
the answer rendered it unavoidable since the subject had
been started.
A light flashed into Jess's eyes, and she clasped the
hand of her friend, looking into her face with clear honest
eyes in which there was an expression of astonishment at
the idea which had been suggested to her.
" I do not think it can be possible," she said, forcing
herself to speak slowly, "but there is one man who pre-
tended that he—that he liked me. I said ' No ' to him,
and he was sorry. He did not say that he would be vindic-
tive—he was even kind and most respectful in his manner
of retiring ; but at the time I felt very uncomfortable,
and the idea passed through my mind that if he ever had
an opportunity of hurting the man I loved he would do it."
" Who was the man ?" asked the mistress of Baldovie,
in the strange tone of one who already knows the answer to
the question.
"It is so ridiculous," replied Jess, again resting back
on the pillow with hands pressed on her brow, " and besides,
the man never had a letter from me so that he might copy
my writing."
"Who is the man ?" repeated Mrs. Carmichael quietly.
"You will be astonished—you will laugh at me," re-
joined Jess, somewhat hysterically. " I am thinking about
Mr. Feuerheerd
"Ah!"
The exclamation was very slight, and yet it indicated
that the answer was precisely what Mrs. Carmichael had
expected. There was thoughtful speculation in the tone,
BAFFLED, BUT STILL BUM SUING 63
as if she were trying to find the association between a
definite idea and a suspicion.
" He used to come here very often until I refused to see
him," Jess proceeded; "and then, although he ceased his
visits, he was particularly, kind to grandfather, and used to
ask about me every day. I did not pay any heed to these
attentions, and do not now see what the incident can have
to do with this letter unless—oh, but it is nonsense !"
" "What is nonsense ?"
" The idea that he could wish to murder Will, because
I turned him away. He never could do it."
" I am quite sure he would not," said Mrs. Carmichael
calmly, " for that motive alone."
" What other motive could he have ?" was the excited
question.
"We do not know yet," said Mrs. parmichael, checking
certain impulses to explain the suspicions which had been
in a great measure confirmed by this conversation with Jess.
" What we have got to do just now is to find out who wrote
this letter. I shall, perhaps, take it to the Fiscal and leave
it with him. In the meantime you are to do your best to
get well, so that you may be able to help me to find your
husband. I do not know what other counsel -to give you.
I am undecided about letting Mr. Feuerheerd know that
this letter has been found ; but you must be silent. I can
give you no reason for desiring this precaution—indeed, I
can give myself no reason. But there can be no harm in
holding our tongues."
"I will do anything you wish; but grandfather'might
be able to help us—he is very clever about handwriting."
" I know he is, and I mean to ask his help. Good-bye.
I shall see you again to-morrow, and hope you will be
stronger then. We have a great deal to do, remember, and
so you must try to get well in order to help me."
Jess gratefully gave her promise to do whatever her
friend desired, and Mrs. Carmichael took her leave.
Her next step was to the office ; and her visits there
were so rare that it caused considerable sensation amongst
clerks and porters. On the way she had decided how to
make use of the letter.
Mr. Feuerheerd observed the arrival of the carriage, and
hastened down to offer his hand to the lady.
64 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
Mrs. Carmichael affected not to see his proffered hand,
but spoke to him in a confidential tone.
" I have particular business with you, Mr. Feuerheerd,"
she said.
CHAPTER XII.
two theories
Although he perceived the slight, Feuerheerd made no
sign that he had done so ; but there was a momentary flash
of inquiry in his eyes as he asked himself—"Is this
intentional ?"
Casual as the expression was, Mrs. Carmichael detected
it, and reckoned it a point gained to have already learned
that he was on the alert for any symptoms of disapproval.
It was not her intention, however, to put him on his guard
against her, and when they entered the manager's room she
addressed him in a manner of more friendliness than usual.
" I have been very much agitated to-day, Mr. Feuerheerd,
and I want your advice."
" Pray be seated, Mrs. Carmichael, and tell me what
has happened. You know that my services are always at
your disposal."
He spoke eagerly as he placed a chair for her, and
mentally made the satisfactory comment—" It was not
intentional."
"I counted upon your readiness to aid me."
" Your confidence gratifies me very much," he replied,
bowing. " Only show me in what way I can be useful; and
the more you require, the more satisfaction it will be to me."
" It is a somewhat delicate matter, but it must be ex-
plained to you and to others. Accident to-day has placed
in my hands an important clue to Mr. "William's fate."
" That would be good news indeed; for so far all the
efforts of the police and my own exertions have failed to
find the slightest trace of liirn after he quitted Jean
Scourburn's."
She had remained standing, and she was watching him
narrowly, although her expression was that of one who is
earnestly seeking counsel. But she got no assistance from
TWO THEORIES 65
his face this time. He spoke and acted with the sincerity
of manner of one who is deeply interested in a painful case.
Suddenly she placed'in his hand the letter which had lured
"Will from Baldovie.
" Read this, and tell me if you do not think it is of great
importance ?"
He read the letter as directed, and his heavy eyebrows
were lifted in surprise.
" If this is genuine, it is of the very greatest import-
ance," he said with emphasis.
She was disappointed, and inclined to regret that she
had departed from her original intention of keeping the
discovery of the letter concealed from him for the present.
But the effect produced upon him by her omission to take
his hand when descending from the carriage, had inspired
the idea that by suddenly presenting the paper to him, she
would detect some change of countenance which would en-
able her to decide whether or not he knew anything about
it. The movement had failed in its effect; and either he
had foreseen the possibility of such an incident and
thoroughly prepared himself for it, or he was innocent.
" Yes, if it is genuine," she said quietly, as she took the
letter from him.
" I think we can easily ascertain that by consulting the
writer. I understand that it is written by the daughter of
Gavin Culross."
"Supposed to be written by her," was the gentle cor-
rection.
" Say £ supposed' then ; but I must now confess to you
a matter which has often caused me uneasiness. I knew
that there were some passages between Mr. "William and
this young lady which I certainly did not think prudent or
likely to be approved of by his father. But it was not my
business to interfere ; and had I attempted to do so, it is
more than probable that Mr. William would have taken
some rash step which might have caused you all more annoy-
ance than by leaving him to his own course."
" He took a rash step in concealing their marriage from
his family; for now it has to be acknowledged under most
distressing circumstances."
" Marriage ? Has it gone so far as that ?" exclaimed
Feuerheerd, as if astounded by the information.
F
6G A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
" Yes, and the fact must be recognised with the least
possible delay. Meanwhile I have seen Mrs. William, and
she did not write this letter. She has not been out of her
house for more than three weeks."
" This is the most extraordinary affair I ever heard of;
and renders the disappearance of Mr. William more mys-
terious than ever. I am for the moment utterly at a loss to
know how to advise."
" Tell me what should he done with this letter ?"
She put the question as a test, and again she failed
to observe anything peculiar in his manner. He answered
promptly:
" It must be placed in the hands of the Fiscal; but first
I would suggest that you should take it to Mr. Dalgleish,
explain everything to him, and act as his experience may
direct."
That was a perfectly frank and straightforward answer,
although not the one she had expected to receive from him;
and it went far towards banishing her doubts of his honesty.
It had the immediate effect of producing the impression
that she had been doing him grievous injustice in her
thoughts. The revulsion of feeling was so strong that for
a few seconds she even hesitated whether she ought not to
make him some amends by explaining her grounds for sus-
pecting that he knew more about the unhappy business than
he had yet admitted. But she only said :
" Thank you, Mr. Feuerheerd. The course you suggest
is the right one—or rather it is the only one open to us.
There is one particular question I want to ask. You knew
a little of Mr. William's ways ?"
"Very little," was the reply, shaking his head in depre-
cation of his ignorance.
"Still you might know enough to have formed some
idea whether or not there is any one who might have had a
motive for inveigling him away on that night."
" I have absolutely no idea of any one, but "
He checked himself abruptly, and looked at her as if
begging to be spared the necessity of saying more.
" Go on, please."
"Well," he proceeded, after a brief pause, in which he
seemed to make up his mind to speak out. "I should
much have preferred that the information should have been
TWO THEORIES 67
given to you by Mr. Dalgleish or the Fiscal—it is in their
way of business, and not in mine."
" Then there is something to tell—some suspicion ?"
"There are two theories out of which we all believe
something may come ; and this letter you have found may
be of material assistance. The first theory is that Mr
"William went away of his own accord, and desiring that for
a time his whereabouts should not be known."
"What motive could he possibly have had for leaving
us when his father was so ill, and after he had only been a
few hours in the house ?"
" About the motive we can only make vague guesses,
and I must ask you to let Mr. Dalgleish explain them to
you. But we know he drew a considerable sum of money
that day, and that he had as little idea as any of us—pro-
bably much less than any of us—that his father's end was
so near."
" To what does all this point ?"
"First, as I have mentioned, that he went of his own
accord ; and second, that, as the stranger who got the boat
from Munro was evidently in his confidence, Mr. William
may have become involved with the man in some disagree-
able scrape which he desired to conceal from you all."
" But the letter—he went to keep the appointment."
"Ah, that introduces a new element, which suggests
that Mr. William may have been decoyed on account of
the money he had just procured. In that case, I do not
like to think of what accident may have happened."
She listened to the explanation of these theories calmly,
to outward appearance, but she was shuddering inwardly.
It all looked so plain—the money, the decoy letter, the
stranger who had been able to present Will's card, and then
the capsized boat—everything pointed directly to the one
horrible conclusion.
' Then, do you think that there is no hope ?" she said
in a subdued voice.
"We try to hope, or we could not exert ourselves at all.
We are doing our best to find some of the railway and
steamboat officials, who may have known Mr. William,
and who may be able to give us a description of any com-
panion or servant who travelled with him. Then, if we
can find any one who could identify that man, the large
f 2
68 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
sum of money lie must be carrying witb him will help us
to track him."
" My interest in bringing the criminal to justice is not
so keen as perhaps it ought to be. My first and greatest
anxiety is to find Mr. William, or at least to learn what
has befallen bjjn. From all that you have told me I do
not derive much comfort, or see in it much prospect of
getting at the truth."
" But it shows you that we are leaving no stone unturned
in order to unravel the tangled skein."
" Yes, but it leads to the belief that he must be dead."
" Oh, but you must not think that—at any rate, not
yet. My most esteemed friend, Mr. Carmichael, used to
joke me in his kind way about my habit of always looking
on the worst side of things. He had a very accurate
estimate of my character, as he had of most people's, and
he was perfectly correct in this particular. I do always
look at the worst side of things ; but it is in order that I
may be prepared for it. Now, notwithstanding this pecu-
liarity of my nature, even I do not give up hope that we
shall yet see your stepson alive and safe. Surely then you
will not abandon it ? "
There was not a false note in his voice. He made no
affectation of extreme grief; but, whilst he spoke with ease,
there was the customary respectful sympathy for her posi-
tion in every look and gesture.
Mrs. Carmichael's doubts of him became more and more
dim. He had not yet, however, quite won her confidence ;
and he knew it.
" Although I cannot be so hopeful as you seem to desire
me to be," she said, " I shall not relax my efforts to clear
up this strange affair. Good-day, Mr. Feuerheerd."
" I presume you are now going to see Mr. Dalgleish ?"
"Yes."
"Will you then grant me the very great favour of per-
mitting me to accompany you ?"
She was somewhat taken aback by this request, but did
not desire to give a direct refusal. So, evasively :
" Your time is so valuable that I feel guilty of having
already trespassed too long upon it."
" My time cannot be more profitably employed than in
serving you in this or any other matter."
TWO THEORIES 69
She could only bow and accept his escort as some com-
pensation for any chagrin he might have experienced on
account of the disfavour with which she had met him on
her arrival. Besides, it occurred to her that by doing this
she might in some unguarded moment yet he able to assure
herself whether or not he was as honest as he seemed.
She would not have been well pleased, however, if she
could have known the impression produced alike on the
seniors and juniors of the office at sight of their manager
driving away in the carriage with the widow of their late
master.
"We'll have a new head of the firm in a year and a
day—maybe before- that," suggested a young fellow who
was the privileged wag and punster of the establishment.
The wink which accompanied the suggestion was re-
sponded to by winks, nods, and grins from his fellow-clerks.
The seniors expressed no opinion amongst themselves; but
the possibility of such an arrangement as that hinted at
crossed'the minds of some of them.
The object of the visit to the offices of the lawyers could
not be accomplished that day. The head of the firm had
been called to see a wealthy client—Sir Peter Grumlie of
that ilk, near Perth—who (being a confirmed invalid, rarely
passing, or, more properly, being rarely carried outside his
own grounds) had been amusing himself for the last ten
years by making a new will about every three months, or
adding a codicil to the last one. Mr. Dalgleish had once
tried to transfer to one of his partners the irksome duty of
attending on Sir Peter; but the eccentric gentleman would
not hear of such an arrangement, and declared his intention
of immediately seeking the assistance of another agent if
Mr. Dalgleish did not consider the business important
enough for his personal care. The worthy lawyer sub-
mitted, not because he wanted the business, but because,
being intimately acquainted with the affairs of the family,
he hoped to prevent his troublesome client from per-
petrating any monstrous injustice. As it turned out after-
wards, this self-sacrifice availed nothing, for at the last
moment Sir Peter did call in another agent, and altered
almost every item in the final will prepared by Mr.
Dalgleish.
On the occasion of these visits to Sir Peter, no one
70 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
could tell whether Mr. Dalgleish would be able to return
the same night or not. So Mrs. Carmichael left a note
asking him to call upon her when he came back, as she had
important information for him.
" "Will you go on to. the Fiscal next ? " inquired Feuer-
heerd.
"No, I shall wait until I have seen Mr. Dalgleish; and,
indeed, it would be better that he should convey the letter
to the Fiscal."
" I am quite of your opinion, Mrs. Carmichael. I suppose
I can be of no more use to you this afternoon ?" he added,
as if he would gladly accompany her a little farther.
" No ; but thank you again, and good afternoon."
The coachman received the brief order, " Home," and
the horses started.
Feuerheerd followed in the direction the carriage had
taken, as it was for a short distance his way back to the
office. His head was erect, he saluted acquaintances,
stopped to exchange words with some of them, and acted
in every respect as the cool, observant, successful man of
business.
But all the time he was saying to himself, " I must have
that letter "—and speculating on the means of obtaining
possession of it. •
There were several points started in this interview with
Mrs. Carmichael which supplied him with material for
serious reflection. One was up to a certain degree satisfac-
tory, namely, he had succeeded in making her think better
of him than she had ever done before ; and he had no doubt
that he would in time make her think better still of him.
Another point was not satisfactory—that was the an-
nouncement of the marriage of Jess Culross, and the readi-
ness of the family to acknowledge it. If that were done
his plans might be greatly marred, for Jess had a son.
But, then, the child might not live! There was
something in that possibility to speculate upon.
PAOKET NO. 10
71
CHAPTER XIII.
packet no. 10.
" My decided opinion is that yon should get that packet
opened at once. The whole story you have told me is such
a queer one that I can make neither head nor tail of it. But
that packet, I believe, contains Mr. Carmichael's last
instructions, and may very likely explain why Will has
bolted—for my notion is the same as Feuerheerd's, that he
has bolted. This is plain speaking, Mrs. Carmichael; but
I never was a good hand at conundrums, and always take
the simplest explanations of anything that puzzles me before
I worry myself by looking for something deep."
It was Norman Grant who spoke, and the opinion ex-
pressed was the final result of his cogitations on all that
Marget had told him, and all that Mrs. Carmichael told him
on returning from her expedition of inquiry.
Of course the lovers had not been occupied the whole
time in discussing the affairs of Wild Will; they had
much to say about themselves in the past, present, and
future. They had intervals of silence, too, in which the
knowledge that they were together afforded sweetest con-
tent, and rendered them temporarily oblivious to the
painful shadow which lay upon the house. The post-
ponement of their union was of little consequence to
them, they were so full of happiness at the thought that
the dead father and the living mother had offered no
opposition to it beyond what ordinary prudence dictated.
Marget, like Norman, gave no thought to her position
as a great heiress ; and even had she done so, would have
been unable to see in it the faintest barrier between them.
On the contrary, she would have considered it a most
favourable circumstance.
There was the big steamer building which she was to
christen, and the command of which had been promised to
Norman. When he had made a few voyages in it, no doubt
her mother would allow them to speak about the great day.
When Norman had given the result of his reflections on
the position of affairs, Mrs. Carmichael answered :
" I have been thinking a great deal about that packet,
72 A PRINOESS OF JUTEDOM
and agree with you that it may give us some information.
I shall write and ask Mr. Dalgleish to bring it with him
when he comes."
Mr. Dalgleish arrived on the following day, accompanied
by his partner, Mr. Ogilvy, and they brought with them the
deed-box. The partner remained in the drawing-room,
whilst Mr. Dalgleish was conducted to the library in order
to have a preliminary conversation with Mrs. Carmichael.
She was seated at her husband's writing-table, and the
cold but bright November sun-light streamed across her face.
" And now," she said, after detailing the events of the
previous day, and receiving from the lawyer confirmation of
everything that Feuerheerd had told her, "what is the
reason for you all believing that "William went away of his
own accord ? Mr. Feuerheerd desired me tu ask you to
explain."
" The reason was to me a likely one until I saw this
letter—Mr. Feuerheerd suggested that Mr. William went
away because he did not wish to acknowledge this unfortunate
girl Culross as his wife."
" Impossible ! William Carmichael, however peculiar his
conduct may have been, was no coward !" ejaculated the
stepmother energetically. " He never would or could be so
base as that would make him."
" So I should like to believe, Mrs. Carmichael," rejoined
the old lawyer in a tone expressive of cordial admiration of
the stepmother's defence of one who, as he understood, had
shown her scant courtesy. " But you must permit me to
speak as an old man, and a lawyer who has had much
experience of the follies of youth, and of what men will do
in the endeavour to escape the consequences of them.
Without doubt, he had no intention of deceiving the girl at
first; but he kept the matter carefully concealed from you
all—did he not ?"
"He did."
"Was there any special reason why he should do so—
especially considering the generosity of his father's nature ?"
" I can think of none, except that he did not understand
his father."
"Exactly ; then after passion had cooled, and he had
reflected on the tie he had formed—it might be even that
in his travels he had met some one who had still greater
packet no. 10 73
attractions for him—it is quite feasible that he might wish
to free himself from the girl."
" You forget that he promised her grandfather to visit
her as soon as he could leave the house."
"It is easy to give such a promise without any intention
to keep it," said Mr. Dalgleish, with a lawyer's doubt of
human nature.
" Then why did he leave the house as he had promised,
and why did he go to keep the assignation made in this
letter ? "We know that he went to the place appointed."
" The fact that he did so is entirely in favour of your
generous belief that he had no intention of wronging the
girl."
" I am glad you say so !"
"But it leads to painful alternatives. If this letter is a
forgery "
" If!—the girl says it is."
"I say if, because we are altogether in a region of
speculation for the present. Well, if it he so, it is the
most remarkable facsimile of the writing which we know to
be genuine that I have ever seen. Now, might it not he
that some one who was deeply interested in the girl, fear-
ing treachery on Mr. William's part, induced her to make
this assignation in order to compel him to do her justice ?
Then, Mr. William, resenting such a trick, would refuse to
give the person he encountered a satisfactory answer, and
may have been thereupon attacked with such violence that
it became necessary to hide him for a time if he were not
killed outright."
Mrs. Carmichael hesitated. The figure of Gavin Culross,
whose passionate nature had been described to her by his
daughter and Johnnie Todd, rose in her mind's eye. But
she cast the idea aside.
" Preposterous !" she answered. " No one could have
induced her to write a letter which was to lead him into
danger."
"We must, then, seek for the solution of the whole
matter in the person of some one who, being entirely in Mr.
William's confidence, adopted this ruse to secure possession
to himself of a large sum of money."
" But William would not carry a large sum of money
about with him at night."
74 A FRINGE SS OF JUTE DOM
" No, no. The presumption is that for reasons of his
own Mr. William entrusted the money to the care of the
unknown person, and he could only secure it by getting Mr.
"William out of the way."
"Then you do not share Mr. Feuerheerd's hope that
William is still alive ? "
" I try to keep my mind as free as possible from any
definite conclusion for the present. But I agree with you
that the time has come for us to open the packet No. 10,
and to act in accordance with any instructions it may
contain." ^
At this point the door opened, and Marget appeared.
After exchanging greetings with Mr. Dalgleish she turned
to her mother.
" Norman " she began, but, recollecting that the old
lawyer was not a party to the engagement, she blushed
slightly and corrected herself. "Captain Grant is here, and
would like to see Mr. Dalgleish."
" I suppose there is no objection to his being present
when you open the packet ?" said Mrs. Carmichael. " I
may tell you at once that he is likely to become one of the
family."
Marget's colour deepened still more, and she mentally
substituted the word " certain" for the " likely" her mother
had used.
" I shall be delighted to see my young friend again, and
it would have been a pleasure to me at any other time to
offer him my congratulations," said Mr. Dalgleish, with a
kindly glance at Marget. "He will be a witness to the
opening of the packet, and I would like David to be here
also. Then I suppose all who are most deeply interested in
whatever its contents may be will be present, with the one
unavoidable exception."
Accordingly Norman and David were sent for, and Mr.
OgilvjL brought in the deed-box. Having briefly explained
for the benefit of Marget and David, and of Norman as a
witness, why Mrs. Carmichael and he as .joint trustees had
determined to open in the absence of William Carmichael
the packet which had been specially entrusted to his care,
Mr. Dalgleish proceeded to perform his task. The docu-
ment was a holograph, displaying few of the signs of weak-
ness which might have been expected in the case of one so
PACKET NO. 10 75
near his end as was John Carmichael at the time of writ-
ing it.
Mr. Dalgleish read calmly, although the first clause
astounded him greatly, for it cancelled his appointment as
trustee and substituted the name of the testator's son,
"William ; whom failing, Rudolph Feuerheerd was to act as
joint trustee with Mrs. Carmichael. The other listeners
were not less amazed than Mr. Dalgleish himself; but at
the next clause Marget's eyes flashed whilst her cheeks
became pale, and Norman frowned.
By this clause it was directed that if the testator's
daughter, Marget, should marry without the consent of
both trustees, the whole of the fortune bequeathed -to her in
the previous will was to revert to the estate, and be equally
divided amongst the three principal legatees—namely, Mrs.
Carmichael, William, and David—leaving to the daughter
only a small annuity, secured for her own personal use.
"My father never wrote that!" exclaimed Marget im-
pulsively, the pale cheeks becoming suddenly red.
Mr. Dalgleish held up his hand in gentle admonition,
and proceeded with the next clause. By this it was directed
that Rudolph Feuerheerd should be retained as sole manager
of the business of Carmichael and Co. at his present salary,
and that he should be taken into partnership to the extent
of one-fifth share, in accordance with the instructions already
given to Mr. Dalgleish.
Mrs. Carmichael was dismayed; Marget was indignant;
David was pleased that his friend5 should be so well re-
warded for his faithful services; whilst Norman was bewil-
dered by the hornets' nest which he had brought so suddenly
about the ears of his friends by suggesting the immediate
opening of that packet No. 10.
" This affords us no aid in the inquiry which was the
immediate cause of our opening this packet," said Mr.
Dalgleish, as he methodically folded up the paper and re-
placed it in the envelope, "but it does cause me some
surprise."
" I cannot understand it," observed the widow.
" It is not right," said Marget decisively.
" I think we should not say that, Miss Carmichael; and
I would ask you all to wait until to-morrow before entering
on any discussion of this most important document. Mean-
76 A PRINCESS OF JUTE POM
while let me say that although Mr. Carmicheal did speak to
me about giving Mr. Feuerheerd—and I regret he is not
present—a small share in the business, I did not understand
that he gave me instructions to prepare the deed. Now, let
us be silent until to-morrow."
And this wise counsel was adopted.
CHAPTER XIV.
curious
Late that evening a man wearing a fur cap turned sharply
round the corner of Dock Street into the Greenmarket, and
the light of a lamp revealed Johnnie Todd stealthily following
him.
This was the second time Johnnie had followed that
figure, although there was nothing about the appearance of
the man to attract particular attention, unless it might be
his fur cap and fur-trimmed overcoat. But even these
were not remarkably conspicuous in a sea-port through
which people of all degrees and nations were constantly
passing.
Johnnie had first observed him near the gate of Braeside
Cottage, and his curiosity had been excited by something in
the bearing of the man rather than by his appearance. He
stood as if hesitating to approach the door, then, catching
sight of Johnnie at the window, he had wheeled about and
walked down the hill with rapid strides.
On the next occasion Johnnie followed him, but lost all
trace of him in the Nethergate. This time he had seen him
coming out of the railway station, and again followed, keep-
ing closer than before. At the corner of the Greenmarket
he found himself so close that a brief halt became ad-
visable. Then he darted forward lest he should lose his
object, and ran full tilt against a navvy who was swinging
along from the opposite direction. Poor Johnnie went
down like a ninepin; the navvy " used imprecations " in a
brogue which proclaimed his nationality, and might have
resented the collision in a still more disagreeable way; but
the light of the lamp revealing to him that it was an old
man who was on the ground, he, with the impulsive good-
CURIOUS 77
nature which characterises the true Irishman, lifted him on
to his feet.
" Get up, ye pwld divil!" he said, laughing; " what do
you mane thryin' to knock dacent people down that
way ?"
'• I—I really did not mean it—I was in a hurry," gasped
Johnnie.
" Thin don't do it again, my owld boy. Good-night to
ye"
Of course by the time Johnnie had reoovered his breath
it was useless to continue his pursuit, as the object of it was
out of sight. He did pass through the Nethergate, with
some vague idea that he might fall upon him there ; but
he did not. He went home slowly, keeping the secret of
this wild-goose chase entirely to himself; but feverishly
hopeful that he was on the brink of an important discovery.
The man-with the fur cap made his way up to the High
Street, out of which he turned quickly into a dingy close—
a narrow passage having a wooden dado or wainscot brown
with age, and above it whitewashed walls. This led into a
wynd, on either side of which rose high, bare buildings, most
of them in a dilapidated state.
Between the ground and the strip of sky visible over-
head, poles and ropes projected from the windows—each
rope making a horizontal Y, with the pole for a centre-piece
—and on these the inhabitants of the crowded flats dried
their clothes after washing. In the dim light one seemed
to be looking up through a ship's rigging ; and at one point
the illusion was heightened by a little gangway which
stretched across the wynd, connecting the first floors of the
opposite houses.
In this quarter the tenements of one, two, or three
apartments were occupied by mill-hands, labourers, and the
poorer class of mechanics—notably the jobbing shoemaker
and tailor. There were squalor and dirt enough amongst
the population in this wynd, and the sounds and sights of
Saturday nights were sometimes horrible as well as pitiable.
But there were honest, hard-working folk living here too,
doing their best to walk straight and keep their hands
clean in the cruel struggle with poverty, which accident,
sickness, slack trade, and consequent want of work too often
brought upon them. An unlucky fellow who had fallen
78 A PRINCESS OF JUTFDOM
from high places and found here his last refuge, with a hitter
laugh, had nicknamed the place Job's Wynd, because, he
said, all the sorrows of humanity were concentrated in it.
The man entered a passage beneath the _ gangway, and
ascended a common stair, the stones of which were worn
and rounded at the edges by the feet of generations. He
halted on the first landing, fumbled about in the dark until
he found the handle of a door,_ which he presently opened
with a latch-key. He passed in, closing the door behind
him quickly but noiselessly.
In the small lobby in which he now stood there were
three doors—one wide open, a second partly so, and light
streamed through the apertures of both.
The first gave admission to the kitchen, and a stoutish
woman, rather over middle age, was standing by the fire
cooking something which apparently required strict atten-
tion, for she did not observe the entrance of the man until
he spoke.
"Well, Mrs. Duncan, how is our patient to-night?" he
said in a subdued and friendly tone.
She turned slowly a white face, on which were the traces
of long, bitter, and hidden suffering.
" Quiet—always quiet," she answered in a weary mono-
tone, as if all interest in the human affairs of herself or
others had long since passed away from her. "Always
quiet, except for a few minutes after he takes his medicine."
"You have given it to him regularly?"
" Kegularly, as directed."
" Then what difference does it seem to make upon him ?
Does it make him talk ?"
" It makes him jabber, and I dare say he thinks he is
talking; but there is no more sense to be made out of it
than out of the chattering of monkeys or the skirling of
parrots. He looks sillyand smiles and leers, and chuckles
as though he was enjoying himself amongst company that
he alone can see."
" And then ? "
" He settles down into quietness and sleeps, or seems to
sleep ; but his eyes are always open—staring, as if he saw
something awful before him."
" But he does not speak then ?"
"No ; he sobs at whiles, or moans like a bairn in its
sleep."
CUBIOUS 79
" Ah, that is the mildest form of the delirium. The
brain is not hopelessly affected."
The woman looked at him with dull, wondering eyes—
seemed to be looking through him at something behind him,
as she said in her low, monotonous voice :
" You will be a clever doctor indeed if you ever bring
that man back to reason in this world again."
'* I shall do my best, and no one can do more," said the
man, who was apparently believed by Mrs. Duncan to be a
doctor. He spoke with the gentle gravity of tone which
one uses when in a state of hope largely mingled with fear.
" Should I fail, there will be nothing else for it but to re-
move him to an asylum. My poor friend, however, had such
a prejudice against lunatic asylums, that when he first
became aware of the possibility that his brain might become
affected by the malady from which he is suffering, he
implored me to do anything with him rather than put him
into one of them."
"Maybe he was wrong," observed the woman, tnrning
again to give her attention to the saucepan on the fire.
" I certainly think he was wrong; but he pleaded so
hard that he compelled me to give him my promise, and it
must only be as the very last resource that I can take him
to an asylum. However, I think we shall pull him through;
at any rate, no mortal man could do more for that end than
I am doing."
He looked as if he expected some sign of approval from
the woman—some indication that she felt assured of the
sincerity of his efforts. But she remained silent.
" I shall go in and see him now," the doctor said, after
waiting a few moments for her to speak.
A few steps took him to the door, which stood ajar, and
he passed softly into the room.
The place had been hastily furnished with such articles
of luxury as were unknown in this locality, and the comfort
of the invalid appeared to have been studied in every par-
ticular. The tidiness of everything showed that Mrs. Dun-
can, as nurse, had been doing her duty.
On the bed lay the form of a man, his face upturned,
his eyes almost closed as in sleep ; but at intervals they
opened wide, and his lips moved as if he were trying to
speak.
80 A PRINOESS OF JUTE DOM
The doctor stood by the bedside for some minutes,
watching him and taking note of every movement of nerve
and muscle. The result of his observation was apparently
satisfactory.
"You are better to-night," he said in a low but firm voice.
The invalid's lips and eyelids quivered, as if under a gentle
shock of electricity. Then he looked up straight at the
visitor. The eyes were bright and wild, and they seemed
to be seeking for something which they could not find, and
as if their owner were striving to concentrate some idea
Then he moved his head restlessly from side to side, as if in
despair at not being able to grasp the idea.
"Yes, yes," he muttered; "but how long is this to
last ? Where am I ?—what am I ?—who am I ?"
" Be still," said the doctor firmly. " You are exciting
yourself again, and I have told you that there is no hope
unless you keep quiet."
" Hope . . . quiet! " echoed the patient, as if he
were trying to realise the full meaning of the words. " Ay,
ay, you have told me . . . hope . . . quiet—what
are they ?"
" Patience, and you will find them."
"Patience—yes, yes !" and the invalid laughed feebly ;
and then, checking his mirth, he inquired earnestly—"Did
you see the ugly brute as you came along ? What was he?
Who was he ? What did he mean by .... I can't
make it out. What has become of my brains ? Have you
got them ?"
He gave that feeble laugh again, as if partially conscious
of the absurdity of his question.
" I tell you there was no one," said the doctor, in his low
firm voice, " except in your own imagination. As soon as
you can understand that you will be better."
" As soon as I can understand that," echoed the patient
eagerly. " I'll try, I'll try."
" That is right, and now don't speak any more. Take
this pill and you will get a sound sleep, which is what you
most require at present."
The patient swallowed the pill and took a few mouth-
fuls of water -whilst the doctor raised his head from the
pillow. As soon as the supporting arm was withdrawn he
sank back into unconsciousness.
SOMETHING WRONG 81
After giving a few instructions to Mrs. Duncan, the
doctor departed.
" Another week and he will have neither will nor
memory," the strange man was saying to himself as he
passed up the wynd.
CHAPTER XV.
something wrong.
Mrs. Carmichael did not say much to her daughter
about the alteration which her father in his last moments
had for some inexplicable reason thought fit to make in
the arrangement of his affairs. As the document had
been written on the day of the arrival of "Wild Mill—
written as it seemed in his presence—and as he had been
specially entrusted with the task of depositing it in the
private deed-box, it might have been inferred that for
some purpose of his own he had induced his father to
indite it. But that inference was absolutely absurd, in view
of the openly expressed antipathy of Will to Feuerheerd.
If Will had any control over his father's disposition of
affairs, he would undoubtedly have used it to exclude the
name of the clever manager of the business from any
share in subsequent arrangements.
There was the document, in the unquestioned cali-
graphy of the master of Baldovie ; and there was the
fact that Will himself had taken it direct from his father's
hand—had carried it to the office, had placed it in the
deed-box, which he had locked and sealed in the presence
of three witnesses ; and when the time came for the box
to be opened the seals had been found intact. Moreover,
the secret word by which the lock could be opened had
been known only to the father, the son, and Mr. Dalgleish.
It was as impossible to doubt the authenticity of the
document as it was to comprehend the motives which had
actuated John Carmichael in preparing this surprise for his
family.
Could Will have been acquainted with the contents of
the packet which he had so carefully deposited in accordance
with his instructions ?
G
82 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
Marget said "No," and repeated "No" emphatically
many times. Will would have burned his hand off before
he would have consented to touch such a paper, much
less to place it in safe keeping, if he had been aware of
its nature. He would have torn it into fragments and
thrust it into the fire before his father's face—dying
though he was—rather than he a party to an act which
was rather certain to involve much dissension in the
family—was indeed perilous to their happiness—and might
prove to he a monstrous injustice to herself in particular.
No, Will was a good fellow at heart, and whatever he
had done or might do, he was the last man in the world
who would willingly place in the hands of a stranger so
much power to interfere with family arrangements as this
codicil, or will, or whatever it might be called, placed in
the hands of the man Feuerheerd.
Mrs. Carmichael's feelings were much in accord with
those of her daughter ; but, then, her faith in the clearness
of her husband's judgment was complete. She had known
him do many things which everybody declared to be foolish ;
but they had always proved to he wise in the result.
Certainly the present instance of his acting contrary to all
expectation was the most extraordinary she had yet known ;
but, remembering all the wisdom of his conduct in the past,
she endeavoured to banish from her mind the conviction that,
in the most critical moment of his life, he had done wrong.
"We must endeavour to look at the matter calmly,
Marget," she said. " We do not know what explanation he
may have given to William; and even from what you
yourself say, the reasons must have been very conclusive in
order to induce him to obey his father in carrying
out this arrangement."
" But you are mistaken in what I say, mother," rejoined
the daughter firmly. " I say that this is not the arrangement
my father intended for us—for me."
" But, my dear child, there are his own commands in
his own handwriting."
" I don't care."
" Will was the only person with him, and Will himself
placed the paper under lock and seal."
"I don't care," was the stubborn but gently expressed
response.
SOMETHING WRONG 83
"We have no means of telling what information he may
have given to "Will in order to satisfy him that this was the
best tiling to do for all our sakes—he must have given him
good and sufficient reasons."
" "What reason could he give for putting Feuerheerd in
the place of Mr. Dalgleish as trustee ? "
" I confess it is very bewildering; but no doubt we shall
learn in time why it was done."
Marget looked at her mother with an expression of
dismay.
" How can you think that anything could induce him to
trust your happiness—my happiness—in the hands of any one
except the man who had been his faithful friend for forty,
fifty—oh, I don't know how many years ? I tell you,
mammy, there is something wrong, and I will not believe that
my father is the author of it."
Mrs. Carmichael was unable to reply. The vehemence
of the girl, as much as her insistence upon the argument
that her father could not have made this arrangement if he
had been in his ordinary state of mind, impressed the widow
the more deeply because she shared the sentiments of her
daughter to so great an extent.
" "We need not discuss it any further, Marget," she said
thoughtfully. " I should like to wait until we learn how Mr.
Dalgleish views the position after he has had time to reflect
upon it in all its bearings. And let come what may, you know
that I am the chief trustee, and it is not likely that anything
very important oan be done without my sanction. Before
giving my sanction to anything, you may be sure that I shall
consult Mr. Dalgleish and follow his advice implicitly. So
you may still regard him as watching over our affairs, and I
shall give him full authority to act for us in any emergency
that may arise. At the same time, I think you are alarming
yourself unnecessarily ; for Mr. Feuerheerd has only a
limited share in the business ; and in his capacity as trustee
he must reckon with me."
Marget was not satisfied. She would have liked her
mother to go a great deal further than this preparation to
resist any attempt which might be made by Feuerheerd to
take advantage of his position to thwart the wishes of the
family. She would have liked her to repudiate the validity
of the document altogether, and to stand by the terms of
& 2
84 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
the will, about which there could he no doubt. But when
she asked herself on what possible grounds such an act of
repudiation could be based, she was utterly at a loss to
discover any other grounds than her own wishes and pre-
judice.
Why should she wish to dispute her father's directions
as expressed in the contents of this horrible packet No. 10?
Her cheeks tingled a little at the question. She had a
substantial answer to it which she scarcely liked to acknow-
ledge to herself—which she certainly could not express to
her mother or to Norman.
The answer was that she had an instinctive dread that
Feuerheerd might exert his power as a trustee to interfere
with, or even to forbid, her marriage with Norman.
She had no mercenary spirit, and, never having known
the want of money, valued it lightly. But she was per-
fectly aware of the immense difference it would make to
Norman's future career if she brought him a fortune instead
of doubling his burden. Of course she could not speak
about this to him ; he would either laugh at her scruples
and say that she was his fortune (and she did not doubt
that such was his feeling), or maybe he would be offended
with her, and regard the consideration as a sordid one,
implying a want of faith in his love for herself alone.
No ; she dare not speak to him about it; and as for
her mother, she would simply have said that Mr. Feuer-
heerd could never dream of interfering with an arrangement
to which her father had given his consent. At the first
glance it was highly improbable that he should do so ; but,
then, why had her father at the last moment changed his
trustee, and attached that singular condition to the marriage
when he knew who her future husband was to be ?
She could only make out that somebody had been
slandering Norman ; somebody had been casting suspicion
011 his motives in wooing her—a suspicion which was
insulting to herself as well as to him.
They might say what they pleased, but there was some-
thing wrong, and she would never be happy until she had
discovered what it was. Meanwhile it was most unfortunate
that she had no one in whom she might confide her fears
without being told that she wras silly, and alarmed herself
unnecessarily, as her mother had just done. There came a
A RESPITE 85
gleam of relief in this decision—that she would wait to see
how Feuerheerd would behave when made aware of his
good fortune, and then she would privately consult Mr.
Dalgleish.
Norman saw how troubled she was over this singular
arrangement of her father's affairs, and came very near to
guessing the exact cause ; but as that was an idea to which
he attached no importance, it passed easily from his mind
in the annoyance he experienced at having been the means
of adding to the present anxieties of mother and daughter
by his headstrong advice to have the packet opened imme-
diately.
" I wonder what could have been in old Carmichael's
head to make such a curious addition to his will," he kept
on saying to himself. " And how the deuce Will Car-
michael could agree to it passes all understanding !"
CHAPTER XVI.
a respite
Mr. Dalgleish took very much the same view of the posi-
tion as that of Mrs. Carmichael; but he gave her much
relief, and rendered Marget glad, by pointing out a detail
which they had overlooked.
"You must understand," he said, "that Mr. Feuer-
heerd cannot assume the office of trustee until we have
proof of Mr. William's death, or until the lapse of a reason-
able period such as would suffice, under the circumstances,
to lead us to the conclusion that he is no more."
" Oh, Mr. Dalgleish, why did you not tell us that yes-
terday ?" exclaimed Marget, her eyes brightening. " It
would have saved us so many hours of worry !"
" I must confess, Miss Carmichael, I was so much taken
by surprise myself that it became necessary to act with the
greatest caution; and therefore, as is my rule in any diffi-
culty, I decided to sleep on it before pronouncing an
opinion."
" Then we need not even think of Mr. Feuerheerd as a
trustee ?"
" Well, that is going a little too far. We must think
86 A PRIN0ES8 OF JUTEDOM
of him in that capacity, and, to a certain extent, act undei
his approval, if we desire to make any important change in
our affairs."
" Oh !" murmured Marget reflectively. " Then we are
not really free from him ?"
"He can exert no immediate control over you," replied
. the lawyer, who had a shrewd notion of what was disturbing
the girl's mind ; " but he will have the power to call us to
account for what we do if it should, unfortunately, happen
that Mr. William is not now alive. However, I have written
to Mr. Feuerlieerd to meet me here, and his time is nearly
up."
Mr. Feuerlieerd was punctual, for punctuality was to be
reckoned as prominent among his other virtues—business
and social. He listened attentively to the explanation
which Mr. Dalgleish gave him as to the opening of packet
No. 10, and he listened with much interest to the reading
of the document which exercised such an important influence
over his worldly prospects.
When all was done he remained silent for some minutes.
Then he spoke as if deeply impressed by the new mark of
favour extended to him by his late chief, and also by a pro-
found sense of the responsibility which had been thus
unexpectedly thrust upon him. He turned to the widow.
" I feel, Mrs. Carmicliael, that I have been very much
honoured by your husband," he said in a low tone, and
there was a quaver in it which indicated that the man was
really affected by this mark of confidence. " I need not
tell you that I shall do everything in my power to prove to
you and to your children that I am not altogether unworthy
of the trust your husband has reposed in me."
Mrs. Carmichael inclined her head ; she did not care to
speak, for she could not quite bring herself at that moment
to utter the obvious answer which courtesy demanded—" 1
am sure of it." She was not sure of it, and yet she was
more than half inclined to think she ought to be.
Marget watched him with keen, suspicious eyes. Mr.
Dalgleish dangled his eyeglasses and remained apparently
neutral, or rather in a judicial position, prepared to serve
-whoever was in the right. For it came to be a case of
parties—Marget against Feuerheerd; and the lawyer saw
it, and the mother vaguely felt it.
A RESPITE 87
Mr. Feuerheerd proceeded.
" At the same time—I am sure you will forgive me, Mr.
Dalgleish, for expressing an opinion which may seem to
question the judgment of a gentleman of such long experi-
ence as yours—at the same time I must say that it is a
pity^ this packet was opened so soon. "We really know
nothing yet about Mr. William's fate; and if, as I hope,
he should return, he will doubtless be able to give us a
full explanation of this sudden change in his father's
arrangements."
"That cannot affect the arrangements themselves,"
observed Mr. Dalgleish quietly.
" No, but it may help us to carry out the wishes of Mr.
Carmichael in the spirit which prompted him rather than by
the letter."
"True." _
" Then give me leave to say that I knew Mr. Carmichael
well. He did frequently speak of giving me a partnership
—it was, in fact, latterly a condition of my remaining with
him; and so I am not surprised that he should notify the fact
in his last hours. I am, however, surprised that he should
name me as alternative trustee."
" So am I," muttered Marget under her breath.
"But let me say at once that I refuse to take any
action under this deed until we have proof of what has
become of Mr. William, or until a full year has elapsed."
" What do you mean ?" inquired the widow.
" I mean that I shall continue to act as manager of the
business, and to do my utmost to render it as profitable as
hitherto ; but until twelve months have passed I refuse to
accept a partnership, and I decline to act in any way as
trustee."
The announcement was made with the cool decisiveness
of a man who, being thoroughly convinced that he was in
the right, is not to be turned from his purpose by any argu-
ment or persuasion. There was no pretentious humility ;
he spoke as if perfectly aware of his own value, and showed
that he had no intention to depreciate it. He simply
assumed the right of decision, and having considered what
it was best to do, he decided accordingly.
Here again Mrs. Carmichael owned to herself that the
man was acting frankly and honourably, contrary to all ex-
88 A PBINOESS OP JUTE Ml1/
pectation. In the intensity of the relief she experienced
she was inclined to see more merit in his conduct than
might have been the case at any less exciting period.
Marget, too, could not help admitting that Feuerheerd's
behaviour was everything she could have desired, and the
expression of pleased surprise with which she looked at him
afforded him secretly more satisfaction than she could have
guessed.
Mr. Dalgleish dangled his gold-rimmed eyeglasses, and
smiled approvingly.
"You are right, Mr. Feuerheerd," he said. " The course
you propose will simplify the whole business, and will in
the end, I have no doubt, prove most beneficial to all
parties."
" I certainly have to thank Mr. Feuerheerd for his con-
sideration," said Mrs. Carmichael; " but I cannot consent
to take advantage of his generosity—at least so far as
concerns the share allotted to him in the business. I leave
it to you, Mr. Dalgleish, to see that arrangement carried out
at once, as desired by my husband."
" You are very kind, Mrs. Carmichael," said Feuerheerd,
bowing; " but I shall not accept the partnership until the
year has passed."
On this point he was immovable ; and Mrs. Carmichael
was equally resolute on her part that the necessarry agree-
ment should be drawn up forthwith.
When they were on their way into the town together
Feuerheerd said confidentially to the lawyer :
"Do you know why I am resolved to delay acting upon
the terms of our late friend's last instructions ?"
"I suppose because you still expect Mr. William to
return."
"I not only expect it, I am sure of it — this docu-
ment by which you are removed from the trusteeship in
favour of himself proves it. He wanted to be beyond your
wise control in dealing with the business ; and why he got
my name put in as alternative trustee was because he
reckoned upon having a good many years before him, and
did not care who was to follow him."
" It is possible that he might wish to be entirely free
from my control," said the lawyer slowly; " but I cannot
see how that affords any additional proof of his being alive.'
AN APPEAL 89
" You will see by-and-by," rejoined Feuerheerd, as if he
saw much more in the circumstances than he cared to
discuss at present.
The arrangement which afforded so much content to the
folks at Baldovie afforded none to poor Jess. On the first
day she was permitted to go out she asked to be taken to
where Munro's boat lay, and she stood beside it looking
across the waters with sad eyes, as if imploring the deep to
tell the secret of Wild Will's fate.
Her father was most strange in his conduct. He lived
on board his barque, which was now in dock, and rarely
visited the cottage. When he did so, he spoke little, and
remained only a few minutes.
Jess was troubled about him, and at length spoke to
Mrs. Carmichael. That lady determined to see Culross, and
endeavour to bring him to reason.
With that object in view she went on board his barque,
and discovered him leaning listlessly over the bulwark.
CHAPTER XVII.
an appeal.
Although there was a smart breeze stirring the Firth into
long, low waves, which here and there broke in angry white
points, as if bringing messages of rough work out at sea, the
barque Camperdown, lying snugly in dock, was as steady as
a house. Culross was waiting for a cargo which had been
promised him by Feuerheerd. There had been delay in
arranging about it, but Culross was in no hurry, as he
wanted to see his daughter's affairs brought into definite
form before he sailed again, and he had even some thought
of remaining in dock until that was done.
Meanwhile the deck had been scoured and everything
made taut. Culross had a " handy " man in the person of
Sandy Ogg—a short, thick-set fellow of fifty odd years, with a
bullet-shapedbald head, having a bristling fringe of thickiron-
gray hair, and close-cropped whiskers and beard, forming a
horse-shoe round his face. The face was broad, and a round
knob stuck in the centre represented his nose, the bridge of
which had been broken in early days. His eyes were gray,
90 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
quick when there was serious work in hand, hut at other
times dull and sleepy-looking.
Sandy was a good sailor; he was also a hit of a cook,
a hit of a carpenter, smith, shoemaker, tailor, and tinker.
In fact he had fully proved his capacity as Jack-of-all-trades ;
hut it would be unfair to say that he was master of none,
although he had not passed beyond the grade of ordinary
seaman.
He was in charge of the barque, and occupied his time
in pottering about, patching, cleaning, and stowing away in
order those things which would not be required until the
Camperdotvn put to sea again. Since the skipper had
decided to sleep on board, Sandy had company which he
enjoyed in his phlegmatic way, and a little extra work, which
he did not object to in the least.
He observed that something "by 'ordinar" had come
over the skipper, who was at times as glum as a man that
had " found a penny and tint a saxpence," and was presently
pacing the deck, fury in his eyes, whilst he muttered to
himself curses not loud but deep. Ho explanation of this
strange conduct was offered to Sandy, and he asked no
questions ; but in leisure moments, when he was solacing
himself with his black cutty, he pondered much as to the
cause and probable upshot of this change in the skipper,
who had been hitherto known as the boldest and frankest
of men, free of hand and free of speech.
Culross was in one of his gloomy fits when Mrs. Car-
michael stepped on the deck. He did not hear her approach,
and when she laid her hand on his shoulder, the touch was
so light that he was unconscious of it until she spoke.
"Mr. Culross."
He looked round quickly, and recognising her, turned
as he lifted his cap. Surprise partially dispelled the gloom
from his countenance.
" Mrs. Carmichael—is there anything wrong with Jess ?"
"No, no,' she hastened to reassure him, and glad
to find that he was anxious about his daughter. "Mrs.
William is going on very well, and will soon have all her
strength restored. I have come to have a talk with you
about her."
She laid a gentle emphasis upon her designation of Jess,
and there was a grateful tremor on the man's lips.
AN APPEAL 91
" She and I owe much to your kindness," he said, trying
to clear his throat of something that appeared to be sticking
in it; "but 1 would rather not talk about her—yet, even to
you."
"You cannot think me intrusive, Mr. Culross, and I
must insist upon your listening to me for her sake as well
as your own. It is right that you should understand the
plans I propose for her future in view of whatever con-
tingency may arise. It is your duty to talk over the
matter with me, and to aid me with your advice."
" It is kind of you, Mrs. Carmichael, very kind." (He
spoke with an evident effort to control his emotion.) " I
am satisfied that whatever you think proper to do for her
will be right, and you have my thanks. But I can give you
no help in the way of counsel, and . . . and, if you please,
I would rather not talk about the business."
He found it difficult to suppress the adjective with
which he had been about to prefix the last word. The
struggle to maintain a courteous bearing in the lady's
presence was proving almost too much for him.
She perceived that some idea was lurking in his mind to
which he did not want to give utterance, and his agitation
showed that it was an idea which frustrated all attempts at
consolation. She was in full sympathy with his anxiety, but
being herself satisfied about the position of Jess, she was
resolved that he also should be satisfied before she left
him.
" Then we shall not discuss anything, Mr. Culross," she
said in grave, kindly accents ; "but I must insist upon your
listening to what I have to say."
He smothered the exclamation of impatience which
swelled in his throat, and, bending his head, answered :
" Very well, Mrs. Carmichael; since you insist I must
listen. Will you step down to the cabin?—you will be
more comfortable there."
He led the way down to the saloon, which, although
small, and the furnishings well worn, was clean and cosy.
There were two cabins on each side, and two more could be,
fitted up if required; but as the Camperdoivn was used almost
entirely for cargo, every available foot of space was devoted
to storage-room. Still, a dozen of people could have dined
without crowding at the table.
92 A PRINCESS OF JUTEVOXt
" Now, I am ready to listen," lie said, when they were
seated opposite to each other, " and I hope yon will excuse
any shortcomings in my ways of taking whatever yon may
have to say, for my mind is ill at ease."
" It is in the hope of setting it at ease that I have come
to yon," rejoined Mrs. Carmichael; " and if your trouble
is, as I suppose, on your daughter's account solely, I trust
and believe that you will have no further reason for fretting
after you have heard what I have to say."
" I'll he glad if that he the case. I am sure it would be
so if you had your will."
He rested his elbows on the table, and shaded his eyes
with his hands, although the lamp was dim enough to render
shading unnecessary.
She looked at him attentively for a few seconds, and
then, with an abrupt change from a tone of sympathy to one
of stern disapproval, she said :
" Are you aware, Mr. Culross, of what should be your
first object at present ?"
He stared, half rose from his seat, and then resumed it.
He had been on the point of saying that his first object at
present was to get hold of Will Carmichael, and—well, he
had no clear notion of what was to follow, or what ought to
follow, and he said, under his breath :
" I shall be glad if you will instruct me, Mrs.
Carmichael."
" It should be to secure your daughter's happiness."
" The Lord kens I have no wish but that—and He kens
how much I would give up to do it."
" Then why do you keep away from her ? Why do you
refuse almost to speak to her ? "
" Because I am afraid of telling her what I am afraid to
tell you ! " he answered vehemently.
She looked at him steadily, and he met her gaze with
eyes in which there was an expression of sullen resolution
to say no more.
" I do not see how or why there should be anything in
your thoughts which you might not reveal to me if it
concerns Mrs. William Carmichael."
" I don't want to upset her or you."
"You puzzle me, Mr. Culross, for I can see nothing
more distressing in our position than what is plain to us all.
AN APPEAL 93
However, I shall wait until you are prepared to give me
and your daughter your confidence; meanwhile she is to
remain at Braeside until she has completely regained her
strength. Then she can either come with her child and
live with us at Baldovie, or remain with her grandfather at
Braeside until her husband returns, as you and she may
consider the best course for her."
"She had better bide where she is," he responded
gloomily.
" Perhaps so ; but she must come and stay with me for
a little time, at any rate; and, as soon as she is strong
enough to go through the ordeal, 1 purpose introducing her
to the friends of the family as Mrs. William Carmichael."
"You are generous—very generous," he said ab-
stractedly, whilst he stared hard at the table, as if reading
something on it.
She was inclined to be impatient with him again for his
apparent inattention and dogged adherence to some precon-
ceived notion which would not permit him to realise that
everything requisite for his daughter's comfort and honour
was being done, whilst he alone was making the young
mother miserable by his eccentric, if not unnatural,
conduct.
" If you think so, Mr. Culross, 1 shall expect you at
once to try to comfort your daughter by making her feel
that you attach no blame to her."
" I never did."
" She thinks you do, and you must contrive somehow to
remove the impression, since it is a false one. I really
cannot see why you should be so exasperated at her anion
with the son of John Carmichael."
" It is not that," was the answer, which sounded like a
groan, as he turned his head aside.
"Then what can it be?" she exclaimed, in perplexed
amazement at the skipper's manner.
He set his teeth together and lifted his eyes to hers.
" It is that you don't know the worst, Mrs. Carmichael,
and Jess does not know the worst; and I am not the man
to tell you or her. Let the thing come out, as it must come
out. Will Carmichael has done a mischief that, living or
dead, he can never remedy."
" But what mischief?"
U A FRINGESS OF JUTFBOM
" I say no more ; only be advised, Mrs. Carinichael, by
one who wishes you well, and make no fuss about present-
ing Jess to your friends. There is no need for it; and it
will be better in the end."
He knitted his brows and closed his lips to indicate that
he had spoken his last word on the subject, for the present
at any rate.
She regarded him for a few seconds with an expression
of alarm as well as surprise.
"Either you know something about Mr. William, of
which we are all ignorant, or you are acting under some
misapprehension which is placing you—to say the least—in
an unfavourable light."
" I cannot help that."
" But if you do know anything, it is your duty to
tell us."
" I say no more," he repeated doggedly, as he rose to his
feet.
She saw that it was useless to argue with him, and
came to the conclusion that he was influenced by some
perverse sense of wrong, which rendered him temporarily in-,
capable of looking at things from a common-sense point of
view. She therefore proceeded to explain quietly how Jess
and her infant son were to be provided for.
" I shall see that she is paid such an allowance as the
fortune, of her husband entitles her to ; and should our
worst fears be confirmed—should it be proved that he is
dead, and that he has left no will, she will inherit such
portion of the property as -the law provides for the widow
and child so circumstanced. The amount will be consider-
able, I believe; but Mr. Dalgleish will look after her
interests as he does after mine. I trust that is satisfactory
to you."
A grim smile had passed over his visage at her reference
to the possibility that Will Carmichael was dead ; it
declared plainly that he did not believe it. But when she
finished he spoke respectfully, although with evident
restraint.
" I do not want to interfere between you and Jess. You
have been a good friend to her, as I have said. But if she
was to ask my counsel, I would tell her not to touch any-
thing that belonged to 1dm"
AN APPEAL 95
" I cannot agree with you, and I hope your daughter
will not. I trust she will take the position she is entitled
to without hesitation. And now that everything has been
explained to you, Mr. Culross, I ask you—I beg of you—
to promise that you will try to overcome your unaccount-
able dislike to William, and treat her with the kindness
and sympathy she longs to have from you, and which she
needs so much just now."
"I'll try."
" I cannot tell you how much pleasure you give me by
that promise, for I know that it will bring happiness and
health to Jess. Thank you, Mr. Culross; I am glad I
came to see you, and will be still more glad if you will come
to see me whenever you are so disposed, or when we know
more about the strange circumstances which have drawn us
so closely together."
This expression of satisfaction produced no apparent
effect on the man. He nodded as if he would say " All
right," but he looked as gloomy as ever.
He escorted her to the carriage, which was ivaiting
near the Royal Arch, and during their progress she urged
upon him the necessity of trying to cheer and console Jess.
He only showed that he heard her by occasional mono-
syllables.
But when she had driven away, he stood looking on the
ground, and gradually he became conscious that he had
been cruel—very cruel—to his child in her time of greatest
trouble, although he had not intended to be so. He recog-
nised the fact that he had allowed the Avrath roused against
Will Carmichael, by the information received from Feuer-
heerd, to overpower his affection for Jess, and that he had
been, in a sense, venting upon her the indignation intended
for the man who, he believed, had betrayed her.
Mrs. Carmichael was right; he had been cruel, and he
would try to make amends at once.
He started for the cottage, at first taking rapid strides,
as if he were in a hurry ; but when he reached the High
Street his steps dragged, and he loitered.
As he slowly passed the close which led to Job's
Wynd, he heard children shouting; but he passed on,
unconscious of the Import of that shouting to him and
his.
96 A PlilNOESS OF JUTFDOM
An urchin of ahout twelve years, and a girl about the
same age, were disputing the possession of a gold sleeve-
link which they had found in the wynd.
CHAPTER XVIII.
the juteocracy
Pending the inqairies ahout "Wild Will's fate, the position
which Feuerheerd occupied in the offices of Messrs. Car-
michael and Co. was that of representative, if not absolute
chief, of the whole business. In his capacity as manager
he had long been accustomed to strict obedience to any
orders he might issue ; and, therefore, no one thought of
questioning whatever directions he gave for new contracts
or new enterprises. On the latter score, however, he was
careful. He did nothing which would not have been
approved by the keenest man of business.
But there was one transaction about which he delayed
in the most inscrutable way. That was about the cargo for
the barque Camper down. He had entered into a contract
with the owner, Gavin Culross, to give him a cargo for
Hamburg; but day after day passed without the issue of
the necessary orders for the loading of the vessel.
Mr. Whitelaw, the cashier, was puzzled ; and the head
of the export department was utterly bewildered by what
seemed to him the ruinous delay on the part of the
manager. But although he daily presented his statement
that the Camperdown was lying in harbour at their cost,
Feuerheerd passed it over without note or comment. When
at length his attention was particularly drawn to the fact,
he replied simply :
" I have not yet decided about the cargo. When I
have made up my mind you shall have instructions."
No one dared to represent to him the loss which was
being entailed upon the firm by the course he was pursuing,
for everybody understood that he was to be in reality the
managing partner as soon as he chose to sign the agree-
ment, as he had been virtually for a long time, although
without the responsibility which partnership involved. IIq
THE JUTEOOBAGY 9?
Was, in fact, now the recognised head of the firm so far as
the officials were concerned.
But it was not merely the officials who accepted him in
this character, for the people outside, who had long recog-
nised him as the active spirit in all the dealings of Car-
michael and Co., had no hesitation whatever in accepting
him as the head of the firm during what was believed to be
the temporary absence of Mr. "William Carmichael and the
minority of David.
There was, however, another circumstance which gave
additional importance to the manager. How it had got
about it was impossible to say, but everybody was aware
that in his last statement John Carmichael had not only
appointed Rudolph Feuerheerd his trustee, but also his
partner. The degree of the partnership was not known,
but for the community of Jutedom it was sufficient that he
should be a partner in a firm possessed of what was sup-
posed to be boundless wealth, and had certainly earned
"boundless confidence in the commercial world.
The Juteocracy of Dundee was at this period made up
of two sets. The first, men who had really laboured, ex-
perimented, and worked out the value of the goods in which
they dealt. The second comprised the sons of these men,
who, having travelled and learned something of the doings
of the Stock Exchange in London, became speculators rather
than workers. The fathers were content to creep; the sons
decided to go by bounds. The fathers contented them-
selves in a small office with a bare floor and a table, which
sufficed for writing materials and nothing more. They had
been in their youth weavers and spinners by trade. They
knew the value of every article that passed through their
hands, and by this knowledge they succeeded in making
money. They were certainly proud of their position and
proud of themselves ; and they worked on in a steady,
quiet-going way until the new generation sprang up.
Then the sons altered the whole condition of affairs.
Leaning upon their fathers' real work, they sat in offices
gorgeously furnished with Turkey carpets on the floor;
and they built palaces which stretched from Dundee to
Broughty Ferry. Some were lucky men, and keep their
places still. But others came down with a great crash,
H
98 A PRINCESS OP JUTELOM
bringing about tbeir ears not only the palaces they had
built, but hundreds of unlucky people who, believing in their
good fortune, had trusted them with their small means
A failure here, however, or a failure there was of no
consequence to the Juteocracy as a body. The survivors
shook their heads, expressed regret that so-and-so had gone
down, or smiled with contemptuous pity, and said that they
always knew he was going too fast, and thanked heaven that
they were cautious enough to steer the proper course. When
the royal burgh, even with the addition of Broughty Ferry,
became too small for them, they moved off into Alyth and
Blairgowrie; but the old folks for the most part kept to the
place where their interests were most concerned, and their
fortunes had been made.
The old folks asked a friend to supper, and provided him
with a substantial meal, which he thoroughly enjoyed,
followed by his two, three, or four tumblers of toddy, and
he went home contented. The young folks ask people
to dinner at the same hour as that at which supper used
to be, and they give champagne with etiquette as under-
stood from the latest books of fashion. They keep pace
with the times, however, and their guests are pleased and go
away satisfied. Old fogies who happen to turn in to these
new-fangled evening gatherings may grumble at the neces-
sity of putting on dress-coats, and at the stiff ways which
regulate the conduct of their host and hostess; but the
younger people take it as a matter of course. They come,
they eat, they drink, and go away without caring a button
for their entertainer, or considering that they are under
any obligation except that of inviting him to a dinner of
the same sociable kind.
The whole thing is a mere matter of ceremony ; although
it is a ceremony which frequently has great results. As for
instance, the gossip about Feuerheerd's partnership in the
great firm of Carmichael and Co. had the effect of making
him not merely a guest who was regarded with much respect,
but one who was considered by discreet mothers to be an
eligible person to associate with their daughters.
Consequently Feuerheerd found himself very much in
favour amongst the Juteocracy. To the men who called
him a lucky dog, he smiled and said humbly he hoped he
had deserved his good luck. The ladies were more delicate
TEE JVTEOGUAGY 99
in their way of congratulating him, and he simply pressed
the hand and looked serious, as if he were regretting the
circumstances which had placed him in such a position.
The Juteocracy looked upon his conduct with approval.
They had never known or heard of a man so suddenly raised
to such a height who had accepted his position with so
much modesty and dignity combined. Indeed, it seemed as
if Feuerheerd were sorry that he had been so elevated; and
in more than one case he explained to people who spoke to
him that it was important to remember that his position
was by no means assured, and that he was really acting as
deputy at present.
This humility had the effect of giving him the more
influence, and whatever enterprises were endorsed with his
name found favour amongst the whole of the Juteocracy.
The approbation and esteem accorded to him by out-
siders had the effect of strengthening still further his
position in the office; whilst the knowledge that so many
shrewd men of business respected him could not be without
its influence on Mrs. Carmichael's judgment.
Even Marget was constrained to yield the tribute of
silence to the general verdict. But it was not without an
effort that she refrained from uttering a protest when her
mother mentioned Feuerheerd's name amongst the first of
the list of guests invited to the solemn dinner-party at which
Mrs. William Carmichael was to be introduced to the family.
Norman Grant was the only person to whom Marget now
attempted to talk freely concerning Feuerheerd; but even
to him she could not give satisfactory reasons for her appre-
hensions, as they were the result of instinct rather than
of reason.
Norman, in parting with Marget on the day pre-
ceding that fixed for the dinner-party, had made a lover's
bargain with her, that she should compensate him for
the subsequent dulness and solemnity of the evening, by
giving him ten minutes to himself before the coming of the
guests. He was, therefore, the first to arrive. Marget was
already in the drawing-room. They went together into the
conservatory, pleasing themselves with the fancy that they
could observe the guests as they entered the drawing-room
without any danger of being taken unawares.
When the etiquette of love had been duly observed,
h 2
100 A FRINGE 8S OF JUTE DOM
a chance remark of Norman's suggested Feuerheerd. UVitli
a sudden impulse Marget said :
"You are sure to find it dull to-night. I will give you
something to do that will keep you interested."
" What is it ? If it is to serve you I shall he as happy
as a king."
" Yes, it is to serve me. You are to watch Feuerheerd
intently all the evening. He knows that I dislike him. He
would never suspect you."
" What is it that I am to watch for ?"
"For the character of the man. You are to tell me if
you think he is honest."
" All right. I'll keep a sharp look-out for the signs of
the weather."
As he spoke they heard some one approaching, and turn-
ing, saw Feuerheerd entering the conservatory. He, too,
had come early, not without a purpose, and he was not
pleased to find that Norman was there before him. Marget,
not having heard him announced, was so taken aback by his
sudden appearance, whilst she was plotting against him, that
she only bowed to him.
Feuerheerd ascribed the stiffness of her reception to
vexation at being interrupted in her interview with Norman,
and his mental comment on the situation was:
" I did not know that things had gone so far as this.
I must get David to tell me exactly how the land lies."
CHAPTER XIX.
A SOLEMN DlSBUT
Had it not been that the expression was one which could
not pass a lady's lips with propriety, Marget would have
said to Norman:
" Speak of—you know—and lo ! he is here."
As it was, the calmness with which she had long been
accustomed to ipeet Feuerheerd concealed the impatience
she felt at this interruption. He, on his part, behaved as
if unconscious of there being anything unusual in finding
the only daughter of the house, immediately before the
arrival of expected guests, engaged in a private gossip with a
A SOLEMN DEBUT 101
gentleman in the conservatory, although, it did communicate
with the drawing-room, and practically formed a part of it.
The greetings possessed all the conventional politeness
which sufficed for the occasion. Norman was the only one
who displayed the least degree of awkwardness. His frank
nature hated secrets of any kind, and if he liked or disliked
a man he promptly made him feel it. But in this case he
had only a vicarious dislike, and of course did not feel that
he would be justified in revealing it. He was waiting for
the signs of what the danger was, and where it lay.
For, with all his frankness, Norman by no means wore
his heart upon his sleeve. He was wary in his choice of
friends ; and whilst cordial to all comers, as became a man
who sailed the seas and was brought into contact with
people of different nations and of all degrees, when once
warned that there were hidden rocks about, he steered his
course with due caution accordingly.
" I suppose, Captain, you admire this crystal palace—
it is not right to call it a mere conservatory—as much as I
do ?" said Feuerheerd by way of making conversation, which
hung fire after the first few conventionalities. " It is the
wonder of everybody, and the envy of every gardener who
has any knowledge of exotics and rare plants. I think we
owe its existence to the taste of Miss Carmichael, and those
who are privileged to view it are grateful to her."
His praise of the place was not extravagant, for it was
erected on an extensive scale, and filled with plants, shrubs,
and flowers from all climes, which rendered it the admiration
of horticulturists far and near.
"Yes, I had something to do with it," she said, be-
ginning to move slowly towards the drawing-room.
He could not have known the pang he was to cause by
this intended compliment, or he would never have attempted
it. But he had recalled the picture of her father and her-
self, as they had often stood, planning this improvement—
an alteration here or. an addition there—and arranging
what new varieties of plants they were to procure. These
things lie tenderly deep in our memories, precious to our-
selves, and so revered that when suddenly awakened by
some stray or careless word, we feel the pain with which we
should be stirred at the sight of heedless feet trampling
over the graves of our beloved.
102 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
Skilled player as lie was on the stops of human nature,
Feuerheerd was devoid of sentiment himself, and therefore
could not apprehend its influence on others. He was quick
to perceive, however, that he had made a mistake somehow,
and. made a second mistake by attributing the first to her
continued displeasure at his inopportune arrival. But he
did the best to retrieve the error by addressing himself to
Norman, and, with him, following her to the drawing-room.
Mrs. Carmichael had now taken her place prepared to
receive the guests, and beside her was Jess. The latter
looked pale, but though she was nervous to a degree, the
sadness of her position abstracted her thoughts so much
that she did not show it. Indeed, any one looking at her
without a knowledge of the circumstances would never have
imagined that there was anything peculiar in them. The
guests had been informed that they were to meet Mrs.
William Carmichael, and therefore when she was introduced
no one by word or look expressed surprise.
That she should he dull was to be expected, and the
fact was not likely to attract special attention in a company
which was pervaded by the subdued tone of people who
remembered that the present small gathering of friends was
the first which had taken place in this hospitable house since
the funeral of its late master. Moreover, they understood the
particular occasion of this meeting, and did not regard it
as a dinner-party in the ordinary sense, but as what it was
really meant to he—the formal introduction of the hitherto
unacknowledged wife of William Carmichael to a few of the
oldest friends of her husband's father.
These friends were Mr. Dalgleish, the Rev. Mr. Grant,
Dr. Deuchars, and (although his name comes last, it was
first in his own estimation) James Simpson, Esq., M.P.
Amongst the ladies invited were Miss Grant, the
minister's sister, who, from the strictness of her views,
theological and social, and the readiness of her tongue in
admonishing backsliders, was much more feared by the
members of the Rev. Mr. Grant's congregation than was the
kind-hearted old minister himself; Johanna Deuchars, the
doctor's daughter ; and Mrs. Lamond of Birliebree, the wife
of the distiller of the famous " Deoch-an-Doras " Scotch
whisky, who, being a prominent civic dignitary, was un-
avoidably absent in London as one of a deputation to the
A SOLEMN EE BUT 103
Home Secretary concerning some matter of importance
to the welfare of the burgh.
Mr. Dalgleish and the warm-hearted old minister were,
in their different ways, quietly attentive to Mrs. William
without being markedly so, thus relieving her of all feeling
of discomfort or awkwardness, and materially aiding the
earnest effort of Mrs. Carmichael to enable Jess to realise
that she was one of the family.
Feuerheerd was careful to address her with all courtesy
as ""Mrs. William," whilst he spoke only on the most
ordinary topics, studiously avoiding the slightest allusion to
anything which might remind her of his ever having been
acquainted with Jess Culross.
He was very desirous of pleasing his hostess, although
he had meekly ventured to suggest that this formal ac-
knowledgment of Mrs. William had better be postponed for
a few months.
" Why ?" asked Mrs. Carmichael.
" I can give no other reason than that I think it would
be best."
This had reminded her of a somewhat similar warning
given to her by Skipper Culross. She had seen him again,
and invited him to accompany his daughter to Baldovie on
the evening of the dinner. He bluntly declined. But Mrs.
Carmichael, although much perplexed by this singular
conduct, was not to be dissuaded from doing what she
considered to be a duty, and one which required to be done
quickly. Therefore the grandfather was enforced to take
the place of the father.
At the last moment Culross asked to be allowed to look
on from some corner without having to join the company,
so that he might see how his " poor lass bore the strain."
Of course Feuerheerd pledged himself to do his utmost
to carry out Mrs. Carmichael's wish to make Jess feel at
ease, and he was fulfilling his promise now.
He performed his task with his accustomed discretion,
for, observing that Mrs. William seemed to shrink from his
friendly advances, he was nothing loath to make another
insidious effort to ingratiate himself with her companion ;
and, but for the tender support of that companion's arm
placed with sisterly kindness under hers, Jess said after-
wards she would never have been able to go through the
ordeal.
104 A FRINGE SS OF JUTE DOM
Marget was this friend in need, for she had entered into
all her mother's plans with cordial approval. So it was
arranged that she should take care of Jess during the
evening, and Norman was to look after Johnnie Todd.
That distracted old man underwent tortures in his new
dress suit. He came under the compulsion of love for
his grandchild, and at the instance of Mrs. Carmichael, who
thought it important that one of Mrs. "William's relatives
should he present.
" But I'm no used to thae kind o' things," he pleaded.
" Although mony a time I hae had a steak and a bottle o'
porter, or a dram in an ordinary way wi' John—the master
I ought to say—I'm no used to your grand parties, and I'll
just niak' a fule o' the whole concern."
He would certainly have made a fool of himself had not
Norman taken possession of him, for the agonies of putting
on that awkward new suit put him into a feverish state of
excitement. He was in fidgets in the carriage which had
been sent early for him and Jess ; and as soon as the guests
began to enter the drawing-room he tried to shrink behind
cushions, couches, or anything which was likely to afford him
even partial concealment, until Norman got hold of him
and fixed him down in a low ottoman chair, in the soft
cushions of which the poor man almost disappeared, telling
him that he was to remain there, and they would have a
chat together.
So all went smoothly, although there was one note of
discord in the harmony, and it was so slight that Jess
remained unconscious of it.
The discordant note was produced by the doctor's
daughter, Johanna, a lady who had such a satisfactory ap-
preciation of herself that she was utterly dissatisfied with
her present position. She eyed the young wife and mother
with an expression of supercilious curiosity, as if she were
saying to herself:
" Well, I can't see what there is in her to attract such a
man as Will Carmichael, with fortune enough to permit him
to pick and choose where he pleased."
But Miss Deuchars made no comments, and kept these
thoughts to herself.
The only person who displayed indifference to the object
of the meeting was James Simpson, Esq., M.P. (he was par-
A SOLEMN EN BUT 105
ticular about the "Esquire " and the magic letters "M.P."
being always affixed to his name). He made his way straight
from the door to Mrs. Carmichael, as he was bound to do ;
but he remained beside her as if that was his place for the
rest of the evening, which he was not bound to do.
To him, as to every one else, the hostess said, with a
manner which, without being emphatic, indicated in a
subtle way that she desired the guest to remember that
this was why he was there :
" I must introduce you to Mrs. William Carmichael."
" Yery pleased to have the honour of making your ac-
quaintance, madam," he said with an ungainly bow and an
ogling glance of his small eyes, which he intended to be
captivating—he had a notion that he had the power of
throwing great expression into Lis eyes. The phrase used
he had caught up from something he heard at a " penny
reading " at which he had been chairman. He never read
books—"waste of time that, and time is money." His letters
and the reports of the Stock Exchange comprised the whole
of his reading.
Having done his duty and made a favourable impression,
as he thought, he at once resumed conversation with the
hostess.
James Simpson, Esq., M.P., was a man of plethoric body
and plethoric energy. His chubby, round, florid face had a
perpetual grin on it, and as he walked down the street with
umbrella tucked under his arm, he seemed to be smiling on
the world with the privilege of one on whom the world
smiles.
"Pod, ye wad think he was the lord o' a' Dundee !" ex-
claimed a broken-down weaver once ; " and me ken'd him
when we baith gaed barefoot to the parish schule ! "
Simpson, Esq., was a born trafficker and speculator. The
signs of his genius were revealed, although unheeded, at the
early age of two, when he obtained possession of the baby's
bone ring in exchange for half an inch of Forfar rock, which
nearly choked the baby. He got a thrashing, but his genius
sustained him. At six he possessed himself by fair barter,
one with another, of the tops, twine, marbles, penknives,
birds, and rabbits which had been given to or bought by his
numerous brothers and sisters.
At school the same spirit worked in him ; and here
he began to turn his goods into cash. He would always give
106 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
more " bools " for a farthing than any of the shops, and he
was ready to buy them back, provided the number was
increased by five or ten. Rabbits now became a large
source of revenue to him, and he would frequently make as
much as two pemiies over one transaction.
From the position of an " active boy " at eleven in a
general merchant's shop, he appeared in Dundee at twenty
working on his own account. He had no capital; but he
arranged to sell in one place whatever he knew could be
bought for less elsewhere. At twenty-five he was a full-
blown commission agent for small country linen manu-
facturers. Five years later he was doing an extensive
business. At thirty-five he became bankrupt; but ten years
afterwards he was in a more flourishing position than ever,
and recognised as one of the most fortunate of speculators
in stocks, home and foreign. Although otherwise illiterate
he had a "head for figures," and he turned it to the best
account.
After two unsuccessful contests, he became member for
the small burgh of Onnywhaur, and from that time he pros-
pered exceedingly. Some people wondered why he had been
so persistent in his attempts to get into Parliament, but a
few wise people suspected that it was because of the
advantage which the position afforded him in his speculations.
Be that as it may, he was popular in the district; his self-
conceit was unbounded, and although he could not make
speeches he could tell racy stories, and whilst he always
blundered when he touched upon politics, his blunders were
laughed at and seemed to make him more popular. So he
believed that he made capital speeches.
There was one part of his popularity he would gladly
have dispensed with, namely, people would call him
" Jeems." That was why he became so particular about the
form of his address.
And now, when drawing near to his sixtieth year,
Jeems was entering upon one of his most daring specula-
tions. He was a widower, and he had made up his mind to
marry the widow Carmichael. Hence the particular
attention which he paid to her, and the elaborate manner
in which he had greeted Jess, in order to please her.
The lady was as yet perfectly unconscious of the honour
which was to be by-and-by proffered to her, and uninten-
A SOLEMN DEBUT 107
tionally contributed to swell his hope of a triumph that
would crown his victorious career by giving him the pre-
cedence to which his publicposition entitledhim, and allowing
him to take her in to dinner. He, not understanding the
details of precedence to which ladies feel themselves
obliged to give so much serious consideration, accepted
this as a direct token of personal regard, and in his
elation was in some danger of forgetting where he was
and the recent afflictions of the family.
He would have been much less elated if his vanity
had permitted him to guess that one reason why he was
invited was the assurance his hostess felt that he would
next day carry the news all over the town that Will
Carmichael had been married, and that he had met his
wife at Baldovie.
There had been no expectation that the dinner-party
would be a merry one, and it was not. The only persons
inclined to laughter were Simpson, Esq., M.P., for the
reasons stated, and Miss Deuchars, on account of finding
herself seated next to Norman, although she had been
taken in by Mr. Dalgleish. To that gentleman she paid little
heed, but she was constantly chattering to Norman, and
using little wiles to make him turn to her, even when
he was busily engaged trying to make his charge, Johnnie
Todd, feel comfortable.
Feuerheerd was seated opposite, and noted the favoui
which Miss Deuchars bestowed on the unappreciative young
captain.
" There may be something useful in that," he was re-
fleeting, whilst he was pretending to listen to David, who
sat next him.
The dinner was soon over, much to the relief of every
one except the two already mentioned, and the ladies
retired. The minister, who, both as old friend and pastor,
had occupied the chair facing the widow, which David
was too young to fill, did not permit the gentlemen to
linger over the wine.
When the decanters had made their second round,
and only the claret-jug showed signs of serious dimi-
nution, Simpson, Esq., M.P., was interrupted in the
narration of one of his stories, to which he had secured the
attention of the whole company, by the coffee being brought
108 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
in. Now, "Jeems" could not abide to be interrupted ill
the narration of a story; also he liked his wine, and he
liked his toddy better, and he was therefore much put out
when the coffee intimated that the time had come to reioin
the ladies. He sighed, or rather gasped, for the good old
days when men had heads strong enough to permit them to
"push about the joram" merrily amidstcrack" and song
till after midnight, and still to be punctual at their offices
in the morning. However, there was compensation in the
knowledge that he would be all the sooner beside the
charming widow again.
On the way to the drawing-room, Feuerheerd linked his
arm in David's, saying :
" By the way, I am to have an afternoon to myself on
Saturday, and if you care to come to my place I will show
you some of those experiments we were talking about."
" Oh, thanks ! Of course I shall come. I was afraid you
had forgotten about the experiments, and did not like to
bother you when I know you are so busy."
" My dear David, have I ever forgotten any promise I
made you ?" rejoined the friend, with gentle reproach in his
tone. " It is too bad of you to hint at such a thing, for
you ought to know by this time that it is always a pleasure
to me to have you with me. It is a bargain, then; I am to
expect you ?"
" What time shall I come ?" asked the youth eagerly.
" About five, and come straight up to the workshop."
As they entered the drawing-room together, David's face,
bright with intelligent anticipation, and Feuerheerd talking
to him with affectionate familiarity, it was impossible for
any one not to be convinced of the friendship existing
between them.
" Look," said Marget to Norman, who had found his way
to her side for a moment.
Following the direction of her glance, he understood her
meaning.
" Yes, they look like ' ony brithers.' David evidently
does not share your prejudices. Feuerheerd seems to be as
pleased as if he had found a nugget. He is steering for us.
Hullo ! what does he see now that he stops short ?"
She, too, had observed the sudden halt, and replied
slowly, under her breath ;
A SOLEMN LLBVL 100
" He sees you—and me."
Simple words, but uttered in such a way that they con-
veyed a whole volume of suggestions to Norman. He only
gave vent to a prolonged *' Oh !" but that much-meaning
ejaculation indicated the beginning of a series of eddies of
thought which would suffice to keep his mind employed in
leisure moments for a month or two at least.
By ten o'clock the guests were rapidly taking their
leave, but long before that hour Johnnie Todd had sidled
out of the drawing-room—he would not have re-entered it
had not Norman held him to his duty—and rushed to the
gentlemen's coat-room, wherfe he hurriedly donned his
ulster in order to get rid of the feeling of nakedness he
had experienced during the whole evening in his un-
familiar dress suit. He was content to wait in the
obscurest corner of the hall until Jess should be ready to
go home.
From his corner he had a good view of the backs
of the guests as they departed. As he saw the back of
Feuerheerd, who wore a plain but heavy overcoat, the little
man started to his feet as if about to rush after him. He
checked the impulse, however, and gasped, whilst his eyes
started fin their sockets:
" That's him 1"
Then he sat down and kept muttering to himself in a
bewildered way :
" But it canna be, it canna be, and I dare not mention
such a thing ! They would think me clean daft, and put
me under lock and key."
He shuddered at that horrible possibility, and remained
quiet until he was discovered by Norman, and told that his
granddaughter was ready to go home.
And all that evening a burly man had been wandering
in and out of the conservatory, keeping out of the way of
the company, marching up and down the terrace outside,
and peering in at the windows.
" That's my lass—that's my bairn," he was repeating to
himself; " and it must be all right, in spite of what
Feuerheerd says."
110 A PRINCESS OF JUTED021
CHAPTER XX.
a strange -workshop
Rudolph Feuerheerd occupied a small house, of which
he was the owner, and which was situated on the Perth
Road. His household consisted of a German man-servant—
Fritz Bauer by name—with his wife and daughter. The
wife acted as cook and general caretaker, the daughter did
the housework, and the man attended to the garden, and
was useful in many ways besides, best known to his master
and himself.
The house had originally consisted of two storeys and a
garret. Feuerheerd had the walls of the garret raised, and
thus had a laboratory of considerable size, which, being at
the top of the building, might be blown up without much
detriment to the rest of the house or its inmates.
In the laboratory he spent the most of his spare time,
and the hours thus spent were his happiest. He had,
indeed, a passion for chemistry, and it is an instance of how
much human beings are the creatures of circumstances that
in his younger days his only ambition was to devote himself
to the study of that science. His father's wishes and his
mother's entreaties, together with the fact that a career was
opened for him in the house of Carmichael and Co., had
turned him aside from a path in life which would cer-
tainly have led him to fame, and might have made him
a beneficent power in the world.
On the Saturday to which David had been eagerly
looking forward, Feuerheerd was busy in his workshop,
as he called it, from an early hour in the afternoon. He
continued his occupation up to the hour fixed for David
to come, and so intense was his interest in a particular
experiment, that he did not observe the ring of the gate
bell which announced the arrival of his young friend.
According to instructions, David was at once shown up
to the door of the laboratory, and getting no answer to his
repeated knock, he turned the handle and entered.
Feuerheerd was standing behind a sort of counter,
stooping over a retort.
Perceiving that his entrance was unnoticed, David
A STRANGE WORKSHOP 111
paused, and, not wishing to disturb the operator in what
was evidently some critical stage of an important experiment,
he silently amused himself by looking round the room.
It was a characteristic apartment. The walls were
whitewashed; the floor covered with linoleum. There
were three windows which served to admit abundance of
light, and as they would afford an easy outlet for any
explosion they would serve to reduce its effect whenever
one might happen.
Feuerheerd had on the long table or counter behind
which he stood an elaborate electric battery, retorts, and
mortars of various sizes, delicate scales—one scale in a
glass case capable of denoting the thousandth part of a
grain—and numerous curiously shaped bottles and tubes.
Behind them and on each side of him were cabinets
reaching from floor to ceiling. The lower part of these
cabinets was formed of many drawers lettered like those
in an ordinary chemist's shop ; the upper part consisted
of a series of shelves laden with instruments of different
kinds.
At the opposite end of the room was a bookcase con-
taining some ancient-looking ponderous tomes, in addition
to the most recent works on chemistry and allied mysteries.
One of these huge magazines of learning lay open on a
plain deal table between the windows. There was yet
another cabinet, facing the windows and close to where
David was standing, which had sliding glass panel, and
was filled with what appeared to be miniature bales of jute.
Having observed these details of the place, David con-
centrated his attention on the human figure—at present
somewhat obscured by a delicate mist of vapour escaping
from the retort.
There was an expression of intense excitement in the
whole attitude of the man, which was at variance with
all the lad's previous experience of him. As he watched
him, David could not help thinking of the stories he had
read about the weird alchemists of olden days pursuing in
secret places the search for the elixir of life and the
philosopher's stone.
Although a robust lad, he was of an imaginative
temperament, and he began to experience a sensation.of
nervousness somewhat new to him. This sensation was
112 A FRINGES® OF JUT ED 021
not diminished when Feuerheerd, becoming suddenly
aware of his presence', looked at him for a moment with
an unmistakable expression of displeasure at being inter-
rupted. Indeed, there was something in the face turned
towards him that sent a tremor through the lad, and made
him conscious that there was a Feuerheerd whom he had
not known as yet.
This was only for an instant; with the next breath, as
it were, Feuerheerd was coming towards him, hand out-
stretched, and a welcoming smile on his face, saying
innocently :
"You startled me, David. I did not notice you coming
in. Have you been here long ?"
No one could have guessed, from the easy way in which
the question was put, that any importance was attached to
it, but there was. He had contracted a habit of talking to
himself when alone, and he certainly would not have liked
any one to be even an involuntary listener to these self-
communings. He was reassured by the reply
" Only for a few minutes. I knocked twice, but you
did not answer. Is it a very interesting experiment you
were busy with ?"
" Most interesting and most valuable, if the results I
expect are obtained. But you would hardly understand it
yet—you will by-and-by, if I succeed."
" Oh, I do hope you will succeed!" exclaimed the
enthusiastic youth.
" So do I," rejoined Feuerheerd, with a smile. " It
would be no use, however, attempting to explain it to you
without putting you through a whole course of tedious pre-
liminary experiments. I promise that you shall be one of
the first to learn the result of the final experiment."
" That is good of you."
" I suppose it is, if there is any goodness in doing
exactly as one likes to do," was the laughing comment.
" But there are a lot of things to show you which you will
enjoy. Here, first of all, beside you are the results of my
investigations into the best ways of preparing jute. IVe
have not yet discovered half the uses to which it may be
applied, and I look forward to the day when it may be
manufactured into the finest fabrics, although people
would laugh at me for saying so at present."
A STRANGE WORKSHOP 113
" Why should they laugh ? "
" Because the men who are called ' practical' believe in
nothing until it is turned into something they can see, feel,
weigh, and get a price quoted in the market for. It is the
impractical people, the poor dreamers and inventors, who
are the poets of commerce, and who manage to bring some-
thing out of what is to the common eye apparently no-
thing."
" I begin to understand," said David.
"But it is the practical man who reaps the profit when
the discovery is made," continued Feuerheerd, " and there-
fore I am trying to be practical as well as inventive. Now,
each of these samples " (pointing to the miniature hales of
jute) " is prepared according to a different method, but none
has yet been brought to the condition I am striving after,
although some of them approach it."
Pushing aside the glass panel, he took out some of the
little bales, and directed his visitor's attention to the
graduations of quality from the rough fibre to the soft and
almost silky thread. David, knowing how his father had
valued the special knowledge possessed by Feuerheerd, and
being naturally interested in the subject, fully appreciated
the objects exhibited to him. Turning from the cabinet,
they were passing the venerable-looking volume which
reposed on the table near the windows. Carelessly turning
over a few of its yellow leaves, Feuerheerd said :
" I thought you would like to see this. It is a rare
copy of one of the old repositories of the learning of a few
centuries ago, the possession and study of which was a
dangerous luxury. Dr. Faustus might have pored over it."
" I suppose it is worth a great deal," said David, ex-
amining curiously the strange figures and crabbed writing
on the pages.
" As a curiosity, yes. It certainly cost me enough ; but
its actual value is not great—nothing to be compared with
that of some of the volumes of much more modest appear-
ance which you see in the case there. I picked it up in my
travels."
" I suppose it is because you have travelled a great deal
that you know so much more than other folks ?" said
David, in simple admiration ; but he added quickly—"And
yet that can't be it, for there's old Paterson and his wife—
I
114 A PRINOESS OP JUTE DOM
they have travelled all over the world, and they are the
most awful bores."
Feuerheerd was amused, and replied, laughing :
" Perhaps they forgot to secure two very important travel-
ling companions—a modicum of brains and a little power of
intelligent observation. But when you go on your travels—as
you doubtless will soon—you will be in no danger of forget-
ting to take these requisites with you."
" I hope mother will give me a chance of seeing a bit of
the world ; hut I am afraid she won't like it. You see,
poor "Will " He paused.
"Yes, he was a little too fond of travelling," put in
Feuerlieerd, coming to the lad's relief. "But don't you
fear—Mrs. Carmichael is too sensible to interfere with what
is really almost a necessary part of your education ; and I
shall give you the benefit of all my influence in carrying out
your wishes. Where would you like to go to ?"
" To a great many places, but first of all to India."
" To India ! Well, there should be no difficulty about
that. Captain Grant seems to be a great favourite at
Baldovie, and I dare say you would be allowed to go under
his wing."
David looked thoughtful, and did not reply immediately.
"Don't you like the idea?" queried his friend, as if
surprised.
" Oh yes, well enough ; but I almost wish Norman had
not come home just now. Marget thinks of nothing but
him—she is not half so nice to me as she used to be
He is a fine chap, though," David added, with an honest
effort to overcome some selfish feeling.
" He is a very lucky chap," said Feuerlieerd significantly,
" if he is to gain such a prize as your sister. Even if she
had not a penny instead of being, as she is, the heiress of a
great fortune, any man would be reckoned lucky in winning
her. Does your mother know, by-the-way, that Grant, is so
highly esteemed by her ? "
" Oh yes. It is all settled—they are engaged, only it is
not to be talked about. Wish they didn't need to talk so
much about it to each other."
David spoke somewhat petulantly, for his fraternal
jealousy had been aroused by what he considered gross
usurpation of his monopoly of Marget's attention.
A STRANGE WORKSHOP 115
"Without making any comment Feuerheerd led him to
the other side of the long table, where he proceeded to
show him how to perform various experiments which they
had previously discussed. On opening one of the cabinets
to get _ out some necessary apparatus, David perceived
within it a small curiously carved casket. Feuerheerd,
observing his look of inquiry, took out the casket, hold-
ing it in his hands as if it were something more precious
than gold.
"In this small space, David," he said impressively,
" there are treasures that I value more highly than all the
other contents of this room. I collected them in India.
They are herbs of rare value, both as medicines and poisons.
The properties of some of them are known ; the properties
and uses of others are, up to the present, only guessed at.
Had -I the time, I believe that in the contents of this small
casket I could find some of those panaceas for human suffer-,
ing which the whole world of experts have been long seek-.
ing in vain."
" Why not try to find time ?"
" Impossible, as things are now. But were I a young
man like you, with life and leisure and money at command,
I should devote myself to the work of discovering all the
qualities of these precious herbs, which possess in such
high degree the power of good and evil. There can be no
study more fascinating than that which leads us—through
years of weary labour, it may be—to the revelation of
Nature's secrets. In this small space there lies concealed
power which could in a few hours destroy the whole com-
munity of this big town. Stranger still, I have here in
this little drawer—see, they are harmless seeds, apparently
—what would rob a man of memory, of will, and of reason
itself. And yet, put to proper use, these seeds relieve pain,
comfort the weary mind, and give it the repose necessary to
enable it to regain health and vigour."
" Are their uses not known ?" asked David, a little
puzzled by the subdued exultation in his friend's voice,
and the dreamy look in his eyes.
"As I have told you, in part they are known, and
earnest men are busy seeking what is unknown. They will
find it by-and-by. But when you see in how little' space
such powers may be compressed, and how easy it is to wield
I 2
116 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
them, you cannot wonder that in the dark ages men were
accused of being magicians, leagued with the devil."
All this was uttered with a kind of passionate elation,
and David listened, and marvelled at what he heard, but
more at the speaker. Suddenly Feuerheerd's voice and
attitude changed ; he seemed to drop into a state of dejec-
tion as he exclaimed bitterly :
" And yet there is one thing which all this power and
knowledge cannot compass—the love of a woman. It can
remove the rival, but of what avail is that ? "
Seeing David's wondering looks, Feuerheerd realised that
he had momentarily lost control of himself; and promptly
resuming his ordinary manner, but with a touch of sadness
in his tone, he said :
' Don't be alarmed, David. I have not lost my wits,
although I am not quite myself to-day. One does not like
to swallow bitter pills, and the one I have got to gulp down
at present is that knowledge cannot save us from disap-
pointments."
Understanding that his friend was suffering, and-having
a dim suspicion that his sister had something to do with it,
David took his leave earlier than he would have done other-
wise. As he walked homewards many perplexing thoughts
passed through his mind. When he fell asleep that night
he dreamed that he was accused of committing a murder, and
that on ascending the scaffold, when he turned towards the
executioner and saw his face, it was the face of Feuerheerd
as he had seen it that afternoon in the laboratory.
It was a great relief to find throughout the week that
Feuerheerd was the same genial friend as before, ready to
enter into the spirit of all his youthful sports with as much
zest as ever. His confidence was completely restored. He
had to play in a great football match on the next Saturday
afternoon, and it added much to his pleasure in the contest
that his friend Feuerheerd had accompanied him to the
grounds where the match was played, and was one of the
most enthusiastic of the crowd of spectators.
There had been heavy rain on several days during the
week, and the ground was soft, whilst a strong north-easter
was blowing. Consequently the football players anticipated
hard work. The two teams were known to be pretty well
matched, and good sport was expected by those onlookers
A STB AN 01] WOBKSHOP 117
who, being interested in the game, knew the qualities of
every club in the district. The youths of both sides, when
they appeared on the field in costume, ready for the fray,
were hailed with an encouraging cheer. They were the
modern representatives of the gladiators, and whilst the
utmost good nature prevailed amongst them, each looked as
much in earnest as if the fate of the nation depended on his
achievements that day.
David's team lost the toss, and had to play against the
wind. Then they ranged themselves ; the "kick-off" was
dexterously given by one of the most skilful players of the
opposing team (David was one of the "forwards" of his
team), and the battle began in earnest, victory hovering now
on this side and now on that. At the end of an hour and
a half the rivals had scored two goals each. The final
struggle was expected to be a severe one; the spectators
were almost as much excited as the players, for admirable skill
had been exhibited by both sides. But almost at the begin-
ning, David made a clever catch and a hare-like run; he
tripped, and recovered, but was overtaken ; he dodged and
thrust, getting clear away again, and there was a ringing
cheer as the ball was seen flying straight into the goal.
He stood panting, whilst there was a hubbub of voices
around him. Of these voices he distinguished one, although
its tone was softest of all.
"You will be a successful man, David," said Feuerheerd,
" for 1 take this game as an omen. You began on the losing
side ; but you were not afraid, and you have won. So, in
the game of life we are all playing—he wins who is not
afraid."
All this cajolery was used with such an air of truthful-
ness, flavoured with cynicism as regarded the world and its
ways, that David was pleased at being taken into the confi-
dence of this clever man, and was unconscious of how much
his opinion of him was influenced by the subtle flattery
poured into his ears,
118 A PRINCESS OF JUTE POM
CHAPTER XXL
THE HEWS GOES ROUHD
So far as outward appearances went, Jess Culross had borne
the ordeal of her social baptism well, and Mrs. Carmichael
expressed her satisfaction in no measured terms to the girl
herself and to her father. She had doubtless gone through
it all much better than would have been the case if Will
had been by her side, and there had been nothing to cloud
the triumph of the occasion ; for then she would have been
a prey to self-consciousness, and troubled with misgivings
lest -she should do anything to make Will ashamed' of her.
As it was, the quiet sadness of her demeanour and expres-
sion gave her an appearance of dignity and self-possession,
and impressed every one favourably.
But the strain upon her newly-regained strength was
very great, and it was only excitement and a strong effort
of will that had enabled her to endure it so long. No
sooner did she re-enter the shelter of Braeside than she put
the climax to her poor old grandfather's tortures by bursting
into a hysterical fit of weeping. In truth, Johnnie Todd
was not far removed from hysterics himself, though his were
rather the result of intense relief at having got the job over.
He held Jess in his arms, soothing her as well as he could,
and saying encouragingly :
" Dinna greet, bairn; there's naething to greet about.
Oh, I am glad it is a' ower, and weel ower, too; for you
have reason to be proud o' yoursel'. You held your ain
ground in a perfectly wonderful way. Poor Will would
have been just extraordinary proud o' you—as he ought
to be."
This last well-meant reference to the missing loved one
naturally produced a fresh outburst of tears ; but when the
second paroxysm had passed, and baby Will, by demanding
attention, had helped the young mother to regain calmness,
she replied to the old man's effort at comfort.
"The worst part of it was to feel that I was there
amongst all the folic that Will belonged to, and that he was
not there. Oh, grandfather, I don't want to go again!
Take me away to some place where we shall just be always
quiet together, as we used to be—you, me, and baby."
THE NEWS GOES BOUND 119
'Hoots, lassie, you must not speak that way—you
that's been so brave and borne a' thing sae weel. Mind you,
you have your bairn to think of as well as yoursel'. The
Baldovie folks are his folks. That's no sayin' but what I
can quite sympatheeze "with you in not wishing to be present
at ony mair grand parties like yon ; for he'll be a clever
chiel that'll catch me putting on thae daft-like claes again."
Jess was not without a sense of humour, and the thought
of her grandfather's troubles with his unaccustomed gar-
ments made her smile through her tears. That did the old
man's heart good, and enabled him to feel at ease in leaving
her for the night.
She lay awake for a long time thinking, and from the
exhaustion of her body and her overwrought mind there
arose this phantom which was to haunt and torture her:
" "Would Will be pleased, or would he be angry and think
her forward not to wait till he came back ?" Asleep or
awake, the thought was always with her.
The conduct of Skipper Culross was peculiar. He slept
on board the barque, but he now spent some part of every
day with his daughter. She had dreaded his wrath, and
had been relieved by his forbearance. Then she was com-
forted and consoled by his singular gentleness, but gradually
she began to feel a vague uneasiness at his manner—it was
so subdued, so unlike himself. He spoke very little. He
would sit with her for an hour at a time, and speak no
word, whilst she nursed the baby. But whenever she looked
at him she would find his eyes resting on her with a wistful
expression, and occasionally they would be glistening with
moisture. To the casual onlooker the spectacle of this
strong, rough man brought down to a state of such abject
depression would have been painful — to Jess it was
agonising.
"Maybe it is because he is so long on shore," she
thought, trying to reassure herself. " I wonder why it is
they do not send the barque on her voyage."
Under ordinary circumstances business men wculd not
have wondered, for freight was at such low rates that it was
difficult to obtain a paying cargo for a vessel of the Camper-
down's size ; but they did wonder, knowing that the barque
was chartered by Carmichael and Co., and lay in harbour
at their charges.
120 A PBINOESS OF JUTE DOM
The secret reason why the skipper remained idly passive
in Fenerheerd's hands was that he had been promised some
tidings of Wild Will, and waited for them in order that he
might pursue him, amd bring him back to his duty, or
make him pay the penalty of treachery. He ought to have
been satisfied with the public acknowledgment of his
daughter; but he was not, although there was talk enough
about it in all conscience.
As Mrs. Carmichael had foreseen, the news of the formal
presentation at Baldovie of Mrs. William Carmichael was
on the tongue of all Jutedom—meaning particularly the
stronger part of Jutedom, the ladies—before the close of the
day following the dinner. It created a new sensation, just
when that caused by the sudden death of John Carmichael
and the mysterious disappearance of his son was beginning
to subside. Curiosity was piqued and the excitement in-
tensified by the fact that the newly-discovered wife was
the daughter of Skipper Culross, whose reputation was still
for some reason under a cloud.
Also, as Mrs. Carmichael had foreseen, Mrs. Lamond of
Birliebree did her duty as a herald, "and a kinclly one, such
being her nature. " Jeems," too, lost no time in performing
the part of bellman, and carrying to all and sundry of his
acquaintances his version of the new Baldovie romance. It
is true that the lady most concerned occupied a far-back
seat at the entertainment, according to his report of it; for
had people not been aware of his peculiarities, it might have
been supposed that the gathering was held chiefly for his
honour and glorification. He was made so welcome
wherever he went with his news that he became more and
more convinced of his own importance, if that were possible,
accepting all the attentions bestowed upon him as homage
due to his personal greatness, present and future, whereas
they were due to the fact that people were anxious to learn
all he could tell them of this new development of the
Carmichael mystery.
Many and varied were the comments on the revelation.
Some wondered that the marriage should have been kept
quiet so long; others wondered still more that Mrs.
Carmichael should have deemed it right to make it public
at this juncture. Discreet dames shook their heads, and
hoped she would not be sorry afterwards. Decidedly, in
THE NEWS GOES BOUND 121
their opinion, it would have been wiser to have waited a
little longer for Mr. "William's return. It was very extra-
ordinary—not to say very peculiar—this sudden appearance
of a wife, with a baby too ! But of course nobody meant to
bint that there was anything wrong. One matron of six
months' standing, who—being the granddaughter of a
ditcher, and not without a bar sinister even in that short
pedigree—had resolved to make herself a social power by
exclusiveness, declared that for her part she could not
think of receiving the supposed Mrs. William. But most
of the elder ladies whose voices were influential amongst
the community of Jutedom, determined to take for granted
that Mrs. Carmichael knew what she was about, and to
accept her views accordingly, though they themselves might
have acted with a little more pi .: Icnce under such delicate
circumstances.
There was another surprise in store for the good folk,
which was to provoke still further amazement and to
provide material for gossip which would effectually bar
dulness from every tea-drinking party throughout the
winter. The great heiress of Baldovie was still supposed to
be free, and mothers with eligible sons were giving them very
clear suggestions that here was a chance of winning a wife
who had fortune as well as beauty. These hints were
quite unnecessary, for it was impossible that men who had
the privilege of seeing her could he blind to her charms—•
of character as well as of outward form—or insensible to the
wealth which she had inherited. From the youth of
twenty to the man of mature age of forty and more, there
was a long array of would-be suitors. But they were held
in check by an indefinable something in the lady's manner.
Although in their privacy or amongst their cronies theywould
scoff at the idea of being afraid to make advances to her, yet in
her presence they could not make a sign beyond that of con-
ventional politeness. They could not understand the magic
of the atmosphere which encompassed her, but they felt its
influence, and were mute upon the subject which was up-
permost in their thoughts. Thus it came about that, half
in the bitterness of their secret admission of failure, and
half in mockery as a solace to themselves, both halves
being strongly infused with unconscious respect, they spoke
of her as the "Princess," and they vied with each other in
122 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
paying tributes of honour to her whenever they had an
opportunity.
One would report, as the most interesting item of the
day's news, that he had seen the ''Princess" driving up
Reform Street or along the Ferry Road. Another, who had
exchanged a few ordinary words of civility with her, would
say, with an exultation which he endeavoured to clothe with
an air of indifference suggestive that the event was of quite
common occurrence :
"Had a chat with the 'Princess' to-day. She is
looking first-rate—never saw her better. Hope they'll
soon give up the hermit life at Baldovie and give a fellow a
chanee of an evening now and again with them, as they used
to do. I thought they had decided to do so when they gave
that dinner, although it was only to a set of old fogies."
The magic which surrounded Marget was her absolute
unconsciousness of the power of her riches and of the value
which men set upon them, combined with the still more
potent power of her love for Norman. Her future was so
decided in her own heart and mind that she was oblivious
to the possibility that, her position being unknown except
to those immediately concerned, another man might fix his
hopes upon her, and suffer more or less on learning they
were vain. Even if she had thought about it, she would
have been unable to believe that any one else was capable of
caring for her as Norman did. She was devoid of that
vanity which induces so many women to seek to win the
attentions of men—or " to make conquests," as they call it—
without meaning anything more than the gratification of the
moment. She spoke with simple straightforwardness to all
comers, and so, in perfect innocence, conveyed the impression
that she was free. The mere fortune-hunters who were thus
deceived count for nothing ; but she would have been sorry
enough could she have guessed the number of honest men
who " wore the green willow " on her account when the truth
became known.
Wherever she appeared she became a centre of attrac-
tion. Some damsels were frankly spiteful, others were
secretly envious, but a large number were proud to enrol
themselves as maids of honour to the " Princess." They
were the happiest, and with them Marget was a great
iavourite, for she never betrayed the least consciousness of
UNDERCURRENTS 123
supremacy. For every bazaar in aid of a church or chapel,
Marget's assistance was sought, and although she had not
yet been persuaded to take a stall, she entered into the
real work of organisation and preparation with a zeal and
industry which never failed to result in a success. For
every charitable scheme her help was also sought, and she
worked zealously but quietly, and behind others, in forward-
ing any endeavour to comfort those who suffered from
poverty or sickness.
And meanwhile the poor Princess had her own " sorrows
to sup," for whilst she repeated to herself the assurance
that Feuerheerd would not dare to use the authority given
him by what purported to be her father's last writing in
opposition to her mother's and her own wishes, the mere
fact that he should have anything at all to say in reference
to her marriage was a constant source of irritation.
CHAPTER XXII.
undercurrents
One of the damsels who secretly envied Marget was the
doctor's daughter, Johanna Deuchars.
A motherless girl, she had been petted and made much
of by Mrs. Carmichael, and being frequently at Baldovie as
a child, girl, and young lady, she had seen more of its
inner life than ordinary acquaintances could have done.
Dr. Deuchars, like many other members of his profes-
sion, had neglected the teaching of science at the call of
love, and had married a delicate woman. Johanna, the
first offspring of the union, by very careful nursing was
brought up safely through the perils of feeble childhood, and,
like the majority of such children, she early developed a
peevish nature. Other children were born, and died in a
few months. At - length Mrs. Deuchars succumbed in
giving birth to a boy, when Johanna was fourteen.
Mrs. Carmichael was filled with compassion for this
poor girl, left so young with the care of a house on her
shoulders. But although Johanna accepted the sympathy
and all the advantages accruing to her from being treated
almost as one of the family at Baldovie, she did not really
124 A FEINCESS OF JTJTEBOM
stand in need of pity. She had every requisite at her
command to make a comfortable home. She was fond of
power, and it pleased her to hold the keys and sit on the
domestic throne. By nature sharp of tongue, woe to those
who neglected a duty or opposed her commands. It was
well for the good doctor's peace of mind that no thought of
supplying the place of his lost wife entered his mind, for
had he done so there would have been many a battle royal
in the kingdom of his home.
She was intimate with Marget, and hated her. First,
because of the position fortune had endowed her with.
Second, and most bitterly of all, because of the admiration
which Norman Grant had so early evinced for the favourite
of fortune. Johanna had set her heart on winning him
for herself. She had not yet given up hope, and had
looked forward as eagerly as Marget to the return of the
Lindores. But when the vessel was safe in port, the
captain spent his leisure time in Baldovie, and seemed to
have forgotten that such a place as Hazelbank was in
existence.
Johanna began to find fault with her old home,
believing its poor appearance to have something to do with
what she regarded as Norman's slight. But Hazelbank was
a substantial, although plain, old-fashioned whitewashed
cottage, overlooking the Tay, ample in space for the family,
and the doctor liked it for its associations.
He was a much " warmer " man than his daughter or
friends suspected. He might very well have rivalled his
neighbours and erected a greystone mansion like theirs.
But he was a canny man and a far-seeing man. He quietly
bought up sites in the rapidly expanding district, whilst he
remained in his own "biggin " without any show of wealth.
Maybe he had another reason besides his dislike to " show
off" for retaining his modest surroundings. He was a
favourite with his old-lady patients, and they had a kindly
way of mentioning him in their wills. Had he appeared
too flourishing he would probably have lost these sub-
stantial recognitions of his services, and might even have
been called upon to recommend what hospital or other
charitable institutions should have the benefit of them.
Had the daughter known the real position of his
affairs, she would have felt stronger in her own, and
UNDERCURRENTS 125
perhaps less spiteful towards those who, she fancied, had
been more favoured by fortune than herself. She was not
usually remiss in observing any of the customary social
amenities ; but under various pretences she had postponed
calling at Baldovie after the dinner. Her father regularly
inquired if she had been to call yet, and began to show
symptoms of displeasure at her excuses.
" They won't mind me, you know, papa. I am of so
little consequence."
" The less consequence we are in ourselves, the more
important is it that we should acknowledge the good
nature of those who have imagined we were worth thinking
about," said the doctor, sharply. The rebuke sank deeper
than he expected or intended.
Although there had been a considerable fall of snow,
and the white flakes were still floating downwards,
Johanna put on her hat and marched to Baldovie. The
distance was short, but she had to tramp ankle-deep
through the snow. When a lady starts " in a temper " to
pay a visit of ceremony, not because she wishes to pay it,
but because she must in order to maintain her own social
status, it is marvellous what a soothing effect a snell east
wind exercises on the mind.
Johanna was quite cool by the time she reached her
destination. She received with equanimity the intimation
that Mrs. Carmichael was not at home, and prepared with
much Christian resignation to endure an interview with
Marget. That was the way she put the matter to herself,
but in reality she was pleased by the idea of seeing Marget
alone ; having a distinct sense of her own superiority, she
had no doubt of being able to gain from her a few items of
information which might be useful hereafter. She hoped
to induce her to become confidential, and to reveal what
was the precise nature of her friendship with Norman
Grant.
But Marget did not gratify her curiosity on that point.
Whilst evidently doing her best to entertain the visitor,
there was a degree of abstraction in her manner, and she
glanced frequently at the windows and the door as if ex-
pecting some one. She talked about the soup-kitchen,
about the arrangements for the distribution of coals and
blankets amongst the poor during the winter, and seemed
126 A PRINCESS OF JTITEBOM.
to be altogether absorbed in the contemplation of certain
charitable schemes which she was preparing to put into
execution.
This was not at all what Miss Deuchars had come for,
but she was obliged to listen, and to pretend to take an
interest in the subjects of conversation. After several in-
effectual efforts to lead up to what occupied her mind most,
she rose, declaring that she had already exceeded her time
and must hasten home, as, although her father was neces-
sarily irregular in his attendance at meal-times, he always
expected her to be on the spot to give him his tea.
She had shaken hands, expressed her regret at not being
able to stay longer, and promised to call again soon, when
the door opened, and Captain Grant was announced. As
she bit her lip with chagrin, Johanna saw the bright flash
of pleasure on Marget's face, and read a great deal in it.
She would gladly have found some excuse for staying now,
but she could find none, and was compelled to depart in a
fiercer temper than that in which she left home. She was
bitterly sure that there would be neither soup-kitchens nor
blankets talked about between these two when she was gone.
The snow was still falling, and the delicate flakes were
being swirled up the avenue in eccentric circles by a rising
wind. Johanna bowed her head and held her umbrella
firmly as she walked quickly to the gate. She had given a
hasty good-afternoon to the old lodge-keeper, and was pass-
ing into the roadway, when she encountered Feuerheerd,
who saluted her with the blandest of smiles and shook
hands as cordially as if she had been his dearest friend.
" Not a very pleasant afternoon for making calls, Miss
Deuchars," he said.
"No, indeed, and it is the less agreeable to find one's
friends out," she answered brusquely.
" What, is Miss Carmichael not at home ? "
" Oh yes, she is at home, and Captain Grant has just
arrived. But it was Mrs. Carmichael I wanted to see."
The spleen in tone and manner was perfectly evident to
Feuerheerd, although she attempted to carry it off with a
little laugh. The laugh, however, served only to emphasise
it. She was in the very mood in which he desired to find
her, and he now had no doubt that his surmise as to the
nature of her feelings towards Grant was correct.
UNDEBOURRENTS 127
"Ah, tlien, I must have come too soon," he said quietly,
"for I have an appointment with Mrs. Carmichael. But as
she has not yet returned, I shall, with your permission, have
the pleasure of walking with you to Hazelbank."
She bowed, he took charge of the umbrella, and they
walked on.
Although she had no particular desire for his company,
it was very agreeable to find that there were some people
who took a pleasure in paying her attentions. At any rate,
Feuerheerd was always courteous, and there was never any
lack of conversation in his society.
" I suppose you have been exchanging confidences with
Miss Carmichael," he observed incidentally, " and she has
doubtless told you about the great event which is to come
off some day—probably soon after the period of mourning
is over."
" "What great event ? " she inquired in astonishment.
He looked astonished too, and spoke with well-feigned
incredulity. c
"You don't mean to say she has said nothing to you
who have been her friend from childhood ? She is surely
not ashamed of her engagement."
" Engagement! " ejaculated Johanna faintly. " What
engagement ?"
" To Captain Grant, the son of the old minister. It
certainly took me very much by surprise, for I was under
the impression—you will pardon me—that his thoughts
had long been fixed in quite another direction. But sailors
are proverbially changeable in affairs of this kind, and
Grant is no exception. We must excuse him, I suppose,
for the temptation to change his mind was peculiarly great
in his case, although it could not be on personal grounds."
The significance and deliberate flattery conveyed in this
speech would have been impertinence to a woman of true
sensibility; but to Johanna in her present humour there
was nothing out of place in it.
He noted the slight start with which she heard the an-
nouncement, and the sudden pallor of her face, which
assured him that, as he had calculated, he had here found
one who would be useful to him. Without waiting for any
answer—and indeed at the moment she was incapacitated
from giving any—he continued:
128 A PRINCESS OP JVTPDOtt
" Of course the lady is a great catch; but I never thought
Grant would have taken money into his consideration in
choosing a wife. However, he is a shrewd fellow as well as a
lucky one. (He shrugged his shoulders with a kind of contemp-
tuous pity.) " I dare say if he knew what people are saying
about him and about his extraordinary anxiety to have that
paper of Mr. Carmichaers opened, he would not like it."
" What was that ?" inquired Johanna, trying to recover
her self-possession.
"A paper that he seemed to think made everything
straight for him ; hut it turned out to he rather different
from what he expected. Did you not hear about that
either ?"
"No."
" I am utterly perplexed, Miss Deuchars, at the singular
want of confidence which has been shown towards you."
" Marget was not hound to tell me," was the dogged
response, under which she endeavoured to conceal the
smarts of what seemed to her despised friendship. She
was glad when Feuerheerd took his leave and turned again
towards Baldovie. But suddenly he rejoined her.
" There is one favour I must beg of you, Miss Deuchars
—that is, I would rather you did not let it be known that
I spoke of this affair to you. I naturally supposed that
you knew all about it. Besides, it may come to nothing;
for there is many a slip between the cup and the lip, you
know. Grant may alter his mind again when he discovers
how people are talking."
She hurried into the house, flung her hat on the table,
and tore off her cloak, in a rage with herself and with all the
world. She tried not to think, but as with aching head
.and throbbing temples she lay down on the couch, there
was a bitter cry ringing through her brain.
"It is not fair—it is not fair ! . . . Why should she
have everything ? Was it not enough that she should
have the wealth of a princess—that she should have at
command all that is denied to me, but she must take him
too ? ... It is not fair—it is not fair ! "
When the first paroxysm of jealousy and disappoint-
ment was over, Johanna began to look at the situation with
a degree of calmness.
One result of this calm survey was that she determined
MA BUYING FOB MONEY 129
not to add anotlier to tlie list of tlie already too highly
favoured Marget's triumphs by wearing ber heart out in
secret repining. No. She would bestir herself, and make
them pay for the suffering she had to bear. A second
result of her cogitations was that she pronounced herself a
fool to give up so easily. They were engaged—but what of
that ? Look at Annie Scott; she had been engaged five
times and married the sixth! Was it not possible, and
might it not be made probable, that Norman's present en-
gagement should be broken off too ?
Then Feuerheerd's words—or rather suggestions con-
veyed by them and his manner—recurred to her. She
spent some time wondering why he should have spoken so
curiously, but could not clearly solve the problem. She
felt instinctively, however, that he had meant to convey to
her the knowledge that in some way they had a common
interest in breaking off the match. So, without straining
her wits too much to discover what his real purpose might
be, she resolved in the meantime to follow the course which
she believed to be the most likely to delay, if not to bar
altogether, the fulfilment of the engagement. She knew
very well that Norman Grant was no fortune-hunter ; for,
though love may blind itself to the faults of the loved one,
it enables the poorest nature to appreciate and to exaggerate
whatever good qualities it may find. It was through his
nobler qualities that she hoped to achieve her purpose.
CHAPTER XXIII.
marrying for money
The immediate object of Norman's visit on that afternoon
was to escort Marget to the Manse. They delayed fome
time awaiting the return of Mrs. Carmichael, who had gono
to see Jess. An hour after the time when she had been
expected, Marget learned from Currie that the carriage hod
returned about half-an-hour before, and that Mrs. Car-
michael had got out at the lodge. Surprised at this infor-
mation, she sought her mother in her own rooms, and was
told by the maid that she had not come in yet.
"We will go down and meet her," suggested Norman.
K
130 A PRINCESS OE JUTE DOM
Accordingly Marget and lie proceeded down tlie avenue.
About half-way between the house and the gate, Norman
suddenly halted.
" "What was that ?" he exclaimed.
It was like a cry of some one in pain. Darting along a
path which led into the plantation, Norman found Mrs.
Carmichael lying in the snow half-insensible. His shout of
alarm, as he raised her, brought Marget quickly after him.
Marget's consternation was so great that she could only
exclaim : " Mother—what is this ?" Then, unconscious of
the snow on the ground, she was quickly on her knees by
Mrs. Carmichael's side.
She had not quite fainted, and when raised said :
"There is no need for you to be alarmed, my child ; I am
better now. Take me home.'
Suppressing the eager questions which would have passed
her lips, Marget lovingly gave the required assistance, and
leaning, at first somewhat heavily, on Norman's strong arm,
Mrs. Carmichael proceeded slowly towards the house.
Before they had reached it she paused for a few minutes,
and spoke to them thus :
"You have both been witnesses of my weakness. I
cannot explain the cause to you now further than that I
had received a shock for which I was quite unprepared, and
it was too much for me. Of your love, Marget, and of your
friendship, Norman," continued Mrs. Carmichael, bowing
her head slightly as she looked towards the latter, " I ask
the sacrifice that you will be content with this assurance,
and avoid making my slight indisposition the subject of any
remark."
" Of course we will not make a fuss about it, mother,
if you do not wish it," said Marget impulsively ; " but you
must be very unwell. You must lie down at once, and let
me take care of you."
"You are going to the Manse to-night. Have you for-
gotten that, child ?"
"No, mother; but I shall certainly not leave you to-
night ?"
" I shall be glad to have you with me, my darling, and
you must forgive me for having any secret from you ;
this trouble, however, is one that I must bear alone. It has
nothing to do with you."
MARRYING FOR MONEY 131
Marget felt inclined to utter the protest, " How can it
have nothing to do with me when it affects you so strongly ?"
but she remained silent, observing that the effort to regain
the house without exciting comment was proving almost
too much for her mother.
By-and-by, when Mrs. Carmichael, soothed by her
daughter's gentle service, was quietly resting on the sofa in
her own room, Marget found time to exchange a few ex-
pressions of wonder and sympathy with Norman.
The latter, while left to himself, had been ruminating on
the fact that he had noticed fresh footprints in the snow, of
some one who must have left Mrs. Carmichael shortly
before they found her. Whose could they be, and why did
the remembrance of them persistently suggest Feuerheerd ?
"How is she now?" were his first wordsras Marget
rejoined him in the drawing-room.
" Almost herself again, she says, but I do not think so.
It is not natural for her to have secrets. She has always
told me everything. What do you think about it,
Norman?"
"I can hardly tell you. Do you know of any
special reason your mother had for getting out of the
carriage and walking through the plantation ?"
" None ; except that she sometimes likes to have a little
walk if the drive has been a long one."
" Yes ; but it seems a strange fancy on such a day as
this. Do not you think so ?"
" Most unaccountable ; and yet, perhaps, if mother was
suffering so much she might want to have a little time to
fight with her trouble, whatever it is. What can it be ? I
thought at first it might be some horrible tidings of Will
that had come to her knowledge ; only then she could not
have said that it had nothing to do with me."
Norman was silent for a time. He shrank from com-
municating to the girl the unpleasant thought which had
suggested itself to his mind. Marget, however, knew the
language of his countenance too well not to be able to read
the signs of disturbance expressed in it.
" I am sure, Norman, you have some idea about it that
you have not told me yet. What is it ?"
Reluctantly Norman answered by a question: "Did
you notice the footprints in the snow close to where your
K 2
132 A PRINCESS OP IVTED Oil
mother was lying—footprints evidently freshly made, and of
some one who must have gone away by the other path ?"
Norman's manner impressed Marget with a sensation of
apprehension. She answered anxiously: " No, I did not
observe them ; but what of that ?"
" They must have been the footprints of the bearer of
evil tidings which produced such a distressing effect on your
mother," continued Norman slowly, and still with apparent
reluctance.
" Did you see any one ? " asked Marget eagerly. " Do
you guess who was there ?"
" I know no more than you do."
" But you have a suspicion. I can see you have. "What
is it, Norman?"
" I have a suspicion, but I have no grounds for it. It is
merely the result of an impression. Indeed, it seems
absurd," and Norman laughed at himself. " As I glanced at
the footprints I thought of Feuerheerd—that's all."
Marget looked amazed. " Feuerheerd ! "What should
mother want to see him there for when he can come here at
any time ?"
" I do not know. It seems improbable. Perhaps it was
an accident," suggested Norman, half regretting that he had
said anything of his suspicion.
There was a silence between the two for a few minutes.
Marget's conscience was upbraiding her with neglecting the
spirit of her mother's expressed wish in discussing this matter
even with Norman. Presently, with a slight constraint of
manner, she said : "I had better go back to mother now.
Tell your aunt and sisters that I shall soon be coming to see
them. Good-bye."
Norman was conscious of the change in her manner;
being assured, however, that he had in no way offended her,
the parting, though a hurried one, was not without the
sweetness of love.
When_ Norman arrived at the Manse without Marget
and explained the cause of her non-appearance, there was a
general expression of regret and sympathy. Yet his sisters
were by no means grieved at the prospect of having him
quite to themselves, especially as they wished to have an
opportunity of coaxing him into accepting an invitation to
go with them to spend the evening at Hazelbank, By way
MARRYING FOB MONEY 133
of inducement they impressed upon him that Johanna
Deuchars had specially invited him. Under the circum-
stances this flattering information had no influence on
Norman ; but he was conscious that he had not been very
attentive to his sisters since coming ashore, so, willing to
please them, he consented to be their escort.
As soon as Miss Deuchars had despatched that note of
invitation, which formed part of a carefully-thought-out
scheme, she started on a long round of calls. "When her
day's work was over, she congratulated herself that Marget
Carmichael's engagement would be talked about in a good
many households in Dundee and Broughty Ferry that
evening, and that the conversation would not be of a nature
likely to be very pleasing to either of the two principal
parties concerned. Some little birds were sure to be
officious enough to drop crumbs of these conversations in
the hearing of the victims or their near relations.
On the morning of the day on which the Grants were to
go to Hazelbank, the old minister gave the first blow to his
son by asking: " Have you been telling any one of your
engagement, Norman?"
"No, father," was the answer, in a tone of surprise.
" Why do you ask me this question ?"
" Welljlhavebeentosee one ortwo members ofthecongre-
gation to-day, and they have each made some reference to it.
I was not at all pleased, for I thought that we had all agreed
that, considering the circumstances, it would be more ad-
visable to keep it to ourselves for a time."
' 'I cannot understand it," said Norman, with some
irritation in his voice ; "lam sure Marget would not speak
about it. Can the girls have been chattering ?"
But the girls denied the accusation, though they did not
quite see the necessity for keeping such an agreeable fact
secret. During the day Norman had to bear with several
congratulations, and a good many hints and knowing winks
from his acquaintances. He was by no means in a good
humour when the time came to set out for Hazelbank. It
was a relief to him to find that Miss Deuchars made no sign,
of any knowledge of an engagement, and he took it as
another proof that Marget had not been the one to speak.
Who could have betrayed their secret ? His relief was of
short duration, for Johanna, by some skilful references to
134 A PBINGE SS OF JUTED01I
mutual acquaintances, managed to turn tlie conversation to
the subject of marriages for money. Then, very innocently,
she said:
" I am glad I am not rich, for I should not like any one
to marry me for money ; would you, Nellie ?"
Nellie Grant blushed a little uncomfortably, as she
replied: " No, of course not, and I am not likely to be afflicted
in that way ; but don't you think it is quite possible for a
man to love a girl, even if she has got money ?"
" Oh, yes, quite possible," said Johanna, with a harsh
little laugh ; " in fact, many men seem to find it remarkably
easy to do so. All I know is, if I were a man, I should be
ashamed to live on my wife's money. What is your opinion,
Captain Grant, on this momentous question ?"
Norman, although feeling sore and angry, answered
gravely : "I think that when a man truly loves a woman,
money is a matter of perfect indifference."
The words and the earnestness with which they were
uttered were like a dagger-thrust to Johanna, and the con-
versation flagged for some time.
Presently they heard the sound of wheels grating on the
gravel of the short avenue, and Dr. Deuchars soon entered
the dining-room. After greeting the young ladies, he
turned to Norman, and, shaking hands with him, said :
" Allow me to offer you my congratulations. I hear you
are to marry the heiress. You have taken good care to be
first in the field."
Norman was almost at the end of his patience. The
words that sprang to his lips were not complimentary to
heiresses in general, although conveying no meaning of dis-
respect to his betrothed.
He remained silent, however, and the doctor continued:
"No offence, but you do not look like the happy man you
ought to be. Wherever I have gone to-day the talk has
been of your good luck."
" I am sorry to hear it, doctor, for both Miss Carmichael
and I wished to keep it to ourselves for a bit."
" Why should you do that ? There is nothing to be
ashamed of on either side."
" Certainly not; though from the way people are talking
they seem to have forgotten that Marget is a beautiful and
true-hearted woman as well as an heiress. X wish to God
MARRYING FOR MONEY 135
she had not a farthing!" exclaimed the young man
passionately.
"Don't be a fool," said the doctor brusquely. "You
have gained your prize ; keep it and enjoy it."
When shortly afterwards the Misses Grant were getting
on their evening wraps, and Dr. Deuchars had gone to see
about some of his medicines, Johanna came up to Norman
as he stood alone, and said in a very gentle voice: " I hope,
Captain Grant, you will not be vexed with me for talking as
I did. I had no idea that what I said could apply to you."
Norman stared at her for a minute or two as if not
understanding what she meant, and then, feeling the sting
sheathed in the soft murmur, he answered coldly: "You
are mistaken, Miss Deuchars. You gave me no cause to be
offended."
Johanna was disappointed by his calmness, but when
clear of the house the calmness disappeared, and his sisters
afterwards declared that they had never known Norman
speak so roughly or behave so rudely as on that night.
As soon as they reached home he went to his father's
study and implored his advice as to what he had better do.
" I must put a stop to this somehow. It is horrible
that people should dare to say that I ever thought even for
a moment of her money. If only the trustees would oppose
our marriage, I could have her then without the cursed
stuff. Then perhaps people would keep their mouths shut."
" Norman, my boy," said the old minister, with gentle
earnestness, " you are excited and troubled to-night. To-
morrow you will look at things more calmly. Remember,
you have Marget's future happiness and comfort to think
of as well as your own, and that must not be sacrificed to
idle gossip."
" True, father; I had almost forgotten that. But I am
sure she does not think that money could influence me any
more than it has influenced her."
"Then be thankful for that assurance of her love and
trust, and prove it by letting her share your trouble to-
morrow. She is clear-headed, and, between you, you may
find some wiser way of meeting this trouble than by letting
the world's tittle-tattle overpower your judgment. Sleep
over it, man; and look for guidance where it is never denied
to the earnest seeker,"
136 A PRINCESS OF JUTE BOM
Norman left his father's study greatly soothed and
strengthened, and determined to follow his advice, especially
as regarded consulting Marget. There was some comfort in
looking forward to her indignant sympathy.
But before he fell asleep, he had made a covenant with
himself that he would not claim the fulfilment of Marget's
promise to him until he had made himself such a position
as to render it impossible that the accusation of fortune-
hunting should be brought against him.
CHAPTER XXIV.
what does it mean?
What Norman had said about the footprints in the snow made
a deeper impression upon Marget than he had any reason
to suspect. She did not, of course, in the slightest degree
imagine that her mother would keep back any hint about
the fate of Will, but she could not help feeling that this
strange misadventure had something to do with him.
Dinner that evening was a solitary one, for her mother
had intimated that she was unable to come downstairs, and
David had gone to attend a lecture on chemistry at the
rooms of the Young Men's Christian Association.
When she got to her own room, Marget exchanged her
dress for a dressing-gown, and sat down to think the whole
matter over.
Two things were clear. First, that Feuerheerd was
somehow at the bottom of all the trouble that was be-
falling the house. Second, that he was working in such
a way that, whilst he was suspected by several people, no
one had any clue to his motive or object.
Marget rose. " My business shall be to discover that
motive and object," she said passionately, but in a subdued
tone. At that moment she caught the reflection of her-
self in a cheval glass, and suddenly she lifted her hands to
her head, shrinking back as if in terror. Then she stretched
her hands out before her face, as if to hide the vision from
her eyes.
" No, no !" she cried ; "it cannot be that. It cannot
be me !"
WHAT DOES IT MEAN? 137
But she sat down with a great fear upon her, and, for
the first time, became conscious that she was an object for
men to desire on account of her personal attractions as well
as of her wealth. The sensation was mingled with wonder
and deep indignation, for all her thoughts were given to
Norman, and she only now began to see that men's eyes
could be attracted to her because she was rich, and without
regard to the fact that she was the chosen one of another.
The idea that Feuerheerd should dare to think of her
was startling enough in itself; but the possibility that in
thinking of her he had ventured upon plans which she
shuddered even to contemplate, bewildered and dismayed
her exceedingly. Her flesh was creeping with terror;
her eyes were starting with affright, and she was alarmed
at the crackling of the coal in the grate, so that it was
with difficulty that she suppressed a scream when she
heard the handle of the door turn.
She rose hastily as her mother slowly entered the room.
Mrs. Carmichael was also attired in a long dressing-gown
of some soft dark material richly trimmed with lace. She
held in her hand a light, and seemed to be guiding
herself by it, as if unconscious of the lights in Marget's
room. There was something so peculiar in her way of
advancing into the apartment, in the expression of her
features, and particularly in the abstracted gaze of her
eyes, that Marget, whose nerves were already in a highly
strung condition, felt a sensation of eeriness stealing over her.
Mrs. Carmichael slowly advanced towards the fireplace,
put the candlestick on the chimney-piece, and dropped
into a chair in an attitude of languor totally at variance
with all her habits. She motioned to Marget to be seated.
The girl mechanically obeyed, gazing in wonder at her
mother, who in turn looked at her, and yet did not seem to
see her.
"I must speak to you," began Mrs. Carmichael in a
low, monotonous tone, as of one mesmerised and forced to
Speak against her will. " A mother does not like to speak
of some things to a daughter ; but you are a good girl, and
you will understand. Long ago, before I knew your father,
I cared for some one very much—as you care for Norman
Grant. But he was not like Norman Grant. "What hap-
pened then does not matter; but now, when the thought of
138 A FRINGE SS OF JUTE DOM
him was buried almost out of remembrance, I have been
obliged to think of him. He has committed a great crime.
It is in my power to save him from its consequences. Am I
to speak, or be silent ?"
Marget was too much astonished to reply immediately.
She was about to follow her loving impulse to go over to her
mother, kiss her, and soothe her with the assurance of
sympathy, when, without waiting for any answer, Mrs.
Carmichael rose, took up her candle, and slowly withdrew as
she had come. Marget followed her anxiously to her room,
but, evidently unconscious of her daughter's presence, she
carefully extinguished the light, and lay down in bed, and
was soon apparently fast asleep.
More puzzled than ever, Marget returned to her own
apartment. Had her mother been dreaming, and had she
been walking and talking in her sleep ? Marget had never
heard of her doing such a thing, but perhaps the unusual
mental perturbations through which she had been passing
might have induced the attack. Then how much was she to
believe of what her mother had said ? If true, it would
certainly account for the sudden indisposition which had
overcome her. She sat up thinking for an hour or two, and
making frequent visits to her mother's room. The latter
continued to sleep quietly ;. and at last Marget, too, retired
to rest, determining to say nothing to her mother of what
had happened unless she herself should refer to it.
Next morning Mrs. Carmichael seemed to be quite
well, but she noticed that her daughter was pale. Thinking
that the sea-breeze would do her good, she gave her a com-
mission to execute, which took her to the neighbourhood of
Broughty Castle.
Having done her mother's bidding, the girl, enticed by
the bright sunshine, proceeded along the sands beyond the
weather-beaten old fortress. She felt herself drinking in
renewed nerve and courage as she faced the vigorous breeze,
which, with the briny spray of the German Ocean seemed to
mingle memories of the icebergs it had passed on its way.
She stood for a few minutes watching the London steamer
feeling its way to the mouth of the gleaming Tay. As she
turned in a homeward direction she noticed on the sands, a
little farther up, an old fisherman mending his net, and
talking to a little boy. The boy seemed very eager, and she
WHAT DOES IT MEAN? 139
wondered what it was about, while thinking that a pretty
sketch might be made of them, with the boats and nets lying
near.
" Ay, laddie, I am no sayin' but that it's a gey bonnie bit
button. Whaur did you say you found it ?"
"Me and Jeanie Dow found it i' the wynd, just lyin' i'
the gutter. She saw it afore me, but I gripped it afore her,
so she's to hae a share of what 1 can get for it. We didna
steal't, onyway."
" I'm no sayin' 'at you didna come by it honest enough,
though Job's Wynd is no just the place that a body would
expect to find the like o' thae things lyin' about in."
The speakers were Bauldie Munro, who was sitting on
the sands mending his net and smoking his short clay pipe,
and a little ragged boy, who stood beside him. The brown
eyes looked out bright and eager from the urchin's grimy
face, for he was trying to strike a bargain with the old
fisherman.
Bauldie had a bit of the smuggler in him, and was not
averse to turning a penny out of odds and ends whose origin
was a little uncertain.
" Weel, you'll gie.us an offer for't at ony rate, will you
no ? " said the boy, getting impatient.
" Maybe I may. What would you say to eighteen-
pence ?" queried Bauldie tentatively..
"Na, na," replied the youthful bargainer. "That's
clean ridiculous, and you ken that brawly. Just hae
anither look at it;" and he pulled the treasure from its
ragged receptacle, and exposed its beauties against the dark
background of his palm.
Bauldie looked, and his eyes glistened ; but he bent his
head over his net, saying solemnly :
" Eighteenpence is a heap o'siller for a bit laddie like
you."
"You are no to hae it then?" and it went back into
obscurity. " I'll just try Geordie Donaldson. He kens a
guid thing when he sees't."
" Od, but you're in an awfu' hurry, man ! A body would
think you was to be aff to Lunnon wi' that steamboat there.
You havena tell't me yet what you're seeking for't."
" I'm seeking half-a-crown," said the youngster boldly,
" and I'll no tak' a bawbee less,"
140 A PRINCESS OF JUTEBOM
" Half-a-crown !" exclaimed Bauldie, as if appalled at
the enormity of the demand. "You are haverin' noo a'
thegither." Then, after a minute or two, seeing signs
of preparation for departure in the impatient little feet that
were half covered with sand, he resumed, with an air of
benevolence, "Weel, I'm thinking we will just say it's a
bargain, seein' that your mither has had a hard fight, and
that you have to gie Jeanie Dow the half o' it."
The fisherman therewith slowly extracted from his
breeches-pocket the necessary coins and handed them to the
eager hoy, receiving his prize in return with no less eager-
ness, although it was not so openly displayed.
As soon as the silver had taken the place of the golden
button in the ragged pocket, the lucky recipient said :
" But I am no to gie Jeanie Dow the half. I'll gie her a
shilling and keep the lave, for it's me that has bargained
for't."
And away he sped, proud of his riches and as ignorant
of the true value of what he had parted from as Bauldie was
of the value which it was to have in the future for himself
and others.
CHAPTER XXV.
a defiance
"Whilst there was unaccountable delay in despatching
Culross's barque, there was sudden and unexpected activity
in getting the Lindores ready for sea. The explanation
given was that large orders had been received from the
Calcutta agents of the firm, and as they were of a highly
advantageous kind, it was important that they should be
executed promptly.
When Feuerheerd sent for Norman to explain the new
arrangement, the latter was for a moment somewhat dis-
pleased by the unlooked-for curtailment of the time he had
expected to spend on shore. But a sailor soon learns to
accept as a matter of course that unpleasant part of his duty
which involves separation from those dear to him, for months
at a time, and so his answer was prompt: "All right. I'll
be ready."
" I thought you were not the man to shirk a call to duty,"
A DEFIANCE 141
Said Feuerlieerd admiringly; " although I can quite under-
stand that it cannot be particularly agreeable to be sent off
on such short notice."
" Never mind that. I suppose nobody who has to work
his way expects to find everything arranged just as he would
like it."
" That is true; but we cannot all reconcile ourselves
like philosophers to the disagreeable parts of our work.
However, I look upon this as one of the most valuable
orders the firm has received for years, and as likely to open
new and important channels for our trade. Besides, there
is one pleasant notion you can carry with you—that your
new ship will be completely finished by the time you return.
You know, too, that our late friend, the head of the house,
would have preferred you to be the one entrusted with the
care of the rich cargo we are sending out."
After the first moment's surprise Norman saw nothing
extraordinary in this sudden call, and considered that
Feuerheerd was making the business as easy for him as it
could be made. Another idea was running through his
head, namely—that this arrangement afforded him an
earlier opportunity of getting out of earshot of idle and
irritating gossip. So far as that was concerned, the sooner
he was off the better. But how would Marget take it?
What might she not be suffering during his absence, on
account of the gossip from which he was escaping ?
" Do they know at Baldovie yet ?" he inquired with a
little awkwardness.
Feuerheerd shook his head, and looked as if he had no
conception of what was uppermost in Norman's thoughts.
"I fancied that you would prefer to make the com-
munication yourself. Besides, I did not know until now
that you were willing to go."
This answer caused Norman to look at him with his
clear searching eyes, and the question flashed through his
mind—" Was it possible that Feuerheerd had some ulterior
object in getting him out of the way?" But he found
nothing in the man's expression or bearing to indicate that
he had any other object than the one explained—simply that,
as a matter of business, he wanted this cargo to be taken
charge of by one of the most favoured commanders in the
•service of the firm,
142 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
But Norman was not quite so well satisfied as he had
been inclined to he a few minutes before ; for there now
came back to him the curious look that passed over Feuer-
heerd's face on the night of the dinner, and Marget's
whispered explanation," He sees you—and me." The words
had for a time given him reflections that were unpleasant
enough; for although he knew that there could be no
question of rivalry between them in Marget's mind, he did
not like to think of the motive which the desire to win her
would give Feuerheerd to get him out of the way. He
endeavoured to dismiss the thought, and to speak with his
usual frankness.
" It was considerate of you to leave me to explain this
alteration in my plans. I am going to Baldovie to-day, but
first I must go down to the dock and have a look over the
Lindorcs, and see that all is right."
" I" think you will find that everything in the way of
repairs has been done, and the men are busy loading."
Here was another curious circumstance, that the men
should have begun to load before it had been definitely settled
that he was to take charge. However, he went away without
commenting on the subject, but hoping in his mind that the
work had not proceeded far before he had had an opportunity
of giving full instructions to the mate.
Feuerheerd, sleek, bland, and apparently as grateful
that the young captain had agreed to take command as if he
had received some special personal favour, saw him to the
door. On returning to his own room he went to one of the
windows and watched Norman striding rapidly towards the
dock in which the Lindores lay. His fingers were playing
a kind of tattoo on the window-ledge, whilst he seemed to
be whistling some soft tune. It was not a whistle, however,
but rather a strong breathing through the lips contracted
into a circle, as if he had been about to whistle. Then, with
hands clasped behind him he paced the floor slowly, and
there was a serious expression on his countenance. His
head slightly bowed, his eyes were fixed on the floor, as if
he were reading there, something of the gravest importance.
Presently he halted and nodded to some familiar spirit
present to his mind's eye, to which he whispered* " Yes, I
must be there before him."
He exchanged his office coat for his out-of-door garment,
A DEFIANCE 143
put on his hat, and after a brief conversation with Johnnie
Todd and Mr. Whitelaw about some bnsiness to be attended
to in his absence, went out.
In the High Street he took a cab, and drove straight to
Baldovie. He was at once conducted to the library, where
lie found Mrs. Carmichael. She did not rise on his entrance
or proffer her hand ; but, in a dull tone, uttered the
monosyllable: "Well?"
" I trust you are feeling better," he said softly ; " and
that my disagreeable communication does not continue to
afflict you so much as it did at first."
"Yes—I am better, thank you," she answered hesitat-
ingly, whilst she mechanically turned over some letters
which she had been examining. " Have you anything
further to tell me ?"
He looked surprised and somewhat anxious at her
manner. " I have nothing more to tell. I came expecting
you to tell me what you purpose doing."
" In what way ? " She still spoke with a dull, absent
air, as if her thoughts were far away from the subject of
conversation.
" I see you have not yet made up your mind," he said,
as if much concerned on her account. "There is certainly
no occasion for haste, for the man's present condition will
keep him helpless for some time. But, as I would like to
regulate my conduct according to your wishes, I want you
to let me know as soon as may be, and your strength will
permit, whether you mean to prosecute him or let him go.
Or—to see him."
The woman shuddered and seemed to shrink back, as
she half closed her eyes. " To see him ! " she echoed, as if
horrified by the suggestion conveyed in the question.
" I certainly would not advise you to do so," he said,
with sudden firmness. " It can do no good, and on every
account it would be better that you should come to your
decision without seeing him. . . . But you are ill. Allow
me to give you a glass of water."
On a side-table there was a handsome Egyptian carafe.
He poured out the water, and handed it to her. She drank
it hastily, if feverishly athirst or in a state of nervous
excitement, not knowing precisely what she was doing.
But in a few minutes afterwards she seemed to revive, and
144 A PBINGFSS OF SVTEDOM
yet it was not a revival that was pleasant to look upon.
The eyes cleared and the features slowly formed into a kind
of faint smile, but there was no intelligence in the eyes or
in the expression of the face.
"You are right. There is no need for me to see him.
But I have not yet decided how to act. ... As you say,
I am ill. Perhaps in another day or two I shall be able to
consult Mr. Dalgleish."
Feuerheerd's heavy eyebrows twitched slightly, as if he
hud been suddenly made aware of something he had not
foreseen. Was it danger to himself, or to others ?
"I had not thought of Mr. Dalgleish," he said slowly,
as if carefully considering an important question. " Un-
doubtedly he would be your best adviser, but "
He paused, and, whilst looking at her earnestly, his
right hand gently smoothed the little finger of the left.
The action suggested a note of interrogation.
" Well ? But what ?" said Mrs. Carmichael, with sub-
dued irritation.
The irritation was most remarkable in her, for she had
been noted all through her life for the perfect command
she had over her temper. Ho one was able to say that she
had been seen in a passion. The worst that could be said
was, that she had on occasions shown impatience with
people who we're persisting in falsehood. And now she
who had lived so calm a life was displaying irritation with
the manager of her husband's business, who was apparently
doing his utmost to serve her.
He answered in a low tone, and with singular deliberate-
ness, like one who desired to impress upon his hearer the
gravity of the position in which she was placed : " Would
it be safe ? . . . Mr. Dalgleish is one of my most esteemed
friends, and it is because I appreciate so thoroughly the
uprightness of his character that I put the question. He
is a stern man in any matter of this land, and to go to him
merely to ask his advice would certainly bring upon you
his displeasure. He would condemn us both for having
kept silence even for a day. He would refuse to advise ;
but he would not be silent, and perhaps we should both be
involved in most unpleasant consequences."
As he paused again, she put her hands to her head as if
it were aching.
A DEFIANCE 145
" I must think—I must have time to think," she mut-
tered, like one bewildered by the circumstances in which
she was placed.
He proceeded in the same deliberate, low tone as before,
his eyes still fixed upon her, his right hand still playing
with the little finger of the left: " If the man is to be given
up, we, or you, must do it."
She rested back on her chair, closing her eyes as if to
shut out some picture of horror, and still clasping her head
as if to subdue the wild throbbing within, whilst a shudder
seemed to pass over her.
He spoke again : " Go to Mr. Dalgleish, by all means ;
hut I know you will permit me to advise you—do not go
until you are prepared to tell him where he can find and
arrest the "
" Hush, hush !" she exclaimed, starting to her feet, and
by a powerful effort of will regaining a degree of her ha-
bitual calmness; " do not speak the word—yet. You have
no proof."
"His own words," said Feuerheerd gravely, "and the
articles found in his possession can leave no doubt on any
mind, except yours,"
She sank back on her chair again, as if exhausted.
"You are right. I must wait until I have decided how
to act"
There was a flash of triumph in the man's eyes, and at
that moment Marget entered.
A quick look at Feuerheerd, and then she ran to her
mother, putting an arm round her neck to support her head.
" Mother, mother ! you are ill, and this man is the cause of
it!" she cried passionately. At the same moment she
turned fiercely upon Feuerheerd. " It was you, then, who
caused her to faint in the snow, and then slunk away to
hide yourself from her friends."
"I was with your mother," answered Feuerheerd calmly,
" but I did not know that she had fainted, and I am still
less aware of ever having tried to run away from any one,
whether friend or foe."
"It is false !" exclaimed the girl, driven out of all self-
control by the sight of her mother's face.
" I can excuse your saying so, Miss Carmichael, but I
am sorry you should think so," he rejoined in a quiet, deep
L
146 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
tone of regret. " Your mother will herself tell you that I
am taking much risk and much trouble to save her pain."
" What is it you risk ? What pain can you save her
from that I and those who love her cannot save her from,
and would not risk our lives to do it ?"
He lifted his hand deprecatingly. " For the answer to
that question you must ask her. I can give none."
"Because you have none," was Marget's scornful
rejoinder.
She would have said more, hut her mother recovered
sufficiently to check her. " Hush, hush, child ! You do
not understand Mr. Feuerheerd," she murmured. "He
is . . . my friend."
She faltered a little in pronouncing the last two words,
and an acute ear would have detected in the tone ample
indication that she called him her friend against her will.
Feuerheerd apparently had not an acute ear for tones ;
he bowed with an air of exceeding gratitude for this vin-
dication of his character, which had been so daringly
impugned.
"I cannot give you thanks enough, Mrs. Carmichael,
tor your defence," he said softly, as he glanced at Marget
with a gently reproachful expression. "You know how
much I value the good opinion of your daughter, and
therefore you can understand with what bitterness I learn
just now that she regards me as—well" (this with a playful
attempt to turn the matter into a jest), " as what people in
a play would call an enemy."
Marget was looking steadily at him all the time, and
the look said very plainly—"Yes, you are an enemy, and
one to he watched at every turn until the opportunity
comes to prove what you are."
Although he was smiling as if innocence rendered him
impervious to her suspicion and scorn, he understood what
the look meant. He was, in fact, making an important
mental comment. " It is war between us, then. Very
well. You are so sure of Grant that you fancy you have
no need for other friends. But ' I'll set down the pegs
which make this music,' " he added, involuntarily quoting
from a kindred spirit.
These thoughts passed through the minds of the two
opponents so rapidly that there was 110 apparent interrup-
A DEFIANCE 147
tion to the^ conversation, and Mrs. Carmichael replied
faintly to his last observation : " It is a pity that you
mistake each other at such a time as this. But remember,
Mr. Feuerheerd, my daughter is anxious about me, and
having discovered that you brought the tidings which have
depressed me so much, she, not knowing the circumstances,
blames you. But she will not do so any longer, since she
knows that you are acting in my behalf."
"My dear madam, please do not distress yourself 011
my account. I am satisfied that as soon as Miss Carmichael
learns the nature of what I have been doing, she will be as
ready to thank me as you are yourself. You will permit
me now to say good-afternoon. I shall hear from you, of
course, with instructions."
" To-morrow or next day," answered the unhappy lady
languidly.
*****
Throughout the routine of his duties that day Feuer-
heerd was haunted by the expression of Marget's face as
she accused him, by implication, of being the cause of all
their trouble. He had always known that the Princess
was a woman of decided character, and would be able to
assert her will when occasion required. But he was a little
taken aback by this sudden revelation of a spirit which it
would not be easy to quell, and he was still more taken
aback by the discovery of her intuitive perception of what
was going forward.
The thing haunted him because he could find no con-
elusion to it. This girl's boldness and keenness of vision
were elements which lie had not calculated upon in making
his arrangements. What might she do—what might she
discover ?
Then he laughed at himself, The idea that he could
be foiled by a mere girl! And so he went gaily home.
But when he lay on his couch after dinner, resting, the
thought still haunted him in his rest, troubled him, and
disturbed him. Suddenly there seemed to flash upon his
vision, as a picture in a mirror, a woman with straggling
hair, pointing at him ; and he heard distinctly the words :
" Thou art the man."
He started to his feet in anger ; then laughed at him-
self again, and went up to his laboratory.
l 2
148 A PBINOFSS OF JFTEDOM
CHAPTER XXVI.
departure of the " lindores "
The servants at Baldovie, with their usual penetration into
the more secret affairs of their employers, had begun to
recognise the fact that Captain Grant was a visitor to be
treated with much respect, and at the same time to be
allowed considerable freedom. When, therefore, after
having made a thorough inspection of the Lindores and
consulted with the mate as to modifications in the bestowal
of the cargo, he arrived in haste to impart his tidings to
Mrs. Carmichael and Marget, and asked if the ladies were
at home, the old butler felt justified in permitting himself
to reply : "I think, sir, you will find Miss Carmichael in
Mr. Willum's room—that was."
Marget had gone there after the exciting scene of the
morning, not merely because it was a quiet room, and one
in which she was not likely to be disturbed, but because, in
her perplexity, she was thinking of Will. If only he had
been at home all this trouble would have been nothing, for
in him she would have been sure of an ally against Feuer-
heerd. Besides, if it had not been for Will's absence this
man would have had no power to interfere in their lives in
the way he was doing.
Although her mother had said enough after Feuer-
heerd's departure to make it clear to Marget that the
source of her trouble was a revival of some past chapter of
her history, the girl could not understand what Feuerheerd
had to do with it. Her opinion of him remained the same,
but she regretted bitterly that by her want of self-control
she had allowed him to see so clearly what that opinion
was. Whatever the motives of his conduct might be, she
was fully aware that he was no ordinary schemer, and that
it would not be a light task to fight against his undoubted
skill and abilities.
" Oh, Will, Will! why are you not here ?" she ex-
claimed.
The door opened, and she started forward with a little
cry, half hoping, half fearing that the lost one had returnec|
in answer to her call. She recognised lier lover.
" It is you, Norman. I thought it was "
PPPARTtfRP OP TUP "LINDOtiES" 149
Not a very flattering welcome for the yonng lover; but
his mind was so much occupied with the news which he
had to communicate that he did not notice it, or think of
resenting the note of disappointment in her tone, which
seemed to mean—"It is only you." He did, however,
soon become aware of the extreme agitation of her manner,
and, with pardonable vanity, associated it with himself.
" What is the matter, my darling ? Have you heard
already ? I thought you did not know."
" Surely there is nothing more to know ?" said the girl,
almost peevishly. "It seems to me I know too much
already." Then with a sudden change to tenderness, she
held out her hands to her lover, exclaiming : " Oh, Norman,
I am so glad you have come ! I am very unhappy, and
I have so much that I want to say to you."
Norman answered this appeal in manly fashion, and for
a few moments the language of silence was the medium by
which confidences were exchanged between the two. Then
Marget, calmed by the joy of his presence, began to tell
him about her mother's continued illness.
" Yet she is not exactly ill. She gets up, walks about,
takes her meals, and seems to be doing everything as usual;
but there is a listlessness about her manner and movements
that I never saw in her before. And the expression in her
face is so strange—I cannot describe it to you ; but if you
were to see her I am sure you would notice it. She is some-
times very irritable over trifles; at other times gay when
there seems no reason for it, and the gaiety is so strange—
the laugh is so unlike her own cheery laugh, that I hate to
hear it."
" Don't you think you had better get Dr. Deuchars to
come and see her ?" suggested Norman.
" I thought of that, but mother was very angry when I
spoke to her about it. And, indeed, I do not think any
doctor could do her much good, unless he could take away
the trouble which is upsetting her. Oh, I wish we could
help her in some way ! You were right about one thing—
it was Feuerheerd who left her lying in the snow."
" How did you find that out ?" questioned Norman.
" He was here this morning, and had been with mother
.some time before I knew of his arrival. "When I did go to
the library, I found her almost as ill as before. Then I lost
150 A PllINOESS OF JUTE DOM
patience, and taxed him with the cowardliness of his he-
haviour the other day."
Norman was considerably surprised to hear of Feuer-
heerd's morning call, for he had given no hint to him of any
intention to go to Baldovie.
" How conld yon be sure that it was he who was with
your mother in the plantation ?"
" He told me so himself, but he denied all knowledge of
the fainting-fit. It was foolish of me to speak as I did, for
it only vexed mother and put him on his guard. She told
me that I did not understand him, and that he was acting
as her friend. Oh, Norman, what could my father have
meant by placing such a man in authority over us ?"
" That is what makes me hesitate most about yielding
to our prejudices against the man, for your father, shrewd
as he was, could surely not have been so utterly mistaken
in his character. Besides, he could never have foreseen
what was to happen to Will."
" Poor Will! Norman, listen," and she drew closer to
him and spoke in a half-whisper, as if terrified at the utter-
ance of the thought which was haunting her ; " I cannot
get rid of the feeling that Feuerheerd is somehow the cause
of the trouble about him, too. I believe he knows where
Will is—if he is alive." She shuddered as she slowly spoke
the last words.
" Surely you do not suspect the man of murder!" ex-
claimed Norman, horrified.
" I think him capable of anything," was her passionate
utterance.
" What object could he have for such a crime ? "
" I do not know; but he is the only one who had any-
thing to gain by Will's absence."
" True ; but he could not have known that at the time
your brother disappeared, for then your father's wishes were
not known."
"We did not know the contents of that paper ; no doubt
he knew them well enough. I tell you, Norman, I will
never, to my dying day, admit that that paper expressed
my father's wishes regarding me. I know too well how he
loved and trusted me."
" Yes ; but, Marget," replied Norman with some hesi-
tation at first, and then with increasing bitterness in his
DEPARTURE OF THE "LINDORES" 151
tone, " perhaps it was his love for you that made him think
it necessary to guard you against poor suitors, like me, who
might he attracted by your fortune. Marget, Marget, your
fortune is your only fault. I wish you were a penniless
lassie, fit to be a sailor's bride !"
Marget, too, had been made aware of the gossip that
was going on about them, and had guessed who the origi-
nator of it was. But it had not affected her much.
Her faith in Norman was unshaken. She knew that money
could have no influence on him in such matters. It is true
that she had sometimes thought with joy that, in giving her-
self to him, she would be able also to give him the means of
living a broader and more useful life. Her satisfaction in
this thought was the deeper, because she knew her lover's
character to be unusually generous and unselfish; [and that
he would be able and willing to give guidance and sympathy
in all her plans for making a beneficent use of the power
entrusted to her. She had hoped that the gossip might
not have reached Norman, although she did not fore-
see that he would feel it so acutely. Now, perceiving,
from the unusual bitterness of his tone, that the wound was
a deeper one than she had deemed possible, she endeavoured
with womanly gentleness to soothe his irritation.
Putting a hand on each shoulder, and looking in his
face with a tender light in her eyes, and a reproachful smile
on her lips, she said: " Do you really mean to say, Norman,
that I am not fit to be a sailor's bride ?"
" My darling," said the young captain, as he looked with
fond pride on the lovely face so near him, "you are fit to
be the bride of an emperor."
" That will not do, Norman. I do not want to be the bride
of an emperor ; but I do want to be worthy of the love of
my own brave sailor."
"What wonder if Norman forgot for a time all about the
world's sayings and the necessity for fitting himself to be
the mate of a princess !
By-and-by he said regretfully: "You have not shown
much curiosity to know my news. I came on purpose to
tell you something."
" I hope it is something pleasant, Norman."
" No, it is not pleasant; but a sailor's bride must be
prepared to hear such news."
152 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
Marget looked at him inquiringly, and, judging by his
tone and expression that he was in earnest, she said
anxiously : " Tell me what it is."
Drawing her closer to him again, he said gently : "The
Lindores is to he ready to start in a week or two, and I am to
take command."
" You !—so soon ? I thought you were to wait for the
new ship."
" That is to he ready when I come hack. I have been
specially requested to take charge of this cargo. It is a
valuable one."
" Who requested you ?"
" Mr. Feuerheerd, as manager, for the firm."
" Feuerheerd again ! Is there no escaping him ? But
you will not go. It is. a trick."
" I have signed the articles. I must go. Eveiything
seems straightforward and natural. A sailor cannot always
count on his time ashore, however much he may wish to
prolong it. Besides, for some reasons, I shall he glad to
go," said Norman, remembering the thorns in £is bed of
roses again.
Marget took no notice of the unlover-like termination
of his speech, for his expression and attitude belied the
words. They lingered more than usual over their parting,
both feeling saddened by the thought that the longer one
was so near.
Captain Grant had much to superintend in the time
which remained to him ashore; still he was at Baldovie
every day, and he did not fail to observe in Mrs. Carmichael
the change of which Marget had spoken to him. Indeed,
as the days went on, the change became more marked. Her
memory failed her frequently—in trifling things, it is true,
but yet things about which she had been accustomed to be
very particular. On one or two occasions she hardly
seemed to know what she was saying to him ; and had he
not been'perfectly certain that it was impossible, he would
have concluded that she had been over-indulging in wine,
or in an opiate of some kind. The members of the house-
hold who observed the change in their mistress charitably
ascribed it to the fact that she was only now frilly realis-
ing the great loss which she had sustained.
David was occupied with his own pursuits and amuse-
COUNTERPLOTS 15,3
ments, and had not noticed that his mother was unlike
herself. When Feuerheerd told him that Captain Grant
was to start with the Lindores in a few weeks, he resolved
to try to gain permission to accompany him. He revealed
his plan to Marget first, however, and she succeeded in
persuading him to put off the desired journey till Norman
got his new ship, assuring him that it would be absolute
cruelty on his part to desert them at such a time. David's
own opinion was that in Feuerheerd they had a much more
efficient protector than he could ever hope to be. Still, he
loved his mother and sister too well not to yield to their
wishes, especially as the journey was only to be postponed
for a few months.
CHAPTER XXVII.
counterplots
[t was the morning of Norman's last day ashore, and he
had come to Baldovie to say good-bye, Marget having
declared herself unable to bear the strain of a public fare-
well. They had been saying good-bye for the last half-hour,
and still they did not seem to have exhausted all the ways
of saying it ; but an hour chimed, and the captain was
reminded that time and tide will not wait for lovers any
more than for other men.
As he was leaving, Marget said : " I have sent a little
parcel on board for you. You will use it for my sake."
One more kiss, and the gallant young sailor strode away,
while the Princess watched him with tears of loving pride
in her eyes and a feeling of oppression and anxiety in her
heart.
As the time approached for the vessel to start, Marget
felt that she must see the last of Norman. Hastily order-
ing the carriage, she drove to the dock, and was in time to
take her place at the back of the mingled crowd of friends
and sight-seers who were watching the large vessel pass
through the dock-gates.
The young captain stood on the bridge. Suddenly the
expression of his face changed from one of business serious-
ness to surprise and joy. He raised his cap and waved it to
IU A TBINGE88 OF JUTEDOM
some one on shore. There was a flutter of a white hand-
kerchief, and Norman's eyes glistened with something not
unlike a tear. That was all, yet it was noticed and com-
mented on by the last man who quitted the ship. He
hastened in the direction of the small white flag; but
was only in time to see its bearer enter the carriage and
drive away at full speed.
" Damn !" That was the mental exclamation of Feuer-
heerd. The bitterness and the hatred that were concen-
trated in that single word could only be understood by the
person who uttered it. All that he had been striving after
seemed to be lost in that simple glad glow on Norman's
face, and the realisation of the fact that she cared more for
him than for fame or fortune.
The fortune was at his command—lie was Carmichael
and Co. All that they owned was under his thumb. Not
a penny possessed by the firm but he could control; yet
here was the one thing that he most desired, and he could
not gain. All the genius with which he was endowed was
useless. Genius he had undoubtedly. All the ingenuity,
all the skill which he had exercised to the infinite benefit
of the firm, failed him in the one particular object at which
he aimed.
It was now clear to him that Marget's thoughts were so
fixed upon Norman Grant that there was no possibility of
her changing her mind. And so came that fiercely bitter
exclamation. But after it came a sudden flash that might
be called inspiration. Failing the daughter, why should
he not take the mother ?
He had thought about that before, and now it came
upon him with new force. There was the power in his
hand—he could forbid the marriage of the girl, and so
punish her for her contempt of him. What then ? The
mother would be at his mercy.
Then what advantage was there in that ? He mused
much upon the question, and tried hard to understand
himself. His purpose was perfectly clear to him. He had
a million of money to gain, and he intended to gain it.
The way to gain it was perfectly clear also ; but the girl—
the thought of her made him pause. Well, should he
throw her over ? Should he be content to take the mother ?
The mother, he knew, was under his -control. Of that
COUNTERPLOTS 155
there was no doubt. She could not escape him. So be it,
then. He would take the mother, but he would mar the
happiness of the girl by acting in his capacity as trustee,
and refusing to allow the marriage of. the daughter of John
Carmichael with the man of her choice.
Meanwhile Marget had seen Feuerheerd at the ship,
and she, too, had her thoughts. She had observed his
expression when Norman saluted her, and she had deter-
mined that now was the time for her to act. But how ?
There was the trouble. The curious nature of her mother's
illness perplexed her. From David she could obtain no
assistance, not only on account of his youth, but because of
his entire faith in Feuerheerd.
She was startled by the idea which came to her. She
would seek the assistance of Culross. No sooner thought
than acted upon. She first went to Jess and told her that
she wanted to see her father, and asked her where she
might find him. Learning that he was most likely to be
found on board the barque, she went straight there, taking
Jess with her.
Scrambling up the side ladder, Sandy Ogg met them
with a stare.
"Ay, mistress, what in a' the world do ye mean by
comin' here ?"
" I want to see the captain."
" Ye mean the skipper, I suppose. Aweel, he's doon i'
the cabin. I'll tell him ye're speirin' for him."
The skipper was surprised by the unexpected appearance
of his daughter and Miss Carmichael. He cast a quick
glance of inquiry from one to the other. " Is there any
news ? " he said abruptly.
Marget shook her head. " Not yet," she answered;
" but I believe there is a friend of yours who could give us
information-if he would, and I have come to ask your help
in persuading him or compelling him to tell us what he
knows."
" There can be no friend of mine who would keep the
secret from me."
Although Will's name was purposely avoided, there
was no doubt as to who was the person referred to. Jess
listened with intense interest.
" He calls himself your friend, but he is neither yours
156 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
nor any one else's—I doubt even if he is his own," Marget
went on firmly. " I am speaking for your daughter's sake
as well as ours ; and before I tell you who the man is, I
must have your promise that you will consider all that I
say as in strict confidence. You are to betray no sign to
him that he is suspected and watched."
" That's queer; but of course I give my word to do
your will and my best to help you. Who is the man ?"
" I mean my father's manager—Mr. Feuerheerd."
Jess was not surprised to hear the name, and the frank
acknowledgment of her by the folk at Baldovie had been
preparing the father's mind for something of the kind.
But what reason could Feuerheerd have for trying to make
him believe that Will Carmichael had played the part of a
scoundrel ? He had nothing to gain by it one way or the
other ; and he had freely pledged himself to give informa-
tion as soou as he had any to give.
It was puzzling, however, that he should have spoken
so definitely about the meaning of Will's disappearance,
and yet had so far apparently failed to discover the least
trace of him. It was puzzling, too, that he should keep
the Camperdown lying there under orders to be ready to
clear out in ballast at an hour's notice.
" What reason have you for thinking that he knows
anything which is not known to you at Baldovie ?"
"Partly because of his strange conduct towards my
mother ; partly because I know that he wanted to get my
brother out of the way."
The expression of gloom overspread the skipper's
countenance again, as he looked sorrowfully at his daughter.
" He gave me a very good reason for believing that your
brother himself wished to get away."
" Whatever it may be, it is false. There is the letter
which induced my brother to leave the house on that fatal
night, and which we know was not written by your
daughter."
" You don't suppose Feuerheerd had anything to do with
that?"
" I do ; and you, too, believe it, Jess ?"
The latter bowed her head, but did not speak.
"If I thought he was deceiving me !" muttered the
skipper, in an undertone full of suggestion of dire con-
C 0 UNTJEJBPL0T8 157
sequences to Feuerheerd if it should be so. " Why should
he deceive us ?"
"We must find out. I believe you are more in his con-
fidence than any one else, and he is keeping you here for
some secret purpose in which he requires your assistance.
When he asks for it, he will be obliged to explain some of
his plans, and when he does so, we shall be able to take
•action. I speak freely because I trust you, and know that
you love your daughter."
" Ay, you can trust me on that score, if on no other. I'll
keep a calm sough, and bide my time. If he has been making
a fool of me, he will get little mercy from me."
" Then we will be silent and watchful."
" I have promised."
Marget left the barque with the feeling that one step
had been taken towards the solution of the mystery. She
knew that under his rough exterior Culross had shrewd wits
and daring enough for any adventure. She had noted, too,
the gleam in his eyes, which told her that his doubts of
Feuerheerd's motives in being so friendly with him had
been awakened before she spoke. She was therefore
satisfied that she had gained a powerful ally.
Her next step was now to endeavour to undo the harm
she had done by losing her temper. She must persuade
the enemy—for such she was convinced Feuerheerd was—
that he had not forfeited her confidence. How this was to be
accomplished was not clear yet. But there was so much at
stake that she felt sure of being able to find a way to out-
wit even Feuerheerd.
Having taken Jess home, she spent a little time with
the baby Will, and then hastened back to Baldovie, being
anxious to be as little away from her mother at present as
possible. She learned that Simpson, M.P., had just called,
and was in the drawing-room with Mrs. Carmichael.
Jeems was making his first cautious advances towards
the conquest of the widow. Thus far he appeared on the
scene only as the sympathising friend; and immediately
after his entrance he presented to the lady a small parcel.
" I trust you will do me the honour of accepting this
trifle, my dear madam," he said in his grand wuy. " It is
a little book in which many folk have found comfort, and I
- thought, perhaps, it might interest you."
158 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
The little book was the oddest gift a would-be suitor
could offer to the lady of his choice. It was entitled " Con-
solations for the Afflicted "—a very good little book in its
way, and Simpson, M.P., showed his piety in selecting his
gift. He was following the old tactics of trying to catch
the widow "with the tear in her e'e."
He had also the discretion to make his call short, and
after a few elaborate expressions of regret that Mrs.
Carmichael was not quite well, departed.
CHAPTER XXVII.
A sage counsellor
"While Jess was growing pale and weary waiting and watch-
ing in vain, Baby Will was making manful efforts to assert
his position in the world. To begin with, he had kicked
and screamed his way into the inmost recesses of his great-
grandfather's easily won heart; and then, with early
developed tact, he had also enthroned himself in the more
reluctant stronghold of the skipper's bosom by silently but
firmly grasping the weatherbeaten thumb of the rough
sailor in his own soft, fat fingers, as if he would say : "You
are my grandfather, and there is no use trying to get out
of it. I mean to keep hold of you."
Johnnie Todd was a capital nurse, and he never seemed
so thoroughly happy as when entrusted with the care of his
lively great-grandson. He treated him with profound respect,
and took him into his confidence on all subjects when they
were alone together—not insulting him by infantile prattle,
but talking to him as man to man. Little Will showed
himself worthy of such treatment by sucking his thumb
wisely as he gazed at the old man, and by never divulging
any of the secrets confided to him. The two seemed to
understand each other perfectly. It was a great comfort to
Jess to watch them, although they had not nearly so much
to say to one another when she was present.
As the days passed and no news came, her heart was
filled with bitterness, and she grew more and more possessed
by the longing to get away from every one, and to be alone
with the child and her grandfather. She did not believe
A SAGE COUNSELLOR 159
that Will was dead—or rather she did not feel that he was
dead, and with her, feeling was everything. So she was tor-
tured with alternations of mistrust and remorse. Sometimes
she was accusing him of having deceived and deserted her,
and by-and-by she was bitterly reproaching herself for
allowing such thoughts of him to pass through her mind
when he was perhaps lying ill or in danger. But although
she battled bravely with the demon doubt, it returned
again and again to the charge.
One thing she had determined upon, that she would
in no way urge the claims of herself and child to further
consideration at Baldovie. She was aided in avoiding
frequent visits there by Mrs. Carmichael's illness and ab-
sorption in her own troubles. But the affectionate
attentions of Marget were not to be denied, and Jess was
grateful for them.
She had expected that her grandfather would have
been glad to retire from the office after the death of the
chief of the firm, for she knew that he had no liking for
the manager. And, indeed, Johnnie himself had expected
to receive a hint that his services would no longer be
required. To his surprise, however, he was informed
with great solemnity that, as he had been so much in
the confidence of his late friend, the manager desired to
mark his respect for the memory of Mr. Carmichael by
appointing Johnnie to a post of greater trust than he had
hitherto held.
From that time, whenever there was any undertaking
of particular gravity or magnitude to be decided upon,
Mr. Todd was specially requested to give his opinion
concerning it. At first Johnnie was perplexed, and did
not know what to make of it. For a day or two he
yielded to the sweet fascinations of flattery, and tried to
believe that he had utterly misunderstood Feuerheerd,
who was showing that he had the highest esteem for him,
and was proving it by showing in the most practical way
that he believed him to be gifted with talents for ad-
ministration and discrimination, the existence of which
his poor friend, lately deceased, had not been clever enough
to discover.
By-and-by he found that whilst he was being constantly
consulted and listened to with every appearance of pro-
160 A PRINOESS OF JUTFDOM
found respect, his ideas were seldom carried into effect.
When they were adopted, the result was invariably a
failure. But the losses he made were never complained of,
and he continued to be taken into counsel.
His conduct at this time in the office became decidedly
eccentric. He could not conceal a certain show of a
sense of his new importance. His salary had been con-
siderably increased, whilst he had been relieved of the care
of his ledger. He was frequently seen walking about
muttering to himself, or seated at his desk scratching his
nose with a pen, and staring at a blank sheet of paper,
which he would suddenly cover with long rows and squares
of figures, and then tear up, as if he could not find the
answer to the problem he had set himself. The clerks
began to suspect that his sudden elevation had affected
his wits.
Johnnie was really in a serious quandary, and so he
conferred with Baby Will.
" Now, Babsie, can you tell me how it comes about ? Am
I really a very clever chiel, and a cleverer chiel has learned
my true value ? Or is there a joke somewhere ?"
Babsie looked wise, and continued to find much sweetness
in his thumb.
"That's just my opinion," said Johnnie, nodding his
head as if he had received a most satisfactory reply to his
queries, " There is a joke, and I'm doubting it's a rather
big one. Do you not think it is ?"
The reply was given in the same wise fashion as before,
and Johnnie again nodded his head approvingly, with
sundry grimaces which caused the child to smile.
"Precisely my notion again. It's wonderful how we
agree, and I think you'll own that I am no such a fule
as I look where figures are concerned, and friends are to be
served. Let me just get two or three hours with the private
ledger, and I promise you that we'll soon get the answer
to the riddle. Eh ?"
He dandled Babsie on his knee, and chuckled to himself
with much content.
" I have no forgotten the man that was watching our
house, and that I saw again at the corner of the Green-
market. Neither have I forgotten the back of the man
that I saw going out of the door at Baldovie. We'll see,
we'll see."
A SAGE COUNSELLOR 161
After that Johnnie was found more frequently than
fever staring at his sheets of paper, and then working out
arithmetical problems. But now, instead of tearing up the
sheets, he placed them carefully in his pocket. His conduct
was beginning to be looked upon as serious in the office, and
whilst he was still entrusted with much business, its nature
became of less and less consequence.
Feuerheerd appeared to be unconscious of all this, but
he was in fact closely observant. He was also aware of
Johnnie's persistent occupation, and becoming at last curious
about it, endeavoured to get him to explain the nature of his
earnest calculations.
"Stocks, shares, and prices current," was the prompt
reply, with an air of importance and abstraction.
" Oh, and are you investing much ?"
"Everything, everything. One must be doing, you
know ; and a man you have trusted so much cannot afford
to be idle. When I have worked out the scheme
thoroughly you shall hear all about it."
There was a curious light on Feuerheerd's face as ne
listened to the old man's rapid utterances. " I see ; you
are engaged upon the invention of some infallible scheme
of speculation which will render loss impossible."
" Precisely; that's just what I am doing. It's a
beautiful scheme, but it is not quite perfect yet."
"Well, I hope you may succeed," said Feuerheerd
gravely ; " but you ought to be cautious."
"You may lippen to me for that," said Johnnie
excitedly. " Caution is the first principle of what I am
working at. As soon as I get hold of one set of figures, the
thing will be complete."
"Will you not allow me to see how far you have got
with your plans ?"
"No, no ; it would be ill doing that. I could never
explain it until I have gotten the thing shipshape. You
would think me daft if you saw the unfinished work."
" As you please ; I will wait. Only remember my hint
to be cautious."
"I'll be that."
As Feuerheerd turned away, Johnnie clenched his fist
over his pen as if it were a weapon, and. nodded after him
in such a droll way, that one of the junior clerks, who
102 a princess of jutfdom
observed him with astonishment, had some difficulty in
restraining a loud guffaw.
Speaking to Mr. Whitelaw, Feuerheerd observed inci-
dentally : "By the way, I am afraid our poor friend Todd
has really gone off his head, and his friends will have to
look after him."
Mr. Whitelaw agreed with him that Johnnie's conduct
was very strange. He, like the others in the office, had
observed it, and expressed his regret for the poor old man.
"Do you know what these figures are that he is
engaged upon ? Some nonsense, I suppose, like the per-
petual-motion idea."
"We suppose so ; but he will not allow any of us to see
them, although he is constantly moving about saying a few
words to some of the clerks."
" That is curious," observed the manager; and the
subject was dismissed.
CHAPTER XXIX.
A plain question
Skipper Culross stood brooding so long, as he gazed in the
direction which Miss- Carmichael and his daughter had
taken, that Sandy Ogg had to speak to him several times
on what was in his mind—as it is in the minds of so many
others—the most important of events.
" There is a snack waitin' for ye, skipper, and the
clioaps 'ill be cauld and fusionless if ye dinna haste."
" Coming, Sandy, coming," answered the master with-
out appearing to have comprehended what had been said,
for he made no sign of moving.
" Oo ay, but meat and mass hinder no man, and choaps
are nae exception."
The skipper was blessed with good appetite and good
digestion ; but for once the former made no demands on
him. Habit, however, induced him to proceed to his plain
but substantial meal. He ate hastily and not heartily. He
was silent, and scarcely touched his dram—the latter a
circumstance which was to Sandy a sign of the last
extremity of failing power.
A PLAIN QUESTION 163
" It's the fash""' anent his bairn again, puir sowl!"
muttered Sandy as he waddled about, chewing his plug of
tobacco, and moralising on the infirmities of human nature.
Suddenly the- skipper roused himself, as if he had at
last got an idea out of his brooding.
" Look here, Sandy. I want you to go up to the Car-
michaels' place, and seek for Mr. Feuerheerd."
"Ay" .
" Tell him that I want particularly to see him to-day,
if he will either come here or say when I would find him at
liis own house."
" And if Mr. Fireheed shouldna be in ?"
" You can ask when he will be in, and go back."
Sandy departed on his mission, and the skipper now
took a sip of his dram to assist him in his cogitations. The
result was still unsatisfactory. In spite of all Marget had
said, he could not conceive why Feuerheerd should desire
to conceal from him the fate of Will Carmichael.
But there was the point to be cleared up—he persisted
in saying that the man was alive, whilst he refused to give
any more information about him than -that he was skulking
somewhere to keep out of the way of Jess. This explana-
tion had appeared to Culross at first, in his passion, as
likely enough ; but now he began to believe that it was not
the true one.
"Well, we must try to have it out to-day," he said
decisively, impatient of suspense and delay.
" Maister Fireheed is coming in half-an-hour," was the
message brought back by Sandy.
In less than half-an-hour Feuerheerd was in the cabin
of the Oamperdown, smiling, as if delighted to have the
opportunity for a quiet chat with his friend.
" Glad your messenger came when I had an hour to
spare; and it is a relief to get out of the worries of the
office and into your snug quarters."
" It was lucky you were free "
" Free !" interrupted the visitor. " I am never free, but
I can occasionally contrive to play truant for a little while.
My responsibilities have been so great since Carmichael
died that I am beginning to feel fagged, and wish I could
get off on a trip with you. I shall break down if I do not
somehow get a rest, even for a few weeks."
u 2
164 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
Here Sandy Ogg, who retained the old-fashioned Scotch
notion of hospitality, placed the whisky on the table ; and
the guest, with the air of a man who is exhausted by his
labours, helped himself—sparingly, however, and using
plenty of water.
" You need not come down again, Sandy, unless I call,"
said the skipper.
This was a most unusual command, and the man went
slowly up the stairs, with the conviction that something
was going to happen.
Culross turned to his companion. " I am getting fagged
too, but it is with hanging about here idle and without
knowing what is going to be done. Why are you keeping
me here ?"
Feuerheerd regarded him with an expression of the
utmost astonishment. "Well, upon my word, Culross, that
is rather a droll question from you ! I thought you wanted
to wait here until we had news of the runaway, Will."
"Ay, and you promised to find that news for me ; but
there has been never a cheep more than you told me at the
first. How is that ?"
" If you will tell me how to give you news which I have
not been able to obtain, I will answer your question," said
Feuerheerd coolly.
Culross leant his elbows on the table, and stared hard in
his companion's face. " Will you answer this, then ? Why
is it you keep on telling me that you are sure Carmichael is
still alive, when you have given in to the opinion of others
who think he is dead ?"
Feuerheerd answered the words and the hard look with
a little laugh. "Do you think I am going to run against
the ideas of a set of hysterical women who might be right in
the end ? If they are more satisfied in thinking that he is
dead, why should I disturb their minds by insisting upon my
view of the case, which I thought was sufficiently unpleasant
to prevent you from asking me to repeat it ?"
Culross winced, and put his next question huskily:
" Will he ever come back ?"
"No, I am sure of that—or almost so. But we shall
hear from him when he wants money. That is why I said
that I expect to be able to give you news."
" Have you any idea where he may be ?" asked the
A PLAIN QUESTION 165
skipper slowly, and still keeping his eyes fixed on Feuer-
heerd's face.
But that face was as calm as if he were discussing the
most ordinary question, and he even smiled as he answered:
"Yes, I have an idea. I should say, knowing his cha-
racter, that he is somewhere in the wilds of Africa, enjoying
himself with his gun and seeking diamond fields."
" How do you know that ?"
" I have told you—because I know the character of the
man. But what the deuce is it you are driving at, Culross ?
Have you been taking an extra dram, or have you got any-
thing on your mind ? If so, out with it."
The perfect calmness of the man irritated the skipper,
and he lost the game. He brought his fist down on the
table with an angry thud.
" Ay, there is something on my mind," he said gruffly,
" and it is that you ken all about Will Carmichael. I put
the plain question—what have you done with him ?"
A pause, Feuerheerd gazing sternly at the flushed and
frowning face.
"Do you know what you are saying, Culross?" he
asked in a firm but aggrieved voice.
" I ken brawly."
The skipper, like other Scotchmen, returned to his
native vernacular when in a passion.
" I will not believe you do, until you say it when you
are in a calmer mood," rejoined Feuerheerd gravely. " But I
will tell you what you have forgotten—the many good turns
I have done you when others held off from you."
That was true, and the skipper was staggered at the
thought of his own ingratitude. He, without sufficient
grounds or proofs of any kind, was accusing this man of he
did not know what crime ! Had Feuerheerd shown the
least sign of quailing or agitation, had he grown pale or red,
Culross would not have faltered. He had put his question
at hazard, in the expectation of seeing some of these signs;
but none of them had been manifested. He was again at sea
in a fog, without a compass.
" I have told you," proceeded Feuerheerd, rising quietly,
" that I think I do know all about our missing friend, and
what that amounts to you have already heard. Ask the
Fiscal, ask Dalgleish if they can tell you more. Good day."
166 A PRINCESS OF JUTE BOM
" Good day," echoed the befogged Culross.
" Of course you understand that I shall forget all the
nonsense that has passed between us to-day, and hope you
will do the same. And, by the way, the destination of the
barque will probably be Spain. Full instructions can be
ready in two or three weeks."
And Feuerheerd went away, with the dignity of one who
had generously forgiven an insult.
CHAPTER XXX.
woman's wiles
Feuerheerd had not succeeded in so completely convincing
Culross of his perfect straightforwardness as he imagined.
The skipper was taken aback by being reminded of the good
turns done him in his hour of need. A more refined nature
would have revolted at being reminded of these services by
the person who had rendered them, and would have at once
detected in the circumstance both the meanness of the man
who was capable of doing this, and the suggestion that the
favours had been granted for a selfish purpose. But the
simple mind of the skipper was dumbfounded by a sense of
ingratitude.
" Suppose the man to be guilty of some crime," he kept
on saying to himself, " and in danger, would it not be my
part to repay his services to me by helping him, at any cost
to myself, in his hour of need ?"
At the moment he could not find the right answer, and
feeling bamboozled, looked so, thus conveying the impres-
sion to Feuerheerd that he believed himself to have been
entirely in the wrong in doubting his friend. But he did
not feel that he was entirely in the wrong, and he was not
convinced that Feuerheerd was clean-handed in regard to
Will Carmichael, whatever it might be that had happened
to that unfortunate man. He simply found it difficult to
make up his mind as to how he should act under the cir-
cumstances. This hesitation was unlike the skipper, and
would never have occurred had not the case been compli-
cated by the position of his daughter. If she had not been
involved in it, he would have cast aside all consideration,
WOMAN'S WILES 167
except that here was a friend to serve. He' would have held
out his hand at once and said :
" You're right, mate. You threw out a rope to me when
I was in deep water, and come what may—no matter what
you have done—I'll stand by you to the last. And that
means as long as two timbers of the Camperdoion hold
together."
This was very much what he felt inclined to do even now,
his daughter's interests notwithstanding. His love for her,
however, checked the inclination; and so he hesitated.
Moreover, he was uncomfortable under the consciousness
that he had not strictly kept the promise to Marget to bide
his time. He had prematurely attempted to take the
enemy's citadel by storm, and had failed. If Feuerheerd
had anything to fear, he had been • effectually warned to be
on his guard. But there was one who had neither doubt
nor hesitation, and was, therefore, able to carry on the
work she had undertaken, with clear head and unswerving
purpose.
Feuerheerd had faith in himself and his own power.
He was not disturbed by the conduct of the skipper, and,
indeed, was rather amused at the idea of such a man dream-
ing of outwitting him, or of forcing him to tell more than
he chose. But he gave Marget full credit for more than
ordinary penetration and capacity for following up the
slightest clue with accuracy to the end. Besides, whilst he
scoffed at the idea of there being the faintest degree of
superstition in his whole mental composition, that vision
haunted him. In broad daylight, or in the darkness, that
figure with outstretched arms denouncing him was con-
stantly before his eyes—not as a mere shadow, but as a
living being in the person of Marget. He assured himself
that it was a mere trick of the brain, the effect of over-
much thinking about her. All the same, except vhen n
conversation with some one, and not always then, he a i1
not get rid of what he began to call, in mockery of himself,
"the visible projection of an idea."
He was thinking of her as he sat at his writing-table in
his official room on the following day, when the door sud-
denly opened, and Marget herself appeared. As he rose
hastily to greet her, he was saying to himself—"Now, if I
were superstitious, would I not be startled? Would not
168 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
my pulse beat faster? But I am not startled, and my
pulse is as regular as ever."
Addressing her, he said, after the formal salutation :
"It is an agreeable surprise to see you here, Miss Car-
michael; but I hope it is not owing to any new misfortune
that you have come."
She had taken his hand with more cordiality than
she had ever done before, and he observed it with Some
surprise.
" Nothing new has happened," she said, as she accepted
the chair which he placed for her. " My mother is much
the same as when you saw her last. She was going to send
a message to you, and I offered to be the messenger. That
is why I am here."
There was a change in the tone of her voice, too, and in
her manner of addressing him, which, although slight, was
sufficiently marked for him to perceive it at once. Was she
getting ill, or was this sudden change from mere politeness
to something like graciousness due to the mother's assurance
that he had been her true friend ?
He bowed, smoothing his hands and looking as if he
were acknowledging the highest compliment.
" No news is good news, and it was very kind of you
to bring your mother's message."
"But I wanted to say something to you on my own
account," she rejoined with a faint smile.
He bowed again. " That is more agreeable still."
" First, I will give you the message. My mother thinks
she will be able to see you to-morrow afternoon, but she
does not feel strong enough to-day."
" I think that is very wise on her part, for she has much
need of rest. I would be inclined to suggest to you that
she should even delay for another day or two, as the matter
about which she wishes to speak to me can very well wait."
He said this with such an air of quiet kindliness, that
Marget for a moment questioned within herself—" Could
this be assumed ? "
" Thank you for the suggestion, and I will endeavour to
persuade her to adopt it." She rose, as if the interview
were at an end.
"You are.not going," he said hastily, "without telling
me what it was you wished to say to me ?"
WOMAN'S WILES 169
" Oil no," she answered frankly, holding out her hand;
" I want you to pardon me, Mr. Feuerheerd."
" For what ?" he exclaimed, as he took the hand.
"For my foolishness the other day. You must re-
member how anxious I am about my mother, and "
" I beg of you not to say another word," he interrupted.
" I understood at the time, and had no other feeling, and
have none, except regret that you should have so much
cause for anxiety. If you wish to do me a kindness, you
will forget the circumstance, as I do."
" I shall he glad to forget it. And now, Mr. Feuerheerd
that we are friends again "
" I hope we have never been anything else."
"I want to ask you one question," she continued,
" although I am not sure that I ought to do so."
"If it is in my power, I will be happy to answer it."
" It is in your power, but you may not consider yourself
at liberty. I leave that to your discretion, but I feel com-
pelled to seek this favour from you."
" I will be sorry, indeed, if I cannot grant it."
"Then will you tell me what is the nature of this
trouble which has come upon my mother ? I dare not
venture to ask herself, because the merest allusion to the
subject causes her so much agitation."
He looked really distressed, and apparently unable to
reply for the moment.
" I cannot tell you how much chagrin it causes me to
think that you should make any request which cannot be
instantly complied with by me. But this is a matter belong-
ing so entirely to your mother that I should feel myself not
only committing a breach of confidence, but being unpardon-
ably cruel to her if, without her permission, I told even you
why she is so disturbed."
There was silence for a few seconds, he looking very
grave, and she gazing earnestly in his face. Whilst she was
playing a part with this man which she felt justified in doing,
her heart was quivering at his reference to her mother. He
spoke, too, so earnestly that only the obstinate conviction of
his true character which had taken possession of her rendered
it possible to disbelieve in the honesty of his purposes.
" That is enough, Mr. Feuerheerd," she said gently;
" and although I regret that I may not know the cause of
170 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
lier sorrow, so that I might try to lighten it, I feel grateful
to you for your fidelity to her."
" I never imagined that my fidelity could have been nut
to so severe a test as that of refusing you anything. But
it is for her sake."
" And on that account I appreciate your denial of my
wish. To-morrow you will learn whether or not I have
succeeded in inducing her to postpone still further the
interview which I have somehow come to dread."
" If you will have a little confidence in me, Miss Car-
michael, you may find some relief in knowing that I will do
my utmost to spare her and you pain. Unfortunately, the
matter does not depend upon me. If she will be guided by
my advice, I believe much sorrow may be avoided."
" Then I hope she will be so guided. Good-bye, Mr.
Feuerheerd."
He conducted her downstairs, and they parted at the
door on apparently more friendly terms than had ever before
existed between them.
He stood looking after her, the bright winter sun shining
on his face ; and, for once, he owned himself perplexed.
Marget had dismissed the carriage on arriving at the
office. Notwithstanding all the home anxieties, she had not
forgotten her many poor pensioners during this inclement
weather; and she had various distressed families to visit to-
day. On these occasions she dressed plainly, and never
took the carriage. At present, as she walked towards the
High Street, her thoughts were not with the distressed
families she was going to visit. She was thinking first of
the secret which was the source of her mother's illness.
Next she was thinking of her success with Feuerheerd.
She could not help succeeding, for she had intuitively used
the most effective of woman's wiles—veiled flattery. She
had flattered him by her apology, and flattered him still
more by asking a favour.
Her first visit was to Job's "Wynd, and as soon as she
was there her thoughts returned to her charitable purposes.
One of the families she called upon lived in the flat beneath
the one occupied by Mrs. Duncan ; and amongst other items
of news she was told about the sick man upstairs, and of
his strange illness which had lasted so long. But she went
away without any thought that the man's fate was associated
with the house of Baldovie.
MOBE LIGHT
171
CHAPTER XXXI.
more light
Although Culross had been more kindly with his daughter
since Mrs. Carmichael had spoken to him, and had given
Jess her true position, he had not yet recovered his old
geniality. During his visits to the cottage Jess was often
nervous and depressed, whilst he was gloomy and taci-
turn. If either of them spoke, it was to the grandfather
or the child that the words were mostly addressed. On
some of the days when the anxiety and suspense were
telling most upon her, his visits had been very trying to
the young mother. She was either so full of pity for his
sorrow that she could with difficulty refrain from throwing
herself on his neck in affectionate sympathy ; or if another
mood had possession of her, she was sorely tempted to
reproach him for suspecting her "Will of baseness—re-
proaches which would have been all the more bitter, because
of her remorseful consciousness that her own mind was not
always free from similar thoughts. At times she almost
dreaded her father's coming, lest some day her self-control
should give way, and words should escape which she could
never take back, and which might add to his burden or drive
him away in anger.
After having gone to the barque with Marget, however,
she looked forward eagerly to the skipper's next visit,
hoping that his eyes might have been opened, and his mind
prepared to look at things from a different standpoint. She
had another reason for wishing to see him—namely, that she
had resolved that the time had come for her to make an
effort to speak frankly to him concerning certain matters,
which she hoped would aid in bringing him to the same way
of thinking about Feuerheerd as Miss Carmichael and
herself. Marget's courageous activity had inspired Jess, too,
with the determination not to sit down with folded hands.
" If she to whom he is only a step-brother can do so
much for Will, what should not I do who am his wife ?"
As she said this to herself, the colour in her cheeks
deepened, and she rose to her feet with something of pride
and dignity in her attitude. Just then she heard the
skipper's knock, and hastened to open the door.
172 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
" I'm real glad you have come, father,'' was her cordial
greeting.
The skipper's only answer was a sort of grunt, and Jess
saw that the cloud on his face seemed darker than ever.
But he noted with pleasure all the same that his daughter
looked brighter than she had done for many a day. That
fact cheered him up a bit, and made him more hopeful.
He took his usual seat by the fire, silently watching his
daughter, whose attention was monopolised by little Will,
that important personage having been awakened by the noise
of the arrival. Culross still felt himself to be in a muddle
of conflicting thoughts ; but as he looked at the mother and
child there came to him for the first time a living hope that
all would yet be well; that his daughter would yet fill an
honoured place. He was proud to think that she had proved
herself fit for it, and that the little one on her knee—his
grandson—would one day be a partner—it might be the
chief of the firm of Carmichael and Co. He felt a lump
rise in his throat as he thought of the prospect that was
before the boy.
In a dreamy way he began to associate himself with the
future of little Will, and to feel that there would be com-
pensation for his own failure in the success of his grandson.
That failure still rankled in his breast, and had made him
at first a reckless man, because it involved a serious but
unfounded charge of dishonourable dealing. During the
American War he had run the blockade many times,
enriching several firms, and especially the house of
Carmichael and Co., whilst he himself was accumulating
a considerable fortune. But during the latter stages of the
war he lost three valuable cargoes ; and then arose the ac-
cusation that he had played the traitor, and for a bribe had
purposely run into the clutches of the Northerners' cruisers.
On returning from his last misadventure he found the
scandal in the mouth of every one. Who raised it, who was
his original accuser, he could not learn ; but there was not
a merchant in Dundee who would trust him again. In his
passion of indignation he gave up everything he possessed
to compensate those who said they had lost by him.
This chivalrous action made him poor, and did not bring
him much credit; for in most quarters it was accepted as
an acknowledgment of his treachery, Then it was that
MOUE LIGHT 173
Feuerheerd appeared as his best friend, and, according to
his own statements, persuaded John Carmichael to believe
that there was a mistake. The truth was, John Carmichael
had never doubted him, and from the first declared, with
shrewd perception of events, that there was some one who
secretly revealed to the Northerners the movements of
Culross and the nature of his cargoes. But John Carmichael
was not a man who spoke of his own good thoughts or
deeds ; and thus it came about that whilst Culross was
grateful to him, he believed that it was Feuerheerd who
induced him to he so kindly, and that it was through his
influence he was enabled to obtain possession of the barque
Camperdown. But the stigma was not yet quite cleared
from his name.
Now, it seemed to him it would be a rare triumph if his
grandson should stand at the head of one of the biggest firms
in Dundee "Who could tell ? There were many as strange
twirls in the wheel of fortune as that. As things stood, it
might be that the wee chap should in his own person, by-
and-by, represent Carmichael and Co. The skipper suddenly
laughed aloud, greatly to the consternation of Jess, who
could not know what course his thoughts had been taking.
Holding out his arms, he said : " Gie me Carmichael and
Co. for a minute."
Jess looked at him, wondering if at last his mind had
yielded to the constant strain upon it in brooding over the
past. Seeing, however, that his face had taken a brighter
expression, and that it was the little one he wanted, she
carefully placed her treasure in his arms.
" Ay, your mother may well be careful o' you, my lad,
for, little bookit as you are, you have the making of a great
body in you, if a' should come round as it ought to do."
" What do you mean, father ? " asked Jess, in increas-
ing astonishment at this strange humour.
" Never you heed, Jess ; but give the bairn to the lass
for a while. I want to put a question or two to you."
Jess obeyed, thinking that now the opportunity she had
been longing for had come.
" Now," he said, when they were alone, " the first thing
I want you to tell me is this—have you any more under-
standable grounds to go upon than Miss Carmichael for
the ill opinion you have of Feuerheerd ? Mind, I am not
174 A PRINCESS OF JVTEDOM
doubting for a moment tliat she thinks she has reason
enough on her side ; but you are not to forget that he was
my friend when friends were few. She says you agree with
her."
The skipper waited for an answer, having said more to
his daughter within the last few minutes than he had done
since he had last come ashore.
Jess looked down, and for a brief space remained in silent
thought. Then she went quietly to an old desk which
stood on a table in a corner, unlocked it, and took out a
letter, which she handled tenderly. Standing before her
father, she spoke :
" Two or three days before "Will returned, I got this
letter from him."
" Ay !" ejaculated the father, looking up quickly ; " you
never mentioned that before."
" Because he tells me here that I am on no account to
say a word about it to any living creature, until I have his
leave. I held my tongue about it at first, because I was
hoping every day that he would soon be back again ; after-
wards, because it did not seem of consequence. But now
that Miss Carmichael has pointed her finger at the man
that I believe, as she believes, is the cause of all our trouble,
I am going to tell you what is in the letter."
" Well ?" he queried, as she paused.
"I am going to tell you first, in the hope that it will
show you what a true man he was to me."
"Let's hear what it's about," he said shortly.
" It is about Feuerheerd, and you will understand why
he should want to keep " She hesitated as to the name
by which she should speak of her husband to her father,
who was so prejudiced against him. With an effort she
went on : " why he should want to keep Will away, and to
blacken him in yours and in everybody else's thoughts, when
you have heard this."
She held the letter somewhat tremulously, whilst she
looked for the passages which might be read to her father; for
there are passages in all lovers' letters which, although the
sweetest to the one for whom they are intended, are mere
nonsense to an inappreciative third person. What third
person is there who does not make fun of a love-letter ?
She read:
MOUTH LIGHT 175
" ' I am not surprised at tlie persecution you have been
subjected to by that fellow Feuerheerd ' "
" persecution—you ? " interrupted the shipper, with
anger and surprise in tone and look. " What's the meaning
of that ?"
Her eyes drooped, and she turned her face away shyly.
This was one of the passages in the letter she would have been
glad to avoid, but could not. She answered with modest
frankness:
" He was pretending to seek me for a wife, when I am
sure he knew that it could not be."
The skipper clenched his fists, and by main force held
himself down on his seat.
" If that be so," he growled, " I'm ready to believe all
the rest."
" Never heed about that, father; but hearken to the rest
of the letter."
She resumed reading :
" ' He is playing a deep game that may involve the
whole of us in absolute ruin. But I mean to spoil it. By
chance I became acquainted in Berlin with a partner in
a firm of New York stockbrokers, who was making a tour of
the Continent. Learning that I hailed from Dundee, he
asked me if I was acquainted with George Outram. On my
side, I asked who was George Outram ? The man stared at
me as if he had a suspicion that I was sailing under false
pretences somehow.
"'" I guess, young man, you must have been away
from home a good while, or you would know something of
this Outram. He seems to be one of the biggest men in
your village, for he has been dealing with us up to a million
dollars or so, and has always paid up smart on his losses—
which have been considerable lately, for he is the crankiest
correspondent we have ever had, and won't take any advice.
He has gone so deep into Mexicans that if he hasn't a par-
ticularly sound bottom he'll burst."
" ' My curiosity was excited by this account of gigantic
speculations carried on by a man of our town I had never
heard of. It seemed a most extraordinary thing that I
should not have done so ; for although I am more a creator
of speculations than a speculator, still I think I could name
every man in Dundee who could venture even half so far as
176 A PHINOESS OP JUTPBOM
this Outram appeared to have done. I asked my Yankee
acquaintance a few questions about his correspondent, which
not only satisfied him that I knew something about my
native town, but made him open his eyes a bit. At last I
told him that the man he was dealing with must be using
an assumed name. He said nothing at the time, but next
day he handed me a short note.
"' " That is the writing of our correspondent," says he.
" ' The note was dated from King Street, and, so far as I
could remember, the number was somewhere near the
Baxters' place. The writing was back-handed, and there
were not more than twenty words ; but I recognised it, and
my surprise was so great that before I knew what I was doing
I let out—" Feuerheerd !"
" '" What's that ?" says the American, sharp as a
needle.
" ' I told him who I believed his correspondent was, and
why it was a matter of importance to me to learn whether or
not I was correct. He telegraphed to his firm for further
information, and the answers he received satisfied me that
George Outram was Feuerheerd. Thereupon I decided to
go home immediately, and persuade my father to have a
strict investigation into his business accounts. I felt sure
they were being cooked in a wholesale way, for except by
using the funds and securities of the firm there was no pos-
sible way in which Feuerheerd could have carried on such
enormous " specs." as Mr. Gould (that was the name of my
American acquaintance) told me about. The bother is
that I think Mr. Gould's action to protect his firm has given
Feuerheerd a warning that I have discovered his game.
" 'I always -thought my father trusted him too much ;
but you know the governor's stubborn way—once he has
made up his mind that a man is all right, he won't listen
to a word against him. But the present case looks to me
so serious that I shall take it into my own hands whether
he will or no. Meanwhile, whatever happens, you are to
say nothing about all this to any living creature, however
curious my conduct may be. The work I am going home
to do means either the discovery that we are ruined, or that
there is still a chance of rescuing my folk from the worst.' "
Here followed some words of affection, which Jess did
not read, But at the foot of the letter was a hastily-written
line;
ANOTHER CHANGE 177
"' I have just received a telegram from home. Father
dangerously ill, and wants to see me. I start by first train.
Wonder if the crash has come. See you soon now.'"
There was a long silence after Jess finished reading.
Culross could no longer doubt. He rose.
"I am glad you have read this to me," he said in an
unusually quiet way; " I have got to think it out a little.
I'll see you to-morrow."
Jess accompanied him to the door, and, having watched
him disappear in the dusk, she was turning to re-enter the
house when she suddenly halted.
There was a man, half-hidden by a shrub, peering in at
the window of the room in which the servant was nursing
little Will.
Jess, with a half-subdued cry of alarm, darted into the
house, closing the door behind her quickly, as if in affright,
and stood holding it, as though to bar the entrance of an
enemy.
She had recognised Feuerheerd.
CHAPTER XXXII.
another chance
The message which Marget had promised to send to Feuer-
heerd reached him in due course. She had persuaded her
mother to postpone the interview for one day; but, although
very weak, she had resolutely declined to permit any further
delay.
"The thing has to be done," she had said to her
daughter, with lips quivering and eyes unnaturally bright,
"and the sooner it is done the better. I have already
foolishly delayed too long, and that is why my mind has
been so much disturbed. You may have to suffer some-
thing with me, Marget; but you would have to suffer much
more hereafter if I were not to give Mr. Feuerheerd my in-
structions at once."
"What can there be, mother, that could cause me
more pain than to see you so ill, and to know that you run
the risk of making yourself ever so much worse if you do
not put off this disagreeable business until you have got
N
178 A PRINCES8 OF JUTEBOM
back a little strength ? Mr. Feuerheerd says you ought to
put it off till then, and has assured me that the matter can
'very well wait."
" Mr. Feuerheerd is mistaken. Tell him that I shall
expect him here at two o'clock on Saturday."
"Let it be Monday," pleaded the anxious daughter,
looking sorrowfully at her mother's pale and almost haggard
"face. The change in her whole appearance had been so
sudden and was so marked, that Marget was beginning to
fear that fatal consequences were near.
"No," answered Mrs. Carmichael calmly ; "every hour
of delay worries me more and more. Let it be Saturday at
two o'clock."
So Marget sent the message, and Feuerheerd's brows
lowered when he received it. He would have been much
more satisfied if he could have had another week for his
arrangements, than he was in finding himself brought at
once to the decisive act in his plans.
" Luckily everything is ready for his removal," was the
schemer's reflection. "Two o'clock. I can be back by
five, and that was the hour at which I decided to take him
away. A note posted to-night will reach Dr. Broadsley to-
morrow morning, and he will be prepared to receive us late
in the evening. The certificates are duly signed, and there
is nothing to do but to get him quietly out of the town. It
is a little hurried, certainly, but the circumstances will
sufficiently account for that."
Whatever dissatisfaction or regret he might have
experienced on receiving Mrs. Carmichael's peremptory
message, there was no sign of either in his manner when he
presented himself at Baldovie punctually at the appointed
hour.
The demeanour of Currie, the butler, was particularly
solemn as he conducted him to the drawing-room; and it
was in a sepulchral whisper that he conveyed the simple
information: "Miss Carmichael bade me say that she
would see you immediately, sir."
" Anything unusual happened to-day, Currie ?" inquired
the visitor, struck by the butler's manner.
Currie slowly moved his head from side to side in a
melancholy way, and looked, if possible, more solemn than
before.
ANOTHER CHANGE 179
" It is an afflicted family, sir; and for a while back
there has been always something unusual happening."
"Mrs. Carmichael is no worse, then?"
" I believe she is much the same as she has been for
some days hack. The only change I notice is that she has
taken a fancy to sit in the dining-room : and there she sits
and glowers at the picture of the master for hours at a
time."
" Has the doctor said anything about her ?"
" I cannot tell, sir, except that I heard him saying to
Miss Carmichael that he thought there was something in
the mistress's symptoms very like what he saw in the
master two or three days before he was called."
"Ah !—that is very remarkable," observed Feuerheerd,
as if much interested. " Can it be that it is some infectious
disease for which the doctors have not yet found a name ?"
Here they we're interrupted by Marget, who entered the
room hurriedly.
" I think she is stronger physically," Marget answered
in reply to Feuerheerd's inquiries ; " but her manner grows
more and more strange almost every hour. She is in the
dining-room waiting for you. I hope you will make the
interview as short as possible, for I fear her mind cannot
endure much more strain."
" I shall not stay a moment longer than is necessary,
and I 'am glad to say that I anticipate thai the information
I bring will" soothe her."
" If you can do that you will indeed deserve our thanks.
She insists upon seeing you alone."
"It is better so," he answered, as he proceeded to the
dining-room.
Mrs. Carmichael was seated near the fire, in a large
"arm-chair. Beside her was a little table, on which lay a
number of letters and other documents. Her eyes looked
large and unnaturally bright, and there was a nervous
activity indicated by the restless movements of her hands
over the papers, as well as by the frequent changes of her
position.
" I am glad to hear that you are feeling stronger, Mrs.
Carmichael," he said sympathetically, advancing towards her.
"Yes, I am better. I have overcome hesitation. I
have resolved to do my duty. That is why I am better."
180
A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
She spoke in short, quick sentences ; hut her voice was
husky and feeble, indicating that the strength she ex-
hibited was the result of temporary excitement, and not the
vigour of health.
Feuerheerd was silent for a moment, gazing at her
fixedly and earnestly, as if in melancholy anxiety for her
state. The restless movement of her hands gradually
moderated, whilst her eyelids began to droop.
" "What, then, do you consider it your duty to do ?" he
inquired softly.
The eyelids lifted again, and she spoke with spasmodic
energy : "To deliver this man Outram up to justice at
once. You will go straight to the Fiscal, tell all, and have
the man arrested."
A shadow seemed to fall on Feuerheerd's face, and, as
before, he remained silent for a moment. Then: "Have
you consulted Mr. Dalgleish ? "
"No. It was not necessary. I see what ought to be
done. I will do it."
"You have thought well over it all?" He spoke very
slowly. "You have taken into account the scandal which
will be raised—scandal which will deeply affect not only
yourself, but your daughter and your son? You have
made allowance for the inevitable losses whieh the firm will
sustain in consequence of our not securing the information
which Outram might be able to give us ? You have care-
fully weighed all these matters ?"
" Yes, yes ! I have thought all about that."
" And still you have decided that he is to be delivered
up to the Fiscal ?"
" I have decided."
" Have you no pity for the poor wretch himself ?" said
Feuerheerd, with peculiar significance of tone and look.
There was a feeble flash of anger in her eyes.
" If he be as guilty as you have said he is, he deserves
no pity—least of all from me."
" There was a time wl 'd not have said that."
less disposed to screen him. But the George Outram I
once knew died long ago. This creature who bears his
name, and, as I presume, the wreck of his form, has np
claim upon my consideration."
The remembrance
should make me the
ANOTHER CHANCE 181
" But your daughter and your son have," said Feuer-
heerd, with a degree of sternness.
The poor lady sat like one stunned. She thought that
she had fought out the whole question with herself; hut
this reiterated call to think of Marget and David seemed
to throw her mind back to the beginning of the troublesome
problem which had been set before her, and she was to
have the whole struggle to go over again. She felt that she
had not strength enough for it.
This man Outram, who in days long ago had deceived
her and caused her what she believed to be the bitterest
pain that she could experience in life, she had forgiven as
one forgives the dead. And now he had suddenly broken
into her life again, bringing to her new sorrow.
" Let me put the matter clearly before you once more,"
said Feuerheerd in a low, steady voice, and every word
seemed to pierce her brain like a needle. " This wretch is
dying. A few days—it may be a few hours—will see the
end. "Whatever suspicion I had of his having committed
murder has been removed by some things which have fallen
from him in his few lucid intervals. William Carmichael is
not dead."
" Ah, if I were sure of that!" she exclaimed, starting
from her stunned condition.
"You may be sure of it. I have believed it all along,
and I am now convinced of it," rejoined Feuerheerd, and
his tone was the more emphatic by being carefully modu-
lated.
" What has convinced you ? " she added, with a reflection
of the composure and firmness which had recently cha-
racterised her.
"I wish you had been stronger, my dear Mrs. Car-
michael, before you insisted upon going into the details of
this unpleasant business," he answered, as if embarrassed by
his position. " But since you will not be content to leave
the matter entirely in my hands, I must run the risk of
disturbing you again, and of having again to endure the
reproaches of your daughter."
He spoke- under protest, and as one compelled to submit
to the command of a superior; but there was a note of
deprecation in his voice, as if his regard for her was the only
reason why he would have preferred to remain silent.
182 A PBINCESS OF JUTE DOM
"My daughter is aware of your desire to spare me,"
said Mrs. Carmichael feebly ; " and also knows that it is I
who insist upon everything being made plain at once.
Proceed, please."
There was a glass of water on the little table beside her,
and he handed it to her as she leaned back in her chair
with some signs of exhaustion. She continued to sip from
it whilst he spoke.
" Of course I have no alternative. I must obey you,
not only because it is your wish, but because I believe you
would suffer more if 1 held my tongue than you can do
when you know the worst."
" You are right," she said ; and her voice was a little
stronger, as if the water had revived her.
" So be it, then. You shall know all. You ask what
has convinced me that Mr. William is alive ; and my
answer is that he had very potent reasons for desiring to
escape from the country, whilst leaving behind him the
impression that he had been drowned. The first reason
which occurred to me I explained to you some time ago,
and that was his desire to escape from the unfortunate girl
—pardon me, I must use the phrase—the unfortunate girl,
Jess Culross."
"Mrs. William Carmichael," interjected the widow
sternly, "and only unfortunate because so strangely deprived
of her husband's care."
He bowed gravely, as if he would not dispute her
authority, and continued :
" Mrs. William then. I shall not again offend by for-
getting the name. The other reasons your stepson had for
getting out of the country were still more potent than could be
the wish—even if he had it—to escape from the con-
sequences of an ill-considered love affair. Under the name
of George Outram he has been speculating on the London
and New York Stock Exchanges, to an extent and in a
manner which I can only comprehend by supposing him to
have been rendered temporarily insane by the excitement of
the hazardous transactions he was involved in."
" How have you ascertained this ?" inquired the lady,
sorely bewildered by this new phase of the mystery.
"Partly from Outram's unintentional revelations and
from what he has told me when liis mind was comparatively
ANOTHER CHANGE 183
clear, but chiefly from a letter addressed to your stepson in
his assumed name by a firm of New York stockbrokers,
which confirms all that Outram has told me. But for this
letter I should have discredited him, or attributed his story
to the wild imaginings of a diseased brain."
" Where did William meet—this man ?"
She could not bring herself to utter the name. She
began to loathe it, although she still pitied the miserable
creature who bore it.
" I do not know— somewhere abroad ; and Outram
appears to have been his catspaw for years past."
" I am glad his poor father was ignorant of what he was
doing."
" I am afraid his father did know," rejoined Feuerheerd
regretfully. " Nay, I am positive that on the day of his
last return home the son confessed everything, and there is
no doubt of that confession being the cause of the sudden
change in Mr. Carmichael's state, wliich ended his life so
unexpectedly."
The widow sighed deeply.
" It was not merely that William had been speculating
madly," Feuerheerd went on in the same tone as before;
" but by the aid of his father's keys—which, as you know,
were always at his command when he was here—he has
abstracted bonds and warrants to an amount which threatens
the safety of the firm."
She stared at him with new stupefaction as she echoed
his ominous words : " Threatens the safety of the firm ?,
What do you mean ?"
" I mean that unless within a year we can redeem the
bonds and warrants which have been given as securities for
advances of large sums of money, the house of Carmichael
and Co. may have to encounter a crisis which will tax all
our resources to the utmost."
" Can this be ? " she said in a dazed way, and evidently
not quite realising the dire importance of his communi-
cation.
" 1 beg of you not to alarm yourself unnecessarily. We
shall weather the storm, if you will only act with due
caution now."
" What would you have me do ?" she asked feebly.
" Be silent—let us keep our own counsel for the present.""
184 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
I ask you to do this not only for your own and your
children's sake, but also for the sake of your dead husband's
memory. Remember he was silent when made aware of
his son's errors—defalcations they would be called by others.
Had he lived, he would have sacrificed much to screen him.
Should you expose your stepson, it will be said that you are
actuated by malice; for the world is very hard upon us
when we are in difficulties, and few will give you credit for
being moved by a strict sense of duty and justice."
She knitted her brows, and there was an inward look in
the eyes as if she were trying to recall something—as if
she were trying to put together some fragmentary recol-
lections.
" But let me see," she began hesitatingly ; " what you
tell me now presents quite a new view of the case ... let
me see. I am not mistaken—what I understood you to
suggest formerly was that this Outram had robbed and
murdered William ; and it was the shock of learning that
he had met such a fate, and that a person I had once
regarded as a friend was guilty of such a crime, that ren-
dered me helpless to take immediate action. Was it not so ?"
There was that quick movement of Feuerheerd's heavy
eyebrows, which was the only indication he ever gave of
surprise or anger. It seemed almost as if he were dis-
appointed that she had been able to recollect so accurately
what he had formerly said. But his voice was low and
earnest as he replied :
" When we are groping in the dark, we take many wrong
turnings. You will remember what my first opinion was,
and I have only returned to it now, but with the assurance
that it was correct. What Outram said in his delirium,
combined with the fact that he had various articles in his
possession which I knew to be the property of William Car-
michael, did make me think for a short time that I had
been mistaken, and that he had been murdered. Now I
know that he has sought refuge either in Spain or Brazil,
and I should not be surprised if you or I received a letter
from him any day."
"It is strange," she muttered, trying to realise the
details of the events which were placed before her.
" It is most strange ; and, therefore, I think it impera-
tive that we should give Outram another chance to recover
JOHNNIE'S TREAT 185
his wits, in order that we may get to the root of the whole
affair. Perhaps then we may be able to obtain such infor-
mation as will assist us in recovering at least some of the
bonds and warrants which have certainly disappeared."
" Let it be as you advise, then," she said with an air of
much fatigue, but also with an evident sense of relief at
having come to a decision.
"I am glad you agree to adopt this course; you will
find that on every account it is the best and wisest. So
we shall still be silent, and you may trust me to strain every
nerve to do all that man can do to save you from additional
pain, and to maintain the credit of Carmichael and Co."
She thanked him, and he took his leave.
# * # # *
Late that afternoon a close carriage was standing near
the entrance to Job's Wynd. It was unnoticed by the
bustling crowd which thronged the street.
Descending the dark staircase of the house in which
Mrs. Duncan lived were two men ; the one, strong and
active, was assisting the other, who was apparently so weak
that he was unable to stand without support, and he leaned
heavily on his companion's shoulder. Behind them was
Mrs. Duncan, shading a candle with her hand to light
them down the stairs.
The strong man half carried his invalid friend up the
wynd and along to the carriage. Having entered it, they
were driven quietly in the direction of the Perth Road.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
Johnnie's treat
There was one innocent little dissipation which for years
Johnnie Todd had indulged in every Saturday afternoon or
evening, as his engagements permitted. "With a carpet-
bag under his arm, he would prowl amongst the stalls and
shops in the busy Greenmarket, halting faithfully at each
to price their wares, whether they were of the kind he
wanted or not. Thus he always knew the lowest price of
ham and eggs; of crockery and wooden ladles, bowls and
spirtles, fish and vegetables; of beef, and mutton, and fish;
186 A PBINGESS OF JUTE DOM
and his own voice rose in the general haggling clamour
resounding on all sides. He found a childish delight and
excitement in the noise and in bargaining under the glare
of the naphtha-lamps, and even the hustling of the crowd
afforded him pleasure.
When he quitted the market his bag was well filled with
a store of provisions, whilst a pennyworth of dulse rolled in
a piece of newspaper was generally stuffed into one of his
pockets. He would sometimes linger in the High Street,
jostled about by the surging cross-streams of humanity which
moved leisurely along from Murraygate, Seagate, and Nether-
gate. It was the weekly festival^of the working folk, whether
trade was dull or brisk. Those who had work treated their
less fortunate fellows; and crowds congregated at corners
to discuss trade news, or politics, or domestic affairs.
Everybody seemed to be out for a holiday, and the spirits
of some of the lads and lasses were so exuberant that they
were compelled to proclaim it by shouting and singing
snatches of songs as they swaggered along, indifferent to the
convenience of doucer-minded folk. But, for the most part,
good humour prevailed—at least in the early part of the
evening. Later came the unpleasant scenes, which too often
called for the intervention of the police. But Johnnie never
stayed for these.
Having looked on for a time with a benevolent eye at
the enjoyments and follies of the workers of Jutedom, he
purchased his weekly paper, and then proceeded to his
crowning treat. That was a mutton pie and a cup of coffee
at Tammy Lamb's—he had never been able to alter the old
familiar style of designating the famous coffee-house, not-
withstanding the grandeur of the hotel in "Reform Street,
which he still believed was not half so cosy as the old place
in the Murraygate.
On the first Saturday after his elevation in the office he
had thought, in his pride, that this weekly indulgence in
marketing and mutton pies was not befitting the dignity of
his position, and he had stayed at home. But the old habit
was too strong for him, and the discomfort he experienced
in this sudden attempt to break from it was so great that,
at the end of the following week, he went out with his bag
as usual, and with renewed zest for all the pleasures of
the Greenmarket, the High Street, and Tammy Lamb's.
JOHNNIE'S TREAT 187
With his bag well stored, he was loitering near Job's
Wynd, when the two men who had left Mrs. Duncan's
passed out from it to the carriage. Johnnie almost dropped
his bag, as he stared at the man who was supporting the
invalid. The man wore a heavy overcoat and a soft felt
hat, drawn well over the brows, but Johnnie at once recog-
nised Feuerheerd. He did not think of looking at the
other man, and even if he had done so he would have been
very little the wiser, for the figure was wrapped in a long
ulster; a muffler concealed the lower part of the face, and the
peak and flaps of a travelling-cap entirely concealed the upper
part.
Johnnie stood like one petrified until the carriage had
disappeared. Then he made a sudden movement, as if to
run after it; but he had only taken a few steps, when he
recognised the folly of an attempt to overtake it.
" It was him that I was following, then," he gasped
spasmodically. " It was him that was watching our house.
What was it for ? And who is that poor sowl he has got
with him ? . . . . It's queerer than ever."
He entirely forgot his mutton pie, and hastened home.
There he fidgeted about so restlessly that Jess was at length
constrained to ask him what was the matter.
" Never heed me, my lass; I'm just thinking about things
that I am no able to explain to mysel' yet, and so it's impos-
sible to explain them to you. But we'll see about them
before long. Now, speir nae questions and I'll tell you nae
lees. That's a real fine saying, and very useful at times."
There was almost a degree of irritability in his manner,
which was so unusual that Jess wondered what could have
happened to him. As a rule, when he returned from his "little
spree," as he called it, he was cheerful, and loquacious about
-the' marketing, about the folk he had seen, and about the
quality of the mutton pie. On this occasion he made no
reference to these things.
When he took little Will on his knees to say good-
night, he whispered to him confidentially :
" What do you say about it, Babsie ? There's roguery,
is there no ? Roguery, roguery going on, and you and mo
are finding it out. It's wonderful what a'blessing it is to
be thought a fool. Eh, lad, eh?"
Babsie was sleepy, and, half closing his eyes, asserted
188 A FRINGE 88 OF JUTE DOM
his impatience by a vigorous exercise of his lungs. So the
mother took him, saying that it was time for bed. Johnnie
nodded and nodded, without any sign of surprise, whilst he
muttered to himself: "Just that, just that-; Babsie is as
muckle put out as me, but we'se put it straight soon."
He rose to go to his own den, not to sleep, but to busy
himself with those sheets of interminable figures which
seemed to occupy him night and day. Jess looked at him
inquiringly. There was something wrong with him, and
the first source of trouble which occurred to her mind was
represented by Feuerheerd.
" Has Mr. Feuerheerd been worrying you about any-
thing, grandfather?" She could not help asking, in spite
of his request to be spared any interrogation for the
present.
" Worrying me ! Oh no ; we're great friends, him and
me—great friends." And the old man quitted the room,
chuclding at some invisible joke, and muttering: "It's a
grand thing to be thought a fool."
This eccentric conduct was exceedingly perplexing, for
although Johnnie had been always more or less eccentric in
his ways, he had never before exhibited such restlessness
and such a peculiar expression of cunning, combined with
the air of one who is the possessor of important secrets.
Jess had no doubt that whatever might be the direct
cause of this singular change in her grandfather, Feuerheerd
was somehow mixed up in it. From the moment she had
detected him spying at the nursery window, the man had
become to her the embodiment of all that was evil. And
now a new terror haunted her. He had made away with
the father; could it be possible that he had any designs
against her child? That was the question which had
flashed upon her when she had discovered him at the
window; and on that occasion she had not recovered her
self-possession until the nurse and the woman of mature
years, who had long acted as general servant at the
cottage, had made a tour of the garden, and were able to
assure her that there was no sign of anybody to be
discovered.
She was now longing for the restoration of Mrs. Car-
michael's health, so that she might show her Will's last
letter, for she had a notion that, as a point of respect, it
INVESTIGATIONS 189
should he shown to her before being placed in Marget's
hands. But the reports of the widow's condition continued
to be unfavourable, and she had now resolved that she
would take Marget into her confidence at the end of the
next week, if Mrs. Carmichael was still too unwell to
endure the excitement which must be caused by her
communication.
CHAPTER XXXIV
investigations
Meanwhile, Jess always felt a melancholy pleasure in
visiting Broughty Perry, and having a chat with her old
friend Bauldie Munro. She had been a favourite of his
since the days when, as a child, sbe had come to play on
the sands and gather dulse in summer-time with her grand-
father. Although the old fisherman had told her over and
over again all that he knew of the events of the night when
"Wild Will disappeared, and about the finding of the boat,
she had a morbid satisfaction in hearing the brief narrative
repeated. She felt as if she were nearer to the lost one
whilst standing there on the spot where he had been last
heard of, and in listening to Bauldie's speculations. When
the day was fine she took little Will with her, under a vague
superstition that in taking him to the place she somehow
associated him with his father.
The Monday after the Saturday on which Johnnie had
seen Feuerheerd and the invalid getting into the carriage in
the High Street was particularly bright, and Jess, with
Babsie and the nursemaid, proceeded to Broughty Ferry.
Bauldie was in the kitchen, sitting on a three-legged
stool, mending his fishing gear, and, as usual, enjoying his
pipe. Little Will's great delight was to squat on the floor
beside him, to watch his movements and to play with the
pretty shells, stones, and other curiosities with which the
old fisherman provided him.
On this day they were left alone together longer than
usual. The bright sunlight was streaming in through the
window, making a halo round the child's face. But Babsie
-tired of his playthings, and became fractious. Bauldie had
almost exhausted his soothing powers, and at last drew out
190 A P BINGE SS OF JUTE DOM
a leathern purse in which he kept a variety of small
treasures. Taking from it the gold sleeve-link he had
bought from the loon of Job's Wynd, he held it up before
the child so that a sunbeam fell upon it, making it glisten
and sparkle. The little one held up his hands in eager desire
to possess it.
Just then the mother entered, but little Will did not
heed her, his mind was so full of the bright thing shining
there so prettily. She looked to see what had taken his
fancy so much, and then, with a little cry, started forward,
intercepting the sunbeam, and snatched the sleeve-link
from the astonished Bauldie. She held it up in the light
with tremulous fingers, and examined it closely.
" "Where did you get this ?" she exclaimed, with sobs
in her voice. " This belonged to Will—to my husband."
Bauldie's consternation when he heard Jess identifying
the gold sleeve-link was extreme. For a minute he sat in
dumb puzzlement, unable at once to comprehend the full
meaning of her revelation. The first thing that it meant
to him was the loss of his bargain, and but for the young
mother's agitation, which indicated that the discovery was
of great importance, he would have heartily wished that his
good-nature had not tempted him to bring his treasure into
the light of day.
" Weel, mistress, I dinna ken how it could come to be
your man's," he said, a little gruffly, after the first shock of
surprise ; " but if you're sure o' that, of course, I can say
naetliing."
"I am sure of it i ' she answered excitedly. "Just
look ! it's not like what you can buy any day in the shops.
He was very proud of the links, because they were made
out of a nugget that he found himself, and it was me that
told him to get the horse-slioe put on for luck."
At this remembrance Jess broke down altogether, and
sat crying over little Will, who had gone to 'sleep in her
arms. At sight of her grief Bauldie got rid of the selfish
thought of loss to himself, but it was still with a shade of
reluctance he said : "Aweel, I suppose you'll just hae to
get it, for doubtless you have the best right to it."
" Where did you find it ?" she inquired eagerly, but
with a tremor in the voice, as if she were half afraid of the
answer.
INVESTIGATIONS 191
" It wasna me that found it. It was that loon o' Mrs.
Soutar's, Donald, that found it in Job's Wynd and brought
it to me, as he didna ken what to make o' it."
"In Job's Wynd?" ejaculated Jess, still more astounded.
" How could it come to be there ?"
" Heth! I was just thinking about that mysel'," rejoined
Bauldie, scratching his head, as the fact was slowly beginning
to dawn on him that, all the circumstances considered, his
possession of this property of the missing man might prove
to be very awkward for him. " The loon told me that he
and Jeanie Dow found it, and I had no reason to doubt
his word. But it'll be as well for us to see him and the
lassie, and learn what mair they can tell us about it."
" Oh, Bauldie ! I fear there has been an ill deed done,
and the villains that did it have lost this in the wynd. But
maybe this will bring the whole truth to light."
" If it does that we'll have reason to be thankful. I am
thinkin' we had better go to the Fiscal at once, and let him
question the loon and the lassie."
"Yes, yes; it will be best to let him make the inquiries.
But I should first like to see Mrs. Carmichael or her daughter,
and hear what they think about it. Maybe they would
like to speak to Mr. Dalgleish before we go to the Fiscal."
" Ay, I dare say they would."
" Then, if you can come with me now we will go to
Baldovie, as there is another matter that I want to speak
to them about. It is possible, though, that we may not
be able to see Mrs. Carmichael, as by the last accounts
I had of her she was very poorly."
"We'd better lose nae time. It's a mortal pity ye
didna see the thing sooner."
Bauldie was eager to clear himself as quickly as possible
from the uncomfortable position in which he was placed,
and so he suggested that the bairn should be left to have
his sleep out under the care of the nurse whilst they pro-
ceeded to Baldovie.
Mrs. Carmichael had become so enfeebled by her mental
distress that she now rarely left the house. She was not
obliged to remain in bed, although she could not receive
visitors. The dining-room was her favourite resort, and
there she would sit for hours in a large arm-chair, gazing at
192 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
the portrait of her late husband, as Currie had informed
Feuerheerd. She seemed to be seeking from the picture
some inspiration that might guide her through the present
difficulties.
Marget was almost constantly with her, and proved the
tenderest nurse that anybody could have. When obliged
to leave her she knew that she could trust her to the care
of the professional nurse, who was a woman of experience
and good-nature. Dr. Deuchars was regular in his attend-
ance, and was urging the necessity of a change of scene.
He said little, but in his own mind he continued to be as
much perplexed by the symptoms displayed by Mrs. Car-
michael, as he had been latterly by those of her husband.
"Above all things, she must be kept quiet and free from
worry," was his daily comment.
So when Jess arrived with Bauldie, it was Marget who
went to see them ; and when she heard the strange story of
the sleeve-link, she decided that for the present nothing
was to be said to her mother about it. Her surprise and
dismay were almost as great as Jess's had been ; and she
naturally leaped to the same conclusion, that there could
no longer be much doubt about the fate of her half-brother.
Whatever doubt there might have remained was removed
when Jess read to her the same extracts from Will's last
letter which she had read to her father.
"We must see Mr. Dalgleish at once," she said, "and
leave him to take whatever steps may be necessary to trace
whoever it was had possession of this. Will certainly could
not have been in Job's Wynd that day—I doubt if he ever
was there in his life—and this must have been lost by the
persons who robbed him."
" I suppose the police will be able to find out if there
were any strangers lodging in the wynd at that time,"
suggested Jess.
"No doubt; and I believe we are now coming within
reach of the solution of the whole mystery. You had
better see my mother for a few minutes whilst I am dress-
ing, and then we will go to Mr. Dalgleish's office."
Marget spoke calmly, but she was mentally calling out,
" Oh, if Norman had only been here ! But he has been sent
away, and sent away on purpose that we should be left
helpless."
INVESTIGATIONS 193
The result of the visit to Mr. Dalgleish was an immediate
communication with the Fiscal. The boy, Donald Soutar,
and his companion, Jeanie Dow, were carefully examined,
although every precaution was taken not to frighten them.
They, however, could give no information beyond the fact
that they had found the jewel about the middle of the
wynd. They could not remember the day on which they
found it, but it seemed' to them a long while ago—it was,
at any rate, before the first snow had fallen that year.
Then the police visited the various lodging-houses in
the wynd, in order to learn what strangers had been staying
there during the past six months or so. The population of
the place was always a floating one, but all the persons who
had lodged there or rented flats lately had been oppressed
with poverty. None had shown any sudden increase of
wealth, as would have been the case if any of them had
obtained possession of the large sum of money which it was
understood Mr. "William Carmichael carried about with him
on the evening of his disappearance.
Amongst others, Mrs. Duncan was examined. Her
statement was perfectly clear in all particulars except one,
in reference to the sick man who had been lodging at her
house. His name was George Outram, and he had just
returned from India suffering from the effects of a sun-
stroke. He had been brought to her house by a Dr.
Smith, who was some sort of a friend of Mr. Outram's, but
who was obliged to seek cheap lodgings for him, as neither
he nor his friends had money to spare for better accom-
modation than she could afford. Dr. Smith had taken Mr.
Outram to some distant relatives in Inverness. That was
all she knew. The one point on which her statement was
not satisfactory was that she understood Dr. Smith had
been staying at one of the hotels, but she did not know
which, as he always called two or three times daily, and
brought medicine with him, so that she had never occasion
to send for any.
The Fiscal's object now was to find Dr. Smith.
0
194 A PBINOESS OF JUTFDOM
CHAPTER XXXV.
A strange excursion
The carriage in which Johnnie Todd had seen Feuerheerd
and the stranger drive away proceeded at a moderate pace
until it had got clear of the town. Then, at a signal from
Feuerheerd, the driver whipped his horse into a smart trot,
but not to such speed as would have attracted the attention
of passengers, or any stray constable.
The blue outlines of the Sidlaw Hills gradually merged
into the blackening clouds, as the darkness of night closed
upon the picturesque valley of the Tay. The driver, Fritz
Bauer, was prepared for this. He drew up beside a lonely
strip of plantation, and quickly lit the lamps.
He looked in at one of the windows, which his master
instantly lowered.
" Is there time enough for the train, sir, at this rate ?"
he inquired in German.
The master answered in the same language : " Yes, good
time ; but you may go faster, except when you are passing
any of the cottages or through a village. On reaching Kin-
fauns go leisurely again. We ought to do the distance
easily within three hours."
" Where's the other ?" muttered Feuerheerd's invalid
companion inconsequently.
" I don't know what' the other' you are always talking
about can be," was the answer in a soothing voice. "But
whatever or whoever the other may be we shall try to find
out when we get to our journey's end."
" Where's the other ? " repeated the man, as if he had
not spoken before or had not heard the reply.
" Never mind just now. Take a sip of this, and it will
soothe you."
He held the cup of a small flask to the lips of the man,
who sipped obediently, having as it seemed no will of his
own. Bauer slapped his hands on his breast to warm them,
remounted the box, and drove on in accordance with his
instructions.
The mist rose rapidly, adding to the darkness ot the
evening ; the carriage lamps were only able to dart their
rays a few feet into the gloom, and the bonnie Carse of
A STRANGE EXCURSION 195
Gowrie might have been a dismal swamp for all a stranger
could have seen in driving through it in such an atmo-
sphere.. This was precisely the kind of weather which
Feuerheerd desired for his excursion. He did not attempt
to converse with his companion, and the latter had nothing
to say further than occasional repetitions of that apparently
meaningless question—" Where's the other ?" Feuerheerd
always answered in soothing tones, and devoted all his
attention to keeping him quiet with sips from the little
flask.
They reached the Perth station in good time to catch
the last train for the south, as Feuerheerd had calculated,
In the hustle and bustle of the busy platform no one paid
attention to him or his tottering companion as they passed
into a first-class compartment of the train, which had a
printed label on it, bearing the word " Engaged." A whisper
and a tip from Feuerheerd to one of the guards sufficed
to account for the prostrate condition of his friend, and no
one suspected that there was anything more the matter
than a little or a great deal too much liquor.
At Larbert, Feuerheerd got out of the train with his
friend. A waggonette was waiting under the charge of a
stalwart-looking fellow, who had more the appearance of a
farm-labourer than a coachman. The invalid was lifted into
the conveyance, and a drive of two or three miles brought
them to their destination. It was a square house, situated
in a few acres of ground, and was known simply as Dr.
Broadsley's.
This gentleman combined with a small country practice
the more profitable occupation of taking care of a few
patients suffering from some mental derangement. He was
careful in the selection of his few guests ; they all belonged
to the class of harmless imbeciles, and had relatives or
friends who could afford to pay a handsome fee annually on
their account.
Dr. Broadsley was a square-shouldered little man with a
bullet-shaped head, waxlike complexion, very pale bine eyes,
and short, thin, fair whiskers. Although he was on the
sunny side of forty he looked much older, in consequence of
being perfectly bald, having only a narrow line of sandy hair
stretching round from ear to ear. His black clothes, white
tie, and a general gravity of demeanour intensified the
0 2
196 A PRINCESS OF JUTFDOM
impression of age and experience which he always made
upon those who saw him for the first time.
His boon companions, however, knew him as a jovial
little fellow, who sang comic songs and told droll stories
about his experiences with lunatic and other patients.
Amongst these intimate companions he made no pretence of
regarding his profession otherwise than as a matter of busi-
ness, out of which his first object was to make money ; and
apparently he was satisfied with his progress in this respect.
He had been expecting his visitors, and was waiting to
receive them in what was called his consulting-room, whilst
it also served as his private dining-room and library. "With
the exception of some volumes on Medical Jurisprudence
and the volumes of the Annual Reports of the Commis-
sioners in Lunacy, there were no signs of the medical prac-
titioner or the " mad doctor " in the apartment, which was
comfortably although plainly furnished.
When Feuerheerd entered, supporting the invalid, the
doctor at once advanced to assist the latter into an arm-
chair.
"I see our patient is very much exhausted," said the
doctor with a commiserating smile, addressing Feuerheerd.
" I presume that you are Mr. Henry Outram, with whom I
have been corresponding, and that this is your cousin, Mr.
George Outram ?"
" You are right," answered Feuerheerd, shaking hands
in a solemn way. " The journey has tried the strength of
my poor cousin more than I or our medical advisers antici-
pated. You will find him perfectly quiet and tractable,
except on the rare occasions when this singular mania
about his own identity rises into passion."
" So the certificates inform me," replied the doctor.
"My plan is never to contradict a patient, and by that
means we frequently avoid injurious excitements which have
so great an effect in retarding recovery."
"I should imagine that it must sometimes prevent
recovery altogether. But I am hopeful that under your care,
Dr. Broadsley, my cousin will soon come to be able to
recognise the markings on his own things—his collars,
handkerchiefs, and such like—and then he may gradually
come to understand the unfortunate delusion into which he
has fallen."
A STRANGE EXCURSION 197
"We shall do our best to make bim comfortable, at any
rate ; and I dare say tbat after be bas been a week or so
witb me, I shall be able to form some opinion as to whether
the delusion is likely to be prolonged or permanent."
" I am the more hopeful that it will only continue for a
time," said Feuerheerd, in his character of Henry Outram,
"because lately my cousin has scarcely mentioned the
friend he lost."
" That is a good sign," said the doctor, nodding, as if
the information made him also hopeful.
" They were very intimate, you understand—close com-
rades for years. They travelled a great deal together, and
shared many adventures. Their quarrel and separation
seems to have broken George down entirely."
"Yes, and I dare say the unfortunate habits in which
you tell me he has indulged for years had already to
some extent, if not considerably, weakened his mental
powers."
" There can be no doubt of it—poor fellow!" murmured
the sympathetic cousin. "But I trust time will remedy
that."
"We must hope for the best," rejoined the doctor, with
another faint, melancholy smile ; " but even time and the
utmost care are not always successful if the brain has begun
to decay."
" I leave him entirely in your hands, doctor. I intend
to see him, if possible, twice a week, but certainly once,
until immediate danger is past. With that exception, your
treatment will not be disturbed by the intrusion of too
anxious relatives, for the poor fellow has none. As for his
friends, I have, out of considerations of delicacy for what
he would feel on his recovery—and perhaps out of some
selfish consideration for my own feelings, which you will
pardon "
" Certainly, certainly."
" Thank you. Then as for his friends, I have simply
told them he is gone to the country for a time, and has
been prescribed absolute rest, so that all communications
must pass through me."
" I commend your discretion."
" I have acted under the best obtainable advice. But
there will be no difficulty in making these arrangements, as
198 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
my cousin George has lived so long abroad that he has few
friends in this country now in whom he is interested, or who
are interested in him."
" We have all the better chance of making him con-
tented here ; and contentment is, as you can understand,
one of the first elements requisite for the cure of a disordered
mind."
"Where's the other?" suddenly broke in George
Outram in his feeble voice, whilst he fumbled with one of
his cuffs. He did not seem to be conscious of where he
was, or of the presence of Feuerheerd and the doctor.
The latter looked inquiringly at the guardian of his
new patient.
" It is a question he is always asking," was the answer
Feuerheerd gave to the look. " I infer that he is alluding
to his friend, for he used always to call him his other self."
"No doubt, no doubt," said the doctor, apparently
quite satisfied with the explanation. " He must have been
very much attached to this friend—a fidus Achates, or a
case of David and Jonathan, or something of that sort."
" Just so; but I rather fancy that all the fidelity was on
my cousin's side. His friend took care not to desert him
until he had almost absolutely ruined him in health and
fortune. The loss of his fortune, however," added Feuer-
heerd, with a reassuring smile, " will not interfere with my
procuring for him everything he requires. I hold myself
entirely responsible to you, or to anybody who is kind to
him."
The doctor waved his hand with an air of magnanimous
deprecation, as if the idea of remuneration were quite out-
side their present business. " My dear sir, you will find
that I am too much interested in your cousin's case as it
has been explained to me, to think of anything but the
happiness it will afford me if I succeed in effecting even a
comparative cure. Besides, even regarding the matter
selfishly, it appears to be one of those cases in which, if a
physician succeeds, he not only confers an infinite blessing
upon a fellow-creature, but he wins for himself what is more
precious than gold, the esteem of all lovers of humanity."
" Where's the other ? " muttered George Outram again,
with the same curious action as before.
Without heeding the interruption, Feuerheerd grasped
HOPE 199
the hand of the little doctor, and regarded him with an
expression of intense enthusiasm and admiration. " I am
sure of it!" he exclaimed warmly. " The high repute which
you already bear amongst the most distinguished physicians
of the present day prepared me for your disinterestedness.
I cannot say how I thank you, but you may be assured of
this, that I recognise and honour the high spirit which
actuates you in the noble work of your profession."
Dr. Broadsley smiled benignly and lowered his eyelids,
as if, whilst he appreciated this acknowledgment of his high
motives, he really felt that he was doing nothing more than
his duty. He said so in modest words. Then added: " If
you will go with me now, I will show you your cousin's
rooms."
"With pleasure, but I have no doubt they will be
perfectly satisfactory."
CHAPTER XXXVI.
HOPE
On a bright, clear, breezy morning of the following week,
Marget stood on the top of the Law, sweeping the horizon
with a field-glass. She was looking anxiously seaward.
She had been to see Jess at Mrs. Carmichael's request,
and had extended her leave by climbing to the top of the
Law.
She was glad to be alone, having much to think of,
pleasant and unpleasant, and it seemed easier to think
clearly away from all her usual surroundings. Besides, the
air on the top of the hill was bracing, and helped to sweep
the cobwebs from the brain. The change was so refreshing
from the dust and smoke-laden atmosphere of the town,
that she wondered greatly to see that so few people seemed
to take advantage of such an easy way of recruiting their
lungs. Like many other privileges that lie close to our
hand, it was thought little of because it was so near.
Looking eastward, there were below, green fields, cows
browsing, white linen bleaching on the grass, then irregular
groups of houses; whilst on the other side were the soft
undulating lines of the Fifeshire coast. Beyond was the
mysterious horizon in which lay her hope. The town itself
200 A PRINCESS OP JUTPDOM
was half veiled by its smoky mantle, but the waters of the
Firth danced gaily in the sunshine, and the houses on the
Newport side of the Tay stood out so clearly that it seemed
but a step across. It was the entrance to the Firth, how-
ever, which had most attraction for Marget. Might not one
of those vessels, that the tug was aiding with so much puff-
ing affectation of energy, have spoken the Lindores as they
passed each other on the high seas ?
She had received a letter from Norman that morning,
which had seemed to be an answer to the cry wrung from
her a few days before—" Oh, if Norman were only here !"
His tidings surprised her greatly, and gave her cause for
anxiety as well as' delight. Owing to several things, the
explanation of which he could not trust to black and white,
he had determined to leave his ship and return with all
speed by the overland route. This news she was to keep to
herself for the present, as he did not wish a certain indi-
vidual to be warned of his coming.
At first, joy in the thought of seeing him again so soon,
and having him to share her trouble, overpowered all other
considerations ; but now her heart was filled with forebod-
ings. She seated herself on one of the benches that invite
the weary climber to repose, and gave her mind to the study
of the new position of affairs. Something most extra-
ordinary must have happened to make Norman decide on
such a step—a step which seemed to mean desertion of his
trust, as well as most unseamanlike infidelity to his ship.
What could it mean, and why was she to be silent about it ?
What new villainy had Feuerheerd been planning ?—for she
did not doubt for a moment that he was the individual
referred to.
Then was Norman not playing into the hands of this
skilful foe by giving him an opportunity to accuse him of
having failed in his duty to the firm ?
There was another passage in his letter which was very
mysterious to her. It ran thus :
" You remember, darling, almost your last words to me
were—£ You will find a little parcel I have sent on board
for you. Use it for my sake.' Of course I was curious,
and vowed in my heart that whatever it might be I would
carry it always with me, and use it, even if it should be an
HOPS 201
impossible pipe or tobacco-pouch such as my sisters have
often favoured me with. But I must say that when I
saw the case of wine and spirits addressed to me in
your hand-writing I was puzzled. And when I began
the hard task of using it for your sake, I was still
more puzzled, for the effects produced by it were astound-
ing. If I alone had experienced it, I might have concluded
that somehow the thought of you had turned my poor head;
but I shared some with one of our passengers, who had given
me good cause to favour him, and whose acquaintance I
hope you will soon make. I doubt if you would ever have
seen me again but for him. He tells me that the effect
produced on him and on myself was similar to that caused
by taking some Indian poison. Where in the name of
heaven did you get the contents of the case, and had any
one a chance of tampering with it ?
" There is a terrible mischief-maker amongst us. Take
care of yourself, darling, till I get back, for all that has
happened—all that I know, and much more that I guess,
makes me very ill at ease about you. Above all, do not
taste, or let your mother taste, anything from the hand of
the individual we suspect. If you can, give David some
warning to be careful."
How, who could have sent that case? She certainly
had not done so. Her gift had been much more modest. It
was only a small diary bound in brown morocco, with silver
clasps, and she had put her own gold pencil-case into it,
after writing a little exhortation on the fly-leaf that he
should put down in it anything he wanted to say to her, so
that she might see when he came home how much he had
been thinking of her.
As he made no reference to the diary in his letter, he
could not have got her gift. It was like the old stories of
the elves and brownies. Everything about them seemed to
be going wrong. Still, she would not believe in supernatural
causes till she had very good evidence that all the evil was
not the work of one very substantial brownie on whom she
could lay her finger any day.
There was one point in this that struck her. The writing
on the case was hers, so Norman said ; therefore the trick
was most probably the work of the same individual who had
202 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
found it to his benefit to imitate Jess's handwriting and—
her father's.
What could be the man's object in weaving such a tissue
of falsehood and forgery, when he had not only comfort, but
fortune, ready to his hand? He must have a mania for
committing crimes. As Norman warned her not to allow
her mother to taste anything from this man's hands, he
must suspect him of foul play in that direction also.
And yet
Well, she must watch. And it was a curious corrobora-
tion of this suspicion that her mother's condition had de-
cidedly improved between the man's visits, and there had
always been a falling back immediately after his coming.
She had hitherto ascribed these relapses to the excitement
caused by the unpleasant nature of the interview ; but here
was a new light which would account for much that had
appeared strange in Mrs. Carmichael's behaviour and
appearance.
What steps must she take to prevent her mother from
being victimised? One thing was clear. She must in
future be present at every interview, if she could not manage
to close the doors of Baldovie altogether against the intruder.
But she would make a brave fight for this, and to do so she
must get Dr. Deuchars on her side.
Her mother's mind was much weakened, and by de-
terminedly taking the reins in her own hands, Marget
hoped at least to guard her from further harm. Strong in
this determination, she rose and looked again at the familiar
scene before beginningthe steep descent. The sunbeams
were evolving beautiful colours from the clouds of smoke
which loitered over the town, as if ashamed to rise into the
clear blue sky; and as Marget perceived the beauty in
ugliness, she thought of the many dingy dens down in that
busy workshop where, amidst misery and disease, there had
sprung unexpected flowers of human love and sympathy.
It was Norman's father who had led her to take an
active interest in the poor folks of Dundee ; but it was her
own kind heart that had taught her how to enter the homes
of the unfortunate, so that she was always welcome and
left a brighter atmosphere behind her.
She had determined to pay a visit to the Manse on
the way home, and see whether there was anything in
BOTE 203
Norman's letter to his father to supplement what he had
said to her.
Walking briskly down Constitution Road, Marget turned
eastward along Dudhope Street and Victoria Road. By-
and-by, she noticed that from every turning groups of work-
people emerged, talking eagerly, and all apparently hound in
one direction. Remembering that there was to be a meet-
ing of the workpeople in the Barrack Park that day, she
began to wish that she had chosen the quieter thoroughfares.
A little crowd stood at the corner of Prince's Street,
listening to a harangue from a slim, pale-faced Londoner,
who wore lightish trousers, a long, seedy-looking, black
surtout, displaying much soiled white shirt-front and a
flashy scarf-pin. His brown billycock hat was tipped back-
wards. His face was expressive of impudent intelligence
and a dissipated life. The orator perceived the approach
of Marget, and said, in an insolent tone :
"Look what's coming 'ere, sirs. That's one of your
Dundee swells, is it ? Holds 'er head 'igh, don't she now ?
And why should she ? Where would she 'ave been but for
the sweat of your brows ? These 'aughty beauties want to
learn their places, I say."
And he stood impudently staring at Marget, with the
apparent intention of not letting her pass. A few graceless
lads laughed half-heartedly, but a strong arm seized him
and drew him back, and an honest Scotch tongue said :
"Whist, whist, man ! you dinna ken what you are sayin'
That's Miss Carmichael, John Carmichael's daughter."
A number of friendly voices said, " Guid mornin' to you,
miss," as she paused for a moment to ask the spokesman,
James Mathieson, how his sick wife was.
" Nae better, miss ; but I thank you for speirin'."
"How are you here, James? I thought your works
were still going on."
" Na, we're out the day."
" I am sony for that. Tell Mrs. Mathieson I am coming
to see her this week. She will be down-hearted about the
strike, poor body. ^ I hope you will soon he able to agree,"
added Marget, raising her voice a little so that all could
hear, " for you know better than I do that it is the wife
and bairns that suffer most. Good morning."
As she went on her way there was a kindly look of
204 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
pride on most of the faces of the men, and one said to
another : " It's nae wonder they call her the Princess, for
she's as brave as she's bonnie."
" Ay, and as guid too," said Mathieson.
. The Londoner had disappeared, with one or two of the
younger merhbers of the crowd.
"Now, look here, you chaps," continued Mathieson.
" Do you no see that yon English lad doesna understand
onything about us ? Is there one o' you that would like to
hear an ill word said o' Miss Carmichael?"
" Na, I'm sure no," was the unanimous response.
" Weel, I say that it's thae pawky lads that come down
frae London that really want to make machines of us all.
We are only to think o' the siller, and never o' the guidwill
that long service and guid work brings atween master and
workmen. A bargain's a bargain, of coorse, and we all
want to make the best bargain we can, and nae doubt
it's better for's to join thegither; but, I say, let's do it our
ain way, and no to the bidding of a rollin'-stane like yon."
" Ay, there's maybe something i' that, tae," put in one
of the listeners.
" Now, take for instance the Baxter Park. How lang
would it have ta'en the like o' us working folk, even if we
had ha'en the biggest wages we ever could think on, to
save up enough to buy that ? What say you, Mester
McAlister?" and Mathieson looked towards an elderly,
long-bearded man whose opinion was highly thought of by
his neighbours.
"Well, I think you are maybe not far wrong. Any
way, it's another example of what I often say. There is
mostly two sides to every question, and it's best to hear
them both and act accordin'. But I think we should be
moving on to the Park now."
"Ay, we'd better hurry," said Mathieson, "or the
young spunkies '11 be carryin' a'thing their ain way."
When Marget arrived at the Manse she found Mr.
Grant and his sister in the study. Miss Grant was sitting
by the fire knitting, while the minister stood on the hearth-
rug with a letter in one hand and his eyeglasses in the
other. He had been reading bits of Norman's letter aloud.
Having greeted Marget affectionately, he resumed the
A CHEOK 205
reading, well knowing that he had a more appreciative
audience than before.
There was only one extract which added anything to
the girl's knowledge. In it Norman informed his father
that he had gained a very valuable friend in one of the
passengers who had gone out in his ship, and that he
believed the friendship might be productive of much sub-
stantial benefit to him in a business way, and enable him
sooner to be in a position to claim his bride.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
a check
One day when the birds were proclaiming, even in the dust-
laden air of Jutedom, that spring had arrived, and when
the primroses which Johnnie Todd had planted were peep-
ing out to see if the world was bright enough for them to
live in, Feuerheerd honoured Mr. Todd with his company
as far as Braeside Cottage. His pretext was that he had
some things to talk over with him that he had not been able
to find time for in office hours.
Mrs. William, as he was careful to call Jess, did not
attempt to be genial in her reception of him, nor was she
in the least gratified by his apparently respectful sympathy
and his expressions of regret at her changed looks' All
that she desired was to see him go, and she was overjoyed
that he refused to be seated. Nevertheless he did not go,
and Johnnie, after fidgeting round the room for a minute or
two, made some excuse, and hurried out to see how his
flowers were greeting the first promise of warmth and
sunshine.
Then Feuerheerd proceeded to speak to Jess in a con-
fidential undertone. " I am aware, Mrs. William, that my
presence is, and has always been, distasteful to you, and I
have no wish to distress you by coming here. But I
thought it my duty to come to-day, because I consider
that you ought to have some warning of your grandfather's
danger."
"Danger to grandfather ? No one can be so cruel as to
harm him !" exclaimed Jess, in a tone of conviction.
206 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
" Certainly no one wishes to harm him ; hut we think
that a great calamity has befallen him. To all appearance
he is suffering from softening of the brain, if not from some-
thing even more serious. His conduct is so peculiar that I
am afraid he will soon require very particular care and
watchfulness."
Jess listened and wondered wearily what new mischief
this man was after. Did he mean to say that her poor old
grandfather was going out of his mind? Then he was
telling wicked lies. And yet, was it not true that the
old man had been very peculiar lately ? There was his
extraordinary way of talking to baby—his restlessness and
sudden changes from low spirits to unaccountable glee—
and there was the fact that he had altered many of the
habits to which for years he had been constant. For
instance, instead of remaining at home all the evening he
frequently went out, and did not return till far on in the
night.
Was it possible ?
She had been looking down, silently going over these
thoughts in her mind. Suddenly she raised her eyes, and
met Feuerheerd's fixed upon her with admiring scrutiny.
The woman's instinct was aroused in her, and, forgetting
her doubts, she exclaimed passionately : " You need not
try to make me believe that. It is only that you cannot
understand the good old man."
Feuerheerd did not resent the imputation conveyed in
look and tone more than in words; for he divined from
the long pause and the form of her answer that the poison
had begun to work.
He answered gently : " It is natural that you should be
indignant at the first hint of such an affliction to one so
dear to you ; but by-and-by you will see that as his friend
and yours I was bound to speak as I have done, and I trust
that you will forgive me for having been the bearer of evil
tidings."
Jess was not convinced; but for the moment she was
paralysed by a sense of helplessness to resist this subtle
enemy, and she remained silent. Nor did she reply save
by mechanically bending her head when he continued : "I
have said what I came to say, and so will not trouble you
further. Good-bye."
A OBEGK 207
He went out, leaving her seated in an attitude of the
deepest dejection.
*****
In accordance with the resolution which she had come
to, Marget took an early opportunity of having a serious
consultation with Dr. Deuchars. She did not feel at liberty
to take him entirely into her confidence ; but what she did
tell him, combined with the fact that many of the symptoms
of his patient were quite unaccountable to him on any
ordinary theory, induced him to give his sanction to Marget's
plan of completely isolating her mother from all outside
influences. The doctor, therefore, issued strict orders that
Mrs. Carmichael should remain in bed for some days, and
should not leave her room or see any visitors without his
special permission.
Marget communicated this order to the household, and
forbade them all, on pain of instant dismissal, to admit
any one. The answer was to be the same to every one. II
this plan failed, she was determined to take her mother
away from the neighbourhood altogether, out of reach of
the baleful influence which was sapping her energies, phy-
sical and mental.
The result of this arrangement was that Feuerlieerd had
called twice at Baldovie without being able to gain admission.
Currie was respectful, but firm.
On leaving Braeside Cottage, he proceeded to make a
third attempt to storm the stronghold, for it did not suit
his purposes at all. that he should not be permitted to see
Mrs. Carmichael at frequent intervals.
Simpson, M.P., had also made his second vain attempt
that afternoon to pay his respects to the wealthy widow,
and had given Currie, with a great flourish, the handsome
donation of five shillings, with strict injunctions that he
was to convey the enormous bouquet which he had brought
with him to Mrs. Carmichael's own apartment, and deliver
it to her with his card and compliments.
When Feuerheerd received what was now the inevitable
answer to all callers at Baldovie, he looked at Currie mean-
ingly, and placed in his hand half-a-sovereign.
"Can't do it, sir, nohow," answered Currie. "It is
against the doctor's orders."
"Of course you cannot," said Feuerheerd, "but you
208 A PRINCESS OF JTJTEDOM
can do what I tell you. Give this letter into Mrs. Car-
michael's own hands as soon as possible."
" Yes, sir—very good, sir ;" and Currie stood half
bowing and chuckling as Feuerheerd turned away, by no
means pleased at this determined closing of the doors at
Baldovie.
Currie soliloquised thus : "Now what does that chap
want ? Any fool with half an eye can see what the gouk
Simpson is after, but this is a deep one. Well, anyways,
Currie, my man, you know your own mind. Neither of
them is the man to follow your master ; but you don't care
how long they keep at the courtin', if there is much more
o' this stuff to come the way o' your pouch."
And jingling its contents, with another chuckle, Currie
resumed the solemnity due to his office as butler in a much-
afflicted family.
CHAPTER XXXVIII,
on guard
The rebuff Feuerheerd met at the door of Baldovie was not
the only source of the chagrin he had to endure that day.
Some time previously he had received a telegram from
Calcutta, stating that the Lindores had arrived in port, and
cargo was being discharged. This information had been
forwarded by the first mate ; and the recipient smiled—a
smile of grim satisfaction.
" Then Miss Carmichael's little gift has done its work,
and the captain has relished his wine. He always did
relish that particular brand, because it pleased the palate
and did not affect the brain. Milk-and-water ass ! He has
found it had a different effect this time, and it came direct
from the idol of his heart! There was the label written by
her own dainty hand. What better guarantee could there
be for its purity and innocence ?"
A commonplace or melodramatic schemer who had sue-
ceeded in substituting his own parcel for Marget's, and in
transferring her label to his box without the aid of an
accomplice, would have lain back on his chair at this point
and laughed'' at his dupes. But Feuerheerd never laughed
except in company, and then he did it only in a gentle way
ON GUAED 209
in order to show his good-humoured appreciation of what-
ever pleased his friends.
As a rule, when he had scored a victory—outwitted
somebody in a business transaction, or made a specially
advantageous bargain—if any one congratulated him he
smiled gratefully, and said : " Yes, it is very good for us ; and
I hope our customers will find it is quite as good for them."
And even when alone, the thought of a triumph evoked
nothing more than a smile, grim or contemptuous as might
be. He was too earnest in carrying out his schemes to
laugh. So now, when he saw those schemes rapidly
approaching complete success, he only smiled as he held
the telegram in his hand. But quickly the smile was
changed into a frown as a new thought flashed upon him.
" But how is it he says nothing about the captain ? If
my plan has succeeded, there must have been some mention
of the occurrence at sea, and there is none! Has there
been any suspicion aroused by the flavour of the wine?
No, his palate is not refined enough for that; and as the
gift came from her, he would drink with the glow and con-
fidence of the fool nicknamed lover."
"With brows knit and lips closed tightly, he studied the
brief business-like message again.
" But there may have been an accident to the case after
I left it in his cabin," he muttered, rapidly scanning the
possibilities of failure. "Or it may have been pushed
into a corner and forgotten. Most improbable; and he
would not hesitate to use the wine, every glass of which
would inspire him with sweet visions of her. No, no ; that
could not be, unless "
Here Feuerheerd paused to smile at his own absurd
fancies.
Unless she had told him what her little box contained,
and he, finding a difference -in the contents of the one he
opened, discovered that a trick had been played, and
decided to place the whole thing aside. Impossible. . .
Yet, why does the telegram come from-the mate—why is
there no mention of him ?"
The question could not be easily answered. He must
wait for letters. In the meanwhile he telegraphed to the
mate : " Where is your captain ? Has he given you the
instructions contained in his papers ? Write."
P
210
A PRINCESS OF JTTTEBOM
Then he turned to the multifarious projects in which he
was involved with the cool self-confidence which is the first
element of success in worldly affairs, especially if it be well
mixed with indifference as to the fate of others. There can
he no doubt that the game in which it is " heads I win,
tails you lose," obtains marvellous results for the principal
player.
But things were not going so smoothly with him as he
had calculated, and as his mathematical arrangements
ought to have ensured. He knew that he had many watch-
ful eyes upon him. He believed that he had in part
overcome Marget's doubts. This was only a return to the
belief which he had at one time entertained, that she had
not been at all infected by Wild Will's suspicions.
There was, however, the calm watchfulness of old
Dalgleish to be guarded against, and now there was the
prying curiosity of Johnnie Todd to be reckoned with.
The old man, in his folly, had for a space done him good
service without knowing it. How he refused to sign any
documents which involved the firm in speculations.
" What's the use of my name?" Johnnie always said, after
looking at the document, whatever it might be, which was
' 1 ' 1 ' "xr " 1 It was you that
will no stand thae things."
All his superior's blandishments failed to move him from
this position. At first this obstinacy was regarded as no-
thing more than a silly assertion of independence. But it
was persisted in, notwithstanding the strongest arguments
presented to him. Feuerheerd regarded Johnnie with so
little respect that the thought of being detected by an old
fool like him never rose in his mind. Still, as Johnnie
seemed to work more diligently every day at those sheets of
figures, Feuerheerd's curiosity became so great that he took
the trouble of piecing together some of the torn scraps which
had been thrown into the waste-paper basket.
He was for a moment puzzled, and presently startled by
the result of his inspection. The figures represented
correct excerpts from the principal ledgers and account-
books of the firm, with the beginning of what appeared to
be an attempt to strike the balance of the profit and loss of
a particular quarter. This calculation was fragmentary,
Forbye, my head
ON GUARD 211
and appeared to have been given up on account of errors due
to the lack of information about special arrangements which
were not entered in the ordinary books, but in the private
ledger.
The gift possessed by Johnnie in dealing with figures was
known to every one, and he obtained credit for it, even from
those who laughed most at him as a simpleton, or a
" natural," who was the legitimate butt of the pranks of
thoughtless youths. In this scrap, however, Feuerheerd
perceived a cunning and skill which, under proper guidance,
might have given the simpleton a high place.
Feuerheerd recognised this, and yet he, whose adroitness
in all dealings with men and things was admired by every-
body—he, even now with this paper in his hand, regarded
Johnnie with such contemptuous pity, that he was blind to
the real drift of the calculations before him.
" The poor creature," he said, " has taken for earnest
my jest that he might one day be a partner, and he is try-
ing to make out our position, in order to estimate the possible
amount of the share to be allotted to him. All the same, it
is time the crafty old beggar was relegated to proper
guardianship. These papers might fall into the hands of
some one who could guess what use to make of them."
Johnnie's eccentricities, which were daily becoming more
and more accentuated, provided an easy means of getting
him out of the way. Hence the suggestion to Jess, that
her grandfather required to be looked after. That was the
first step—circumstances would decide when and how the
second was to be taken.
One question remained—how many of the entries in the
books had the old man written down ? Of course the
scribblings of a lunatic would go for nothing in a court of
law, unless they were corroborated by the books. Still, it
would be advisable to obtain possession of those sheets
Johnnie had been so busy over. That was a matter to have
immediate attention.
Meanwhile another threatening element, and this a real
one, appeared in a letter from Andrew Gibson, first mate of
the Lindores, in reply to the telegram. It stated that a few
days after Captain Grant had given him (Gibson) full in-
structions about the cargo, he had placed m his hands all
the papers in connection with it and the vessel for his
P 2
212 A PnmOMS OF JUTFDOtf
guidance; then the captain had gone ashore, having
previously sent off some luggage. He had not returned,
and no information had been obtained concerning him or his
whereabouts. The mate was afraid some fatal accident had
befallen him, and had sought the assistance of the authori-
ties. But up to the moment of writing they had learned
nothing. The mate in the meanwhile took full command,
and would carry out the instructions of the owners.
As he read this communication Feuerheerd's face bore
the same expression as that which appeared on it on the day
when the Lindores weighed anchor and he had seen Marget
watching the departure of her lover. _ But there was some-
thing more—there was for the first time a shade of pallor
on the cheeks, as if he were alarmed as well as bitterly dis-
appointed. The feeling was soon overcome, and he smiled
at his own momentary weakness. Then the brows con-
tracted darkly, and he looked as if confronting an enemy
with whom there was to be a duel to the death. The
conduct of Captain Grant in leaving his ship without a hint
as to his intentions meant mischief. True, an accident
might have befallen him, as the mate suggested; but it was
not by accident that he had removed his baggage beforehand
from the Lindores.
"Luck seems turning against me," was Feuerheerd's
calm reflection. " "Well, I fight best when my back is at the
wall. We must hasten matters forward, and bring them to
the climax sooner than I thought expedient or safe. The
risk must be taken, and if the brave captain arrives before
my work is accomplished, so much the worse for him."
Then with much deliberation he wrote the letter for Mrs.
Carmichael which he had been obliged to entrust to Currie.
Should the letter reach her hand, he had no doubt of being
received when he presented himself next time. He hoped
she was not really so ill as the doctor's directions would
lead people to suppose. That would not suit him at all, for
it would greatly impede his progress. But should he still
be refused an interview, then he must appeal to the Princess
and play his highest card.
On the following morning, after going over the mass of
correspondence which lay on his writing-table in the office,
he summoned Mr. Whitelaw. That decorous personage was
much surprised to observe that the manager, who was
ON GUARD 213
always so bland and cool, was in a state of agitation which
had never been exhibited by him before.
" I have made a most unpleasant discovery, Whitelaw,"
was the abrupt announcement of the manager.
The cashier opened his eyes in a startled way; for
"unpleasant discoveries" had only one meaning in his
mind—the bankruptcy of some debtor and loss to the firm.
" I hope it is nothing very serious—nothing very heavy."
" So serious that on the face of it the thing seems incre-
dible," rejoined Feuerheerd. "I was aware that some
private arrangement had been made between the father and
son, but I had no idea that it could possibly have run to
anything like this extent."
" "What arrangement ? " inquired the puzzled cashier,
beginning to feel anxious.
"An arrangement made by the late Mr. Carmichael,
permitting his son William to pledge the credit of the firm
in various gold-mining and railway speculations. But I am
certain he never dreamed of going one-fifth of this length."
" How much is it ? " was the practical question.
" According to these letters we shall be liable for some-
thing over a hundred thousand pounds ! "
" Good Lord !" exclaimed Mr. Whitelaw, turning pale
and sinking on a chair, where he sat staring in bewilderment
at the manager.
"Keep cool, Whitelaw—keep cool. We must not lose
our heads, although mine has not done reeling yet. We
must have a strict investigation into the whole affair before
we accept these statements as true. Meanwhile, we must
keep our own counsel as well as our heads. It would shake
the credit even of the house of Carmichael and Co. if it
were known that we had sustained such losses. For the sake
of the widow and family, we must do what we can to save the
house."
" But how—how does it come about ? "
" I am not clear yet. The broad fact has so upset me
that I have not yet been able to master such details as are
given here. They are by no means complete, however.
So much I have already made out. We will have to go over
the private ledger, and see what we can learn from it,"
214 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DO At
CHAPTER XXXIX.
a flirtation
"Whilst these grave events were passing around him, David
Carmichael, blessed with the buoyancy of youth, was the
only one of the family who had any real pleasure in life.
His classes occupied part of the day, and then he had
plenty of healthy outdoor exercise. But when his mother
became entirely confined to the house, and he saw that
Marget was daily becoming more and more thoughtful and
anxious, whilst she would explain nothing, he began to ex-
perience a sense of depression. Even Feuerheerd was now
so absorbed in business that he had seldom an hour to spare
for him. He, too, would explain nothing.
David wondered what it was all about. He had plenty
of companions, but none with whom he could discuss home
affairs, and he longed for such a one as he felt the gloom
deepen upon the house. His longing was unexpectedly
gratified in the person of Johanna Deuchars.
For some time after the departure of the Lindores, that
young lady was so bad-tempered and sharp-tongued that the
household of Hazelbank declared life under such rule to he
quite unendurable. A week or two more of it would have
produced open revolt and secession.
The young termagant, of course, put some restraint upon
the outward display of her spleen in the doctor's presence;
and as he was himself at this period inclined to unusual
taciturnity, he did not pay much attention to the want of
amiability in his daughter's demeanour. His mind was dis-
agreeably exercised by the sense of utter incapacity to form
a correct diagnosis of the illness of his late friend, and now
of the widow. He had never come across similar symptoms
in any other patient. It was no use blaming the drainage
or the situation; the former had been constructed by expe-
rienced engineers, and the second was one of the healthiest.
Besides, everybody else about the place was perfectly well.
He could not get the matter out of his head, and whenever
he was free to think his mind reverted to it.
Johanna's brother, Bob, who was an observant and
audacious young man of twelve, had perhaps the most cause
to complain of the stormy condition of affairs in the do-
A FLIRTATION 215
mestic atmosphere; and it was he who administered the
bitter tonic of unvarnished truth which restored the disap-
pointed maiden to common-sense.
"Johanna," he said abruptly one morning, when they
were alone together at the breakfast-table, "I have been
thinking."
" Do you find it very painful ?" she inquired super-
ciliously.
"No, but I feel what set me thinking give me as many
collywobbles as an extra feed of sour apples."
"Your language is expressive, but neither refined nor
explicit."
" There you go again. What do you keep on snapping
and snarling that way at everybody for ? I know—every-
body knows "
And the boy stuffed his mouth with buttered toast as if
to emphasize the declaration of knowledge. His sister's
cheeks flushed as she inquired sharply : " What do you
know ?"
" It's taught me a lesson, I can tell you," he spluttered,
with his mouth full.
" It has not taught you manners evidently," was the
sarcastic retort.
"You needn't carry on that way, Jo. If you do, no
fellow will think of you—I wouldn't—and he doesn't want
you."
" I think it is time for you to go to school," said Johanna,
rising angrily from the table, and as she hastily quitted the
room the boy's shout of derisive laughter rang in her ears,
making them burn.
She was angry with Bob ; but for all that she owned to
herself that there was sense in what he had said. She was
fond of him, and had been in her way a kind sister. She
knew that he returned her affection, and had been, ac-
cording to his lights, acting a brotherly part in giving her
what he would have called a good shaking up.
Johanna was not sentimental, but active and practical.
She had no desire that anybody should think that she was
wearing the willow for Norman Grant's sake. If there had
been a chance of winning him she would have seized it; but
it was now clear to hef that neither devotion nor cajolery
could make him turn aside from Marget. She was con-
216 A PRINCESS OF JUTEVOM
scions—and a little ashamed to think that she had stooped
to try it—that her scheme to separate them had turned
against herself. Her last reception at the Manse had been
a very chilling one on the part of the girls, so chilling that
she decided to allow some time to elapse before she pre-
sented herself there again.
She had no desire for Marget's company, and therefore
at first experienced little regret that, owing to Mrs. Car-
michael's illness, it was unnecessary to visit Baldovie, or do
more than make regular inquiries as to the progress of its
mistress. As the time came round, however, when there
should be news of the safe arrival of the Lindores at its
destination, she began to fidget, and in spite of herself to
feel an unconquerable desire to learn at least something of
what Norman had written, for, of course, he would write
by the first mail.
Her father's answers to any questions about Baldovie
were always short and gruff. After several attempts to
elicit information from him without result, she determined
to turn to some other quarter. Mr. Feuerheerd immediately
occurred to her. He could have told her something, at any
rate, about the Lindores and its captain; but although he
had promised to call, he had not done so. She could not
go to him, and writing was out of the question, as it would
reveal the particular interest she took in one who was bound
to another. She resolved to take advantage of the first
excuse she could find for calling at the Manse, although
she would much rather have waited for a friendly invitation
to do so, or at any rate until some of the girls called on her.
At this juncture David Carmichael appeared at Hazel-
bank. He had been sent in haste to tell the doctor that he
was wanted at Baldovie. The doctor was not at home then,
but was expected within the hour, and Johanna invited her
young friend to wait and take a cup of tea. An idea had
suddenly occurred to Johanna which she considered quite a
happy thought. Being off with the old love, why should
she not be on with the new ? She had, indeed, been trying
to find some one to whom her fancy might incline ever
since Bob had thrown that sharpest of all social darts at
her in the words—"Everybody will laugh at you." _
" They shall laugh with me," was her prompt improve^
ment of the phrase.
A FLIRTATION 217
So she made calls, accepted invitations, became noted
for her inventiveness in games of forfeits and charades, was
the liveliest of partners in a dance, and was a most desirable
addition to a tennis or evening party.
" Never thought before that there was so much go in
little Deuchars," said the gentlemen, glowing under the in-
fluence of her undisguised flattery.
The younger girls dubbed her " a desperate flirt," and
supposed that as she was on the wrong side of a quarter of
a century she was making a last effort to catch a husband.
" The little Deuchars" enjoyed her triumphs, although
offers of hands and fortunes were not yet amongst them.
At any rate, Norman's sisters could not say that she was
pining after their brother.
But she wanted to know all about him, and here was
the opportunity she had been seeking in order to obtain
intelligence. She wondered that it had never occurred to
her before. David was an impressionable young man, just at
the age when the admiration of a woman is much more allur-
ing than the coy sweetness of a girl in her teens. A judicious
flirtation with him would assure her of obtaining the latest
tidings of Norman that reached Marget and Feuerheerd.
She began the attack at once.
" You must have a weary time in the house just now,"
she observed feelingly.
" Yes, it's dull; but we can't help it, you know—wish
we could."
" I am sure we all wish that, and hope your dear mother
will soon be herself again, so that you may be free to enjoy
yourself."
" Oh, I'm free enough, but it's not easy to be joyful
when things are so gloomy at home. I've almost given up
going amongst our fellows either for football or anything
—not even for rowing, although 1 have got a splendid new
boat."
Then the imaginary young misanthrope was indulged
with such sympathy that he began really to pity himself,
and to feel that at last he had found one who could under-
stand and appreciate him. Before they parted he had
promised to take Johanna for a row in his boat on the first
fine afternoon when the water was smooth.
David fell in love with an ideal of his own, and blindly
218 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
accepted Johanna as the embodiment of it. He began to
write verses and to dream dreams, in blissful unconscious-
ness of the covert smiles with which his Dulcinea observed
the sudden outburst of the flames of love. He was not
quite so insensible of the inquisitive stares whichBob favoured
him with. That embryo surgeon (for he was to walk in bis
father's shoes) viewed the whole proceedings as a psycholo-
gical study; and wondered what were the sensations of that
mysterious malady called love-sickness. The symptoms
were plain enough; and their most marked effect was,
according to Bob, to transform an otherwise sensible fellow
into a fool.
Johanna was conscience-stricken by the spirit she had
raised, for, although shrewish and envious in some respects,
she was not wicked when her own passions were not aroused.
She endeavoured to bring the enamoured youth down to the
level of cordial friendship. But her change of manner only
inflamed him the more. She had thrown a spark into a
store of jute, and the fire was not to be easily quenched.
Had he been ten years older, she would have been delighted ;
as it was, she repented ever having thought of amusing her-
self at his expense. She did her best to compensate him by
kindliness, and by checking him whenever he seemed
disposed to advance too far.
But before she had awakened to a sense of the mischief
she had done, they went for a row in his new boat as
agreed. He had brought it to one of the flights of steps
which descend from the Esplanade, and as he pushed off,
with Johanna seated smiling in the stern, David's heart
was bounding with pleasure.
" Don't row fast, David, so that we may have leisure to
talk and to enjoy the sunshine."
" That is just what I should like to do," he answered
brightly.
But the question which followed was disappointing, for
it led away from the subject on which he would have liked
to talk.
" Do you see Mr. Feuerheerd often ?"
" Not lately. There seems to be some tremendous fuss
going on at the office, and he is swamped in work. But I
mean to go over to his house some evening soon. I should
have missed him a good deal if "
A FLIRTATION 219
"You like him very much then?" she interrupted
hastily.
" Oh yes. Do you ?"
"Pretty well; but he is—peculiar sometimes."
" In what way ?"
"Well," she answered, hesitating a little, "I thought
it was peculiar that he should tell me about Marget and
Norman Grant's engagement, when it was intended to be
kept quiet, as I leamt afterwards."
" Oh !" exclaimed David in a low tone, resting on his
oars. " He told you ! Did he tell anybody else ?"
" I don't know."
" I see," David went on thoughtfully. " Then it was
by me that the cat was let out of the bag; for I told him,
and very likely did not make it plain enough that it was
not to be spoken about."
Then he rowed for a few minutes in silence, and
Johanna saw that he seemed to be puzzled about something.
She spoke:
" I suppose, when you see him, he will be able to tell
you all about the voyage of the Lindores I"
" I suppose so, if there is anything to tell."
" I should so much like to hear about it, and to give the
folk at the Manse a surprise by taking them the first
news."
"Would you ? Very well, then ; after I have seen you
home, I shall go along to Feuerheerd's place this evening,
and learn all he knows about the vessel for you."
In his delight at being able to do anything that would
afford her pleasure, he forgot the surprise he had felt at
learning that Feuerheerd had betrayed confidence. He for-
got everything except that he was here in the sunshine
with his ideal of womanhood close to him, smiling upon
him. The thought added vigour to his arms, and he rowed
bravely up stream. He passed under one of the arches of
the Tay Bridge. To him, in his present mood, there was
music in the clatter of hammers, the panting of engines, and
all the sounds which indicated that the work of restoring
the bridge was going busily forward. He did not even
remember that they were passing over the scene of one of
the most terrible disasters that the century has known.
It was a happy afternoon for David, and agreeable
220 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
enough to Johanna, for she had succeeded in establishing
him as her link of communication with the sources of infor-
mation about Norman, whilst she had prevented him from
being too foolish. It was dusk when he left her at Hazel-
bank, and he promised to call on his way home from
Feuerheerd's.
At that gentleman's residence he presented himself two
hours later. Yes, the master was at home and upstairs in
his workshop, David was informed by Mrs. Bauer ; and he,
being looked upon as a favoured guest, was shown upstairs
at once.
This time he had scarcely touched the door, when a
harsh voice said : " Come in."
David entered. His friend was standing by a table with
a book in his hand, as if he had been interrupted in reading.
He was looking frowningly towards the door. But the
frown disappeared the moment he saw who his visitor was.
" Ah, David," he said, laying down his book and holding
out both hands to welcome him. "I am so glad to see
you. I have been utterly wearied out in the office, and
came up here to try and distract my mind by communing
with some of my old-world friends. But it will be better
still to have a chat with you—you, young, fresh, and still
unburthened with the world's cares."
" You seem to be out of sorts to-night," said David,
pleased by his cordial welcome.
" I am, lad—I am, greatly so. But never mind that—
I hope all will come right. Let us talk of something else."
" I fear you are overstraining yourself, and you will get
knocked up. Can you not get more assistance ?"
"No, no," answered Feuerheerd, shaking his head
wearily. " I must stand by the helm myself until the ship
sinks or we clear the rocks. But let us talk of something
else, I say. Talk of yourself—of your mother, your sister.
How are they?"
" Mother is improving, I believe, and my sister is pretty
well.
" Good, good. Sit down here and tell me about them.
"What is the doctor's latest report? How soon does he
think Mrs. Carmichael will be able to get about ?"
David seated himself on a chair beside the table at
which Feuerheerd had been standing. But before he could
A FLIRTATION 221
teply to the questions there was a knock at the door, and
again there was the answer in that harsh voice, " Come in."
It seemed as if the man were in expectation of some
disastrous tidings which he intended to meet boldly.
The door was opened by Fritz Bauer. " Mr. Whitelaw,
sir, says he must see you very quick."
" Say I am coming." Then, turning to David with a
tired smile, he said, " You see, there is no rest for me even
here. But I shall not be long. Wait for me. I want to
hear all about your people."
David had never seen his friend in such a mood as this,
and was somewhat perplexed to account for it. Uncon-
sciously his eyes rested on the open book which lay on the
table before him under the lamp. It was a manuscript
notebook dealing with chemical subjects ; and presently a
few stray words quickened David's attention. He read the
following note :
" The datoora is one of the most singular plants of
India. The leaves possess useful medicinal properties,
whilst the seeds are a subtle poison. In small doses the
effect is temporary insanity and loss of memory ; in large
doses permanent insanity and death. Madar is another
curious plant. Prepared in one form it is a simple
intoxicant; but the madar milk, after being dried in the
sun, is a deadly poison. If the skin be pricked with it,
and a fragment left in the flesh, death ensues slowly and
painlessly, leaving no trace of the cause beyond a slight
speck on the skin, like the sting of an insect. Possessed of
the datoora and madar milk the Borgias might have worked
their will upon all the world with impunity."
After reading this a second time, David rose' to his feet
pale and sick. He put on his cap and hastened downstairs.
Bauer was in the hall.
"Tell your master I cannot wait," said David huskily,
as he hurried out.
# * * * *
In the stableyard of one of the principal inns an ostler
stood with his hands in his pockets, idly looking towards
the gateway. To him came Fritz Bauer.
" You are to reserve a carriage and horses until further
notice, and to have them in readiness to start at any hour,
night or day," said the German.
222
A PEIN0E8S OF JUTE BOM
CHAPTER XL.
by a thread
Marget's plan of secluding her mother from all intercourse
with the outer world, and not allowing any one to enter the
sick-chamber except herself, the doctor and the nurse, had
given satisfactory results. At first Mrs. Carmichael had
fallen into a state of semi-stupor ; but after a few days she
was roused into a degree of languid interest in watching
the quiet movements of her daughter, and in listening to
some passage from the Bible, read in Marget's soft, sooth-
ing tones.
But the languor continued long ; she took the carefully
prepared food mechanically, and, indeed, obeyed every
direction of her daughter, the doctor, or the nurse, with
the docility of a child who has no will of her own. So far
they were all thankful, for her physical powers were sus-
tained by the nourishment provided for her. It was, how-
ever, the mental condition which was most distressing to
Marget. Her mother looked and spoke as if she under-
stood everything that was done for her and said to her;
looked as if she appreciated and approved it all for the
moment whilst it was passing. The next moment she had
forgotten everything.
The most distressing incident of all was when she
forgot her daughter's name.
Marget was seated by the bedside reading, when she
heard her mother muttering strangely to herself. The
book was laid aside, and the daughter listened and watched
eagerly for any sign which would enable her to comprehend
what was wanted. The face of the invalid was troubled,
her lips moved restlessly, and she gazed at her daughter
with imploring eyes.
" What is it, mother ? Are you in pain ?—do you want
anything ?"
" Tut-tut! the name—what is it ?" murmured Mrs
Carmichael helplessly.
" Whose name, mamma ?" asked Marget softly, bending
over her.
There was a long silence, and at length, in a painful
whisper, came the one word—" Yours."
BY A THREAD 223
It was with, difficulty that Marget restrained the impulse
to spring back with a cry of terror.
" My name, mother ! " she exclaimed in an awed under-
tone ; for this was the most marked sign of mental weakness
which had yet appeared.
The mother looked troubled. She was vainly striving to
grasp an idea which eluded her like a Will-o'-the-wisp ; and,
half unconscious that her failure was due to some defect in
herself, she seemed to be keenly ashamed of it. The con-
tracted brows relaxed, the whole face cleared,, and there was
a sigh of intense relief when Marget whispered the name.
"Yes, yes—Marget, my child, that was it! I have been
trying and trying, it seems to me, for hours to get the
name on my tongue ; but I could not, my thoughts are so
confused."
" Don't try to think about anything, mother. You want
sleep above all things, the doctor says ; and when you have
got that, your mind will be as clear as ever."
She spoke this in a confident tone, but there was a great
fear in her heart.
" You are right, Marget," rejoined the mother, and she
repeated the name frequently, as if afraid of losing it
again. " I feel that sleep will restore me ; but things keep
running through my head in such a way that I never seem
to lose consciousness. You tell me sometimes that I have
slept well; but I feel as wearied as if my eyes had never been
closed."
When Marget informed the doctor of this episode, she
was surprised to find that he regarded it with some
satisfaction.
" She is undoubtedly recovering," he said; " for, you
see, she has become conscious of her own weakness.
Keep up your heart, and keep her as quiet as you can.
So long as she is able to take sufficient nourishment, I
have no doubt that we shall come safely through the wood,
unless "
" Why do you stop ?"
"Well, well, we needn't mind that. We have made
considerable progress, and we must wait contentedly for
time to do its good work."
Marget laid her hand on his arm, and looked at the
honest eyes in his face.
224 A PRINCESS OF JUTE POM
" I want you to tell me, doctor, what it is you think may
interfere with her recovery ?"
He looked at her steadily for a moment, as if debating
with himself whether or not he should give the required
explanation.
"Well, then," he replied at length, "if you must know
why I stopped, it was because I did not wish to set your
busy wits off on another cruise of anxious speculation."
" Do not think of me."
" I cannot help thinking of you, for the subject is taxing
the balance of my own wits, and I do not want to have you
on my hands next."
" Tell me," she said with quiet persistence.
He smiled and yielded.
"You always would have your own way, Marget. Then
this is the point. Your mother is recovering, and will soon
be well, unless there is something preying upon her mind
about which we are ignorant. Should that be the case, as I
fear it is, the strength she gains one day will be lost the
next; and so it may be a long time before we can get her
back to sound health."
" You believe, then, that there is something troubling
her besides the loss of my father and the unhappy business
about my brother Will ?"
"Id°."
" Have you formed any conception as to what it may
be ?" she inquired hesitatingly.
"None whatever; but I have been hoping every time I
came that you would receive me with the intelligence that
she had opened her mind to you. Then we should be able
to strike at the root of her malady."
Marget looked thoughtfully downwards ; and, after a few
seconds' reflection, lifted her eyes again.
"You are right, doctor ; there is something preying upon
her mind, and I am trying to find out what it is."
" You must be very cautious how you proceed," said Dr.
Deuchars warningly. "You must on no account question
her; but if she gives you her confidence spontaneously, I
believe she will recover quickly afterwards."
" I purposely avoided disturbing her with questions
since she told me that I was not to do so for the present.
That was when the trouble first came upon her, and before
DT A THREAD 225
fete became so ill. Mr. Feuerheerd could explain everything4
if he would."
" If he knows," said the doctor, with an expression of
satisfaction, " we may safely leave the matter alone. Your
father held him in high esteem, and placed unbounded
confidence in him."
"Yes," said Marget, regarding the speaker with
curiosity.
" He is a man of considerable force of character, and
his interests being so closely bound up in your mother's
affairs, we may depend upon him doing everything that can
be done to put straight whatever has gone Grooked."
This decisive expression of entire faith compelled
Marget to remain silent.
Dr. Deuchars, on his part, left the house with a sense of
relief that he had not known for some time. His patient
was distinctly gaining ground, and whatever it might be
that was worrying her was in the reliable hands of Feuer-
heerd, so that she would be, no doubt, speedily freed from
anxiety. As an additional aid to her restoration to health,
summer was at hand; and so circumstances and nature
favoured the invalid.
The subdued light of the sick-chamber was favourable
to meditation, and Marget sat a long time thinking over
this conversation with the doctor, whilst her mother was
apparently sleeping.
Was there any possibility of her misjudging this man
Feuerheerd ? She knew Dr. Deuchars to be cautious in his
judgments of others, and very slow to express a definite
opinion one way or another as to the character of those
around him. Yet he had, in the most deliberate fashion,
declared that Feuerheerd was to be trusted. It seemed
very strange that a man of his experience of human nature
should be so deceived, for she never doubted the truth of
her own convictions for a moment. Will's letter to Jess
confirmed them, and she believed it would enable her to find
the key to the motives by which Feuerheerd was actuated.
On reflection she admitted that there was no ground for
surprise at the doctor's belief in the honesty of Feuerheerd ;
her father, who was accounted a shrewd judge of character,
had believed in him and trusted him to the last. Survey-
ing all the points she could score against him in a calm and
Q
226 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
deliberate way, she was dismayed by recognising how. little
tangible proof she had of his dishonesty, or that he meant
to act otherwise than as the faithful friend of the family.. Her
suspicions had been aroused by nothing more palpable than
that indefinable and inexplicable dislike or antipathy with
which some individuals inspire us, and who, we may learn
afterwards, are good enough folk as mortals go. But "Wild
Will had the same feeling of antipathy, and he had, accord-
ing to his letter, found definite reasons for mistrusting him,
if not for charging him with fraud on a stupendous scale.
All that was clear enough, but as yet she had no facts,
no proofs of any kind on which to take action. She had
nothing to advance which would satisfy such impartial
judges as the doctor, say, or Mr. Dalgleish, that she was not
misled by her own personal feelings into doing gross in-
justice to a man who had been for so many years the
confidant of her father and the active agent in his extensive
business transactions. She felt that she was powerless to
do more than had been already done ; but it was a severe
trial of strength and patience to be compelled to sit still,
believing that a cruel enemy was undermining their happi-
ness and fortune, whilst she could only wait and watch. If
her mother would only speak ! But then her mother had
declared him to be their friend, and that all he was doing
was for their benefit!
Again, Marget did not know why, but she felt that when
her mother made that declaration she was acting under
some influence which temporarily deprived her of that strong
will and common-sense which had formerly characterised
her. At present it was impossible to obtain any assistance
from her.
" Has Mr. Feuerheerd sent any message for me ?"
Marget was startled, and rose hastily. Her mother had
turned round, and was looking at her with a clearer light in
the eyes than had appeared there for some days.
" He frequently inquires about you,"replied the daughter,
smoothing the pillows and arranging the coverlet.
" Has he not asked to see me ?"
"Yes; but the doctor has strictly forbidden any one
except ourselves to see you at present, mother."
Mrs. Carmichael closed her eyes, and remained silent for
a little.
DY A THREAD 227
Marget liad been as much startled by the coincidence of
her mother's question with the train of her own thoughts
as by the abruptness with which it had been put. She was
now agreeably surprised to find that the invalid spoke with
something of her old calm distinctness of manner. The
mental confusion, which had been so distressing, was not
perceptible during these few minutes, at any rate.
Marget wondered what the change might portend, and
almost trembled as'she remembered how often the intellect
which has been dulled and enfeebled by illness flashes into
full possession of its faculties for a brief space before its
final extinction. Again the mother spoke.
" Has he left no message for me—no letter ?"
The daughter hesitated. She had the letter which
Feuerheerd had entrusted to Currie. She had been at first
disposed to open it, in the expectation of discovering the
nature of the link between her mother and him, and she
could then act with the knowledge of being able effectually
to counteract his influence. But, recollecting with what
pain her mother had besought her to be patient until she
should have strength to explain everything, and also with
some vague dread of what she might learn, the letter had
been allowed to lie in her desk with the seal unbroken.
She hesitated now to give up the letter, because of the
doubt whether or not her mother was strong enough to bear
the ill news—she was sure it was ill news—it contained.
" Yes," she answered slowly—" he has left a note for you."
Mrs. Carmichael looked up quickly, and her eyes seemed
to ask the question : " Have you read it ?"
" Give it to me," was what she said; "I am much
stronger to-day, and you need not be afraid. The matters
which he has in hand must be attended to at any cost—at
any cost."
She repeated the last words several times, and a cloud
seemed to pass over her face, as if she were sinking back into
the state of childishness from which she had so suddenly
awakened. Marget stood silent, waiting. She was half
hoping that her mother would fall asleep again without
insisting upon seeing the letter. But she was disappointed
The faintness passed away, and Mrs. Carmichael said again:
" Give it to me."
There was even a tone of impatience in the command
Q 2
228 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
and Marget, fearing the effect of any deliberate contradic-
tion, went slowly to the desk and brought the letter to her
mother. The latter looked at it, and then patted the hand
which gave it, whilst she smiled faintly,
" Good child, good child! thank you. But you shall
know all by-and-by."
Marget understood the caress and the words to mean
that her mother was pleased at finding the letter had not
been opened ; and she was glad that neither a sense of duty
nor curiosity had tempted her to pry into its contents.
With somewhat nervous fingers, Mrs. Carmichael tore
open the envelope, and spread the sheet of paper before her.
" Bring me a light, Marget. I cannot see—do you find
it dark, or is it my eyes which are failing ? "
The curtains were drawn apart from the windows, and
the sunshine streamed in, making the room bright.
"Ah, why did you shut out the blessed sunlight,
Marget ?"
" The doctor was most anxious that you should sleep,
mother, and told us to keep the room dark."
" I should have known that you had good reason for it,
child. Thank you—how I must have wearied you ! "
" Hush, mother !" said Marget anxiously, feeling that
the excitement was returning.
" I can see now—my eyes are clear again."
She read :
" Dear Mrs. Carmichael,
"It is of the utmost importance that I should see
you, and obtain your direct authorisation of certain
measures which it is absolutely necessary for me to take
immediately, in order to save the house from utter ruin.
There are new revelations, and I cannot act without your
written assent to my course of action. I do hope you are
strong enough to see me, if even for only ten minutes, some
time within the next few days. You may be sure that the
position of affairs is very grave, else I should not think of
disturbing you at this time. But, indeed, if I do not see
you within a few days the consequences will be, not only
ruin, but disgrace.
" Believe me,
" Your faithful servant,
" B. Feuerheerd."
THE CBISIS 229
Mrs. Carmichael's hands dropped on the bed, and she
stared blankly at the wall. By-and-by she lifted the paper
and read it again. Then—
" Read that, Marget," she said calmly.
The daughter obeyed, and was perplexed exceedingly by
what she read.
"I do not understand, mother," was her comment.
" What does it mean ?"
" It means that I must see Mr. Feuerheerd at once."
" Oh, it is impossible !" cried the girl, dismayed at this
threatened reversal of all her plans ; " it is risking weeks,
months of illness, and maybe your life."
" I have told you there are matters which must be
attended to at any cost," was the stolid answer. " This is
one of them. I must know what new misfortune we have
to meet. I must see Mr. Feuerheerd at once."
This was spoken so resolutely that Marget knew she
would do harm, perhaps irreparable harm, by further
opposition. So she pleaded :
"At least delay until to-morrow. Surely nothing of
very great moment can happen to us by waiting for a
few hours."
" Who can tell what may happen to us in a few minutes ?
But let it be as you wish. Write to him and say that he is
to come to-morrow. Close the curtains again. I want to
think.5
CHAPTER XLI.
the crisis
It was with much misgiving that Marget wrote to Feuer-
heerd, requesting him to call on the following afternoon.
The contents of his letter, however, were so serious in their
indication of imminent peril to the family that, combined
with her mother's command, they left her no alternative
beyond the brief delay which had been granted.
However, being compelled to write to him, she did not
forget the part she had resolved to play in dealing with
him, until she had acquired the proofs of his guilt which
would enable her openly to denounce him as the traitor
and swindler—maybe murderer—she believed him to be.
230 A PRINCESS OE JUTEDOM
Her brief note was cautiously friendly in tone. There was
no " gush," which would have excited suspicion ; but it
began, "Dear Mr. Feuerheerd," and it ended, "With
regards," and " Yours very truly."
It apologised for the number of times she had been
obliged by the doctor's orders and the state of her mother's
health to send everybody—even him—away with the
formal intimation that no visitors could be received. Her
mother was a little better now, and desirous of seeing him
in regard to the matters referred to in his letter. She
hoped, indeed she knew, that he would do his utmost to
spare the invalid as far as was possible from excitement.
As his letter had been shown to her, she ventured to hope
that, after his interview with her mother, he might be able
to admit her into his confidence, so that she might under-
. stand the position of affairs, and thus know what should
be done to secure the peace of mind of one who was so
dear to her.
The missive did not reach Feuerheerd until the mom-
ing of the day appointed for his visit. He had passed a
somewhat restless night, and looked bilious. Notwith-
standing his habitual self-possession, he was slightly
excited by the receipt of a billet in Marget's handwriting.
He had been haunted by her shadow in that vision, and
again and again had heard the words, " Thou art the man."
But here was the sign that she knew nothing, suspected
nothing. She could not have written in this friendly vein
if she had entertained such thoughts regarding him as he
knew Wild Will had done.
He smiled as he read, and almost hesitated again on the
important subject which had for a long time disturbed his
thoughts, namely—whether he should seek the mother or
the daughter to be his wife. From her conversation with
him in the office, and from the tone of this epistle, it
seemed quite possible that he might win her fancy from
that bugbear, Norman Grant. But he started from this
felicitous dream, uttering an exclamation of irritation with
himself.
" What nonsense to think of it! There is no time to
win her, and the fear of poverty would not subdue her.
There must be no more hesitation. I must go straight to
my one fixed purpose. The mother is still under my
THE CRISIS 231
influence, and she will yield for the sake of her children,
and to save the honour of John Carmichael's name. The
daughter could not be moved by such springs, but she may
be useful."
He was pacing his room with quick, short steps, as if
there were electricity in the current of his thoughts which
made him restless.
"The mother is still too weak to detect the incon-
sistencies in my accounts to her of what has happened, and
of my surmises as to what may be the upshot. With the
others I have been consistent enough; there is no slip
which cannot be explained. But if she recovers before my
bargain is sealed, she will see and understand."
He went to the window and looked towards the river,
over which rose a white mist.
" Like that night," he muttered. " Good. The matter
shall be decided to-day."
Before going out he went up to his workshop. He took
from his pocket what appeared to be an ordinary silver
pencil-case. Unscrewing the top, he filled it from one of
the drawers with an odourless powder, and then replaced
the case in his waistcoat-pocket. There was nothing in his
expression or movements to indicate that what he was
doing was in the slightest degree extraordinary.
On his way to the office—he walked as a rule for the
benefit of his health—he met a newspaper-boy running
along with a bundle of papers under his arm. He pur-
chased one, and stopped to look at the column of com-
mercial intelligence.
" That's all right," was his mental exclamation as he
folded up the paper and walked on ; " the two failures are
properly announced, and it will prepare the honest folk for
the startling news which is in store for them."
His step was lighter as he proceeded ; but as he neared
the office the step became slow, and the expression that of
one oppressed by evil tidings. He called for Whitelaw and
Mr. Todd. He put his finger on the paragraphs in the
newspaper which had interested him.
"Have you seen that?" he asked in a voice of sup-
pressed emotion.
" Good Lord!" exclaimed Whitelaw, " we shall lose
fifty thousand at least!"
232 A FRINGE 88 OF JUTE DOM
"What—what is it all about?" muttered Johnnie,
fidgeting around the two men.
" See for yourself," rejoined Feuerheerd dryly; " you
ought to know something about our affairs by this time."
Johnnie read the paragraphs, scratched his head, read
them again, and then looked at Feuerheerd as if seeking
information, as he spoke : "We have nothing to do with
this."
" I am sorry to say, Mr. Todd, that we are deeply in-
volved with both firms," said the manager, with a grave
countenance. " How that comes to be you will learn when
we make up our accounts from the private ledger, and from
certain memoranda which are in Mr. Whitelaw's possession."
"The private ledger," muttered Johnnie to himself as
he turned aside, " always the private ledger."
There was no bustle or excitement in the manager's
room, but there was close application to business details for
several hours, during which Johnnie Todd felt each par-
ticular hair of his scanty crop straightening and uprising on
end as the heavy losses of the house were gradually re-
vealed. Feuerheerd was silent, calm, and very grave, as
the documents passed through his hands. He spoke no
word that was not directly required by the business on
which they were engaged. Whitelaw turned livid, green,
and yellow with horror at the unexpected disasters which
had fallen and were about to fall upon the house. He
could not speak, his hands trembled, and he was incapable
of dealing surely with the figures before him. Johnnie
shuffled about, now attending to the manager, and anon to
the cashier; but where the latter failed he was perfectly
clear. Notwithstanding his suppressed excitement, the
natural gift he had for comprehending figures enabled him
to sum up the most intricate problems with mechanical
precision.
About half-past two o'clock Feuerheerd suddenly leaned
back in his chair, and spoke to his companions as if he had
just remembered a neglected duty.
" I was to have seen Mrs. Carmichael to-day ; but it is
impossible for me to speak to her quietly until I see some
way out of this mess. I shall send a note postponing my
visit till to-morrow. Her daughter implores me not to cause
her mother any excitement—to-day it would be impossible
TEE OBISIS 233
to avoid doing so. Yes, I shall send the message. Mean-
while, you, Mr. Todd and Mr. Whitelaw, had better get
some lunch ; then we shall go on with the work."
Somewhat reluctantly the two subordinates adopted the
suggestion. They did not quit the office, however; a
biscuit and a glass of milk each sufficed to satisfy the little
appetite they had. No words were exchanged between
them. Whitelaw was terrified by the calamity which he
knew they had to face ; Johnnie was nervous and restless,
as if he had a great deal to say, but no one to whom he
could say it.
Feuerheerd despatched one of the junior clerks with his
note to Mrs. Carmichael, and with it he sent another to
Miss Carmichael. In the latter he adopted the manner of
a confidential friend, explaining that he had been so much
upset by the events of the day that he felt it would be im-
possible for him to obey her injunction not to excite her
mother, and therefore delayed his visit until he should
recover sufficient self-control to be able to speak calmly,
and to advise clearly. He did wish to do everything that
man could do to ensure their happiness and comfort; but
things were looking very bad—very much worse than he
had expected when he wrote last.
"The delay will make the effect of my call all the
stronger . . . and other events may help to make my pro-
posals acceptable."
When his coadjutors returned, their task was resumed
with feverish energy on their part. The usual closing hour
arrived; clerks and porters departed ; but the three men in
the manager's room continued at work.
Late in the evening Feuerheerd placed sundry sheets
of paper before Johnnie.
" Do you think you can manage to compare these with
the vouchers, and verify the accounts to-night?" he inquired.
" Certainly, certainly," answered Johnnie, pushing up
his spectacles.
" Very well, I shall be glad if you will do it. Mr. White-
law is quite knocked up, I see, and 1 am going to see him
home. Here is my key of the safe. You will see that it
is made fast before you leave."
" Certainly, certainly," repeated Johnnie, a little sur-
prised by this new token of confidence.
234 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
But when he heard the outer door close, and knew that
he was alone in the building, he started to his feet with a
cry of delight.
"At last—at last my chance has come* . . . The
private ledger!"
CHAPTER XLI1.
a scapegoat found
A shudder ran through the town like a great blast of the
east wind, carrying before it the one terrible word :
" Fire !"
Down by the docks the offices of Carmichael and Co.
were in a blaze, and the wild figure of a man was at one of
the windows of the manager's room, heaving out account-
books and papers to the excited crowd below.
The alarm had been given as it seemed with promptitude;
a messenger had been despatched in a cab for Feuerheerd,
and he had sprung into it at the first hint of the calamity,
promising the driver a handsome reward if he would use
his utmost speed to reach the burning offices. The man
did his best with the help of a fairly good horse, and the
manager was on the spot before the fire-engines, although
only by a few minutes.
As he left the cab Feuerheerd directed the driver to go
for Whitelaw, and was about to tell him to send another cab
for Mr. Todd, when, to his surprise, he perceived that
personage in the midst of the crowd which had already
gathered in front of the building. He was hat-less, wring'
ing his hands and passing them wildly through his hair like
one demented.
" It is no use speaking to him," ejaculated the manager
angrily, as, in spite of warning shouts from the crowd, he
dashed into the blinding smoke which was issuing through
the open doorway of the office. He made straight for his
own room, where, a few hours before, he had left Todd to
complete the examination of the papers he had entrusted to
him. Greatly to his amazement, as he afterwards stated, he
found the door of the safe wide open and the sides of the
room ablaze owing to the inflammable samples of jute and
jute materials which it contained. He did not pause a
A SCAPEGOAT FOUND 235
moment to consider the risk of his own life. His first object
was to rescue the books of the firm and the valuable bonds
of various descriptions, which had been left in the safe.
Presently he appeared at the shattered window and flung out
such books as he had been able to collect.
Again he disappeared, and there was a murmur of alarm
Amongst the astounded onlookers. The fire-engines were
directed towards his protection by pouring water into the
room ; and a ladder was run up to one of the windows.
Men and women shrieked to the infatuated man to save
himself. He did not hear or did not heed. Thrice he
appeared at the window, heaving out more books, more files
of accounts, and sundry deed-boxes.
Then there was a sudden crash, for a moment the angry
tongues of flame were subdued by smoke and dust; and
there was a brief stillness, for every one knew that the ceil-
ing of the room above the one in which the manager was at
work had fallen in. Every one thought he must have
perished.
Fortunately, the staircase was of stone, and the momen-
tary silence was broken by a loud cheer of relief and con-
gratulation as Feuerheerd, with hair singed, face and hands
blackened, staggered out from the burning edifice.
Whitelaw had arrived, and was busily engaged, with the
assistance of willing volunteers, in collecting the books and
papers which had been rescued at the cost of so much peril.
He did not at first perceive his chief, but a medical gentle-
man who had been attracted to the spot by the tumult at
once gave his services to Feuerheerd, and had him quickly
conveyed into an hotel close by. There it was found that
in some miraculous way he had escaped any serious injury.
The burns he had sustained on hands and face were so slight
that the doctor cheerfully informed him they would cause
him scarcely any inconvenience, and that he had seen more
dangerous wounds resulting from the blaze of a box of
matches.
It had not occurred to this worthy practitioner that a
person of discretion might have thought of making a free use
of asbestos as a preparation for dashing into a house on fire.
" Thank you," said Feuerheerd, with suave voice and a
look of gratitude ; " it is lucky that I have come out of the
affair with so little harm, for it will require all my strength
236
A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
and memory ta counteract the mischief which has been done
to our firm to-night."
"You are insured, of course," rejoined the doctor
consolingly.
" Oh yes ; but the insurance is a bagatelle to what I fear
has happened. I must get back to the place at onGe, and
see what has been saved." ^
" My dear sir, that is ridiculous ! " exclaimed the doctor,
astounded by this reckless proposal of a man who had so
narrowly escaped from death. "You must not think of
going back. You had some friends at the place; send for
them, and let them bring you the information you require.
Although your wounds are trivial, we cannot say yet what
may be the effect on your nervous system, and I should
strongly advise you to send at once for your customary
medical adviser."
Feuerheerd smiled.
" I have had no medical adviser for years. So as you
have begun with me, you must take me in hand yourself,
Dr. ?"
TT 1,1 v friend's name.
friends ? "
" If you will send a waiter to ask for Mr, Whitelaw and
Mr. Todd, they will be most useful to me."
" Certainly;" and Dr. Martin rang the bell with alacrity,
for he knew Feuerheerd to be a man of position as the con-
trolling spirit of the house of Carmichael and Co., and had
no reason to be sorry that an accident had placed him on his
visiting list.
Mr. Whitelaw returned a message that he had succeeded
in collecting all that he supposed had been thrown from the
window of the office, but that he desired to wait until the
crowd had cleared away, in order to make sure that no loose
sheets were lying about. When he did present himself at
the hotel, the cashier had a sorry report to make.
Certain most valuable documents and books had been
saved, but
Here he made a long pause and a very wry face, as if
some bad news lay behind.
"Well, what are you stopping for?" inquired Feuer-
eerd impatiently, as he lifted his head from the easy-chair.
Now, shall I send for your
A SCAPEGOAT- FOUFD 23?
''"Well," echoed Whitelaw, "the most important thing
of all has not been fonnd—that is, the private ledger."
The manager started in his seat, and looked incredu-
lously at the speaker.
" Why, that is what we want most of all!" he ejaculated,
without paying any attention to the deprecatory looks and
movements of Dr. Martin, who feared that excitement was
going to do more harm than the fire had done. Feuerheerd
continued : " The safe was open, and I made for that book
first of all, I am certain that it was in the first armful I
threw out. Where is Todd ?"
"I do not know. I saw him only for a few minutes
whilst I was gathering up the things ; but I do not remember
seeing him after you were taken away."
" Send up to his house at once, and see if he is there,"
said Feuerheerd sternly. "The man is insane, and the
whole misfortune is due to him."
"Good heavens, what do you mean?" exclaimed Mr.
Whitelaw, aghast at this accusation, and equally aghast at
some doubts which had entered his own mind, as the result
of Johnnie's strange behaviour, that he had really been the
cause of the fire.
" I mean what I say—that fool is the cause of our mis-
fortune. But we need not do anything more until to-
morrow, except have him strictly watched. Has the fire
been got under control ?"
"I suppose it has; but the offices seem to me to be
completely gutted, and I cannot understand how they
should have burnt out so rapidly."
"We will understand it to-morrow perhaps. Mean-
while, I think you had better bring the things you have
collected to my house, and there make an inventory of them.
I don't feel able to give you much assistance to-night; for I
shall have heavy work in the morning, and must have rest."
" I am delighted to find you sensible of that important
fact," interposed Dr. Martin. " Rest is what you require
above all things, and you have already taxed your powers a
great deal too much."
" I believe you are right, doctor. I am pretty strong,
but this calamity—which is much greater than you can
even imagine—following upon a long strain of mind and
body, makes me feel somewhat shaky."
238 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOU
" Then, with your permission, I shall see you to your
home."
" Thank you. Mr. Whitelaw will follow us as soon as
he is ready."
CHAPTER XLIII.
"still the wonder grew"
The great fire at Messrs. Carmichael and Co.'s offices was
the sensation of the following day. The newspapers were
full of it, everybody was talking about it, and speculating
as to how it originated. Crowds visited the still smoulder-
ing ruins in the early morning, and changing crowds were
gaping at them throughout the day. Much wonder was
expressed at the escape of the contiguous property, and
much credit was given to the firemen and the police for
their courage and energy.
The loudest admiration of all, however, was expressed
for the conduct of the manager, Feuerheerd. His wild
daring and recklessness . of his own life in the effort to
rescue what he could of the valuable books and papers oi
the firm, formed a theme about which no one tired of speak-
ing or hearing. He was the hero of the hour, and high as
had been the esteem previously given to him, it was
augmented a thousandfold by the reports of his daring
deeds in the midst of the fire. Of course, like all reports,
they were well salted with exaggeration, and incidents
which had never occurred were cited in his glorification.
They helped him to gain one very important point. At one
bound he had risen to a position from which it would be
difficult to shake him by any ordinary scandal. Even proofs
of misdeeds brought against him now would have to be sub-
stantiated by evidence so decisive that no explanation on
his part would be able to suggest a doubt of its truth. He
was aware of this, and was so far satisfied.
Amongst the numerous guesses as to the possible origin
of the fire, it became somehow widely known that Johnnie
Todd had been the last person in the building, and that the
manager, on arriving after the alarm had been raised, found
not only the outer door open, but also the doors of the
strong-room and safe. With these rumours were also cir-
"STILL THE WONDER GREWn 239
ciliated, accounts of the peculiar behaviour of the old man
of late; and the fact that he had been long regarded as
somewhat weak in intellect, helped largely to inspire the
idea in most minds—although no expression was yet given
to it—that by some unlucky mischance he had been the
cause of the disaster.
There was one person in the Greenmarket who had much
to say in kindly pity about Johnnie Todd. That was
Mistress Bauldie Munro. She was a stout, good-natured
hard-working fishwife, glib of tongue and keen in barter.
She stood by her barrow, over which lay a slab bearing some
of the glistening trophies, in the shape of haddock, whiting,
and flounders, won from the sea by her guidman during the
previous night. "With arms akimbo, she descanted on the
event of the hour with her cronies and customers. She had
seen Johnnie rushing out of the office when the fire began.
" Seem' that he's an auld frien' o' ours, and mony's the
time has had summer lodgings wi' us," she said sympa-
thetically, " I bode to stop him, and speir what waswrang."
"Ay, mistress, an' what said he?" queried a burly
man, wearing high sea-boots and a pilot jacket.
^ " Ay, Mistress Munro, let's hear that," several women's
voices sang in chorus.
" Od, he didna say muckle," rejoined the privileged
newsmonger, who was proud of her position, and desirous of
making the most of the little she had to tell.
" He maun hae had something to say when he had just
come out o' the bleezin' house."
" Deed no, than. The puir doited body was just like
ane clean gyte, and what he tell't me was that he didna ken
what was wrang."
"Eh, sirs, the-day !" " Think o' that, noo !" "Dod,
it's some queer !" were some of the ejaculations with which
the revelation was greeted.
" It's true's I'm stan'in' here though, and, as the folk
were gathering, he was just runnin' about amo' them daft-
like, crying for the managin' man that has the funny name,
and for Maister Whitelaw, an' for Dauvid Carmichael, an'
for a' the clerks an' a' the folk frae the works."
" And what did he neist ?" asked the burly man in the
sea-boots, as he coolly lit his pipe.
" He just kept on at that. But, as sune's I saw the
240 A PRINCESS OF I RTF LOU
manager loup out o' the cab, I gaed up to my puir frien',
and grippit his arm, whilk gar'd him skirl as though he'd
been a stickit hog."
"Was the cratur hurt than ?" said a woman, who was
busy mauling the fish by way of seeking a bargain."
" Ay, was he, puir sowl! . . . . That's a fine haddy,
mistress, but ye needna claw it a' ower that gate
Something had come doon on's arm, an' I'm no sure if it
binna broke. e . . . I'm seekin' nae mair nor fourpence,
mistress, and ye'se no get a better in the market the day for
double the price."
" I'll gie ye tippence, and no a fardin' mair."
" Hearken till her !" exclaimed Mrs. Bauldie disdain-
fully, as she cast a look upon the group of listeners, as if to
call them to witness the unconscionable offer.
" What cam' o' the auld man ?" put in another woman,
who was more interested in the gossip than the fish.
" Oh, when I fan' that he was hurt, I got him at last
coaxed into gaun hame quiet-like to get his frien's to see
about his arm. But it wasna easy to persuade him that he
was useless there."
" Weel," commented the burly man, " if what I hear be
true, the hurt till his arm'll no be the worst to befa' him on
account o' the bleeze."
And so it came to pass that amongst all ranks in Jute-
dom the name of Johnnie Todd was associated with the fire
in a way that was most disagreeable to him, if not perilous
to his future freedom. No one for a moment imagined that
he had in any way wilfully contributed to the misfortune,
although it was impossible to avoid the suspicion that he
had somehow caused it.
CHAPTER XLIV.
the martyr
Although Dr. Martin would have liked his new patient to
remain in bed for a few days, or at any rate to keep within
doors, in order to make sure that the nervous system had
not been seriously affected by the excitement through which
he had passed, Feuerheerd declared that it was impossible.
TH17 MARTYR 241
" I have no doubt you are perfectly right, doctor," he
said, " and if I had only myself to consider, you would find
me a submissive patient. But all considerations for myself
must be put aside for another fortnight at least. The widow
of John Carmichael and his children must be protected.
When I have seen their affairs pulled safely through the
muddle they are in, then you can tell me to take sick leave,
and you will be obeyed—it cannot be until then."
Dr. Martin shook his head disapprovingly as he uttered
his words of solemn warning : " Then it may be too late.
You are a strong man, Mr. Feuerheerd, but you know even
the strongest may be stricken with paralysis as the result of
such a strain as you are putting upon your powers."
" It cannot.be helped—my work must be done," was the
gloomy response.
" I can say no more. Only you should understand that,
in order to accomplish the good work you have in view, the"
first thing to be taken into account is your own strength."
"You must do what you can for me under the circum-
stances. For to-day I consent to remain at home, and Mr.
Whitelaw will bring his report to me here. But you must
bolster me up somehow, so that I may be able to go out for
a few hours to-morrow ; for, if my limbs will hold me up at
all, I must see the folk at Baldovie."
As he would consent to no other arrangement, the point
had to be yielded. Dr. Martin said, however, that he would
not be responsible for the consequences. At the same time,
he hoped that the patient's strong constitution would enable
him to carry out his purpose without any grave results.
Feuerheerd smiled contentedly when left alone. He
knew that the worthy practitioner would speak of his
determination to serve the family of Baldovie at any risk
to himself, and that the report of it would still further aid
him in carrying out his projects. He knew also that a day
indoors would not be time lost, and would prevent his
adventure being lessened in people's estimation by his
appearance immediately after it without many visible
signs of personal injury. People have a way of giving
most sympathy to the hero whose scars proclaim the heavy
price paid for his victory.
There was, too, the impression which would be made on
the minds of Mrs. Carmichael and Marget by this clamour
R
24-2 A PRINOESS OF JUTEEOM
of praise. They must—or, rather, Marget must—now be
convinced of the disinterested motives which had hitherto
inspired all his actions. They could not help being grate-
ful, and in the first glow of gratitude, and the first fright
at the terrible word Ruin, the widow would not he able to
refuse due consideration to the proposal he had to make.
The daughter would not have any power or reason to offer
any opposition.
All was going excellently well; and the patient was
amused by the recollection of the solemn chatter he had
been listening to a little while ago about " shocks to the
nervous system," and possible attacks of paralysis. He
could have got out of bed at once and proceeded with his
work, and was only restrained from doing so by the reasons
already given. He made the most of his enforced inaction
to Mr. Whitclaw, who presented himself soon after the
doctor had gone.
" I don't want to risk the consequence of going out in
direct opposition to medical advice," he said regretfully,
" and I have consented to keep quiet to-day. But to-
morrow I shall be out. How, we shall not talk any more
about myself. Tell me, as far as you can, how things
look."
The cashier's account was a dismal one; nothing had
been saved from the fire except what Feuerheerd had thrown
from the window.
" Has that idiot saved the papers I left with him ?"
" You mean Todd ? Yes, I think he has got them ; but
the poor, old fellow is so completely beside himself that
there is no getting a sensible answer from him."
" I consider he is rather lucky in being beside himself
—damn him !"
" I am sorry for him," said the cashier, who was a little
shocked by the manager's objurgation.
" Can't you see, man, why I should be angry with him ?
Don't you understand the whole blame will fall upon me
for trusting a fool like that in the office alone, and with the
key of the safe ?"
" But we can explain his special aptitude for the work
you gave him to do, and also that he was frequently trusted
in the same way by John Carmichael himself. Ho one can
possibly attach blame to you when that is explained. Be-
THE MARTYR 243
sides, everybody knows bow desirous you were to be kind to
the old man because be was a favourite witb our late
master."
" Yes, and tbat is wbere I blundered. Whatever others
may say, I can never excuse myself. What else?"
" I have got the new safe sent to the office at the factory,
and have told them there that the books and papers you
rescued are to go into it."
"We must make a list of them."
"I thought you would want that, and have brought
young Fordyce with me. He and I can do it here, if you
are able to stand it."
" That was kindly thought of, Whitelaw. I must stand
it; so call Fordyce, and get to work at once. Give me a
sheet of paper and a pencil, so that I may take notes as
you proceed."
The work occupied several hours; and when it was
finished, Feuerheerd thanked his assistants, gave instruc-
tions as to the care of the documents, and told Whitelaw
to direct the men who were at work clearing the debris of
the office to send him intelligence at once, no matter what
the hour might be, of any other papers which might be
found.
The doctor called again in the evening, and found his
patient progressing very favourably.
" If you get a good night's sleep, I really think you will
be able to go out to-morrow as you intend. But you must
keep very quiet."
" I will, if it be possible."
" Your Baldovie friends have made very kind inquiries
about you."
"Yes, they are as anxious about me almost as I am
about them, although they do not yet know the precise
cause of my anxiety. However, they shall know to-
morrow."
" They have also inquired whether you or I would like
Dr. Deuchars to attend you with me."
" Oh, never mind about him or any other doctor. You
can do all that science can do for me; I am satisfied.
Nature will do the rest."
Dr. Martin was flattered by this expression of con-
fidence, He bowed and smiled in a grave sort of way.
R 2
244 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
"I only thought it my duty to mention the wish of
your friends, and to tell you that Dr. Deuchars being an
old colleague of mine, and a physician in whom I have
perfect confidence, I should be pleased to have his assistance
in consultation."
" Should a consultation become necessary you can call
him in ; but at present he is not required."
The patient was again enjoined to keep very quiet, and
then he was left alone; but an electric bell within easy
reach of his hand could summon Bauer at any moment to
wait upon him.
The Bauers retired to rest, and were sound asleep. The
streets of the town were in comparative darkness; the slow,
heavy step of a constable was the only sound of human
activity which could be heard, unless it might be at rare
intervals the quick tread of some young folk who had been
out merry-making, and were hastening home. In the lower
quarters there were occasional sounds of revelry or brawls ;
but they were quickly suppressed.
The river was flowing seaward with its low murmur
under a gentle wind, and sounded like a lullaby that should
soothe weary toilers into peaceful slumbers.
Darkness and silence were around Feuerheerd's house.
But " in the workshop " there was light, and the owner of
it, in his dressing-gown and skullcap, was busy amongst his
chemicals. By a cunning arrangement of shutters and thick
curtains, he could prevent the smallest ray of light from
passing outward to indicate that there was any one in the
apartment.
CHAPTER XLV.
the soothsayer
Marget was in the little boudoir adjoining her mother's
room. She was on her knees, with hands uplifted, and she
was praying for help and guidance in an hour of great
trouble. The door opened slightly and silently, and the
shadow of a man fell across the floor. She was startled,
and for an instant could not move. "When she had recovered,
the shadow was gone and the door was closed.
Had she been dreaming? Surely not, for the shadow
TEE SOOTHSAYER 245
had been as sharply defined as a silhouette could be,
although she had been unable to identify the person whose
form had cast it. But she had not seen or heard the
opening and closing of the door. That, however, was easily
accounted for; the hinges had been oiled with especial
care, and the edges of the lintel covered with green baize in
order to prevent any noise which might startle the occu-
pant of the next chamber.
Marget rose quickly and looked out upon the landing,
but saw no one. The library door, which was opposite, and
five other doors were all closed, and silence prevailed.
She was not timid, and she was not easily frightened
by shadows; but being disabused of her first impression
that Currie or one of the other servants had looked into the
room and, seeing her occupation, had hastily withdrawn,
she was perplexed at finding no one outside. The stillness
of the place, too, had its effect upon her imagination. She
closed the door—it made not the slightest creak or rustle.
Now, what could it mean ? The shadow was certainly
that of a man ; if it had been a servant he would have
waited outside, and there was no visitor in the house who
could have mistaken this door for that of another room.
She trembled a little at the wild fancy that, as she had
been thinking so much about Norman, and wishing so much
for his speedy arrival, this might be a warning of some
calamity that had befallen him. She had often read of
such things—she had even heard people tell of their per-
sonal experience of intimations of this kind, that a lover,
husband, or father had died or met with a serious accident.
With an effort she shook off the eerie feeling, and meta-
phorically pulled herself together.
" What nonsense !" she said; " I must have been
dreaming." And then, with a little subdued laugh, she
added : "As if I should not have recognised Norman's
shadow or ghost in whatever shape it might come ! Have
I not been often amused by seeing what curious shapes of
men and beasts the shadows of trees and shrubs assume ?"
Satisfied that it had been a momentary illusion, sug-
gested possibly by the waving of a branch of the hawthorn
tree which stood near the window, she opened the door
communicating with her mother's bedchamber, and passed
in. Mrs. Carmichael was seated in a chair; her maid was
246 A PMNOFSS OF JUTE DOM
arranging her hair, and the nurse was fastening her dress-
ing-gown.
" Oh, mother, why did you not tell me you were getting
up ?" said Marget, advancing quickly to render her services.
" I wanted to give you a little surprise, my dear," was the
answer, with a feeble but pleasing smile. " Mr. Feuerheerd
is in the library waiting for me, and I must see him. It
appears that he has come out at great personal risk, and
his doctor has actually thought it necessary to accompany
him."
Feuerheerd in the library! Could it be possible that
it was his shadow which had crossed her prayer ? She felt
a thrill of superstitious awe at the thought of what an evil
omen that would be.
" Where is the doctor ? " she asked quietly ; " and who
is he ?"
" I do not know who he is; but I presume he is waiting
in the drawing-room."
Marget was silent, and the dressing operations proceeded.
" Now," said Mrs. Carmichael, "if you will give me my
medicine, I think I shall be able to see our friend for a few
minutes."
" Can you not put off this interview for another day V
said Marget, in a subdued, earnest tone ; "or can you not
let me see him for you ?"
" I wish it might have been done either way, but it can-
not. Considering what trouble he has taken on our account,
it would be most ungrateful not to see him ; and there are
circumstances which would render your seeing him as my
substitute useless."
"But you are not strong enough, mother," pleaded
Marget; " and I cannot tell you how I dread the conse-
quences of the excitement which always follows your inter-
views with Mr. Feuerheerd."
"We must risk that, child," said the widow sadly;
" our affairs are in too critical a state for me to shrink from
any duty I can possibly perform. Besides, I am much
stronger now, you know; and Mr. Feuerheerd will not
detain me longer than is positively necessary. See, I can
rise myself."
She did so, but had immediately to place her hand on
Marget's shoulder for support.
THE SOOTHSAYER 247
" I do not think you should leave the room, mother."
" Nonsense, Marget! With your help and the nurse's'
I can quite easily cross the passage into the library; and
once I am seated in your father's chair there will be no need
for further exertion."
She displayed more vigour in carrying out this pro-
gramme than her daughter had believed she possessed.
Feuerheerd, who had been seated on a chair at the
window farthest from the door, rose respectfully on the
entrance of the party and bowed, but with good taste did
not disturb them by any officious offer of assistance. When
Mrs. Carmichael was seated in the big chair by the fireplace,
and her cushions arranged, he advanced and took her hand
with sympathetic gentleness of touch.
"I am very greatly relieved to find that you have
regained so much strength," he said in a low tone.
" Thank you ; but I am not so much to be pitied as
some people. I have no pain to speak of—nothing but
this dreadful weakness and the stupid feeling in my head.
I can scarcely remember anything for five minutes."
" At any rate, the knowledge that you are not suffering
pain must be an intense satisfaction to your daughter and.
to all of us."
"Yes, yes ; so it is, so it is," rejoined Mrs. Carmichael
abstractedly, as if she were trying to recall something;
" but this worry about the mind is worse than pain. Now
there was something particular I was going to ask you, and
it is gone. I knew it when we left the other room, and it
has slipped from me in these few seconds. You are changed
somehow. What is it ? "
She looked at him, trying to comprehend what the
change was, and the meaning of it. His hair and beard
were closely cropped, and the change in his appearance was
very decided.
" I was slightly singed with the fire," he answered
quietly, " and have had to get my hair trimmed."
"Yes, yes, that's it—how could I forget such a terrible
thing as the fire ! Tell me about it—tell me all about it,
and what we lose by it."
" But you have heard all that is known about it already,
mamma," interposed Marget, with an expression of acute
pain, for she had read to her everything that had appeared
248 A PRINCESS OF JUTFWOM
in the newspapers, had repeated all the gossip which had
reached her, and had not suppressed any of the flattering
references to Eeuerheerd's conduct, although in echoing his
praises she doubted their truth.
"No doubt, child, no doubt; but, you know, I require
to be reminded of things, and I want to have Mr. Feuer-
heerd's version of it all."
" I shall give you every detail that comes within my
own knowledge," answered the manager, and his serious
tone and look made it evident that he had a gloomy
account to give.
" Let me know the worst at once ; you can go into the
details afterwards," said Mrs. Carmichael anxiously, as she
tried to brace herself up to bear the evil tidings. Her lips
were compressed, but there was a pitiful vacuity in the
whole expression of the face.
" I am afraid the firm will lose heavily—very heavily—
in consequence of this .calamity," he continued. "What
the actual extent of the loss may be we shall not be able
to discover for a few days. You know that Mr. Car-
michael always kept a number of valuable bonds and
securities in his own safe, instead of depositing them in
the bank."
" I know; but he always said that his arrangements
were as secure as those of the bank, and he did not care to
have all his eggs in one basket."
" That is so, and to a certain extent he was right. Our
losses would have been inconsiderable so far as the fire is
concerned, but for the misfortune that the doors of the
strong-room and the safe were open when the fire burst out.
Consequently we were deprived of the protection against
the flames on which we had relied."
" But how—why was there a fire ? Why were the
doors open ?"
" We have not yet ascertained how the fire was caused,
and I do not know how the safe was left open. But for the
door of the strong-room being open I am chagrined to have
to confess that I am responsible, and the blame to that
extent rests upon me."
" Upon you !" ejaculated both mother and daughter,
the latter more amazed that he should avow his error than
that he should have committed it.
THE SOOTHSAYER 249
Here was another stiff bar across ber estimate of his
character. Any man might blunder in the most egregious
way, but only an upright man would have the courage to
own his fault. That Feuerheerd should do this was utterly
irreconcilable with the convictions she had arrived at regard-
ing him.
He bent his head, as if oppressed by the sense of his
own shortcomings.
" That is so," he replied in a low tone, "and it is im-
possible to say yet how my mistake may be regarded by
those in authority. They cannot, however, blame me more
than I blame myself."
He said this bitterly, and his whole bearing was that of
a man who, through no fault of his own, had fallen into a
position of unmerited disgrace.
Mrs. Carmichael gazed vacantly at him, quite unable
to comprehend the position. Marget, after a brief pause,
spoke for her.
" Your name is not usually associated with mistakes,
Mr. Feuerheerd. "What was the nature of this one which
appears to cause you such serious self-reproach ?"
" Ah, Miss Carmichael, thank you. I think these are
the most gracious words I have ever heard," he said, looking
up with a faint smile, as if intensely relieved to find some
one who could attempt to console him.
The look was so full of gratitude that Marget felt that
she had gone too far, and would have been glad to recall
the words. He did not give her time, however, for he pro-
ceeded at once to explain that, owing to certain very grave
matters which had recently come to his knowledge, it had
been necessary to make a searching and private examina-
tion of the whole accounts of the firm and of all engagements
entered into by it during the past five years or so. Know-
ing how implicitly Mr. Carmichael had trusted Mr. Todd
and Mr. Whitelaw, he had deemed it prudent as well as
necessary to take them into his confidence. He had left
Mr. Todd alone in the place to complete and verify certain
sheets and accounts.
Then he told all that he knew about the fire, dwelling
modestly on his personal exertions to rescue the contents of
the safe, and, throughout, carefully avoiding the least hint
which could afford Marget a clue to the nature of the par-
250 A PRINOESS OF JTJTFBOM
ticular matters "which had rendered his searching inquiry
into the affairs of the house imperative. She noted this
omission ; the real danger which threatened her mother and
the family was not to be revealed to her.
" Dearie me, this is a woful state of affairs," said Mrs.
Carmichael dreamily : " but you did your best—everybody
says that."
" I tried to do what I could, but the result is not satis-
factory," he answered regretfully.
" You have not told us why this investigation became
necessary," observed Marget.
He looked appealingly at Mrs. Carmichael; but as she
made no sign of comprehending the appeal, he spoke to the
daughter frankly and earnestly.
" It would be wrong of me, Miss Carmichael, to conceal
from you the fact that owing to peculiar circumstances the
affairs of the firm are in a very critical condition. But do
not alarm yourself unnecessarily. I hope we shall be able
to pull through the difficulty. The absence of Mr. William,
however, will interfere greatly with our arrangements. I
see a way, however, by which we may be shortly in a
position to do without his assistance."
" What is that way ? "
Her eyes were fixed upon him with an expression which
could not be described as more than one of gentle inquiry;
and yet Feuerheerd felt that the gaze was penetrating his
most secret thoughts. Bowing a little awkwardly, he
answered in a tone which indicated that he wished to tell
her everything, and would be glad to do it at once, but was
tongue-tied by consideration for others.
"You must pardon me, Miss Carmichael, if I cannot
answer your question as I should like to do. Has your
mother explained to you ?"
Mrs. Carmichael started as from a trance, and spoke
sharply : " No, no ; not yet. There will be time enough
for me to explain everything if it should become necessary
to do so. Give me my draught, Marget, and then you can
leave us for a few minutes. I know Mr. Feuerheerd does
not like to speak freely of these things in your presence."
Feuerheerd looked as if he were positively distressed at
finding that his action on her mother's account had not yet
been explained to Marget. To her he spoke with every sign
THE SOOTHSAYER 251
of regret that she had not yet been admitted to full
confidence.
" Your mother desires to spare you anxiety, and perhaps
some pain, Miss Carmichael. Indeed, whilst I should like
to be allowed to speak freely in your presence, and to have
the advantage of your clear judgment on the course I am
adopting, I still quite agree with her that if it does not
become absolutely necessary to give you explanations, the
old saying that the least said the soonest mended is particu-
larly applicable in the present case. Believe me, we are
studying your interest and David's in trying to settle
matters without troubling you—or, at any rate, without
causing you more trouble than can be avoided."
" I have no doubt that in anything my mother may do she
will think more about us than about her own comfort," said
Marget quietly—it seemed almost trustfully. "But you
know, Mr. Feuerheerd, that on the other hand it is our duty
to try to spare her."
"I am conscious of that," he rejoined admiringly, but
with carefully subdued voice, " and at the proper moment I
shall insist upon everything being laid before you. I still
hope, however—and mean to exert every faculty I possess
to accomplish it—that there may be no need to add to your
worries. I understand and appreciate your desire to help,
and will call for it when it can be useful."
" You promise me that ?"
" I do sincerely."
" Then I depend entirely upon you, Mr. Feuerheerd."
" You may do so without fear of the result," he said
with the air of one who accepts a solemn trust.
Marget touched her mother's brow with her lips, gave
the draught she had asked for, and with a look of confidence
to Feuerheerd quitted the room.
" She is completely won," was his reflection, as the door
closed upon the girl. "No opposition from that quarter
need be anticipated."
" He has fallen into the snare, and believes that I trust
him," Marget was saying to herself, as she passed into the
boudoir, and then to the bedroom, in order to see that every-
thing was being arranged for her mother's comfort. "I
shall the sooner discover the meaning of all that is so
mysterious at present. But, if I could only know at once
252 A PRINCESS OF JUTE POM
what he is to say to her, what days of misery might he
spared us."
To her honest mind the thought of making the discovery
she was so anxious about by the aid of the keyhole never
presented itself. Even if it had, she would have repudiated
the idea of stooping to play the part of eaves-dropper. It
was one thing to outwit a scoundrel in open fence and with
equal weapons; it was another to become a spy. Yet, if
she had reasoned upon the subject, she might have been
ready to own that in deceiving him as to her real feelings
and thoughts regarding him, in making him fancy that she
accepted him as the friend of the family he pretended to
be, she was stooping as low as if she had resorted to the key-
hole. But she was made blind to this view of the position by
the necessity of thwarting his schemes whatever they might
be. So it is that we will unconsciously touch pitch with
one hand whilst striving to keep the other clean.
CHAPTER XLVI.
the worst of it
The door closed. He was again alone with this woman,
whose mind had been until lately so clear and strong, whose
vision had been so keen, and whose vigour in carrying out
whatever her careful consideration of facts and circumstances
told her was right, had marked her as one of exceptional
mental and physical powers. He was alone with her now
when all this was changed, the intellect enfeebled, the
memory unreliable for five consecutive minutes, the impulses
capricious, and directed by momentary flashes of passion,
and not by reason.
This inexplicable metamorphosis of character was more
distinct to Feuerheerd than to others, because he understood
its genesis. The others did not understand, and could only
look on lamenting and wondering : Marget alone had done
something more than wonder. She had divined who the
magician was whose hand had wrought the transformation.
He drew a chair close to Mrs. Carmichael. The light
from the window and the fire fell on her face—his was
completely in shadow. He leaned towards her confidentially
THE WORST OF IT 253
and spoke softly, as if the communication was not meant
for other ears than hers.
" I could not tell you before your daughter, as you are
aware, Mrs. Carmichael; hut she will have to learn every-
thing very soon, I fear."
" Learn what very soon, and why do you fear?" _
He did not affect to observe her apparent oblivion to
previous conversations.
"I hope what I have already told you has in some
measure prepared you for the worst."
" I always like to know the worst of anything," she
answered, nodding, and without the least sign of alarm or
anxiety. Her mind was a blank to the misfortune he had
pretended to prepare it to encounter.
" The worst has come. The ruin ot the house of
Carmichael and Co. is inevitable."
These words did strike deeply, and for a brief space there
was a gleam in her eyes, as if the mental powers were again
asserting themselves. She became, in some degree, like her
old self.
" You must explain to me, Mr. Feuerheerd, how it can
he possible for the word ' ruin' to he associated with the
name of our house. We have ample means, and my husband
was too careful to risk the fortune he had won by a life of
industry and wise management, in any foolish speculation."
He was for his own sake intensely pleased to find that
he still possessed the power to quicken her faculties. • Had
he lost this power, his projects would have fallen to the
ground. He wanted her to retain intelligence enough to be
capable of feeling pain.
" You are right," he said, with subdued enthusiasm ;
"John Carmichael was too shrewd a man of business to
have blundered if he had kept things under his own hand.
But in an evil hour—in a moment of weakness—I am
almost disposed to say of insanity—he signed sundry blank
drafts for his son William, and further empowered him to
use the name of the firm to back up bankrupt railway
schemes and mining companies."
She looked at him with contracted brows, striving to
bake in the full meaning of his words.
"Bankrupt railway schemes and mining companies!'
she echoed.
254
A PRINCESS OF JVTEDOM
" Yes; but you will try to be calm, Mrs. Carmichael,
whilst I endeavour to show you exactly liow westand."
The voice was full of emotion ; the man's lips quivered
with agitation, and no member of the Stock Exchange look-
ing at him at this moment would have believed that this
was Rudolph Feuerheerd, whose coolness in the most
desperate crises of prices was the admiration and envy of
the whole commercial world of Jutedom.
" I am calm," she replied, holding the arms of the big
chair tightly as if to steady herself, and to help, by mus-
cular effort, in concentrating her thoughts on the subject
of conversation.
He looked at her with an expression of profound pity,
and touched her hand gently.
" I wish it was in my power to spare you—I wish you
would place it in my power to spare you."
" If our house be threatened with ruin, how can it be in
you-, ' °"
Feuerheerd was startled. She had still much more capacity
of intellect than he had bargained for. But he responded
in a quiet, earnest tone: "I shall tell you presently how
you can place it in my power to spare you the pain, and
maybe the shame, of revelations which must come out if
Carmichael and Co. have to pass through the Bankruptcy
Court."
" That necessity can never arise !" she exclaimed, her
eyes brightening with indignation.
"The necessity is near—the probability of its being
unavoidable is so great that I know of only one way in
which I can save the house."
" "What is that way ?" she inquired sharply, and every
time she spoke it was with an increase of strength, as if
the excitement were restoring her faculties of thought and
action.
" As I have said—by giving me the power and the right
to act for you."
She examined him in a suspicious yet puzzled way.
" You have not yet told me how I can give you the
power—that is, power greater than you possess as the
trusted manager of the business, and as a prospective if not
actual partner in it."
energy, and so clearly, that
TEE W0B8T OF IT 255
" I shall do my best to make everything clear to you.
Outram is in an asylum. He is recovering, and he has been
able to speak with sufficient coherency to enable me to un-
derstand many things which have until now perplexed me."
"Well?"
He had paused as if to note the effect of this statement,
and observed that, at the mention of Outram's name, a
cowed expression had passed across her face. The sharp
query "Well?" brought him again to the consciousness
that she was not so much under his control as he had at
first thought.
"From what he says," Feuerheerd proceeded, "I gather
that by means of the blank drafts given to Mr. William by
his father, the firm has become liable for an enormous sum
invested in speculations of which the greater number have
proved absolute failures, and the remainder require the
sinking of more capital if they are to be carried on with any
chance of retrieving even a part of what has been already
lost."
" And the consequences ?"
" The consequences are that during the past few weeks
1 have received notifications of bills due, of calls upon
shares and guarantees which will absorb nearly the whole
of your husband's estate if we are forced to realise im-
mediately."
" But shall we be forced to realise immediately ?"
" It is most probable, for there are demands amounting
to over a hundred thousand pounds which must be satisfied
next week. They are debts incurred by William in his
father's name, and others in the name of Outram, but quite
outside the business of the firm; and they must be paid,
or "
" Or what ? "
" Or disputed, and that can only be done if you give me
the right to do it."
" I have asked what right you mean ?"
"You know, Mrs. Carmichael," he went on warmly,
" the deep respect with which I have always regarded you,
and whilst Mr. Carmichael lived, that respect held in check
all other feelings ; but now that you are free they assert
themselves, and I ask the right of a husband to protect you
and yours."
256 A FRINGE SS OF JUTE BOM
She stared blankly at him, but did not speak. He
continued, auguring well from her silence :
" Think of your daughter and of David—think what it
will be to them to face absolute ruin, and to see Baldovie,
with all its tender associations, placed in the hands of an
auctioneer ! By giving me the right which I seek to act
for you, they and you can be saved."
She rose to her feet, calm and strong ; no sign of weak-
ness in her movement or expression.
" I accept the ruin," she said, in a low, steady voice,
" for my children and myself. I have no fear that there
will be cause for shame—that could only be if I yielded to
your monstrous proposal. Do your duty in your place, Mr.
Feuerheerd, and I shall do mine. Let ruin come, if it
must!"
" Then the ruin must come," he said, in a tone of sad,
yet bitter regret.
But she walked from the room apparently without
hearing him.
He had not been weak enough to calculate upon winning
her with the first declaration of his devotion ; it would pre-
pare her for the second or third declaration. That was all
he had expected. He had, however, counted upon finding
her more sensitive to the prospective poverty of the family
than she had shown herself to be. In this respect he had
been greatly disappointed; and, besides, there had been
something in her rejection so calm and resolute that for a
space he was inclined to fear that he should fail in the end.
"Not likely," was his thought, " after she has had time
to consider the whole position of affairs. No, this is only
the result of surprise. She will come round in time."
He was confident still, but he was to prepare for dis-
appointment.
He assumed the air of feebleness which had hitherto
deceived Dr. Martin when he rejoined that gentleman.
"1 am glad to say Mrs. Carmichael is much better ; but
she has a bad time before her," he said, when they were in
the carriage and driving towards the town.
The carriage stopped at the corner of Reform Street, and
to a man who advanced to the window Feuerheerd gave a
note. The man nodded, and the carriage drove on.
Dr. Martin, having seen his patient safely home, left
"WE CAN BEAR TEAT" 257
him with strict instructions about taking care of himself
•until he should call next day.
The man who had received the note from Feuerheerd
proceeded in a cab with a stalwart companion to Braeside
Cottage.
Johnnie Todd was in the garden with Jess, talking very
excitedly about plants, bonds, geraniums, bills, pansies, and
forgeries, so that she was frightened.
"When the visitor informed him that Mr. Da-lgleish, the
lawyer, and the Fiscal particularly wished to see him,
Johnnie rushed at once for his hat, and waving a cheerful
good-bye to Jess, accompanied the messenger.
Meanwhile Feuerheerd was being driven to Perth by
Fritz Bauer in the carriage which had been reserved for him
at the hotel.
His destination was Dr. Broadsley's establishment, and
on his arrival there he was taken at once into the grounds,
where he saw George Outram.
The latter was sitting in a garden-chair, and leaning on
a heavy staff, looking vacantly before him, perfectly quiet
and harmless, whilst an attendant stood aloof watching him.
CHAPTER XLVII.
"we can bear that'
Mrs. Carmichael, moved by an instinctive desire to hide
her emotion rather than by reason, wished to avoid her
maid and the nurse until she had recovered from the
first shock of the interview with Feuerheerd. So, instead
of going into the bed-room, she entered the adjoining
apartment, where her daughter was anxiously awaiting the
summons to attend her. Marget was astounded to see
her mother walk into the room unaided, and then she
was frightened by the stony expression on her face.
" Mother ! " she cried, starting forward to help her into
a chair, " what new evil has this man brought you ? Why
did you not call for me—for some one to come to you when
you wanted to leave the room ? "
The mother smiled.
" Are you not pleased to see how much stronger I have
s
258 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
grown within the last hour ? " she said in a faint but steady
voice.
The daughter looked at her with a feeling of increasing
alarm ; the smile was that which one associates with imbe-
cility, and the voice was that of one who is speaking in sleep.
"Yes, yes, I am glad—very glad to see that you are
strong," she answered, stifling her agitation as best she
could ; " but the change is so sudden that I was afraid
something unusual had happened. Perhaps you had better
not talk just now. By-and-by you will be able to tell me
everything."
" Tell you everything ! Of course, child," said the
mother, with a hollow laugh—" of course I shall tell you
everything. The matter is very simple : it happens every
day, and people do not always die under it."
""We are not to talk about dying," rejoined Marget,
with an affectation of gaiety which demanded a greater
strain upon her power of self-control than any previous
experience had exacted. "You are going to get well
and strong, now that the fine weather has come ; and we
shall be able to take you out for your favourite drives."
The eyes seemed to clear, and she regarded her daughter
sadly.
"We shall have to do without drives, Marget. We are
ruined."
Marget could not understand, for the words were
uttered so quietly that they did not convey their true
import, especially to one who regarded the fortune of
Carmichael and Co. to be as trustworthy as the stability of
the nation. She accepted the statement as some new
phase of the hypochondria which afflicted her mother.
At the same time, she wished that it had been possible
to leave her in order to question Feuerheerd, and win
from him, by any art of cajolery, some explanation. She
could not move even to tell somebody to request him to
wait, and presently she heard the wheels of the carriage
driving away from the house.
" Well, we can do without the drives, mother," she said
with enforced cheerfulness. " We can take our walks in the
grounds, and, as you grow stronger, we shall go farther
afield."
" It is very good of you, child, to try to humour me,
" WE CAN BEAR TEAT" 259
but my head is quite clear at present. The shock which
that man has given me seems to have wakened me out
of a long sleep. Do not misunderstand. If what Feuer-
heerd says be true, we are absolutely ruined. Everything
must go to satisfy the creditors of your father and of his
son William. This house and all that belongs to it must
be sold. The fortune which I, like everybody else, believed
to be safe, has been lost or wasted within the last few years."
The daughter was touched to the quick, not by any idea
of poverty, but by the conviction that her mother's reason
had been utterly destroyed. For, being so thoroughly con-
fident of the wealth possessed by her family, she could not
realise the possibility of its sudden absorption in ruinous
speculations.
" This is very dreadful news, mother," she rejoined, still
unbelieving ; " but if things should be as bad as you fancy,
we can work for you, David and I."
The mother passed her hand over Marget's head tenderly,
and kissed the smooth white brow.
" My poor child," she said in tremulous accents, "I see
that you cannot realise how low we have fallen."
Marget placed an arm caressingly round her mother's
neck, and spoke softly but hopefully.
" Even if things be as bad as you imagine, mother, it is
only money we lose ; and we can bear that, if you will only
get well. If you would get strong again we should have
nothing to fear."
"Will you not feel sorry to leave the place where you
were born ? Will you not be troubled in seeking work ?
And what work of any kind are you fitted for ?"
"We need not talk about that just now. I am not
afraid. Mr. Dalgleish will save something for us, and before
that is exhausted we shall have found means of supporting
ourselves. But you must not give way to such gloomy
thoughts. We cannot be in the desperate position you
imagine."
Mrs. Carmichael paid no attention to the consoling
phrases; she harped upon the one idea of utter poverty
which had taken possession of her.
"Are you not afraid of losing Norman ? " she inquired,
with a note of bitterness in her tone.
Marget started back; her cheeks were at first flushed
S 2
260 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
and then became pallid. All the coaxing arts with which
she had been endeavouring to soothe her mother disappeared
as the bitter possibility of the effect the alteration of her
position might have on her relations to Norman flashed
through her brain. The question brought the meaning of
poverty more completely within her mental grasp than any-
thing else had done.
"No, mother," she answered proudly, "I am not afraid
of losing Norman ; and if there should be a breach in our
agreement, it will be because I shall refuse to burden him
with a penniless wife—not because I doubt his fidelity."
Then she fell on her knees, and buried her face on the
lap of the distraught mother.
" Don't let us talk about such things, mother. They
cannot happen to us. Forgive me for being so excited. I
have been trying to keep quiet, but the thought that you
should doubt Norman has put me out a little."
CHAPTER XLVIII.
doubt and fear
"When David left Feuerheerd's laboratory, and hurried from
the house, scarcely pausing to give even a semblance of
civility to his abrupt departure, he continued to walk for
some time at a rapid pace, without considering in what
direction he was going. It was only when he found himself
breaking into a run that he halted, and gave up his attempt
to accomplish the impossible feat of escaping from his own
thoughts. The spectre that had arisen must be faced some
time, and, turning, he proceeded to walk slowly homeward,
becoming at every step more horrified at the visions which
forced themselves on his reluctant and bewildered brain.
It was as if a chamber of horrors had been of a sudden
brilliantly illuminated, while he stood an unwilling spectator
of all its ghastly contents. But the misery of it was, that
this chamber of horrors was in the mind and life of his
dearest friend—the man to whom he had looked up with
such admiring affection, whom he had loved with boyish
devotion. The sudden flash of suspicion which had been
originated in his mind by reading that strange extract in
DOUBT AND FEAB 261
Feuerheercfs notebook, acted like an electric light thrown
on the past years of his relationship to this man. As he
looked back he seemed to see with different eyes, and to
read new meanings in many deeds and words that had ap-
peared meaningless or strange to him at the time. The
awakening was a very bitter one, for the wound was deep to
his self-love as weli as to his more generous emotions. What
a conceited fool he had been to swallow all the flattery
which had tasted so sweet, flavoured as he imagined it was
with the partiality of friendship !
There ended one paroxysm of angry thought, and he
stopped short to wonder at himself. Had he gone mad ?
Whab ground had he for believing all the hideous accusa-
tions which his thoughts were bringing against his friend ?
What had raised this hornets' nest of suspicion within him ?
Nothing but a statement of facts—chemical facts which
had most likely been copied from some favourite work or
interesting article on chemistry. What was there in this
simple statement of facts to start him off on such a wild
train of thought ?
No wonder the lad was puzzled and frightened, for he
did not understand the workings of his own mind. The
face which had looked at him in the laboratory months
before had been the real revelation of the Bluebeard Cham-
ber, and he had been, as it were, unconsciously groping
about in search of the key to it. Since that night his atti-
tude of mind had been gradually changing from unquestion-
ing faith to a critical expectancy. And so this extract, which
to an ordinary reader would have conveyed merely the idea
that the writer was interested in curious herbs, supplied
David with the key to the mystery of the face and its
owner.
He shrank from meeting any one lest his thoughts should
be divined. Instead, therefore, of paying his promised visit
to Johanna, he went home and shut himself in his own
room, bidding Currie inform Marget that he had some hard
reading to do.
The poor lad did, indeed, make a violent effort to con-
centrate his attention on his books, hoping by that means to
put an end, for a time at least, to the mental struggle which
tortured him. But between him and the book there ap-
peared that face, and the questions repeated themselves in
262 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
his brain : " Has my mother not lost her memory without
any apparent cause ? Has Marget not always ascribed her
illness to his visits ? Has she not always mistrusted him ?
Was not that face the face of a wicked man? And why
should he require to make a special note of such facts as
these ?"
In despair he pushed aside his hooks, and bent his head
upon his arms. Three distinct individualities seemed to be
developed within him—one heaped up accusations, proofs,
and confirmations against his friend ; another defended him
with desperate warmth; while the third pronounced judg-
ment between the two. Again and again the struggle was
renewed, till the youth flung himself exhausted on his bed
and fell asleep. But the spectre pursued him in his dreams,
and met him as soon as he awoke. Ought he not to warn
his mother ? Yet how could he denounce the man who had
shown him so much kindness ? For several days he wan-
dered about restless and dispirited, avoiding every one, and
too much perplexed in mind even to go and see Johanna.
In expectation of her young admirer's promised visit,
Miss Deuchars had made some appetising additions to the
supper-table. These did not pass unnoticed by Master
Bob, who came to the conclusion that there might he some
mitigating circumstances after all about the condition of
being in love. He made a mental note that he would take
good care to choose a sweetheart who had. command of the
larder.
It was getting late and Dr. Deuchars might arrive at any
moment, and pitilessly order his son and successor supperless
to bed ; so in the most cajoling of tones be addressed his
sister: "I say, Jo, don't you think it's getting precious
late ?"
" Late—yes, much too late for you to he up. You had
better go to bed."
" Oh, hut, Jo, he won't be coming now ; and you don't
want to have all those nice things yourself. You shouldn't
make a fellow's mouth water for nothing—'cause, you know,
he might tell tales."
" Be quiet, greedy boy ! But, there, make yourself ill!
Only you had better be quick and get out of the way before
papa comes home."
She was not sorry to have an appreciative consumer of
DOVBV AtfD EEAU 263
her dainties, and she was glad to get him out of the Way.
David might come after all, and she knew that her brother's
unblinded shrewdness would at once see through her
manoeuvres, whilst it was by no means certain that he would
not announce his discoveries.
Johanna thought nothing of David's non-appearance
that evening ; but when the next day passed with neither
visit nor message, she began to think that something must
have gone wrong. Could he have guessed what her real
reason was for being so anxious to hear about the Lindores?
Had that mysterious Feuerheerd betrayed her secret, and
put David on his guard? She missed the lad's devoted
attentions, for they had acted as a salve to her wounded
feelings. Bob, too, noticed the continued absence of the
young swain, and wondered what new phase of the love
malady this change of symptoms betokened, A day or two
afterwards he came in full of importance.
" I have seen him, Jo."
" "Well ?" said Jo, trying not to evince much curiosity.
" Well, what will you give to know what he said ?"
" Oh, you can keep your news to yourself, if you like.
But you know you can't; you are dying to tell me."
" Not a bit. I am dying for my dinner. You have got
to be civil, Miss Jo, if you want to get anything out of
me."
But as the mistress of the store-room showed symptoms
of leaving the room, and as he feared the consequences to
his comfort of any actual breach of the peace, he hastened
to pacify her.
" Wait a minute, Jo. He didn't say anything at all."
"Then it is not difficult even for you to keep from
repeating it," said Jo, with the sharpness of disappoint-
ment.
"But he looked a great deal," continued Bob. "Oh
my, you should have seen his long face ! " and the boy tried
to elongate his chubby countenance. "You must have been
very cruel to him, Jo, for he looks awfully miserable ; " and
Bob burst out laughing at his recollections of the melancholy
lover.
Miss Deuchars was confirmed in her own opinion as to
the cause of David's absence and of his woebegone appear-
ance.
264 A PBINGESS OF JUTFBOM
" Poor fellow! " she said to herself; " after all, it's
just as well, for he was getting dreadfully fond of me." At
the same time she could not help pitying herself, for she
missed him for his own sake, and because it put an end to
her little plan for obtaining news of Norman.
Then came the exciting story of the fire.
" How strange it is !" said Johanna to her father, as he
was about to start for Baldovie ; "everything seems to have
gone wrong since old Mr. Carmichael died."
"Very strange," answered the doctor gloomily, half
speaking to himself; "his own death sudden, her illness
most mysterious, Will's disappearance, now the fire, and
David was looking yesterday as if he had seen a ghost—but
here he comes to speak for himself. Ay, my lad, I was just
telling my daughter that I expected to have you on my
hands ; but you are looking better to-day. How is the
mother bearing this new trouble ? "
"It does not seem to make much difference to her.
That is the worst of it. She seems not to feel things.
What is the matter with my mother, doctor ?" and David
looked straight at Dr. Deuchars, with a troubled expression
in his eyes.
The doctor relapsed into taciturnity.
" Mrs. Carmichael's symptoms are too complicated to be
easily explained to any but a professional man," was his
reply, and then, with a hurried leave-taking, he drove away.
David turned with a dissatisfied air to Johanna, and
said : "Your father treats me as a boy. He forgets that
Will is gone, and there is nobody but me and Marget to
take care of mother."
There was a change in the lad. He looked ill and sad,
but much more manly and dignified. Ascribing the change to
disappointment in regard to herself, Johanna could not help
wishing that the difference in their years could have been
effaced, for her mental comment was : " What a nice man
he will be—such a man as any woman might be proud to
love!"
" I was sorry to disappoint you the other night, but I
could not obtain the information you wanted. Mr. White-
law came to see Mr. Feuerheerd on business soon after I
arrived, and "
" Oh, never mind," interrupted Johanna, making light
bOVBT} AND FA Aft 265
of the matter which had cost her so much scheming ; " it is
not worth troubling yourself about. But tell me what you
have been doing, and why you are looking so ill ? I have
been feeling very anxious about you."
Poor David forgot his mental struggles for the moment
in his delight at hearing these sweet words from the lips of
the woman he loved.
" Have you really been thinking about me ? " he said,
looking at her with such an ardent gaze that she immediately
regretted having given so much encouragement. She
hastened to reply in a cool, practical tone : " Of course.
How could I but think of you when you suddenly stopped
away without a word after seeing me every day ? I thought
you must be ill. If you have not been ill, you have been
very rude."
" So I have ; but you must forgive me—I have been
worried."
" What about ? "
" My mother," replied David, with some hesitation.
"Surely she is not worse, or papa would have told me."
"No, she is not worse. She is better. But then, it is
so queer about her memory—you don't know how she for-
gets things ; and her face doesn't look the same, and I never
could understand it till "
" Till what ? Have you found out anything ?" queried
Johanna, with the curiosity of the gossip aroused into
expectation of some scandal.
" I don't know," replied David slowly, reluctant to give
words to his suspicions, and yet anxious for the sympathy
and advice of his idol.
Miss Deuchars encouraged him to confide in her, and
after some further hesitation he continued : " I don't know
whether I have really discovered anything; but I came across
some facts the other day which set me thinking, and—don't
be angry, Johanna—but it seems to me that perhaps Dr.
Deuchars does not know all about my mother's illness."
With a daughter's pride in her father, Miss Deuchars
was inclined to resent this doubt of his professional skill.
At the same time, she was aware from the doctor's silence,
as well as from occasional expressions of irritation, that
there was something unsatisfactory about the Baldovie
patient. She was also afraid of stopping the flow of confi-
266 A PBINOESS OP JUTE DOM
dence by any display of resentment, consequently she said
very meekly : " What makes you think so, David ? "
Instead of direct answer, he put the question : " Has Dr.
Deuchars never said anything to you about my mother's
memory failing her ?"
"Yes," replied Johanna, in turn hesitating ; "he said
that it would not have been so extraordinary if "
" If what ?" said David eagerly, as she paused.
"Well, it's not a very nice thing to say—if she had ever
been in the habit of taking—much stimulant or any kind of
narcotics ; but then, of course," she added hastily, " we all
know how extremely moderate she has always been in every
way, and she was always too strong and well to require
narcotics."
" So that is what the doctor said," was David's medi-
tative rejoinder. " Give me a sheet of paper and a pencil,
and I will try to write out an extract which I found in
a book, and which set me thinking. I want you to tell me
what you think about it."
Having been provided with writing materials, the youth
proceeded to write from memory the words which had
troubled his brain. But they had got so mixed up with
his own comments on them that his first effort was a
failure. Impatiently he crumpled up the sheet of paper,
and threw it aside. He began again, and having succeeded
to his satisfaction he gave it to Johanna to read.
" Well, what do you think of it ?" he asked.
" They seem to be very extraordinary drugs, but I do not
see how your mother could get them."
"No, but supposing she did get them, you see what
effect would be produced—loss of memory, weakening of
intellect, just as she has."
" Then do you suspect any one of giving her these
things ?"
David was silent for a time, and then said in a gloomy
way :
" I do not know."
Miss Deuchars guessed from his manner and expression
that the door was shut, and nothing more was to be said
then. She was about to ask whether she should speak to
her father] regarding the matter, when the arrival of Bob
made them hastily hide the paper.
DOUBT AND FEAB 267
Bob whistled and pretended ostentatiously to look the
other way. Nevertheless, when the two young people went
towards the door, bidding each other an affectionate fare-
well, the boy did not fail to pounce upon the cast-off sheet
of paper, and to stow it away in his pocket.
He expected to find on it some lover's rhymes, which
would place Jo at his mercy, and enable him to extract
delicacies from her. Great was his disappointment when,
having betaken himself to one of his favourite hiding-places
in the stableyard, he drew out the paper, and discovered
that from the nature of its contents it seemed to be in his
father's line of business. However, assuming a virtue
which he did not possess, he delivered it at the earliest
opportunity into the doctor's hands.
Dr. Deuchars, having hastily glanced over it, uttered an
exclamation.
" Where did you find this, Bob ?"
" In the dining-room, on the floor."
" Was any one there ? "
" David Carmichael was just going," answered Bob, with
a grin.
"Oh !" said the doctor. "Tell Johanna I want her,
and you go on with your lessons in the dining-room."
The boy disappeared, and presently Johanna joined her
father.
"What were you and David talking about when he
wrote this ?" inquired the doctor, as he handed her the
paper which Bob had found.
For the moment she looked somewhat confused, and
then, meeting the scrutinising gaze of her father, she
explained briefly what had passed, but carefully omitted
any suggestion of David's doubt of the doctor's comprehen-
sion of his mother's malady.
"You know, papa, he has been pottering amongst
chemicals," she said, " and he was trying to write out some
curious statement he had found in a book about poisons."
" He does not seem to' have written it out very clearly."
" Not at first, but he tried again, and seems to have
remembered what he read correctly enough."
" Have you got what he wrote the second time ?"
"Yes."
" Give it to me."
268 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
This command was given in a tone which Johanna
understood too well to disobey. "Wondering much at her
father's sudden interest in what appeared to her a mere
freak of youthful curiosity on David's part, she brought the
paper.
Dr. Deuchars read the extract several times very care-
fully, accompanying his readings with a series of guttural
" Humphs " and " Ehs."
Then abruptly saying, " I shall keep this for the pre-
sent," he proceeded to the surgery, where he gave his
assistant instructions about the preparation of certain
prescriptions. Two hours later he announced to his
daughter that he must make a journey to Edinburgh. He
started the same evening without having given warning to
any of his patients, or having communicated to any one the
object of his journey.
Johanna thought it very strange, and she was dis-
appointed, for she had intended to make extraordinary
efforts to get him to talk about Mrs. Carmichael's illness.
CHAPTER XLIX.
the turn of the tide
The result of Feuerlieerd's visit to George Outram at Dr.
Broadsley's establishment was that he presented himself
again at Baldovie on the following day. He was, as before,
accompanied by his medical adviser, who still looked upon
him as an invalid requiring very special attention. The
invalid, whilst pretending to repudiate the idea of there
being any real danger in his case, carefully provided evidence
enough to justify the doctor's opinion.
As before, Feuerheerd was conducted to the library, and
Dr. Martin waited in the drawing-room.
Marget had said to her mother with a determination,
which the poor lady had no strength to resist:
" You shall not see him—I will."
Apart from the question of strength, Mrs. Carmichael
had a vague sense that somehow she had blundered in her
dealings with this man. She certainly had not done what
she intended to do, and there was an inexplicable feeling
THE TURN OF THE TIDE 269
upon her that she had allowed him to influence her judg-
ment, and to obtain her assent to actions which, under
other circumstances, she would have repudiated. Many
things that she had thought of doing, and had hoped to do,
had now passed quite beyond her reach. She was conscious
of this, and yet she did not feel pain. It had been her
earnest desire to find Wild Will or some proof of his death
—to discover the meaning of the curious contradiction
between all that her husband had said to her and written in
his will, and the contents of the packet numbered 10,
which Will himself had placed in the deed-box.
But here she was lying helpless to act or speak. And
even had she been able to act, there was an incomprehen-
sible lethargy upon her which rendered her callous to her
own thoughts and hopes. What was the meaning of it ?
She did not know, and yet, whilst feeling seemed to be dead,
reason told her that she was acting wrongly.
To Marget the position became more and more
involved, and the inability of her mother to give any
definite or connected statement regarding the nature of
her dealings with Feuerheerd was the most troublesome
circumstance of all. It seemed as if he possessed a
supernatural influence over her. In the old days Marget
would have said that her mother was bewitched by this
man ; for she called him her friend, whilst all that he was
doing seemed to bring day by day new affliction upon her.
" But this time he shall fail," was Marget's thought as
she passed into the library.
" I cannot say how much 1 regret being compelled to
trouble your mother so soon again, Miss Carmichael," said
Feuerheerd after the usual salutations ; " but unhappily no
choice is left to me. I presume she has explained to you the
very critical state in which our affairs stand, and I am sorry
to tell you that the news to-day makes out matters to be
worse than ever."
"We can only trust to your skill and judgment, Mr.
Feuerheerd, to arrange them as well as they can be arranged,"
rejoined Marget, with a degree of trustfulness in her manner
which cost her a severe effort.
" Everything that can be done I will do, and your confi-
dence in me is a great assistance ; but I am powerless to act
without the co-operation of your mother."
270 A PRINOESS OF JUTEDOM
" She is very eager to do anything that you may suggest
in the circumstances which have so unexpectedly arisen,"
said Marget, watching him closely ; " hut she is quite unable
to see you to-day. I think it would be well if you would
explain everything to me, and so enable me to relieve her
of what appears to cause her much pain."
" Has she not explained it to you, then ? "
" Yes, she has told me that we are ruined—that every-
thing we possess must be sold, in order to meet the claims
upon us."
She spoke so quietly that it seemed as if in seeing the
worst she was prepared to meet it.
The man regarded her for an instant with astonishment
and admiration.
" You are very brave," he said softly, " to be able to meet
poverty so calmly. Or can it be that your mother has not
told you everything ?"
" Everything," was the response; but there was a
slight quaver in the voice which indicated to the listener
that she was afraid to have what she had heard confirmed.
" Has she told you about George Outram ?"
" George Outram ?—Who is he ?"
Feuerheerd shook his head, and smiled sadly.
"I see that you have not been told everything ; and I
must wait until your mother can treat with me herself."
"You must treat with me, Mr. Feuerheerd," said Marget
firmly.
" Impossible."
" I insist."
" That is useless, for you cannot force me to betray your
mother."
" Betray my mother !" she exclaimed indignantly, and
for the moment forgetting the part she had studied to play.
" She has no secret which may not be told to the whole
world."
"You do not know," he answered significantly, "and I
shall not speak."
Scorn and indignation had almost conquered her self-
control, and she was about to speak angrily, when the door
opened, and the voice she loved most in the world rang in
her ears : " Marget!"
It was Norman who spoke, and she flung herself upon
A MYSTERY EXPLAINED 271
his breast with an exclamation of hysterical joy, as if she
had been unexpectedly rescued from some peril.
Norman clenched his hand as if suspecting that Feuer-
heerd had been causing her some trouble, and that gentleman
bowed with supercilious politeness.
" I shall not interfere with this most unexpected meeting
between you, Miss Carmichael, and the man who has
deserted his ship, and I shall therefore take my leave."
Feuerheerd drove straight to the docks, and went on
board the Camperdown, where he found Sandy Ogg busy
washing the deck.
CHAPTER L.
a mystery explained
Norman would have followed Feuerheerd, but Marget
restrained him.
"You must not go. For my sake, Norman, stay here
with me—God knows there has been trouble enough in this
house ! Don't you make it worse by any rashness, but help
me by being quiet, until we understand what this man
means."
" He means evil to us all," said Norman earnestly;
" but, my poor lass, I am with you, and I think I have dis-
covered his trick."
Marget looked startled, but did not express the thought
which rose to her mind.
" His trick ? " was her only exclamation, with a curious
note of inquiry.
" Yes ; I think, by a very fortunate accident, the whole
secret of our troubles has been revealed to me."
" Oh, Norman, if it should be so ! "
" Why do you look so frightened ?"
" Because I fear that this man has been doing something
to my mother that none of us can understand. We have
tried to find it out, but all our efforts have been without avail.
What is it you have discovered ? "
"You must come and sit down, Marget. It is a curious
story I have to tell you." He led her to a seat near the
window, she still looking at him with that curious expression
of interrogation, "On board the Lindores" Norman pro-
272
A FRINGES8 OF JUTEDOM
ceeded, " was a passenger, with whom I became very friendly.
In the course of our conversation I happened to mention to
him how very much perplexed I was by the sensation
produced upon me by the wine you had sent me."
" "Wine ! " she exclaimed. " I sent you no wine."
"Precisely—that is what I expected you would say.
Now listen. I discovered that this wine muddled my head,
and altogether put me out of my usual way of doing things.
I explained this to my new friend, and he asked me to let
him taste some of the wine—for, you know, being your
special gift, I was keeping it for myself. Well, as soon as
he had tasted it, he said to me, ' This stuff is mixed up
with an Indian drug which has a most peculiar effect upon
the constitution. Where the devil did you get this from ?
It is so rare a thin to have, that I
possession of it.' He told me that the effect was to produce
loss of memory, and by-and-hy insensibility, which resulted
in death if continued."
She drew back from him, and then, stretching out her
arms towards him, with a wild exclamation of pain said :
" Norman, you have found out what is the real meaning of
my mother's illness. Feuerheerd, as you know, was a long
time in India. You know, too, that he has a mania for
dabbling in chemistry, and that is why David has been so
fond of him. He haS found out about this poison, and he
has been using it. . . . Norman, can this be ?"
" I am afraid it is so," answered her lover very gravely.
"All the symptoms of your father's and your mother's
illness correspond with what I have been told."
Marget remained silent for a few minutes, her head
drooping in agony; then she looked up with a white face.
"You have come back to save my mother. How shall I
ever compensate you for that ?"
In answer he drew her towards him, and, placing a hand
on her brow, looked into her eyes with love lighting his
face. " The compensation is in yourself, Marget."
What had she to do but rest on his breast and thank
him with all her heart ? But presently there came a sudden
remembrance of the position in which they stood, and that
now, instead of being the happy possessor of fortune, she
was, so far as she knew, penniless. It was very hard to
cannot understand
come into the
UNDER SEALED ORDERS 273
think of the burden she would be to him, and still harder
to view what seemed to her a duty. The struggle went on
between self and a sense of what was right—went on
bitterly for a few minutes—and then she bowed her head
sadly as she spoke : "Do you understand how things are
changed now? If what that man says be true, we are
utterly ruined "
He stopped her there with a kiss.
" That is precisely what makes the difference to me.
When you were the princess, people could say I sought you
for your wealth. Now they will know that it was you, and
you only, that I sought."
" I have never doubted that; but I do doubt whether I
should say yes or no to you."
" You are not to doubt at all about it; and we are not
to talk any more about ourselves for the present. We have
to think about your mother, and how we can remedy the
harm that has been done."
That was very good and generous of him ; but she
could not feel that she was justified in holding him bound
to her now. This, however, was a subject to be thought of
hereafter. In the meanwhile, she saw that the first con-
sideration for both of them was the condition of her
mother.
"Yes, Norman," she said, with a grateful look, "we must
forget ourselves; we must think only of saving her."
CHAPTER LI.
under sealed orders
When Sandy Ogg saw Feuerheerd, or " Fireheed," as he
called him, without a suspicion of how much meaning
might have been found in his mispronunciation, he stopped
work and looked at him in his dull, stolid way. The first
thought that came into his head was :
" Here he is again, and he'll send the skipper aff intil
anither bleeze. Lord, he's a queer birkie, yon ! "
But he was not allowed time for further reflection.
"Tell Culross I want him," was the immediate and
authoritative command.
X
274 A PRINOESS OF JUTFDOM
Sandy nodded, and muttered, "Queerer nor ever," as
he waddled aft. There he called :
" Here's your frien' Fireheed speirin' for ye, skipper.
" Say I'm here," was the answer.
" I want you on deck, Culross," was the response given
by Feuerheerd, who had approached and heard the skipper's
gruff voice.
Culross was presently on deck, his expression somewhat
ill-humoured, and his eyes inflamed as if he had been drink-
ing. He had been puzzling so much over his relationship
with his present visitor that he had been trying to aid his
wits by frequent recourse to the bottle. He had not yet
made up his mind as to what was the right course for him
to adopt.
" What's wrong ?" he inquired dryly.
" Let us go to the stern, and I will tell you." Then,
when they had got beyond earshot of Sandy, he continued :
" I have not much time at present, but I have news for
you."
" What's that ? "
" I think I have got a hint as to the whereabouts of
Will Carmichael."
" Ay, where is he ?"
The skipper did not put the question with the passionate
eagerness which Feuerheerd had expected, but with a half-
surly tone, as if doubting the truth of what he heard, and
he regarded him suspiciously. Then—
" To-morrow I shall be better informed, and you shall
know. This much I can tell you—my suspicions regarding
him are confirmed."
" How's that ?"
"By letters received at the office. We have got into a
terrible mess through his folly or madness, whichever you
like to call it; and for the sake of the family I am com-
pelled to say as little about it as possible."
" Ay, you seem to be aye hinting that we are just going
to get him, but you never say how or where."
" Well, we are about to start on the expedition at last."
" We /—are you going ? "
" Most probably, if Mrs. Carmichael and Mr. Dalgleish
agree to my plans."
" Whatna plans ?"
UNDER SEALED ORDERS 275
" Why, Culross, how is it you have suddenly developed
such a monstrous degree of curiosity ? You must either he
content to work under instructions, and wait for the proper
time when their meaning may be explained to you, or I
must seek the help of some one else. But I thought you
were willing to do anything to find the man who has
betrayed and deserted your daughter !"
"So I am, so I am; but I should like to ken a wee
thing more about this expedition."
Again he spoke without the passion which those last
words of Feuerheerd had always roused in him ; and again
the friend regarded him suspiciously.
"Are you to act with me or not?" said Feuerheerd
decisively. " On your answer will depend whether I shall
help you to accomplish your purpose or not. I tell you,
man, that I am on the brink of a most important discovery,
but I must work in my own way."
" You've done that always," muttered the skipper ; but
he was evidently hesitating.
" I believe that we shall find the runaway, and bring
him back to acknowledge your daughter, and do his duty
by her."
That bait was too tempting to be resisted. " As you
will, then ; but I would rather have had a better compre-
hension of what play I'm to engage in."
"All in good time, man—all in good time," rejoined
Feuerheerd, in a tone of cordial friendliness.
" Very well; what are the orders ?"
Culross had apparently succumbed to the persuasive
arguments, and spoke in a more agreeable tone than he had
yet used in this interview.
" They are simple enough for the present. To-night I
shall bring on board a box, which must be placed in some
secure locker, and the key given to me."
" What's in't ?"
" Papers which when "Will Carmichael sees he will either
consent to return with us, or we shall have the power to
compel him to do so."
" They must be queer kind of papers ; but since they
have the power to work our will on him, that's all I care for."
"Now you are speaking like my old friend, Culross ;
give me your hand."
1 2
276 A PRINCESS OF JUTE I) Oil
They clasped hands, and the skipper felt that there
mnst be some good in the man after all.
" That's so far settled ; but what's to be done after the
boxie is on board ?"
" To-morrow you are to clear out, destination unknown
—for you are sailing under sealed orders, you know ; and
you have had some experience of that sort of thing—eh ?"
" I should think sae," rejoined the skipper, half-proud
and half-regretful of the old days of the American blockade
business.
" It's a bargain, then ; and if we succeed you will find
that the results will be as profitable to you as to myself."
" I hope we'll succeed, then ; for I have need of some
profit after hanging about here a' this time idle."
" Say no more about that; you are now to enter on the
enterprise for which you were detained here."
And Feuerheerd quitted the barque.
As Culross looked after him, a droll twinkle of the eyes
in a moment dispelled the gloom which had become almost
his habitual expression. It was as if some spirit of devil-
ment had suddenly taken possession of him, and that he
was pleased with it.
He turned to his sturdy assistant, who had swashed the
deck up to his heels.
" Hurry up, Sandy, my man. "We have to see about our
crew ; for we are to clear out the morn."
The stolid individual addressed rested on his broom,
turned the quid in his mouth, and spoke : "Ay, that's no
bad news. Whaur micht we be bound for ?"
" The Devil, I believe."
" Aweel, aweel," said Sandy philosophically, after a
pause for reflection, " it's aye better to be gaun some gate
nor stan'in' still."
Whether the skipper agreed with this view of the subject
or not, he went ashore with that humorous glow on his face
which had been long absent from it. He proceeded to the
Sailors' Home, and he had no difficulty in picking out an
able crew to man the Camperdoicn from the crowd of sea-
men who were in enforced idleness owing to the bad state
of trade, and, as they asserted, the unfair employment of
foreigners. Culross was known to many of them, and those
who signed with him were ready enough to get their kits on
UNDER SEALED ORDERS 277
board in time to clear out next day. Having settled that
little matter promptly, he took his way to Braeside Cottage.
Before he could tell his news Jess called out:
" Where is grandfather ?"
" I don't know—what is the matter with him ? "
" I have not seen him since he went away with a strange
man who brought a cab for him. He told me it was all
right, and seemed glad to go ; but I am afraid something
has happened to him."
" Havers, woman ! he's some crazy, but he'll come
back all right."
" I doubt it, father; for Feuerheerd "
" 'Od, are you at him again ? He has done no ill, for I
have been talking with him not so long ago. Hearken to
my news, Jess. We are off at last; it's a secret business,
just like the old times, and it's fine fun. We don't know
where we are going to, or when we may be back."
The skipper laughed, and Jess stared at him as if she
thought he had lost his wits. Then she looked serious,
as she said in;a tone of sorrow : "You are going under
Mr. Feuerheerd's orders ?"
" Of course, and he promises me an immense profit if
we succeed in our expedition," he said chuckling.
" What is the expedition for ?" she inquired, becoming
more and more serious.
" Well, if anybody ought to ken it's you, my lass. We
aie going in search of Will Carmichael."
" In search of him ! Oh, then, go, father ! go, and
bring him back to me quickly "
But there she stopped abruptly and regarded him with
wild eyes, as if she saw some horrible thing in the words he
had uttered.
" Well, lass ?" he queried, with that odd twinkle more
marked than ever in his eyes.
" Going to seek Will—and under Feuerheerd's direc-
tion !" she exclaimed passionately. " Oh, father, do not
believe it! Do not go ! He does not want Will to return
—he wants to kill him, if he has not done so already."
" Just you haud your whist, hinny, and mind your ain
business. I am to clear out to-morrow, and so I came to
say good-bye."
There was nothing more to be got out of him, except
278
A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
that he intended to bring back her truant man, if he were
still in the land of the living. The parting was simple; no
embrace, a formal kiss, a kindly pat on the head, and then
in a cheery voice : " I'm coming back, hinny ; but I must
haste down to the barque, for there's work to be done
to-night."
Then he went away, forgetting all about poor Johnnie
Feuerheerd had a way of entering his house so quietly
that his domestics could never tell whether he was in or
not. His step was light, and as the staircase to the upper
rooms was of stone, there was no creaking of wood to indi-
cate his presence. On the present occasion he was even
more cat-like in the noiselessness of his movements than
ever. He went straight to his workshop, and sat down as if
exhausted ; but there was no sign of dejection about him.
On the contrary, he felt that all his plans had been so care-
fully laid, and, so far, executed, that it was impossible to
find a flaw in them.
How came the master-stroke. He rose, sipped some-
thing from a small phial which seemed to revive his strength.
In a corner of the room was an irregular pile of books.
They appeared to have been tossed there carelessly, as if of
no further value, and simply huddled up together in order
to be out of the way until there was an opportunity to remove
them. He knocked down the pile, and under it was a small
safe. From it he took a square iron box, carefully covered
with canvas. Then he relocked the safe, but allowed it to
remain uncovered. His next proceeding was to take from
between the leaves of one of his ancient folios two foolscap
envelopes, addressed and sealed. The address was " Cap-
tain Culross, Barque Camperdown."
" No one, not even Bauer, must know of this," was his
reflection. " The fool Culross may be trusted, because he
1 ' 11 isent has only one idea in his head—
That bait secures him. Now for the other business."
He moved a tiny panel on the side of a bookcase, and
from the small aperture took out a steel instrument which
looked like an enlarged asterisk^ but every point of the
asterisk represented a key of peculiar construction.
" There is not a lock in Baldovie but one of these will
Todd.
Carmichael for his daughter's sake.
UN DUB SEALED ORDERS 279
open, and the letter is in the left-hand drawer of the library-
table. I shall find it to-night. Then off you go to Brazil,
my precious box, and I can stay to play the game out or go
with you. Which is best ? Why am I tempted to stay
when all that I need is here ?"
He paused on the question, and then the grim smile
overspread his face as he answered it.
" Because my vanity—vanity, the greatest fiend of all
the others—tempts me to walk hence as the unspotted
martyr to duty and my fidelity to a foolish father and a
mad son Is it worth the bother ?—worth the risk?"
He tapped the iron box with his fingers, and regarded it
admiringly.
" Yes, I believe it is worth the risk, for you will be safe
with Culross ; he will be waiting for me, and if there should
be any awkward turn in affairs, I can clear out at a
moment's warning. But there cannot be. I have calculated
and prepared for everything Everything, except the
sudden return of that cub Grant," he added in a lower tone.
Then, grating his teeth, " But I will risk all to have a chance
of being even with him."
Without further hesitation he put on an Inverness cape
of a dark colour, a soft felt hat, and took the precious iron
box under his arm—the asterisk of keys and the papers he
had already placed in his pockets. As noiselessly as he had
entered the house he left it. He walked leisurely to the
dock where the Camperdown lay. Culross was waiting for
him.
" Got this precious boxie ?" inquired the skipper, seeing
that Feuerheerd appeared to be unencumbered by anything
which he would have dignified with the name of a box.
" Or is there to be another stoppage ?"
"No further stoppage, Culross," said Feuerheerd.
" Here is the box, and here are your sealed orders."
The papers he handed to the skipper ; the box he re-
tained in his own possession. Eyeing the box contemptu-
ously, Culross said, with a gruff laugh : " 'Od, man, it's a
wee thing to be so particular about. Lay it down."
" Small as it is, my friend, it contains the one force
which can move Will Carmichael to do our bidding. Now,
show me where you mean to stow it."
"Awful sma' things have great power whiles," said
Culross, as he led the way to the cabin.
280 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
Feuerheerd was once more perplexed by the curious trans-
formation in the humour of this man, who had been for
weeks past a growling and discontented mortal, ready for any
employment which promised action. Now he appeared to be
inclined to treat everything as a joke. The man must
have been drinking. That was Feuerheerd's conclusion ;
otherwise he would not have trusted him ; and besides, he
did not want a man with a clear head for his work.
"Now, said the skipper, standing on the cabin floor
and pointing to right and left, "take your choice. You
can either put your boxie in the locker of my berth, or
into the locker of the berth that will be yours, supposing
you join us on this extraordinary expedition."
" Into the one that is to be mine," said Feuerheerd
with a feigned laugh, as if joining in his companion's
mirthful spirit.
" So be it. There you are."
Having placed the box in the receptacle and carefully
locked it, Feuerheerd drew from his pocket a piece of
brownish paper like a plaster. With this he covered the
keyhole of the locker.
" There, you see, my name is written on it, and, as the
vendors of quack medicines say, ' none is genuine without
this signature.' Whoever tampers with that lock will have
to forge my signature and to manufacture that paper, or the
attempt will be detected."
"No need of such precaution here, Feuerheerd," re-
joined the skipper carelessly. " The only body on board
that would be likely to touch it would be me. And then I
would be ready to account with you."
" Good. Then as your daughter's and her child's future
happiness is sealed up there, I can trust you"
" All right; trust is a good ship to ride on, if it be trust
in honesty," said Culross, with a short laugh.
" Then good-night. You will find everything explained
in your papers, but I hope to see you before you leave the
dock to-morrow."
As Feuerheerd was making his way slowly along the road
in the direction of Baldovie, he was troubled by many doubts.
" It's a more risky business than I bargained for," he was
saying to himself; "if the man is not half drunk he is up
to some mischief which may spoil Bah, he thinks
too much of that fool of a girl of his to play any tricks
UNDER SEALED ORDERS 281
when he imagines she may gain by what is going forward.
Be it as it may, I must take my chance now ; and if I can
only get possession of that confounded letter I shall have
nothing to fear."
He loitered, because he did not desire to arrive at
his destination until a late hour. He wanted to find
everybody safe off to bed, and should he be discovered, he
had a good excuse to make for his late appearance in the
announcement which he had arranged for the following day.
But he wanted to enter the house when all were sound
asleep, and to leave it without his presence having been
known. Was he a burglar? Certainly, and mentally he
accepted the mean position ; but not without some stings of
humiliation—very sharp stings they were to him who had
played with millions in what was considered a legitimate
way. He had come down to this—to try to enter a house
at midnight, and only to take away a letter ! Could it not
be done otherwise ?—in open day, as all his other acts
had been done ? Yes; but time was pressing, and he
must have that letter before the cub Norman could make
use of it. He ground his teeth at thought of the man.
He could not get him out of his mind; he was like a
nightmare, and no struggle of consciousness could shake
him off.
He was obliged to loiter, and loitering gives time for re-
flection ; hence Feuerheerd was haunted by the possibilities
involved in his actions.
At length he deemed it time to get into the grounds.
There was no difficulty in that, for old John Carmichael had
left openings at various points, so that strangers might
enter and enjoy them.
As he approached the house he noted with satisfaction
that all the lights were out, except the one sad light which
indicated the chamber of the invalid. He advanced
stealthily to the terrace, and suddenly a window of the
drawing-room was thrown wide open, allowing a broad
stream of light to fall across the pathway. Marget stepped
forth, and stood in the blaze of light, looking upward as if
seeking comfort in the calm night. Feuerheerd drew
hastily back amongst the shrubbery ; but the night was so
still that she caught the rustling of the leaves, and listened,
glancing from side to side.
Feuerheerd held his breath; he did not want to be
382 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
discovered by her, and it seemed as if she were gazing
straight at his hiding-place.
She sighed, and re-entered the house. Then there was
darkness. Feuerheerd waited. She had not fastened the
windows properly, and he had gained his object more easily
than he could have hoped.
CHAPTER LII.
almost mad
Johnnie Todd, having left his house gleefully with the
gentleman who had called for him, was very much surprised
by the result. He found himself in what seemed to be the
ward of an hospital, but was really the ward of a lunatic
asylum. It did not matter to him which it might be, so
long as they left him his sheets of figures, and he sat up on
his truckle-bed studying them. The very docility with
which he submitted to anything which might be done with
him, so long as these apparently meaningless figures were
left in his possession, tended more than anything else to
confirm the truth of the account of the mania he was
labouring under.
The report, submitted to the proper authorities, and
duly confirmed by competent witnesses, was to the effect
that the poor man, having somehow got the notion that he
was to be elevated to a partnership in the firm, had been
spending his days and nights in making imaginary calcula-
tions of profit and loss. The craze had now developed to
such an extent that he was deemed incapable of taking care
of himself, more especially since the fire at the offices of his
employers. He accompanied the keeper cheerfully, and
remained contentedly in the asylum, because he was told
that a gentleman of high position was coming to see him
about his important arithmetical problems.
" Ay, ay, important!—they will mak' folks' hair stand
on end when they understand them as I do!" exclaimed
Johnnie with simple fervour, and his case was deemed
hopeless by those who heard him.
When he was undressing for bed on the first night, the
sleeve-link which Jess had obtained from Bauldie fell from
his waistcoat-pocket, and rolled on the floor.
ALMOST MAD 283
" Gie me that; gie me that," he called hastily ; " it's
worth a heap."
" It's a bonny thing," said the attendant, handing it to
him.
Johnnie looked at it with his droll, puzzled expression.
Then, shaking his head as he replaced it in his pocket, he
muttered : " I wonder, noo, where's the other ?"
" Did you lose it ?"
"No me, but the man that aucht it did. He lost it and
himsel' into the bargain; and if we could find where the neebor
of this is, we would find him. "Where is the other ? . . .
No doubt we'll learn some day."
His precious papers were placed carefully under the
pillow; and as soon as there was light enough to enable
him to see, he started up to resume the all-engrossing study.
"It's monstrous ! " the attendant heard him muttering ;
"hundreds of thousands—yes, hundreds of thousands;
and I cannot understand how it was done."
Being told that he must dress quickly, the old man
.obeyed with surprising alacrity. The good-natured atten-
dant, named Anderson, owned to his comrades that he had
never had such a tractable patient under his care before.
He was so completely " taken in," and did not appear to be
conscious of the presence of the other patients. The place
was to Johnnie's mind only a big hotel, where he was
sojourning for the night.
" True, I must make haste," he was saying, as he made
his toilet, "for I must be in the town early."
" You'll take your breakfast first," suggested Anderson.
" I want no breakfast. There is no a minute to spare ;
the whole fortune of the great house of Carmichael and Co.
is maybe depending on me."
" But you'll see the doctor, at ony rate. He'll be round
in less than half-an-hour."
" I'm no needin' a doctor; it's the lawyer I want."
" Aweel, the lawyer will be here in a whilie."
"I've been waiting for him all night, and he has
not come yet. If I cannot see him, I must see Mr.
Dalgleish."
" But you had better give him an hour or half-an-hour's
grace. Lawyers cannot come fleeing at a minute's notice,
ye ken."
284 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
Even yet, Johnnie did not comprehend the real position
in which he was placed. He was persuaded tp go to
breakfast, in the hope that he would be allowed to start
immediately afterwards for the town.
When he entered the large hall in which the meal was
served, and saw so many people assembled at the long
tables, he began to think that it was a queer place for his
friends to send him to for the purpose of meeting a great
lawyer. To the medical superintendent he repeated that
he must get away to see Mr. Dalgleish, in order to save the
fortunes of the house of Carmichael and Co. The doctor
spoke a few soothing words, promising that his wishes
should be attended to, and passed on. The patient was
satisfied with this for a time, but when he was taken out
with a band of others for exercise, a faint idea of the truth
began to dawn on him. He turned to Anderson, who was
near.
" Will you tell me what place this may be ?" he
inquired. " It looks some like the poor's house."
One of the patient's answered him :
"It's no the poor's house, but its neebor, the mad-
house."
Johnnie became excited, and swung his arms about in
dismay.
"And what am I brought here for ? I'm no out of my
mind."
" Be quiet, man ; it's for your guid," replied Anderson
firmly.
The excitement was succeeded by depression, and seated
on a form, with head resting on his hands, poor Johnnie
groaned monotonously: " I said they would think me
daft if I spoke; and it's come true; and the house is
ruined."
Then he would start to his feet with a wild cry of
bitter anguish.
"Ruined ! and I might have saved it, but that folk
think me daft ! . . . Oh, I soon will be if they winna let
me out—I soon will be."
He lapsed into his state of dejection again; but every
time Anderson approached he wearied that personage with
inquiries as to when the great lawyer was coming to see
him ; for the simple-minded old man, although now aware
ALMOST MAD 285
that lie was detained as a lunatic, still hoped, if he did not
believe, that the story by which he had been so easily wiled
away from home was true, and that he would speedily see
a gentleman who would listen to and understand him. As
the hours passed without the appearance of this expected
visitor, Johnnie's alternations of restlessness, dejection, and
excitement recurred at shorter intervals. The superinten-
dent saw him again ; and to him, with tears trickling down
his withered cheeks, and the trembling hands clasped,
Johnnie made another appeal.
" Do let me go to Mr. Dalgieish, sir, before it is too
late—dinna ruin the widow and the orphan because you
think me daft! Even if I be daft, and the Lord kens I'm
no, I can help them. Send a keeper wi' me if you like—
send twa—send a' your keepers thegither wi' me !—but let
me go !"
His voice rose almost to a shriek with the last words.
The superintendent, Dr. Rudford, was a tall, dark man,
of about thirty-five years, devoted to the special branch of
his profession to which he had decided to apply himself.
He possessed one of the first qualifications for it in the
kindliness of his nature combined with the equability of his
temper, which enabled him to endure with patience the
utmost violence or irritability of those placed under his
care. He was struck by the earnest ring in Johnnie's voice ;
but the excitement was too strongly marked, the character-
istics of the mania tallied so exactly with those which he
had been told to expect, that it was impossible to regard
this appeal as anything more than another phase of the old
man's insane ideas. Who could believe that the great
house of Carmichael and Co. was in the slightest peril ?
And even suspecting the remote possibility, who could for
an instant credit that this poor old creature had the
power to rescue it ? This was one of the maddest ideas
conceivable.
Dr. Rudford spoke soothingly, as before.
"Of course you will see Mr. Dalgieish," he said, "if
you will only take a little rest first. That is what all your
friends wish you to do."
Johnnie tore his thin locks and swayed his body to and
fro.
" It will be too late—too late, and the ruin will come
286 A PRINCESS OF JUTFDOM
Oh, what a fool I have been to wait so long before
speaking !"
" Suppose you write to Mr. Dalgleish," suggested Dr.
Rudford.
Johnnie instantly ceased his antics, as he answered
eagerly :
"Yes, yes—that will do. Give me pen and paper. I'll
write to Mr. Dalgleish and to Jess. They will understand
me."
As Dr. Rudford had calculated, the proposal had a most
salutary effect. Johnnie was still in a high state of
nervous excitement, but he seated himself at the table and
began his letters. He did not move or offer to speak to
any one for an hour, and by that time he was in a much
calmer mood. To Mr. Dalgleish he simply wrote imploring
that he would come to see him, as he had a communication
to make of the utmost importance to the affairs of his old
friend and master, John Carmichael.
To Jess he wrote that Feuerheerd was a villain and a
swindler of the most unscrupulous and most daring
character that had ever lived.
" I have the proofs in my hands now," the grandfather
proceeded ; " and oh, but I have been long, long and wearily
working to get them together ! I have got them now ; but
they will be useless if you do not get me out of this at
once. The books of the firm are all cooked, even the private
ledger has been tampered with; but I have got the real
state of affairs.
"Another thing—you say that sleeve-link Bauldie gave
you was found in Job's Wynd. I saw Feuerheerd bring a
sick man out of the wynd, put him into a carriage, and
drive away with him along the Perth Road. Get the Fiscal
to find out who that man was."
He placed the letters in envelopes, addressed them, and
gave them to Anderson to post. Anderson gave them to
the superintendent, who, in accordance with his duty,
opened and read them. As they contained nothing but the
ravings of a monomaniac, he placed them in a pigeon-hole
of his writing-table for reference. Johnnie, believing that
his letters were duly posted, was comforted and relieved,
although anxious about the replies. He gave no further
trouble to any one.
THE GREAT FAILURE 287
As he was going to bed that night he again looked at
the sleeve-link, saying as before : "I wonder, noo, where's
the other ?"
This time Anderson was puzzled, as well as amused,
and determined to mention the subject to Dr. Rudford.
CHAPTER LIII.
the great failure
Curious rumours began to be whispered about in Jutedom.
At first they only raised a smile of incredulity, and ot
ridicule at the cost of the whisperer. But presently men
on the Exchange pricked up their ears, and privately asked
each other, Could it be possible ? There was a buzz in the
atmosphere, and the telegraph wires were humming the
news all over the world of commerce, that the great house
of Carmichael and Co. had " suspended payment! "
Men held their breath when the announcement was
officially made, and stared at each other in blank amaze-
ment, as if some great calamity had befallen the nation.
Had it been reported that the Bank of Scotland or the
Bank of England had suspended payment, there could not
have been greater bewilderment and dismay in Jutedom.
Even with the official announcement before their eyes, it
was for a little time difficult for men of business to believe
the fact which was so plainly stated. For a few minutes
there was a vague hope that this was some villainous hoax
perpetrated by some rival house, or, more likely, by some
mad clerk.
Messengers were despatched to the offices at the works,
and there the truth of the report was confirmed. Then
men hurried to their ledgers in trembling eagerness, to
discover to what extent they might be involved in the great
failure. It was known that, whatever might be the result
of the investigation into the affairs of Carmichael and Co.,
the mere temporary suspension of their business would
absolutely ruin hundreds of smaller merchants and traders.
When the fact was realised that the doors of the firm were
closed, wild guesses were made as to the cause of this
most unexpected collapse. Then somehow there arose
288 A PEINOFSS OF JtfTFDOM
other whispers of vast speculations entered into by Will
Carmichael, which had involved the firm, and resulted in
this disaster.
In the Exchange Hall, and outside in the street, there
were groups of men eagerly repeating to each other items
of information or gossip. Every whisper that reached their
ears was now listened to with profound interest, and no
surmise or suggestion, as to the extent of the losses and
rash nature of the speculations which caused them, was too
extravagant for credence. Some even doubted whether the
fortune which had been reputed to be so enormous, and
raised upon so solid a foundation, had not been a bubble all
the time. The theory of the catastrophe most in favour
was one which exonerated the late John Carmichael from
all blame, except on the score of his too great trust in a
scapegrace son. Who originated the reports of the son's
misdoings nobody could tell, but they were very distinct,
and readily believed.
"Ah, he was well nick-named 'Wild Will,'" said a
pawky middle-aged man, shaking his head wisely; "I always
thought he would come to grief in the end." The speaker
was a person who had been indebted to Will for many
favours ; but this was known to few, and his opinion found
general acceptance.
Another idea—and its originator was also anonymous—
took firm possession of the public mind, namely, that the
sudden return of Will from abroad was for the purpose of
confessing to his father the extent of his delinquencies, and
that it was this confession which had caused the father's
unexpected death. The circumstances further explained
the mystery of Will's disappearance. He had good reason
for wanting to get out of the way. and for allowing it to he
supposed that he had been drowned. The whole thing was
as clear as daylight now.
For the family there was universal commiseration and
sympathy. The same sentiments were equally bestowed on
Feuerheerd, for it was told that he had been wearing brain
and body out in the vain effort to prop up the falling house.
There were those who could recall the anxious expression
they had recently observed on his face, without being able
to account for it until they heard the news of the failure.
His conduct and courage were admired by everybody, and
THE QUE AT FAILUUE 289
there were wealthy men who openly expressed their readi-
ness to give him a fresh start as soon as he should be free.
When Simpson, M.P., read the intimation of the
Carmichael failure, he was, like others, dazed and bewildered
at first. Then the perspiration started in beads on his
shiny forehead, and as he began to mop it with his handker-
chief he drew a long breath of relief.
" What an escape!" he exclaimed mentally; " I was
only waiting for the widow to get better before asking her to
marry me ! What a business that would have been ! There
is no saying how far I might have got involved in her affairs."
Having congratulated himself cordially on his lucky
escape from union with a dowerless widow, Simpson, M.P.,
put on his hat, took his umbrella and paper in hand, and
strutted up the street towards the Exchange. He en-
deavoured to invest his pompous air with a degree of gravity,
for he was to pose as the friend of the stricken family.
In that character he was welcomed, for it was known
that he frequently visited Baldovie. He was besieged with
inquiries about the widow and the now " poor Princess."
He replied cautiously, twisting his features into grotesque
forms, which he supposed to be expressive of the keenest
grief. But he said very little, whilst implying as usual that
he knew a great deal.
Feuerheerd had told Mrs. Carmichael that ruin must
come, and straightway, having made his private arrange-
ments with Culross, he communicated with Mr. Dalgleish.
He laid before that worthy gentleman, in his dual capacity
of trustee and lawyer, such a statement of affairs as left no
alternative to the issue of the circular intimating that the
firm had suspended payment.
Mr. Dalgleish, in the course of his long and active
career, had been the depositary of many strange and sad
family secrets ; the counsellor of men and women in many
painful straits ; but of all the difficult affairs with which he
had had to deal, the present affairs of the Baldovie family
were the most difficult and incomprehensible. He did not
waste any time in wondering or lamenting, however, but
immediately set a couple of the shrewdest accountants in
town to overhaul the books. The first general survey con-
firmed every statement Feuerheerd had made to the letter.
The more detailed examination was now proceeding. Tho
v
290 A PRINCESS OP JVTEPOM
cashier, Mr. Whitelaw, was in constant attendance, and the
suave but anxious manager was at call to give any explana-
tion which might be required.
" The most perplexing thing to me in the whole sad
business," said Mr. Dalgleish, " is that John Carmichael
should sign blank drafts under any conditions. It is
altogether in contradiction to- all the habits of his life. He
was a generous man, and gave with a free hand to his family,
his kindred, and the needy. But I never knew a single
instance of his having given even a promise without clearly
knowing its limits ; and to say that he would sign his name
to any paper without knowing what was to be written above
it, passes my understanding."
" That was what astounded me most," rejoined Feuer-
lieerd, " and, indeed, made me at first doubt the genuine-
ness of the signatures."
Mr. Dalgleish, in a slow, meditative way, took a pinch
of snuff. "You say that at first you doubted ? "
"Yes, but I have examined the writing in every possible
way, compared it with that of hundreds of signatures about
Avhich there could be no doubt, and I have been obliged to
come to the conclusion that there is no disputing the
authenticity of those which have brought us to this pass."
Mr. Dalgleish took another meditative pinch, and held
his fingers poised midway between the box and his nose.
" I also have examined the signatures, and compared them
with others, and find the caligraphy corresponds in every
particular. But notwithstanding what you say, Mr. Feuer-
lieerd, and notwithstanding the evidence of my own
eyes, I am convinced that those signatures are nothing
more than extremely clever forgeries."
Feuerheerd shook his head regretfully. "I wish to
heaven we could prove them to be so ; we should save the
credit of the firm and the family from poverty. But I have
110 hope of it. You must remember how eager Mr.
(Jarmichael was that Mr. William should in some way dis-
tinguish himself, and the boundless confidence he reposed
in the honour of the young man."
" I am keeping all that in mind."
"You will also remember that he entrusted him with
the key of the deed-box, which was never allowed to pass
out of his own possession except to Mr. William."
TEE QUE AT FAILURE 291
Mr. Dalgleish nodded. " I am taking all that into
account."
"Well, taking all these facts into consideration, I can
understand the father in some moment of weakness, as I
told Mrs. Carmichael, yielding to his son's solicitations and
signing the drafts, pledging the credit of the house without
limiting the amount which was to be drawn upon it, except,
perhaps, verbally."
Mr. Dalgleish closed the lid of his snuff-box with a snap.
" Taking all these things into consideration, Mr. Feuer-
heerd, I am still convinced that John Carmichael never
signed those documents. Whether his son or some one
else is the forger I cannot yet determine. But I am inclined
to give William the benefit of the doubt. He was a head-
strong, self-willed, foolish young man, but I cannot believe
that he was dishonest."
" I hope you do not imagine for one moment, Mr. Dal-
gleish, that I attach the slightest idea of dishonesty to Mr.
William ! I have not the least doubt that when he used
these drafts for such enormous amounts he was under the
impression that before they fell due he would have reaped
double their value from his speculations."
" The fact that you believe the signatures to be genuine,
Mr. Feuerheerd, is sufficient proof that you do not doubt
his honesty so far as they are concerned ; and we are quite
in accord on that score, as I do not believe that either the
father or the son had anything to do with them."
Feuerheerd looked his surprise.
" My dear sir, you take my breath away. That is a
view of the matter which never occurred to me. I Jcnoio of
one blank draft which was given to Mr. William by his
father about eighteen months ago. My natural inference
was that the others had been given to him or sent to him at
different times. Moreover, the drafts have been paid through
agents with whom we all know Mr. William had dealings."
" That may be, and I doubt not we shall obtain such
information from these agents as will materially aid us in
our investigations."
" I have communicated with them, and have placed in
your hands all the information they seem to be able to give
us."
"Just so," and Mr. Dalgleish smiled significantly; "but
u 2
292 A PRINCESS OF JUTEBOM
they will most probably tell us a little more when they find
that we dispute their claims altogether."
" True, true," rejoined Feuerheerd, with the air of a
man whose thoughts are busy with some perplexing ideas
which have been abruptly thrust upon him.
" I am confident of it."
" But one of the firms in which Gould is a partner is of
such high standing that it is not likely to be imposed upon,
or to transact business without sufficient guarantees."
" It is precisely from that firm we hope to learn most."
" Then we shall have the satisfaction of feeling that we
can place implicit trust in whatever they tell us. I confess,
however, that it is beyond me to conceive what more they
can tell us than is contained in their letter."
"We shall see—there is no harm in trying them, at any rate."
" Certainly no harm in trying, and let us hope that
something may come of it."
Feuerheerd moved as if about to leave. The old lawyer
slowly opened his snuff-box again.
" Then there is another thing, Mr. Feuerheerd, which
makes me doubt that we are wrong in attributing all the
mischief to William."
" What is that ?"
" The missing bonds—he would not steal them."
" I have no doubt he was authorised to take them."
" If so, there would have been some memorandum to
that effect. John Carmichael may have been temporarily
out of his wits ; but he would have made some memo-
randum of such important transactions. We can find none."
" I feel assured that he would make a note of it; but I,
too, have failed to find any, and conclude that it must have
been amongst the papers destroyed in the fire."
"Ay, that fire was a great calamity—a very great
calamity, happening at this particular time, for it leaves
us in the dark about so many things."
Mr. Dalgleish smiled again at his unpremeditated joke
about the fire leaving them in the dark.
" It was, indeed, one of the greatest misfortunes that
could have happened just now; and the loss of the private
ledger is almost irreparable."
" Ay, if we had only had the private ledger we would,
doubtless, have found everything duly entered."
TEE GREAT FAILURE 293
" I think not."
" At least, it would have helped us to understand some
of the transactions which at present look so unaccountable."
"Well, it is fortunate that you have at least the notes
made from it on the day preceding the fire."
" That is something, and we'll see what can he learned
from them in conjunction with the books and papers you
saved. That was a hold deed of yours, sir, and one to be
highly commended."
" I only wish I had been there ten minutes sooner," said
Feuerheerd, in a tone of bitter regret.
" Well, well, we must be thankful that you were able to
do so mueh. You say that you gave Mrs. Carmichael full
information about what was coming."
" She knows everything, poor lady !"
" In that case I will not intrude on her to-day. She will
be best alone with her daughter ; and I would like to take
some grain of comfort to them when I go."
Feuerheerd departed, and the old lawyer took three
successive pinches of snuff, blowing his nose vigorously
between each with a large silk handkerchief. Then he
summoned his partner, Mr. Ogilvy, and the two, with very
grave countenances, proceeded with some business which
appeared to demand their keenest and closest attention.
The name of Mrs. Carmichael was often on their lips.
They would have been a little surprised to have seen
that lady. The news had reached her early, but she had been
prepared for it, and listened with calmness to all that she
heard from Norman. She spoke little, but her eyes fol-
lowed the movements of her daughter with a wistful expres-
sion, as if all the sorrow she felt at this downfall was on
account of her child.
But what struck Marget and Norman most of all, was
that the shock which they feared would have killed the
mother, seemed to have had the effect of completely re-
storing the balance of her mind. There was no more hesi-
tation of speech, no more forgetfulness of the incidents of
the past or present. She looked and spoke with the clear-
ness which had always characterised her before this strange
illness.
" I shall not be sorry to lose our fortune, if she recovers,"
whispered Marget,
294 A PRINCESS OF JUTE BOM
" I hope this state will continue," he answered in an
undertone, for he knew that the wandering faculties of an
invalid are sometimes restored for a few hours or minutes
before the end.
CHAPTER LIV.
DRAWING CLOSE
As lie was leaving the lawyer's office, Feuerheerd en-
countered Norman Grant on the door-step. He bowed,
moved a little to one side, and stood as if about to speak.
But with a cool nod of recognition Norman passed hastily
in, and before the door had swung close behind him, Feuer-
heerd could hear the question, " Is Mr. Dalgleish in ?"
He walked slowly down the street, his form erect as usual,
but his head slightly bowed, and wrinkles on his brow, as if
he were occupied with serious and painful reflections. He
was saluted by old and young business men with every sign
of respect.
" He has'na his sorrows to seek," said the elders, shak-
ing their heads in commiseration. " It's a wonder that he
should have stuck to the sinking ship so long, for he must
have known that there was mischief brewing a while ago.
There's no doubt he's a man of true metal."
" If the firm is to pull through at all, it will be owing to
his pluck," observed another.
The younger men took a similar view of Feuerheerd's
position and conduct.
" Poor devil! " they said, " what a mess he has tumbled
into, when we were thinking he had no end of luck ! "
The object of these kindly comments pursued his way
to the factory, the small office of which had been, by his
direction, temporarily transformed into the chief office of
the firm, where all necessary business was transacted. The
works were still going, and it was hoped, for the sake of the
work-people, that a complete stoppage might yet be avoided.
But the thoughts which had been occupying Feuer-
heerd's mind during his walk were very different from
those with which he was credited. They were serious, but
the interests with which they were concerned were his own,
and not those of Carmichael and Co. First, there had been
DRAWING CLOSE 295
the lawyer's emphatic and startling announcement that the
signatures to the drafts were forgeries, with wdiich neither
John nor "William Carmichael had anything to do. The
assertion had been made with such an air of quiet confidence
in its truth, that it was impossible to conceive how such a
cautious man as Mr. Dalgleish could utter it on mere
surmise. If he was not in possession of some proof as to
the identity of the forger, he must certainly have strong
grounds for suspecting some one.
Whom, then, did he suspect ?
" Not the right person, evidently," thought Feuerheerd,
" or he would not have told me so freely. What suspicion—
what proof even can he have that will stand against the
oath which I and Whitelaw and every clerk in the office are
prepared to take that to the best of our knowledge and
belief the signatures are genuine ? "
Still, doubt being cast upon them, who could say what
might be the result of close investigation ? He had himself
intended to repudiate them as being forgeries if Mrs. Car-
michael had accepted him for her second spouse ; but in that
event the investigation would have been directed by him.
The second subject of his serious meditations was this
sudden appearance of Norman at a time when, owing to the
position of the firm, the manager was unable to take such
prompt steps for calling him to account for deserting the
Lindores as he would otherwise have done. He had written
to Captain Grant requesting him to call at the office and
give some explanation of his remarkable conduct in leaving
his ship without offering any warning or excuse to the firm.
But Norman did not answer, and did not call; instead
of that, he appeared at the lawyer's office on business so
urgent that he passed him by with a contemptuous nod.
" There is some mischief in the wind which I have not
foreseen, and am consequently unprepared for," was the con-
elusion Feuerheerd arrived at. " But I must get at it
somehow, and deal with it quickly—or with him."
His teeth closed at' the last thought, as if he would
prefer to remove the mischief by removing the maker of
it rather than clear his path by any other means, how-
ever convenient' they might be. Feuerheerd could always
grasp his nettle, and he never left the root in the ground if
he could help it,
296 A FRINGE 8 S OF JUTE BOM
" Yes, I must get at his purpose Maybe David
can be made useful in this direction But what am
I worrying about ? There is no discovery he could make
that could affect me. "What if he did find the wine queer ?
He would attribute it to the weakness of his own head for
such stuff. What if he does hasten to Dalgleish ? It is
natural enough that he should be the confidential courier of
Baldovie."
For a moment he was relieved by this interpretation of
the events which seemed to threaten the success of his
plans : but the next moment he was as busy as ever seeking
for some more definite explanation of Norman's conduct
and Mr. Dalgleish's calm declaration that the signatures
were forgeries. Difficulties and dangers were rising thickly
around him ; yet the sense of peril did not unnerve him. It
had rather the effect of an anaesthetic ; he felt cold all over,
insensible alike to pain and fear. The brain, however, was
in a state of abnormal activity, filled with imaginings of the
possible and impossible things that might happen.
He found Mr. Whitelaw in a dark little room, perspiring
over the many sheets of accounts which, having been pre-
pared by the clerks in the outer apartment, he had to
examine and verify. The poor man was still in an excited
state owing to the terrible misfortunes of the house, and he
felt confused by the loud whirring boom of the machinery
to which he had been long unaccustomed. The comparative
quietude of the chief office had unfitted him for working
comfortably amidst such noisy surroundings. He turned on
his stool as Feuerheerd entered.
"Anything you want me for, Whitelaw?
"No, nothing but these sheets to look over. You will
have to be particular with them, for my head is stupider
than usual in this hole, with that roar of the machinery
deafening me. I wish we had poor Johnnie—ah, that
reminds me."
" Reminds you of what ?"
"I have had a visitor, Johnnie's granddaughter—Mrs.
William, that is."
" Oh ! what did she want ?"
" Well, she has puzzled me a good deal. She wanted to
know what had become of her grandfather."
Mr. Whitelaw looked awkward, as if something rejnained
DRAWING CLOSE 297
behind which he would have been glad not to have been
obliged to say.
" I thought she knew," was the undisturbed response.
" So did I ; but she says she knows nothing about it,
and that she did not sign any papers concerning the state
of his mind."
Feuerheerd was examining the accounts which had been
placed before him, and did not lift his head as he answered
indifferently : " That is an extraordinary statement; but,
of course, it is a matter which concerns the doctors, not us.
You told her where he is ?"
" Certainly, and she started immediately to take the
advice of Mr. Dalgleish."
"She could not have done better. He will convince
her that everything has been done for the old man's welfare
so far as we are involved in the affair. But I certainly am as
much puzzled as you are about the signature. It is curious."
"Very curious," echoed Whitelaw, rubbing his nose
with the end of his penholder.
Feuerheerd was outwardly as imperturbable and in-
different as if the subject had no interest for him. But he
was mentally surveying a new danger. Jess had gone to
Dalgleish to declare that her signature was a forgery, and
she would denounce him as the forger. Could that have
had anything to do with the lawyer's decision regarding
the drafts ?
" When was Mrs. William here ?" he inquired carelessly,
with a pen between his teeth as he methodically turned a
sheet of foolscap, after passing the blotting-paper over his
initials at the foot.
"Early in the forenoon."
"Then we shall probably have news about our old
friend to-morrow or next day. These are all right, White-
law. I am going now ; you need not expect me here until
late to-morrow ; but I shall try to be with you at the usual
time. Good afternoon."
Jess, then, had been at the lawyer's office before him ; if
Dalgleish credited her accusations, he must suspect him of
the other forgeries, and the old fox's apparent confidence
had been nothing more than a cunning trick by which to
hoodwink him.
Before leavipg the office, Feuerheerd consulted a time-
298 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
table. He sent for a cab, and drove to bis bouse. His
preparations there occupied a quarter of a hour, and the
cab was kept waiting. When he entered it again, he
was accompanied by Fritz Bauer. They drove to the
station, and managed to catch the train which was on the
point of starting for Montrose. The master and servant
travelled together in a first-class compartment, which they
had to themselves throughout the greater part of the journey.
Whilst they were alone he gave Bauer instructions, which
that faithful servitor understood, and could be trusted to
carry out implicitly.
Arrived at their destination, a boat, manned by four
stalwart fishermen, was hired, and the sea being calm, under
a soft, south-west wind, they were carried out to the barque
Camperdown, which was anchored a little way east of the
bar. It was still clear daylight, and the boat had been
sighted long before it reached the vessel. Culross was
standing at the bulwarks ready to receive his visitor.
Feuerheerd sprang up the ladder, and shook the hand of
his friend heartily. " Well, Culross, I have joined you
sooner than I expected."
" Ay," said the skipper inquisitively ; " are we to start
to-night ?"
" Let us go below, and I will tell you."
"It's no very safe hanging about this coast, you know ;
and although we have been lucky in our weather so far,
there's no saying when it will change."
" Give us a dram, Sandy, my man," said Feuerheerd,
when they had reached the cabin. " I'm a little tired."
Sandy waddled along with the bottle and glasses, in his
usual stolid way. One of the elements of his indifference
to Feuerheerd was formed out of his natural contempt for
any man who would not take a " sensible-like " dram when
it was freely offered. Feuerheerd had hitherto always mixed
his grog with "sic a wee drap whusky and sic a lot o'
watter that it was just pusshun," according to Sandy. On
the present occasion he was agreeably surprised to observe
that the gentleman took a decent quantity of whisky, and
diluted it with only a " sensible " modicum of water.
"Oo, he's improvin'," thought Sandy. " Thae foreigners
hae a way o' learnin' things, and I wadna say but he'll may-
-be be able to tak' his sixteen tumblers afore he's dune."
DRAWING CLOSE 299
With that he proceeded to the galley to see about sup-
per, feeling rather proud of himself for having helped to
advance the education of " Maister Fireheed" in the
matter of grog.
" That's refreshing," said Feuerheerd, putting down his
empty glass ; " and now, Culross, for business. I want you
to proceed to the port of Leith. If I do not join you there
in twenty-four hours you will open your second despatch,
and obey the orders you will find in it."
" Just so," rejoined Culross slowly, as he took a gulp of
grog; "but what about you? Are you not going with us ?"
" Of course I am ; but I have not yet been able to decide
the exact place at which I shall join you. There are half-
a-dozen meetings of creditors at which my presence is indis-
pensable ; and I am waiting for a telegram which will give
me the latest news of the whereabouts of Will Carmichael.
At present I must take that box back to the town, as there
are some papers in it which old Dalgleish wants to see
before we start on our travels."
He rose quickly. The door of the cabin which had
been assigned to him was at his back ; he flung it open and
knelt before the locker in which the iron box had been
deposited. But at that moment he was whirled backward
to the floor. He saw Culross glaring over, and felt an iron
grip on his collar.
"No, by the Lord ! " muttered the skipper, "you shall
not touch that box. You told me there are things in it
that will force Will Carmichael to come hame and do what
is right. You shall not have it till you bring him on board."
" Let go, you fool! you are choking me," gasped the
prostrate man.
" Ay, I would choke you and ony half-dozen that came
between me and what I want."
"You are not likely to get it by strangling me. Let go,
and I will explain."
" You'll no try to get at the box ?"
" No, confound it—I don't want it. You are the person
most interested in it, but Dalgleish wished to examine the
papers. Let him do without them."
The skipper removed his hand from Feuerheerd's collar,
and rose slowly, as if only half satisfied with what he had
heard. Feuerheerd immediately sprang to his feet.
300 A PBINOESS OF JUTEDOM
"Tell your men to be ready to weigh anchor as soon as
the wind serves," he said authoritatively.
Culross went to the foot of the stairs and shouted for
the man he had engaged as mate ; but it was Sandy who
answered, and to him the orders were given. This pro-
ceeding only occupied a few minutes, but during that inter-
val Feuerheerd had taken out his pencil case and dropped a
portion of its contents into the skipper's glass, filling it up
with a large proportion of whisky for the quantity of water
he added to it. When Culross was reseating himself Feuer-
heerd ostentatiously mixed more liquor in his own glass.
" What's the matter, Culross?" he queried banteringly.
"You are not drinking fair—you have not emptied your
last glass."
" Have I no ? 'Od, that's queer. I thought I had;
but here's to ye."
He emptied the tumbler at one draught, for not to drink
fair is one of the sins which a Scotchman of the old school
cannot bear to be accused of, whatever may be the conse-
quences of compliance with the rule that it should be " cap
for cap, and clean cap out."
Feuerheerd talked rapidly, explaining the position of
affairs. The skipper in a few seconds began to stammer,
then lost the power of speech altogether, and in ten minutes
he lay insensible on the floor.
Feuerheerd with a grim " grin " of triumph lifted him
into his berth. Then he possessed himself of the box and
went on deck. He called for Sandy Ogg.
"The skipper is upset by something I had to tell him
about Jess. Don't bother him until he calls you. Get the
men to carry out his orders, and make for Leith Roads."
" Puir sowl, she's been a sair trial to him, that lass,"
said Sandy. "The wind is rising, and we'll get awa' in
half-an-hour."
Then Feuerheerd descended to the boat which was wait-
ing for him, and was taken safely ashore,
MISTAKE fidelity 301
CHAPTER LV.
mistaken fidelity
It is only to the very few among human beings that it is
given to be either perfectly virtuous or utterly depraved,
and, indeed, it is open to doubt whether such singleness of
character does exist outside the realms of fiction. Ordinary
people who compose the majority of the world's inhabitants
must admit, if they ever examine themselves, that they
are curious creatures, whose motives are at all times com-
plex, and whose dispositions are a compound of good and
evil tendencies, of which now the former now the latter
predominate.
Miss Johanna Deuchars was no heroine, but a very
ordinary mortal. If she possessed any quality in excess, it
was a little more than her due share of inclination towards
spitefulness. Consequently when she heard the news of the
downfall of the house of Carmichael, her first emotions were
those of malicious satisfaction. At last, then, her rival was
brought low. Not only [was she no longer the wealthy
heiress, but she would actually be poor-—poor—think of
that! _ The Princess poor ;—and Johanna laughed as she
recognised the absurdity of the designation, "Poor Miss
Carmichael."
" And what of Norman? Is there no chance of his turn-
ing away from her now that she has lost everything but her
looks ?"
The triumph was at an end, and the thought of Norman
subdued her into a more gentle frame of mind. Her answer
to her own question was : " He will be true to her—and I
should despise him if he turned to me now. Poor Marget!
after all, she never meant me any harm. I'll go and see
how she bears it. I suppose he would like me to go."
And so, curiosity coming to the aid of her better feelings,
she determined to pay a visit of condolence to the com-
panion whom she had so bitterly envied. On the way she
met David, and she was full of compassion for this poor
young man, whose path in life must henceforth be an up-
hill one. He would not have felt flattered had he known
that until that moment she had been so absorbed in other
thoughts as tp have forgotten to pity him. There was no
302 A PRINCESS OP JUTEPOM
want of warmth in her expression of it to him, and he was
soothed and gratified.
" How does your mother seem ? It is very hard for
her to have so much trouble to bear."
" I do not understand mother at all. She appears to
be much better; but my fear is that she does not really take
in the meaning of what has happened."
" It will be a terrible change for her and Marget and all
of you," said Johanna sympathetically; but even then her
lower nature produced an undercurrent of satisfaction at
the reverses which had befallen her friends.
"It is for mother that I mind it most. For myself, I
am not afraid of hard work ; and Marget has got Norman—
indeed, I should not mind it so much but that "
There he stopped.
Johanna fully expected that he would go on to say that
love for her aggravated his disappointment at the change in
his prospects. She encouraged him to proceed, intending
to take the opportunity of putting an end to any foolish
hopes in which the lad might be indulging. She was,
therefore, somewhat chagrined when he resumed :
" The fact is, I do not think this ought to have happened
at all. I believe there is something very wrong somewhere,
and the hard part to me is that I am so young and so
ignorant of the business that I can do nothing to set things
right. If only I were not so young ! "
The last cry had such an accent of pain in it that
Johanna was touched, and she made an ineffectual effort to
cheer him up by reminding him that the fault of youth
was one that was mending every day, and expressing a wish
that she could change places with him. Without noticing
her attempt to rally him, he asked abruptly : "Do you know
what your father wants to see me for ?"
"No. Has he sent for you?"
" He asked for me when he called last, but I was out, so
he left a message that he had something very important to
say to me. Were you speaking to him about what I showed
you ?"
Johanna felt embarrassed by the youth's anxious expres-
sion.
"I did not speak to him, but somehow or other he
got that paper—you know, the first one you wrote—and
Mistaken BIDBLIT? 303
he asked me about it. I had to show him the other one,
and he seemed to think it was a serious matter."
"No wonder. Has he said anything about it since he
came back from Edinburgh ? "
"Not a word, and I have not ventured-to question him.
I thought he was silent before ; but he has scarcely spoken
a word except to give necessary orders since his return, and
he looks as solemn as a judge—almost as solemn as you do
now," added Johanna, with a last effort at dissipating the
cloud of gloom on her young admirer's countenance. But
with brows knit and bowed head he said good-bye, and
proceeded with apparent reluctance to obey the doctor's
summons.
Dr. Deuchars when in Edinburgh had visited the
eminent physician whom he had consulted regarding John
Carmichael, and had communicatod to him the new light
which had dawned upon his mind concerning that case and
Mrs. Carmichael's. The conclusion come to was that he
should continue to watch the living patient closely, and if
the malady remained unabated, they were to have another
consultation. The improvement in Mrs. Carmichael's
condition, however, was so marked when Dr. Deuchars paid
his first visit after returning from Edinburgh, that he deemed
it unnecessary to summon his colleague.
He was particularly anxious to have an opportunity of
questioning David, so, though it was considerably past his
usual hour for starting on his morning round of visits, he
was now impatiently awaiting the lad's arrival. When at
last he came with hesitating demeanour and gloomy counte-
nance, the doctor ascribed his changed looks to down-
heartedness at the loss of fortune.
"Cheer up, man!" he said brusquely. "John Car-
michael's son must not be faint-hearted. Keep up your
courage, and you will live to hold your head high yet
amongst the biggest folk."
David flushed slightly, and held his head high enough
as he looked the doctor straight in the face, saying, with an
earnestness which affected the old man as it had his
daughter:
" It is not the loss of fortune which troubles me, Dr.
Deuchars. Don't speak of it, please. You wanted to see
me?"
304 A FRINGE88 OE JUTEDOM
"Yes, I very particularly wanted to see you, and you
were so long in coming that I was afraid they had not given
you my message. This is what I wished to see you about,"
and he took up two sheets of paper from his desk. " I want
you to tell me where you found this extract. Did you come
across it in a book ?"
David did not immediately answer, and the gloomy and
dejected expression again pervaded his attitude and counte-
nance.
"Yes, 1 found it in a hook; but I wrote it from
memory," he replied slowly.
"What book? " was the doctor's abrupt question, as he
eyed the lad curiously.
There was no answer.
" You surely can have no hesitation in telling me the
name of the book you found this in," said the doctor, with
some surprise.
"I cannot tell you the name of the book," replied David
awkwardly.
" Do you mean to say that you do not know the name
of a book containing a passage which interested you so much
that you could write it from memory, or do you mean that
you will not tell me ?" continued the doctor, looking at the
youth with increasing surprise at his strange manner.
"I mean," answered David, in a low, nervous voice,
" that I cannot give the name of the book. I do not know
it." Then, after a moment's silence : "But, Dr. Deuchars,
do you think that mother's illness can have been caused by
anything of that kind ?"
" I do not know what to think ; but I declare that for
your mother's sake you are bound to speak out, so that we
may better understand how to guard her against possible
danger."
" But she is much better, is she not ? Marget told me
that you said she was safe."
" I hope she is," said the doctor impressively; " but
your conduct this morning has greatly surprised me, and I
think, for your own sake as well as your mother's, you
would do well to reconsider it."
Rising in a manner to declare that for the present he
gave up the attempt to induce the lad to speak, he pro-
ceeded to make preparations for going out. David departed
MISTAKEN FIDELITY 305
in a more miserable mood even than that in which he had
come. The doctor, much perplexed, brooded over the
question whether it was within the bounds of possibility
that the foolish boy, in his mania for chemicals, had been
trying experiments on his own mother.
Miss Deuchars did not find that her reception at
Baldovie was exactly what she had expected it to be.
Instead of being able to experience any comfortable sensa-
tion of superiority, she found herself obliged to acknow-
ledge that the Princess in adversity was more than ever
worthy of admiration.
To feel conscious of inferiority is very irritating, and
Johanna, finding it so, sought refuge in the feminine dis-
sipation of shopping. She gave way to what she, being a
careful manager of her own and her father's pennies, would
on an ordinary occasion have considered wild extravagance.
However much she may have found cause to repent at
leisure, she was much benefited by the distraction, and was
in good spirits and her best looks when she reached home.
To her great astonishment, she found Bob tete-a-tete
with no less a personage than James Simpson, Esq., M.P.
" What on earth can the man want here, dressed up as
if he was going to a wedding ?" was her mental query. Her
spoken greeting, accompanied by an engaging smile, was :
" How do you do, Mr. Simpson ? Surely you cannot want to
consult papa professionally ? You are the picture of health."
"You are too kind, I am sure, Miss Deuchars," replied
Simpson effusively, as he pressed the hand she had held out
to him. "But you know, all is not gold that glitters ; and
I did wish to consult your father, though not altogether in
his medical capacity, and I have been waiting some time.
Your brother does credit to your bringing up, my dear
young lady. He is a sensible boy. I have just been telling
him that he must get the doctor to bring you both up to
my place, and help me to thin the grapes."
" Thank you, Mr. Simpson ; that is very good of you,
and Bob will only be too ready to go. I doubt you will
not ask him often."
, " But I hope you will do me the honour of coming too,"
he said, bestowing what he considered a thrilling glance
upon the wondering Johanna.
" You are very kind," replied she evasively.
x
306 A PRINCESS OF JUTEEOM
"If you will only fix a day, I will have a suitable
welcome for you. It would be a pleasure to me, I assure
you," urged the jovial M.P. with quite unnecessary warmth.
" I will see what papa says," answered Johanna some-
what nervously, the thought dawning upon her that the
worthy man had been taking rather too much whisky. She
was relieved when, apparently satisfied with her partial
promise, he took his departure.
Bob, sheltered behind the broad back of the visitor, had
been a grinning spectator of the scene ; and following him
as he passed out, the mischievous urchin strutted up and
down the garden path with a ludicrous attempt at imitating
the M.P.'s pompous gait.
Then, returning to his bewildered sister, he said with
mock solemnity: "Jo, you owe me a lot. I've answered more
questions about you than I ever thought one man could
put, and I've given you a much better character than you
deserve ; and I say, Jo—he means business."
Therewith Bob gave way to laughter, in which he was
heartily joined by Johanna. Nevertheless she found her-
self several times during the evening engaged in conjee-
tures as to the cause of the man's extraordinary behaviour.
CHAPTER LVI.
link by link
One of Feuerheerd's surmises as to the meaning of
Norman's visit to Mr. Dalgleish was correct. He had
business to transact on behalf of Mrs. Carmichael; but that
was the least part of his mission, for it was only a request
that Mr. Dalgleish would let her know the earliest hour at
which she might expect him at Baldovie to give her details
of the catastrophe and its extent.
" I believe that to-morrow we shall have a fair idea of
how things appear to stand at present," said Mr. Dalgleish,
laying significant emphasis on the word " appear." " I will
then see my poor friend, and hope to bring her some com-
fort. It has been with that hope I have delayed calling on
her; and I understand that she has learned the worst from
Mr. Feuerheerd."
" There can be nothing worse in the state of affairs than
what he has represented. He tells her it is absolute ruin.
Surely it is not quite so bad as that ?"
LINK BY LINK 307
The lawyer shook his head gravely. " I do not like to
express an opinion until I have seen the report prepared
by our own people. But there is no doubt it is bad—I
am afraid it is very bad. How does she bear the trial ?"
" With a calm fortitude that makes her daughter look
on their misfortune as something like a blessing, believing
that the shock has restored her mother's faculties. To me
the change is so singular that I almost fear it betokens the
nearness of the end."
" I hope not, I hope not—we must not allow ourselves
to think of it. She was always a woman of remarkable
intellectual powers."
" There are intervals in which she relapses into the
state of mental and physical weakness that has been so
distressing to us all; but any reference to the business
affairs recalls her immediately."
" It is very singular, as you say; and the most singular
thing is that the doctor does not seem to be able
to comprehend it."
" I have come home expressly to help him to compre-
hend it."
"You !"
" Yes. Glance over this letter, Mr. Dalgleish, and then
I will explain its meaning and my suspicions—or rather I
should say my firm conviction."
He handed him a document, which was signed Hugh
Watson. That was the name of a well-known Calcutta
merchant, and the lawyer read carefully what was written.
When he had finished he allowed his eyeglasses to drop on his
snow-white shirt-front, and looked inquiringly at Norman.
The latter showed him the label in Marget's handwriting,
which had been removed from the parcel she had sent to
the Lindores, and tacked on to the case of drugged wine.
" Do you recognise the hand ?"
" I am not so well acquainted with Marget's writing as
you are, Grant, but I have no hesitation in saying it is hers."
" It is hers."
Then Norman explained the circumstances _which had
induced him to ask Mr. Watson to write out this descrip-
tion of the Indian drugs, and how the effects produced on
him after drinking the wine resembled closely the symptoms
observed in the illness of the late John Carmichael, and
especially in the case of his widow.
x 2
308 A PRINCESS OF JTITFDOM
The lawyer's face became more and more grave as he
listened, and when the explanation was finished he asked
bluntly, his expression indicating that he anticipated the
answer : " Who is it you suspect ? "
" Feuerheerd," was the unhesitating answer. " He was
several years in India, where the plants are common. He
has always been experimenting in chemistry, and his success
in the firm has been chiefly owing to the practical use he
has made of his studies. He had frequent opportunities of
being alone with Mr. Carmichael; hehashad frequentprivate
interviews with Mrs. Carmichael, and after each interview
she has relapsed. She has only gained ground since
Marget, by a blessed instinct, was guided to refuse him
admission to her mother's presence."
Mr. Dalgleish did not speak immediately; he was
deeply impressed by the concord of evidence which was
reaching him from such widely different sources, and all
pointing to one terrible conclusion.
" This is a very serious charge," he said at length, gravely.
" I know it."
" This is worse than fraud—it means murder."
" I know it, and wish to heaven that I might have been
spared the duty of having to make the charge which involves
another man's life. But I dare not be silent."
"No, you ought not to he silent; but we must have
stronger proof than any we yet possess to connect a man of
Feuerheerd's high reputation with such a crime."
" It will be found," responded Norman confidently.
" I have no doubt of it; hut this is a kind of business
in which no man likes to be mixed up if he can help it.
Have you spoken to Dr. Deuchars ?"
"Not yet. He has been from home, and has only
returned recently. Besides, I wanted to have your advice
in the first instance."
" See him at once, explain everything as you have done
to me, and after that say I should like him to call here. Above
all things keep your own counsel, and warn the doctor to
do the same in the meanwhile. You must remember that
Feuerheerd is 110 ordinary man to deal with. He has
earned for himself such a reputation that it will require very
positive proof to shake it."
" But here are the facts !"
" Yes, the fact that yon received drugged wine, addressed
LINK Lt LINK 309
td you by Miss Carmichael, and then your inference that
what you felt after drinking it was similar to the complaint
under which our friends suffered. That would go for little."
" But it would lead to inquiry ? "
" Undoubtedly : and an inquiry is proceeding to which
your information will give impetus and a new direction.
Let me tell you in confidence, Grant, that I, too, have had
my suspicions, although they did not point to such a
degree of crime as what you tell me suggests."
" To what, then ?"
" To one of the most gigantic frauds that has ever been
discovered. I have seen the last letter which Mrs. William
received from her husband, and in it he tells her that an
accident had revealed to him some extraordinary trans-
actions of Feuerheerd. On his return he purposed having
a thorough investigation into the affairs of the firm. You
know how that was prevented. The foolish woman, instead
of bringing the letter to me at once, kept it back because
she was enjoined by her husband on no account to mention
the subject until he gave her permission, and she has been
daily hoping that he would reappear."
" Bo you expect or hope he will ?"
"I do not know. I do not think that Feuerheerd
would take his life ; but there's no saying. He is, as I said,
an extraordinary man, and it is impossible to guess what he
might do."
" He is callous enough to be capable of any crime."
" That would sound vindictive in the ears of anybody who
did not know you. Bon't repeat it. Mrs. William has been
with me this morning, and it seems that her poor old grand-
father has been sent to the lunatic asylum by Feuerheerd."
" How was that ?"
" Well, Johnnie has been very queer of late—very queer
indeed, I must' say ; and it came into my head more than
once that he had somehow lost his balance. But we'll see
about that. The most important thing in the case is what
Mrs. William tells me—that although her name appears on
the papers as his nearest relative, she never wrote it, and
knew nothing whatever about the arrangement."
Mr. Balgleish paused, and took snuff, like one who wishes
the full import of his words to sink into the hearer's mind.
" Well ? " queried Norman, a little puzzled.
"Well! don't you see? Should it come out that our
310 A PRINCESS OF JUTE POM
friend, the manager, regarding this as snch a trifling affair
that it was not worth while taking much care about it, has
forged her name, it will clear the way to prove all the other
signatures to drafts, bonds, and securities to be also
forgeries."
" He is caught !" exclaimed Norman, starting to his
feet excitedly.
" Not yet," said the lawyer drily ; "but we are in a fair
way to lead him into a trap. To-day I told him in confi-
dence that I believed all the signatures were forgeries."
"You told him so !"
"Yes, because I wish him still to believe that I have no
doubt of his trustworthiness. The man never blinked an
eyelash, declared it was a new idea, and that he was eager
to follow it up. Now, if we can only bring home to him
this slip about Mrs. William's name, we can lay hands on
him, and keep him safe until we have time to get at the
bottom of the other affairs. Keep your thumb on all this,
even to the folks at Baldovie."
" I am going there now, but shall of course obey your
instructions. You will be out early to-morrow."
"As early as possible. I will give you a note for Mrs.
Carmichael which will explain some things."
When the lawyer had written his note, Norman de-
parted, feeling that there was some hope of bringing to
justice the man who had wrought all this misery.
CHAPTER LVII.
farewell baldovie
From the hour in which it had been officially announced
that Carmichael and Co. had suspended payment, one
idea took possession of Mrs. Carmichael's mind. She did
not speak of it to Marget or Norman; she brooded over
it in conjunction with the dark things Feuerheerd had
told her, and the still darker things he had suggested.
She, believing *that George Outram was at hand to prove
that the dead husband had been culpably neglectful of
his duty, and that his son—whether dead or living—had
taken advantage of the father's inexplicable weakness to
involve the firm in mad speculations to what seemed almost
a criminal extent—she, with these thoughts seething in
her brain now saw only one course open to her and to hor
FAREWELL BALD0 VIE 311
children. The idea became an irrevocable resolution. Every-
thing she possessed or could control, everything Marget and
David possessed, must be given up to the creditors in order
to save the honour of John Carmichael's memory.
She knew that they must suffer much privation; she
knew that the struggle with poverty would be a cruelly
bitter one for her children, who had been brought up in
the full expectation and assurance of inheriting an ample
fortune. On their account she suffered acutely, but for
herself she felt nothing except that she could never know
a moment's peace until she had surrendered every penny
to those who had claims against her husband. Only in
this way could she hope to know happiness again, and
consequently—even from a selfish point of view, as she
considered—the sacrifice she was about tomake was justified.
Had John Carmichael been alive, she knew that he
would have acted thus ; and what he would have done
she would do. She did not pretend to be actuated by
an extravagant sense of duty; she wished to take a
common-sense view of the position ; but she also desired
that the common-sense should be directed by an honest
desire to do what was right. She could not in any way
regard her own estate as separate from her husband's;
and if he had blundered, those who had trusted him must
suffer as little loss as possible.
The letter which Norman brought to her from Mr.
Dalgleish did not tend to modify in any degree the reso-
lution she had formed. The lawyer did not say that
the position was hopeless, but she could see that he
regarded it as a desperate one. He hinted that if certain
investigations in which he was at present engaged should
turn out as he anticipated, every creditor of the firm
would be paid in full, and leave a surplus which would
ensure her a moderate but comfortable income. Even if
he should be disappointed in the result of his present
inquiries, he had no doubt whatever that the people who
had been so long profiting by their dealings with John
Carmichael would see that his family was provided for.
She wished he had not added that last sentence ; for
to her it meant that she was to be dependent on the
charity of those who had been wronged by her husband's
one great and most incomprehensible blunder. Incompre-
hensible !—it was beyond the power of imagination to con-
312 A PRINCESS OF JJTTEDOM
ceive how a man who, by years of toil, by his shrewd
judgment, patience, and perseverance, had amassed a
huge fortune, should, by what might _ be called the last
act of his life, seatter it all to the winds with one breath
as if it had been a soap-bubble. Whether it was due to
madness, or, as she wished to believe, to the fact that he had
been grossly deceived by others, no stain should rest on the
memory of his good name if any sacrifice on her part could
prevent it.
Another drop of sorrow was added to the already over-
brimming cup when Jess appeared, for the widow remem-
bered that the young mother and her babe must also endure
their share of the calamity which had overtaken the family.
Jess was not thinking of what she lost by the ruin of
the house of Carmichael. She thought only of the misery
it entailed on the woman who had been as a mother to her,
and on Marget, who had become a dear sister. She came
to offer sympathy untinged by the faintest shade of selfish
considerations. She had of course to tell about her grand-
father, and of what she had learned from Whitelaw, as well
as what she had inferred from his information—namely,
that Feuerheerd had some reason for getting him out of
the way. But she made very little of her own distress in
presence of the greater sorrow which afflicted her friends.
" Mr. Dalgleish tells me that grandfather will be very
soon put right, but I "am frightened by Air. Feuerheerd.
He came and warned me that grandfather was going wrong
in the head, and that he would soon have to be taken care
of. I do not believe that he was right, but you see he has
got him into the asylum."
"You need have no fear about him, child. Since you have
explained everything to Mr. Dalgleish, you may rest assured
that whatever is hest for him and for you will be done."
J ess was comforted by the assurance, although she still
was trembling in her heart with fear of what Feuerheerd
might do, whilst she and little Will remained alone and
unprotected.
" Marget," said the mother, looking up suddenly.
"Yes, mother," was the quick response.
" Can you find David and Norman ? As Jess is here, I
want to say something to you all."
" I think they are in David's room. I will go for them."
When they had all gathered round her chair, David on
FAREWELL BALDOVIE 313
one side, Jess on the other, Norman and Marget standing in
front of her, Mrs. Carmichael smiled faintly in token of
satisfaction. " I am pleased that we are all together, for I
think we are the people most concerned in what has
happened. Are we not ?"
" Yes, mother," answered Marget uneasily, for she was
troubled by her mother's manner, and yet was the only one
who seemed to be able to speak. The listeners gazed
anxiously at Mrs. Carmichael, waiting her next words.
"You, David, and you, Marget, thought your future
was provided for—and so it was.- But your father's fortune
is gone. We are as poor as he was when he began his hard
work. Do you want to know why we are so poor ?—it is
because we must give up every bit of property—every
penny we possess—until your father's debts are paid. Have
you thought of it ? Can you understand that the time is
near when you will know what it is to have empty purses ?"
" Yes, mother, I have thought about it, and am pre-
pared," said Marget quietly.
" I will be able to do something—I will be your sup-
ort! " ejaculated David, impulsively clasping his mother's
and.
" I believe you have the right to refuse to give up what
was bequeathed to you," observed the mother, desirous that
they should fully realise their position, but never doubting
what the answer would be.
"Right or no right," rejoined David, "we want only to
do what you wish."
The mother drew the lad's head down and kissed him.
That was her only expression of the pleasure she experienced
in finding that she had not been mistaken in reckoning
upon the ready co-operation of her children in what she
had determined to do. " And you, Jess, my child, have
you calculated what this is to cost you and your bairn ? "
But Jess stopped her with a gesture of alarm. " If you
want to spare me pain, do not think or speak about us—
unless it be to ask me to do something for you," interrupted
Jess, with a gentle earnestness that was like an appeal for
mercy.
Mrs. Carmichael knew that she also was prepared to
sacrifice everything. Then she looked somewhat hesita-
tingly at Norman.
It is a curious but very marked idiosyncrasy of the most
314 A PRINCESS OF JVTEEOM
sensible mothers that they never can feel perfect confidence
in the man who takes possession of a daughter, no matter
what their own experience of matrimony may have been,
good or bad. They never can believe that the man who is
so commonplace to them may be a hero in their daughter's
eyes. They suspect him, and, like all persons conscious of
being suspected, the man is apt to be disagreeable. Probably
the knowledge they gain with advancing years of how rare
is perfect union between man and woman, and of how
terrible is the consequence of a blunder, makes them timid
and unconsciously unjust. "We do not always make due
allowance for the natural anxieties of mothers-in-law, and
much that we set down to selfishness and sheer contrariety
of nature should be accredited to real affection.
Norman answered the mother's look by drawing Marget's
arm confidently under his own. Marget would have resisted,
but this was no time for discussing nice points of sentiment,
or for thinking about anything except setting her mother's
mind at ease, for she was frightened by her manner. The
whole scene resembled a deathbed parting. So Norman had
his way.
Mrs. Carmichael held out her hand, and he grasped it
with affectionate earnestness. "I need not say anything
to you, Norman. You have heard everything, and you
understand."
"No, mother—for I, too, shall call you mother hence-
forth," he replied. " There is no need to say anything more
to me. I will try to make Marget happy "
"I am sure of it," Mrs. Carmichael interrupted, her
eyes glistening with tears of satisfaction.
" And you also, mother," continued Norman ; " for our
home shall be yours, and, black as the weather looks at
present, we shall have a clear sky and fair winds yet."
Marget felt a tremor of joy pass over her as she heard
his brave, hopeful, and confident words. She knew what
was passing in his mind—knew it as well as if he had
spoken—he was happier and prouder in taking her as a
" tocherless lass " than he could have been if she had still
held the position of a great heiress. Of course, in the
latter case he would have been happy and proud too, but
there would always have been the unpleasant reflection
which disturbs the mind of the true lover who wins a
wealthy bride—crossing it at first like a faint cloud that
if abb well baldovie) si5
may or may not be the harbinger of storms—that he had
not been able to prove how absolutely he regarded herself
alone as his real fortune. Norman's sky was now clear of
that shadow, and he was pleased, although he could not
help regretting that the mother should have been subjected
to this new trial.
" You have made me feel happier, children, than I have
done for many a day," said the widow softly. " Thank you
all. Now, Marget, I wish you to gather up what little
things you would like to keep. Jess will help you in that,
and Norman and David will help me with your father's
letters and papers. I want to have everything in readiness
to leave our home in an hour's notice; for unless Mr.
Dalgleish satisfies me that every one can be paid in full
without our giving up Baldovie, I am resolved that we shall
leave it at once, so that it may be sold as early as possible
to the best advantage."
The poor woman began very firmly, but with the last
words her voice faltered, and there were sobs in it which
she vainly strove to^subdue. No one spoke, for they all
felt that their willing submission to her wishes was the
greatest kindness they could show her.
When Mr. Dalgleish arrived! he was unable to give her
the assurance she desired that the firm would be able to
meet all demands in full.
"But you must not be despondent, Mrs. Carmichael,"
he said ; " it would be impossible to say how things might
turn out, even in an ordinary failure, until there had been
more time than we have yet had for thorough investigation.
But in the case of Carmichael and Co. "
He stopped, and tried to relieve his feeling of the
difficulties he had to confront by taking snuff.
"Well?" was the steadfast query.
"Well, in this case things are so complicated that, in
less than a month, it is utterly impossible to tell exactly
how we stand. If it is done in that time, I shall say it has
been smart work."
" But is it not possible for you to give me any opinion
as to whether or not the result is likely to be satisfactory?"
" Utterly impossible to give an opinion. I hope it will
not be so bad as we fear at present, but that is the most I can
say without raising hopes which might be completely vain,'
316 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
" Thank you, Mr. Dalgleish ; I knew you would speak
frankly to me."
" It would be cruel and wicked to do otherwise. At the
same time, I should tell you that Mr. Feuerheerd, to-day,
passed through a very severe examination by the agents of
several of the largest firms involved in this disaster. I
must say, notwithstanding certain notions I entertain—I
shall explain them to you another time—he underwent the
test so calmly, and spoke so frankly, showing so much
eagerness to give every assistance in pulling things together,
that he impressed the agents with the idea that if their
clients were to get their due, it must be by leaving him in
full charge."
" Perhaps they are right," she commented quickly ; "but
as the result is still doubtful, I must now tell you what I
have decided upon doing."
As she proceeded calmly with her explanation, the
lawyer tried several times to interrupt her, but she went on
without any sign of weakness or emotion. When she came
to giving him directions for the sale of Baldovie and all its
belongings, the kind-hearted old man held up his hands in
' dismay, whilst his glasses dropped and tumbled on his breast.
" Roup Baldovie !" he ejaculated with every appearance
of as much distress as if this last sign of utter ruin had been
his personal concern. " Impossible ! You cannot mean
what you say."
"Id°."
There was no doubting the resolution of the tone in
which this was uttered.
" But why be in such haste ? Nobody has shown the
least sign of wishing you to give up the place—nobody is
pressing you."
" I am aware of that. My wish is to give up everything
before I am compelled to do so, and my children agree with
me."
"But this is really unnecessary. Have you forgotten
that the place was settled upon you long before there was
the least doubt of the solvency of the firm ? No one has
any claim upon it."
" I have not forgotten, Mr. Dalgleish, but that makes
no difference to me. Had my husband been alive I would,
under the same circumstances, have insisted upon surrender-
ing my rights, and he would have approved my decision,
FAREWELL BALJDOVIF 317
much as it would have pained him. As he is dead, I must
ask you, as his friend and mine, to make the necessary ar-
rangements for disposing of the property. "VYe shall leave
here at once."
Mr. Dalgleish protested, argued, and even went so far as
to say that this was a piece of Quixotic self-sacrifice which
nobody expected, nobody would thank her for, and to which
he was positive his old friend John Carmichael would never
have assented had he been alive. But it was all without
effect. Mrs. Carmichael was convinced that she knew better
than any one else what her husband would have wished,
and that she was going to do.
Mr. Dalgleish went away in a state of great distress and
vexation. He was an honest man, and had misfortune
come upon him he would have given up everything he
possessed; but he would have considered the property
assigned to his wife, whilst he had the right to assign any-
thing, as distinctly apart from his own estate as if it had
been assigned or sold to a stranger. He was, indeed, angry
with Mrs. Carmichael, for she would not even consent to
delay the fulfilment of her resolution until it was known
precisely whether or not there was any necessity for it.
Meanwhile, under the widow's instructions, the arrange-
ments for vacating their old home were rapidly proceeded
with. Dr. Deuchars was horrified when he heard of what
his patient was about to do, and added his protest to that
of Mr. Dalgleish against this haste to fling away what was
undoubtedly her own property. The good old minister
was in dismay, and used all his art of persuasion to induce
her to take a more hopeful view of matters. But these men
of experience protested and pleaded in vain. Her children
approved of the course she had adopted, and she was not to
be turned from it. Then the doctor and the minister offered
her the hospitality of their houses until she should have
time to look round for some comfortable place in which she
might settle. This friendly offer was gratefully declined,
with the explanation that David, by her direction, had
already hired a small furnished house on the Broughty
Ferry Road for their temporary residence.
Norman and David did not take long to pack, in a case
provided for the purpose, the letters ancl documents found
on the library table and in its drawers. Then Mrs. Car-
michael sent her son into the bed-room to fetch his father's
318 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
old desk. When he returned and placed it before her, she
put her hand on it tenderly.
" Yon will wonder, Norman," she said, with her sad
smile, " why I am so careful of this worn-out old toy desk.
I will tell yon the reason—it was the first thing of the kind
my husband possessed, and he used to say it was the
beginning of his- good fortune. When he was only fifteen
he ventured a sixpence in the lottery of a cheap-jack in the
Greenmarket, and this was his prize. He told me how
long he had watched others drawing their papers from the
wheel of fortune, as it was called, and what a hard struggle
he had with himself before he could make up his mind to
risk the loss of his only sixpence. The temptation was too
great for him, and he yielded. But he felt so sick with
shame at the thought of his wicked extravagance that he
was on the point of running away when this desk—then
shining with varnish—was handed to him as his prize."
" That must have been a happy moment for him,"
observed Norman.
" He could scarcely believe it to be true—the thing was
so bonnie and so valuable in his eyes. He used it for
writing out his exercises for the night school he attended ;
afterwards he wrote his first accounts on it; and although
he came to be the owner of real desks, he never cared for
any of them as he did for this toy. He kept it in the bed-
room as a relic of the old days of struggling for success, and
used to keep any odd letters or papers not connected with
the business in it. We often laughed at what had once
been his great pride—the secret drawer it has in front, for
it was no secret at all. The slightest touch on this slit of
wood, and even the moving of the ink-pot, threw it open.
Try it, Norman."
She had opened the desk, and with the point of his finger
Norman touched the slit of wood, which immediately fell.
" There is a bit of paper here with some writing in
pencil on it," he said.
" It will be some memorandum, and cannot be of any
importance now. I see it is in his own handwriting. There,
put it back, and take great care of the desk when you are
packing it. Although it is worthless to others, it is pre-
cious to me for his sake."
Whilst all this was going on, there were lamentations,
many and sincere, amongst the servants of Baldovie. They
FAREWELL BALBOVIE 319
were fully alive to the heavy loss which was to fall on them
—good wages in a comfortable situation under a kind and
considerate mistress are a combination of earthly blessings
not to be found every day. But much as they pitied them-
selves, they were heartily sorry for their mistress and the
poor Princess.
"Eh, sirs!—fat will thepuir cratur'daenoo?" exclaimed
the buxom cook.
" I tell you it's no true," retorted Currie impatiently ;
"it canna be true, and I'll no believe it. The thing's
impossible that the mistress should hae to quit Baldovie."
He persisted in his disbelief until the Sitting-day came.
Then he wrung his hands despairingly when he saw the
carriage waiting, and he, with all the other servants, was
summoned to the dining-room, where the widow, dressed
for her journey, received them. In homely words she ex-
pressed her regret at having to part with them, hoped they
would speedily find suitable situations, and wished them
good-bye. They followed her as she passed forth with Norman
and Marget, and kindly wishes were mingled with sobs.
" The Lord will be guid till ye, mistress, for ye have
aye been guid till others," said the old gardener, who stood
near with head uncovered.
In every heart there was an unspoken " Amen " to this
earnest benediction. The widow bowed her head. She
was leaving what had long been a happy, peaceful, and
contented home ; yet, she who was the greatest sufferer was
the calmest of them all. She took her seat in the carriage,
Marget and Norman followed, and they were driven away
from home.
CHAPTER LVII1.
where "the other" was
Johnnie Todd was waiting for the answer to his letters
with an anxiety which became intensified by every hour's
delay. Anderson soothed him with repeated assurances
that Mr. Dalgleish was no doubt waiting for an opportunity
to visit him instead of writing, as the matters they had to
discuss were of so much importance.
" But what for doesna Jess—or, as I ought to say, Mrs.
"William Carmichael—what for doesna she come ? She's
no burdened wi' great business affairs."
320 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
"You never can tell what hinders folk frae doin' jist
what they would like. I daursay she'll be here soon."
" It's nae use speaking," Johnnie muttered to himself,
as he sat down again at the table, on which were writing
materials.
It had been found that he would be perfectly quiet, and
utterly forgetful of his grievances for hours at a stretch,
if he had pen, ink, and paper. He was consequently
humoured in this respect. He worked earnestly, and with
evident enthusiasm, for he had discovered a new task to
perform. He was making an abstract of those numerous
sheets of figures on which he had been so long engaged, in
order that any skilled accountant might in a few minutes
realise the importance of his detailed accounts, and thus
he induced to give them careful consideration. He had
not yet heard of the suspension of Carmichael and Co., and
still hoped that his revelations might he received in time
to avert that catastrophe.
Dr. Rudford was interested in him, and gave him con-
siderable attention. But had it not been for two remark-
able events, he would have gone on treating Johnnie's case
as one of special interest to the student of mental derange-
ment, and nothing more. He was, however, impressed by
the announcement of the straits into which the Carmichael
firm had fallen when viewed in connection with what the
new patient had previously declared and written. Dr.
Rudford began to think that it might be as well to forward
those letters he had stowed away in the pigeon-hole of his
writing-table.
The second event was the sudden appearance of the
Chief Commissioner in Lunacy.
The Commissioner was a tall, well-proportioned gentle-
man, with long, silky white hair. He had light blue eyes,
tender as those of a loving woman, and over his finely-
moulded features there was always a benign expression,
whether his humour were grave or gay. A keen and powerful
intellect, quick to detect falsehood in man or woman, was
tempered by infinite charity of soul, so that he weighed
slowly the two sides of every question brought before him,
and rarely failed to decide justly. He was one of those
men who never despise trifles ; and in making his official
visits to the various asylums and licensed residences for
lunatics, he was careful to give no intimation of the date
WEE BE "TEE OTEEB" WAS 321
on which, he would arrive. The result was that he found
things in the various establishments in their normal con-
dition, and entirely freed from the gloss of special pre-
paration for his inspection. In conducting his examina-
tion, he made a point of interviewing the patients before he
listened to any reports or explanations from the superinten-
dent or his subordinates. His mind was therefore totally
unbiassed by any preconceived notion of the case when he
came to speak to Johnnie Todd. The latter was so busy
with his pen that he did not observe the Commissioner's
approach until he heard a kindly voice saying :
" Well, my man, how do you find yourself to-day ?"
Johnnie looked up impatiently, but when he saw the
bright, benevolent face, and clear, gentle eyes regarding
him with an expression of sympathy and inquiry, he rose
hastily, flinging his pen on the table. " Are you the great
lawyer that they said was coming to see me?"
" Well, I have something to do with the law. What is
it you want ?"
Johnnie needed no further encouragement than that;
his eyes brightened with hope, and he spoke eagerly. " I
want to expose a stupendous swindle. I want to save an
honourable house and a worthy family from ruin."
This sounded very like the wild chimera of a disordered
mind.
"It is a very laudable desire," observed the Commis-
sioner. "It is a very laudable desire ; but how do you
propose to set about accomplishing it ?"
" By placing these documents in the hands of a properly
qualified accountant, and getting him to examine them side
by side with the books of the firm and the bank accounts."
"Let me see the papers."
"It would take up too much of your time, sir, to
examine the detailed statement—I had weary work for
many a day and night preparing it—but here is an abstract
which I have just made, and if you will cast your eye over
it, you will see how much need there is for haste in putting
it into the right hands."
"I see it relates to the affairs of Carmichael and Co.,"
said the Commissioner, as he proceeded to examine the
abstract of Johnnie's labours.
At first he was seeking only for some token of the mans'
peculiar idiosyncrasy; but as he noted the precision with
y
322 A PRINCESS OF JVTEBOM
which everything was set down, and the accuracy with
which the totals of sundry intricate calculations were given,
he began to think that this could scarcely be the production
of a lunatic. There was no flaw anywhere, not the least sign
of the extravagance which must have appeared at some point
if such a statement had been prepared by a lunatic.
" You wrote this yourself?"
" Yes."
" Since you have been here ?"
" It was because they sent me here that I thought of
doing it. You see the full statement is so long that
nobody would care to take the trouble of going into it
carefully when it came from the hands of a daft man. I
had great difficulty in preparing it, for the books were pur-
posely taken away from me, and it was only at orra times
that I could get a glint at them. I said I was busy
calculating the results of speculations—and it was true
enough. But they all thought I was trying to find an
infallible rule of chances, which would render failure
impossible : and that was how it got about that I was
cracked in the head. I didna mind it then, for it suited
my purpose to let them think anything rather than guess
the truth. But I allowed it to go too far."
The Commissioner observed him closely whilst this ex-
planation was being made, and then—" I will come back to
you in a few minutes, Mr. Todd," he said.
He proceeded with Dr. Rudford to the latter's office,
and the whole circumstances connected with Johnnie's ad-
mission to the asylum were discussed. Dr. Rudford pro-
duced the letters written by the patient, and it was agreed
that the one for Mr. Dalgleish should be despatched at once.
" By the way," observed Dr. Rudford, as they were return-
ing to the wards, "there is one eccentricity of this patient
which is most puzzling. He has a gold sleeve-link which he
often looks at, alwa}Ts saying—' I wonder, now, wliere's the
other \' He tells me that if the other could be found it
would lead to the explanation of the mystery about the dis-
appearance of Mr. William Carmichael. You remember the
case, I suppose ? There was much talk about it for weeks."
" I remember something about it, but what you tell me
is very odd. There is a patient in Broadsley's place who
scarcely ever says anything but ' Where's the other ?' They
have not yet been able to make out his meaning."
WHERE «THE OTHER» WAS 323
" That is an odd coincidence. What is his name ?"
" Ontram, I believe."
" If this man Todd is to be set free," said Dr. Rudford
thoughtfully, " it might he worth while taking him to see
Outram."
"At any rate, you can suggest it to Mr. Dalgleish."
When the Commissioner spoke to Johnnie again, it was
to give him the joyful tidings that his message had been
despatched -to Mr. Dalgleish, who would no doubt speedily.
respond to it.
" If I be in time to save the Baldovie folk, I dinna care
what happens to mysel' ! " exclaimed the old man fervently.
" Ye may keep me here for the rest o' my days, if ye like."
" I don't think that will be necessary," responded the
Commissioner, smiling. " Before I go, will you tell me why
you take so much interest in that sleeve-link you have in
your pocket ?"
" Willingly, sir, willingly ;" and Johnnie took out the
precious bit of gold. He handed it to the Commissioner,
directing attention to its peculiar design, and then gave a
nervously voluble account of the disappearance of Wild
Will, and of the strange circumstances under which the
sleeve-link had been recovered. He repeated,- at more
length, what he had written to Jess about seeing Feuerheerd
taking a tall, sickly man away from Job's Wynd.
" Decidedly Mr. Todd ought to see the man who is
called Outram," were the Commissioner's last words to Dr.
Rudford as he was taking his leave.
On receiving Johnnie's note, which was accompanied
by a few explanatory lines from Dr. Rudford, Mr. Dalgleish
hastened to the asylum. When he read the abstract
Johnnie had prepared for him the old lawyer absolutely
trembled with excitement and agitation.
" I was only able to get the accounts completed on the
night of the tire," said Johnnie, " when I got a chance of
looking at the private ledger. I'm thinking, sir, yon tire
was kendled for the purpose o' burning the books, so that
they mightna tell tales."
" I am of your opinion," answered Dalgleish, grasping
him warmly by the hand. "You have done a noble service
to John Carmichael and his family, Mr. Todd, and they
will know how to thank you."
"Is't in time to save them ?"
Y 2
324 A PRINCESS OF JUTE LOU
" I believe it is—nay, I am sure of it."
" Then, that's a' I'm heedin' about."
" Well, we must get you out of this place. Even if your
letter had not reached me, I should have been with you to-
day for that purpose. Something Mrs. William has told me
induced me to believe that Eeuerheerd wanted to get you
out of the way."
The arrangements for restoring Johnnie to liberty were
facilitated by the discovery that all the signatures on the
paper which authorised Dr. Rudford to take charge of him
were forgeries. But proof was still wanting to identify the
forger, although Dalgleish and Johnnie had not the remotest
doubt on the subject.
Having regard to Johnnie's account of Feuerheerd's
visits to Job's Wynd, the lawyer actively took up the
suggestion that a visit should be paid to the patient Outram
at Dr. Broadsley's establishment.
The last-named gentleman was delighted to see the card
of Dr. Rudford, and entered the reception-room with cordial
greetings on his lips. He was slightly taken aback, how-
ever, when he observed that his professional brother was
accompanied by three other visitors—Mr. Dalgleish, Jess,
and her grandfather. Dr. Rudford introduced his friends,
and briefly explained the object of their visit. The com-
plaisant chief of the establishment immediately directed an
attendant to bring Mr. George Outram.
The patient presently entered, walking feebly, and sup-
ported by the man who had been sent for him. He wore a
loose dressing-gown, and his head was uncovered. He stood
in the full light of the windows, leaning on his heavy staff,
and gazing with a vacant smile from one face to the other.
All stood back except Jess and her grandfather.
Johnnie stared at him in bewilderment. Jess, bending
eagerly forward and grasping her grandfather's arm con-
vulsively, looked with dazed and frightened eyes at the
wreck of manhood standing before her. The spell of painful
silence which had fallen upon all present was broken by the
invalid who, still with that vacuous smile, began as usual to
fumble with one of his cuffs while he muttered feebly and
inconsequently : " Where's the other ? "
Johnnie lifted his disengaged hand tremblingly, and
pointed at the man.
A BOLD STROKE 325
" That's no George Outrarn," he said huskily. " That's
Will Carmichael—and the?%e's the other."
He indicated a gold sleeve-link which fastened one of the
patient's cuffs, as he produced its counterpart from his pocket.
CHAPTER LIX.
A BOLD STROKE
How would they feel now? Would they realise the full
humiliation of their position now that they had been obliged
to leave Baldovie and take up their abode in lodgings?
Would they not come to their senses and own that it would
have been wiser to have accepted his offer—to have averted
ruin and continued rich and prosperous ? It was not in
nature that they should be able to endure the thousand
petty penalties of "genteel poverty," which is always worse to
bear than absolute extremity, and not sigh for the flesh-pots
of Baldovie, rashly cast away because the proud widow would
not accept them with the hand of Rudolph Feuerheerd.
Every day would make David and Marget wince more
bitterly under their changed position ; every hour would
bring them new signs of their fall from a high place to the
low level of worry about pennies, and anxious pinching to
make ends meet. They, who had never had occasion to
consider how far a pound would go, would writhe in agony
when they found that they must study carefully how far
they could make a paltry sixpence stretch. How their
hearts would ache; how their pride would force them to
call out in bitterness : " Why are we brought so low as
this, without any preparation for it ?"
Even if they did not utter the cry to each other, or in
the presence of their mother, she would see the marks of
depression and pain on their faces ; and it was impossible
that, as her intellect cleared, she should not be aware of
the cause, and feel acute self-reproach in the knowledge that
by one word from her they might have been spared it all.
Then he, Feuerheerd, might step in again like a guardian
angel, a generous, forgiving friend, and say :
" I cannot give you back all that you might have had if
you had yielded to me at the right time—then there need
have been no change—but I can still save Baldovie for you.
I can still provide you and your children with the luxuries
326 A PRINCESS OF JUTE DOM
to which they have been accustomed. Will you, even at
the eleventh hour, refuse to save them ? "
She must surrender. AVhat woman could say no under
such circumstances ? Why, even if the mother remained
callous to the sufferings of her children, Marget might he
made to yield in pity for her mother ! That would be a
triumph indeed ! Feuerlieerd's whole frame shook as with
laughter when the whirl of thoughts brought him in sight
of this extravagant possibility.
Yet there was nothing so far beyond the bounds of
reason in supposing that the mother might submit; for
ruin greater than they even now comprehended must be
theirs unless he chose to save them. He wished to save
them, because in doing so he would make his own position
secure against any accident. The key of their position was
in his hands, for he had regained possession of the iron
box, and its contents were equal to the most potent of
magician's wands in the changes they-could effect. With
them he could restore the fortunes of Baldovie, and save
the firm of Carmichael and Co. from bankruptcy.
But why should he dally with fortune ? How was it he
could not conquer this mad humour to stand his ground,
and maintain the high prominence he had attained as a
man of exceptional ability and irreproachable integrity ?
He could not tell, unless it might be that there was some
lingering sentimentality in his mental composition which
made him crave, against will and reason, for the respect and
honour of other men.
He knew that he was walking on thin ice, and he knew
that a discreet scoundrel would clear off at once. The fact
that Jess and Dalgleisli were now aware of the forgery of
her name to the documents, on the authority of which
her grandfather had been conveyed to the asylum, must
lead to other discoveries. It was for that reason he had
determined to remove the box from the Camperdoivn,'where
he knew it would not have been safe one moment after the
skipper learned—as he would be sure to learn from his
daughter or the lawyer—that there was treachery at work.
Feuerheerd had, therefore, hastened at once to recover
the treasure, and, as Culross could not then have heard
anything, anticipated no opposition. The action of the
skipper had taken him by surprise, whilst it proved to him
how correctly he had gauged the man's disposition. He
had risked the treasure under the care of Culross, knowing;
A BOLD STROKE 327
liim to be lionest; but lie was quick to perceive the point at
which, that honesty would turn against himself, and he
reckoned it lucky that he had acted so promptly.
Had things gone as he had calculated, if he had been
able to get clear away with the Camperdown before the
skipper suspected him, all would have been well. But it
seemed that the man had made up his mind to keep
those papers which he had been told would compel Wild
Will to come home until the hour for using them to that
end had arrived. This had been the meaning of the skipper's
chuckling and grimaces, which had puzzled Feuerheerd, and
induced him to think that he had been drinking.
" Well, he is safe for a week at least," reflected Feuer-
heerd, " and before that time I shall know whether I can
face tlie business out or must vanish. When Culross rouses
up they will think he is still drunk, and Ogg will obey my
instructions. Meanwhile this is safe," and his arm tightened
on the box which was under it.
On reaching the shore he had given the master of the
smack a substantial payment for his services, and enough
to make him willingly undertake another trip to the
barque—the weather being fine—with a note for Sandy
Ogg. The note directed Sandy how to act if the skipper
should not have come to himself by the time they reached
Leith. He was to take from his pocket the envelope
marked No. 2, and tell the mate to sail in accordance with
its instructions. The skipper would approve of what they
had done when he got right again. At any rate, the note
would be sufficient warrant for the mate to act.
Feuerheerd, with his attendant Bauer, was in time to
catch the last train back to Dundee, and on reaching his
house he went straight to his workshop. He replaced the
box in the safe. That done, the muscles of his face
twitched with satisfaction. He changed his coat, and,
seating himself in an easy-chair, he called Bauer and ordered
some refreshment.
" It is served, sir, downstairs as usual."
" Bring it here."
He was obeyed. Bauer brought in a small table—it was
a law that none of the tables in the workshop should be
touched by anyone except the master—and, assisted by his
daughter, he served the meal.
Feuerheerd ate heartily, and took more wine than usual.
328 A PRINCESS OF JTJTEDOM
Then he reclined back in his chair, with the feeling of
drowsy contentment which a healthy man experiences after
a comfortable meal following a day of exhausting labour.
Bauer entered in his quiet way to remove the table, and
Feuerheerd nodded approval without speaking. A few
minutes later Bauer entered again to take his master's coat
away to brush it. The master was asleep.
Bauer advanced to him, stood for several minutes
observing him, and then spoke in a subdued tone :
" Can I do anything more for you at present, sir? Shall
I bring a rug ?—the evening is chilly."
There was no answer ; but the man waited as if expecting
one. He repeated the question in a slightly louder tone, and
again waited. Apparently satisfied that it would be a mistake
to arouse him, Bauer ^brought in a rug, and with every
appearance of kindliness covered the sleeping form. That
done, he took up his master's coat as if about to carry
it outside, but he did not leave the room. Whilst his
eyes remained steadfastly fixed on Feuerheerd, he took from
a side pocket the asterisk of keys. He laid the coat down
again, and went out, returning warily in a few moments. He
had a small box under his arm, which was the counterpart
of the one Feuerheerd placed so much store upon. It was
done up in canvas, and was in every detail exactly similar.
Bauer's phlegmatic face was singularly pale as he ad-
vanced stealthily, his small eyes darting with electric
rapidity alternately at his sleeping master and the safe.
Feuerheerd did not. move ; he slept as peacefully as if
his mind were free from every earthly care. Bauer, after
another pause, knelt down, opened the safe, and in two
minutes took out the box his master had placed there, sub-
stituting for it the one he himself had brought into the
room. The safe was re-locked; the key was replaced in
the pocket of the coat, and Bauer noiselessly left the room.
As Mr. Dalgleish had said, the examination of Feuer-
heerd by the agents of several of the firms involved in the
downfall of Carmichael and Co. had been of the most satis-
factory kind as far as the manager was concerned. Indeed,
he was so clear and direct in his statements, so anxious
to make everything clear to those who were likely to be
losers by the failure of the firm, and so earnest in his
protestations that everything might yet be put straight
A BOLD STROKE 329
with a little time to help him in arranging matters, that
there was a general inclination, not only to sympathise
with him, but to adopt his suggestions as to the best
way of arranging the complicated affairs of the firm.
Mr. Dalgleish said very little; but he wore his eye-
glasses all the time, and from beneath them he was carefully
watching the manager's face. He gained nothing whatever
from that vigilant scrutiny, as he owned afterwards, except
the assurance that the man would have made his fortune as
a " play actor."
Feuerheerd was well pleased with the result of this
tentative trial of the strength of his position. It was
undoubtedly another triumph for him ; but he was not a
whit the less alert to the perils of the rocks ahead. He be-
lieved that he could make a clear course amongst those
which were visible ; but the hidden rocks were becoming
more numerous every day, and he did not know at what
moment his argosy might strike on one and go down.
He had not been able to discover the meaning of Norman
Grant's movements ; they were mysterious, and the un-
known is always most feared by the guilty conscience.
Not that Feuerheerd's conscience disturbed him. His
moral vision discerned no crime in the course he had
pursued, except the crime of "bad luck." Had all his
ventures prospered as they ought to have done, there would
have been no loss to any one. They had not all prospered,
and of course somebody must be the loser ; but the some-
body was not to be Feuerheerd. He had secured a goodly
fortune ; he had offered to share it with the widow, and she
had refused to accept his generous proposal. Very well, she
must take the consequences.
What did disturb him was the uncertainty as to what
Norman's action might lead to; and it was that uncertainty
which induced him to speculate on making one more stroke
for safety by giving the widow another chance. He had
been suddenly deprived of the source of information which
had hitherto guided him in his dealings with the Baldovie
family. Inquiries and messages had failed to bring David
to him. It was, therefore, with peculiar satisfaction that,
as he walked along High Street, he saw the lad gazing into
a bookseller's window at the Pillars.
Feuerheerd pounced upon him with effusive friendliness,,
grasping his arm and hand warmly.
330 A PRINCESS OF JUTE POM
"I congratulate you, David," he said hastily, "things
may not turn out quite so bad as we thought. _ But why
have you not come to me ? Why have you not written to me
in answer to my messages ? I have missed you very much."
There was something almost pathetic in the tone of the
last words, and, what is remarkable, the tone was not
affected. It was perfectly true that he had missed him very
much. David changed colour ; his cheeks flushed in the awk-
wardness produced by mingled emotions of pity for the man
he had once regarded as a valued friend and of scorn for his
falsehood ; then they became pale with horror at thought of
the man's guilt. He snatched his hand away with impulsive
irritation, and looked his former friend straight in the face.
" Mr. Feuerheerd," he said firmly, " I have nothing more
than this to say to you : If I was in your place I should not
remain in Dundee one moment longer than I could help."
He darted between the Pillars, crossed the road, and
almost ran up Reform Street in the direction of Mr.
Dalgleish's office, impelled by the feeling that there he
would be safe from any influence the man could bring to
bear on him. Feuerheerd stood staring after him, with
brows slightly lowered, but otherwise outwardly unmoved.
"So, he turns from me too," was the thought which
flashed through his mind. " Then more must be known
than I imagined. How much more ? . . . . That I
must learn before another hour has passed. Thank you
for the warning, my friend David ; it tells me something
you did not intend. Old Dalgleish is playing a cunning
hand ; but I'll outwit him yet."
Within half-an-hour he was at the door of the little
house which had been hired for the temporary accommoda-
tion of the Carmichaels. It was a pretty cottage, com-
fortable, and capable of containing as much true happiness
as any of the stateliest mansions of the juteocracy ; but it
was a humble-looking abode in comparison with Baldovie.
Feuerheerd had caught sight of Mrs. Carmichael seated
in the parlour with her back to the window. How, a few
words with her would enable himto comprehend the full extent
of his peril. He rang the bell gently, in order not to
attract the lady's attention, lest he should be refused
admission. As soon as the door was opened, he pushed
past the housemaid, who, being one of the servants brought
from the old house, recognised him.
A BOLE STROKE 331
" I have urgent business with your mistress," he said,
as he turned the handle of the parlour door without the
preliminary ceremony of knocking.
Mrs. Carmichael was alone. She had been reading, and
the book dropped from her hand to the floor at the abrupt
entrance of this unexpected visitor. As he advanced she
shrank back on the couch", with an expression of mingled
amazement and horror. She would not touch his extended
hand, and he stood gazing upon her with compassion.
" Why are you here ? " she asked huskily.
There was no time to waste, and he gave a direct
answer promptly, his voice softened to accents of emotion :
" I have come, Mrs. Carmichael, to make one last effort
to persuade you, for your own sake and for your children's
•sake, to reconsider the answer you gave me—to implore you
to grant me the right and privilege to save you from poverty."
In his eagerness he advanced, attempting to seize her
hand. She started to her feet, thrusting him from her ; and
as he drew back his foot tripped on the book which Mrs.
Carmichael had dropped, and he fell.
"Murderer ! " she said in a low, distinct voice, whilst
her arm was solemnly uplifted; " your crime is known.
May Heaven be merciful to you ! "
She passed from the room without casting a glance at
the prostrate man.
He quietly regained his feet. There was no sign of
fright on his face; it was as calm as if he had heard the
most commonplace statement regarding an uninteresting
topic. Mechanically he took up his hat from the table, and
smoothed the nap with his sleeve. Then he walked calmly
out of the house. The cab which had brought him from
the town was waiting at a few yards' distance from the gate.
"I know the worst now, thanks to David and his
mother," he was saying to himself as he took his seat. " I
must find a shorter cut to Brazil than the Camperdown
would have afforded."
CHAPTER LX.
through the darkness
After the brief pause of astonishment which followed
Johnnie Todd's unhesitating identification of Will Car-
michael in the person of the imbecile who had been hitherto
known in Dr. Broadsley's establishment as .George Outram,
332 A PBINOFSS OF JUTEDOM
Jess stepped quickly forward to her husband and clasped
his unresisting hands.
" Will, Will—do you not know me ?" she murmured,
her voice half choked with sobs, as she gazed yearningly
into his lack-lustre eyes.
He nodded and smiled ; but there was not the faintest
gleam of intelligence in his expression or movement.
She kissed him. She was utterly unconscious of the
people around her in that moment of intense pain—pain the
more intense because it was mingled with tantalising hope.
She had found him living and yet dead.
The embrace produced no other effect than her words
had done ; he nodded and smiled as before.
She had often thought of how he would look, and what
he would say when he came back ; but never, even in her
bitterest hour of despair, had such a possibility as this pre-
sented itself to her : that Will, her husband, the father of
her child, should meet her gaze and remain insensible to all
the love that was between them.
It was a terrible trial for her after all that weary time
of waiting and longing. She could not bear to look in his
face any more ; so she bowed her head, kissing his hands,
whilst her tears fell fast upon them.
Dr. Rudford took her gently by the arm. "You must
take a little rest, Mrs. Carmichael, and compose yourself,
or your presence will do him more harm than good ; we will
soon make any arrangements you may desire."
The arrangements she desired were duly made, and Will
Carmichael was quietly conveyed to Braeside. There Jess
hoped to be able to nurse him back to strength, and with
health reason would return too. But it was a dark outlook.
She would have succumbed to the horror of her position,
but that both Dr. Deuchars and Dr. Rudford spoke sanguinely
of Will's ultimate recovery, if gently and wisely cared for.
For a day or two he seemed to be worse, and was at
times, for lack of the accustomed sedative, in wild delirium ;
after that, howTever, he became quiet and gentle. He took
little notice of any one, but it was observed that he
appeared to be most contented when Johnnie Todd and
Babsie were with him. Little Will was at first afraid of
the new-comer, but by-and-by began to make shy overtures
to him. He would crawl over and stand at the sick man's
knees, looking up in his face ; or he would get hold of the
THROUGH THE DARKNESS 333
thin hand and investigate all its fingers with occasional
crows of inquiry or satisfaction. Big Will, as a rule, gazed
at the little one with wide open eyes, in which there was no
intelligence; but sometimes he would smile, and though
the smile was still a vacant one, it pleased Babsie, and he
smiled back.
One day Wild Will stooped and took the child on his
knee. Jess was watching, and the tears started to her
eyes. Johnnie, too, was watching eagerly, for he thought
this was surely a hopeful sign of returning sense.
The father's hand caressed the little one's head, while
Babsie busily carried on his investigations from the new
point of view. There was the pretty, bright button that he
had coveted long ago, when in Bauldie's hand. He eagerly
seized it, and tried hard to extract it from the cuff. His
struggles made Big Will look down, and, his eye resting 011
the sleeve-link, he murmured again, " Where's the other ?"
The right hand dropped from the child's head, little Will
pounced on it with a cry of joy, for he saw that there was a
bright button there too.
Into the man's eyes there came a sudden light, and- when,
looking up, he met the eager gaze of the young mother, his
lips parted and uttered the one word : " Jess !"
In an instant Jess's arms were about his neck, and their
lips met in a loving embrace.
Babsie would have fared ill but that Johnnie's presence
of mind saved him from falling to the ground. The next
moment Will, uttering shrieks of hysterical laughter, fell back
in his chair, and Jessbitterly regretted her want of self-control.
When the doctor came, however, he comforted her by
saying that even the momentary gleam of reason was a
promise that all would yet be well. Indeed, he regarded
the hysterical outburst as not only a promise, but a positive
proof, that the patient's intellect was not permanently de-
stroyed, and that its proper balance would be ultimately
restored. With professional caution, however, he did not
speak with the absolute confidence he felt. Dr. Rudford,
being a younger man, spoke with less caution than Dr.
Deuchars, and buoyed up the sinking heart of the young
wife by his assurance that she and Babsie would certainly
rouse Will's torpid faculties to their natural activity.
He took a profound interest in the case, and proved him-
self such an able and indefatigable colleague that Dr.
334
A PBINOFSS OF JUTE DOM
Deuchars explained everything to him as explicitly as he
had done to the eminent Edinburgh physician. The result
was most satisfactory. Gui111 11 extract from Feuer-
Rudford procured various preparations of the Datoora and
Madar plants. In this he was aided by Norman, who had
brought samples of the drugs with him from India, as well
as two bottles of the wine which had been sent on board the
Lindorcs.
Dr. Rudford immediately proceeded to experiment,
first upon rabbits and dogs, next upon himself. The case
became clear to him, and the treatment of "Will Carmichael
was guided by the new light. The constant presentation
to him of objects which had been formerly familiar, plenty
of fresh air and simple diet—these were the remedies which
the doctors chiefly used.
Day by day, Jess felt her heart thrill with joy as she
observed that Will was watching her with increasing earnest-
ness ; noted the pleasure he took in fondling Babsie, and the
amusement he seemed to find in Johnnie's jerky movements
about the place.
Then he began to repeat her name more frequently, and
to greet her with a glad smile whenever she returned after
any brief absence. He would nod as before, but there was
intelligence in the accompanying smile now. He was
beginning to sleep longer and more regularly, and by-and-
by he would mutter curious questions, as if the mind were
seeking an explanation of his surroundings. He seldom got
beyond the first word of his monotonous inquiry—" Where's
the other ?" for, glancing at his cuffs, he saw the two sleeve-
links, and stopped.
" You are very good, Jess," he said suddenly, whilst he
was leaning back on his easy-chair, Babsie at his feet,
puzzling over his father's slippers, and trying to pull them
off. He touched her hand gently, and she rested her cheek
on his head.
"Dear Will—you are coming back to us—coming back
to me and to our bairn." That was all she could say.
"Our bairn," he repeated, as if listening to some sound
that reached him from a far distance. " It's queer. I
don't understand. It is such a long time since I saw
Jess. . . . You are not a ghost."
heerd's notebook, which
written out, Dr.
THROUGH THE DARKNESS 335
The presence of her arm round his neck, and the fond
kiss on his lips, helped to satisfy him that he was not
dreaming.
"There are so many things I cannot make out," he
went on perplexedly. " Have I been sleeping a long time ?
Seems like that, and a lot of wild dreams have been bother-
ing me, and I cannot put them together correctly. Bits of
different dreams get so jumbled in my head that I don't
know what belongs to the dream and what to reality."
" Never mind the dreams, Will. You are getting well,
and you null soon understand everything."
"Yes, getting well; but I cannot remember. I came
home, and I saw my father, and I told him about every-
thing, and . . . I am sleepy again."
His head was laid back, and he slept—slept so long and
with so little sign of breathing, that the faithful wife,
watching him, became alarmed lest this which seemed to
be only sleep might be death.
After that there came a period of thoughtfulness ; the
fatuous nodding ceased, the smile disappeared, and the
countenance gradually assumed an expression of grave
meditativeness. At intervals he put questions about past
events, at first referring to himself as another person, and
then slowly identifying himself with the events.
" I was at the office that day after I spoke to my father
—what happened after ?"
From that point his memory was still an utter blank,
although it seemed as if rays of light were breaking through
the clouds which obscured the brain.
The doctors were delighted, and pursued a wise policy
of caution, leaving nature and time to do their own work.
They were now satisfied that Will Carmichael was safe.
And Jess watched and waited with prayerful heart,
noting with pulses quickening in joy every new token of
returning memory. She treasured the least sign, and
eagerly but quietly told him of events to which any of his
stray words seemed to allude. The dawn had broken, and
little by little the rising light of a new day was dispelling
the darkness of his mind.
"Why did you send me that letter, Jess ?" he asked
abruptly.
There was something so like his old quick, impatient
336 A PRINCESS OF JUTEBOM
manner in the way he put the question, that for a moment
Jess was startled. Then she placed her hand tenderly on
his. She knew what letter he meant.
" I did not send you that letter, Will. I did not write it.
What happened after you got it ?"
But he could go no further yet, but relapsed into medi-
tative silence.
When Dr. Deuchars heard of this question, he immedi-
ately decided to get the letter, in order that Jess might
show it to her husband. But he was much disappointed, on
applying to Mr. Dalgleish, to learn that the important letter
could not be found. It had been placed by Mrs. Carmichael
in one of the drawers of the library table at Baldovie, but
the most diligent search had failed to discover it.
" Feuerheerd has got it, and destroyed it," was Norman's
comment. " Have you not yet got evidence enough against
the man to arrest him ? "
" He will be arrested as soon as we can find him,"
answered the lawyer. " But he started, without giving us
warning of his intention, for London, in order to personally
investigate the claims of certain stockbrokers there who
had dealings with William Carmichael, and has not yet
returned."
" He will never return."
" Not if he can help it, I opine," rejoined Mr. Dalgleish.
" Nevertheless, we have some expectation of seeing him here
before many days have passed."
In this period of anxiety, Norman fulfilled all the duties
of a devoted son to the widow ; he helped in no small
degree to rouse David from the stupor of bewilderment
which fell upon him when he learned that Feuerheerd had
absconded, and was openly accused of stupendous frauds
upon the firm which he had been serving, as had been
believed, so faithfully and well.
There was no question that, whatever might happen to
Feuerheerd, absolute penury was the lot of the Carmichael
family. Then Norman went with Marget to the Rood-
yards, and when they stood beside her father's grave, he took
her hand firmly in his own. "Marget, I am glad to stand
here and call you mine," he said, the tone low and earnest.
"I feel as if he could hear and understand that you are all
the fortune the world can give to me."
She was content. The big hopes she had entertained of
GETTING INTO HARBOUR 337
bringing to him the power of wealth to work great miracles
for the less fortunate of their fellow-creatures was trans-
formed into the humble, but none the less noble, aspiration
to be a good wife to him, and in that way to help him to
achieve the highest prize that man can win—the conscious-
ness of having done his very best to discharge worthily the
task allotted to him.
CHAPTER LXI.
getting into harbour
The thought which was uppermost in Feuerheerd* s head,
after his brief interview with Mrs. Carmichael, was that of
self-preservation. She might have spoken from mere
impulse, and without knowledge. But how could he be
sure of that ? She had spoken definitely enough, and there
was the inexplicable return of Norman Grant to make his
position doubtful. What was of most weight with him in
considering the position was the warning which David had
given him. Although Mrs. Carmichael might have spoken
at hazard, Feuerheerd was assured that her son had spoken
from knowledge, and from a lingering feeling of friendship.
When he reached his house he directed Bauer to prepare
a portmanteau, and to send it on to Perth, to be forwarded
by the evening mail to London. His instructions were
obeyed ; and, as they were intended, misled those who were
on his track. Even Bauer did not suspect the trick that he
was playing.
X\ hen he saw Bauer go off with the portmanteau, Feuer-
heerd took the precious box from the safe, and stealthily
left the house. But he did not go to London, as Mr.
Dalgleish believed.
There was almost as much commotion in Jutedom, when
the rumours of Feuerheerd's disappearance grew into posi-
tive statements, as there had Ijeen on the first announcement
of the failure of Carmichael and Co.
" It surely could not be possible," said the most astute
men of business, " that we can have been deceived in the
man, and that all the time he has been a swindler."
" Well," said Simpson, M.P., when this new phase of the
catastrophe was presented to him, and whilst the buttons of
his frock-coat seemed to be bursting with indignation, "the
Carmichael smash is the biggest smash that has ever been
z
338 A PlilNOFSS OF JUTFDOM
known in our community ; hut if tlie chielcl Feuerheerd hat!
been blinding us all, my opinion is that it serves us right.
Even I would have trusted the man."
There could be no further or higher proof of Feuerheerd's
ability than this admission ; for Simpson was known to be—
and was, in fact—the most cautious of men in his dealings
with others. This new development of affairs quickened his
action in the direction suggested by his accidental discoveiy
of the comfortable nest-egg Dr. Deuchars had laid by.
Having, as he considered, made a most " lucky escape"
from a union with Mrs. Carmichael, he thought he would
make sure of Miss Deuchars and her " tocher."
Owing to his reputation as a shrewd and genial mail of
business, his services had been in great request in that
important but often uncomfortable position of trustee on
the estates of his friends. In this capacity he had dis-
covered that Dr. Deuchars had cannily amassed a consider-
able fortune ; and it was this discovery which had induced
him to make the visit to the doctor's house that had so
much astonished Johanna.
Baldovie would be sold. He would buy it; and the-
doctor's daughter could not resist such a temptation. He
would buy the place- by private contract, and he would have
all the glory of feeling that he had accomplished an act of
Christian charity in saving her the humiliation of a public
roup. He cunningly mentioned, in confidence to the doctor,
that it was his purpose to seek the honour of an alliance
with his daughter as soon as he had settled the terms for
the purchase of Baldovie. The doctor was considerably
surprised to learn that Jo was so fortunate as to have secured
the admiration of the M.P.; but he was not quite aware how
much influence his own prosperity had in deciding the
gentleman to take this step.
" I presume you have no objection to my paying my
addresses to her ?" said Simpson, with pompous gravity.
" Oh, you can address her as much as you like," said the
doctor, laughing. "Johanna will please herself."
" That is precisely what I should like her to do," rejoined
Simpson, with emphasis.
The doctor mentioned casually to his daughter that Simp-
son had made up his mind to purchase Baldovie, and at the same
time gave her a hint of his intentions with regard -to herself.
Johanna would have laughed at the idea, for she was
GETTING INTO HARBOUR 339
several years yet from tlie age when she might have been
prepared to think of Simpson, M.P., as a possible husband.
But the news that he was to purchase Baldovie !—that made
her prick up her ears. To be mistress of Baldovie would
be a triumph indeed. Of course he was a ridiculous old
She stopped there. Why was he ridiculous ? He was a
Member of Parliament; he was respected by everybody she
knew ; and, since she could not have Norman, why should
she not be Mrs. Simpson, M.P., and mistress of Baldovie?
The result was, that the reception of the M.P., on his
next visit, was much more encouraging than it would have
been but for his intention with regard to Baldovie. He,
being strong in the consciousness of his own merits and
attractions, at once brought matters to a crisis.
On his arrival she had been alone in the parlour,
playing some lively airs on the piano ; and he was profuse
in his expressions of regret at having interrupted her. She
shook hands smilingly, and, with well-affected ignorance of
the purpose of his visit, said :
"I am sorry that you are so unfortunate, Mr. Simpson.
Papa is out to-day again, and I am afraid he will not be
back till quite late. He will be so vexed at having missed you."
Simpson, M.P., regarded her with one of his most lan-
guishing expressions. His small eyes twinkled lovingly
upon her, and as he pressed her hand he spoke with unmis-
takable emphasis :
" I regard his absence, my dear Miss Deuchars, as my
opportunity. It was you that I particularly wished to see.
I have something very important to say to you."
" Something important to say to me, Mr. Simpson ?
Then I do believe you have let them tease you into collecting
signatures or subscriptions for something or other. What
is it ?" asked Johanna, with a nervous laugh.
"It is not a joking matter," said Simpson, M.P., in his
most impressive manner. " I have come to speak to you on
a most serious and solemn subject, to which I ask you to
give your most earnest attention. The subject may be
somewhat of a surprise to you, but I trust it will be none
the less pleasing. I have always regarded you as a dear
friend, and I trust you have looked upon me in the same
light. Now, I am about to ask you to give me the greatest
proof that a woman can give of her respect for a man by
askinsr vou to become my wife."
340 A PRINCESS OF JUTEDOM
" Really, Mr. Simpson, I am quite unprepared
" Please do not answer without due consideration. I
am about to purchase Baldovie ; and I find that I could
not desire or expect to secure any one so admirably suited
as yourself to hold the position of mistress of that house.
I look upon you as a sensible woman, and I have come
to lay the matter before you for your consideration, which I
trust will be favourable."
The wooer paused for want of breath; and, getting no
reply from Johanna, who sat with hands nervously clasped,
looking straight before her, he wondered whether she
expected him to fall on his knees and implore her to be his ;
but he wisely concluded that, if such a feat were necessary
to gain a wife, then Simpson, M.P., must go without one.
Johanna was generally sharp-witted and ready of speech ;
but she was at that moment the victim of one of Dame
Fancy's freaks. Instead of the "pawky Jeems," swelling
with pride at his own eloquence and condescension in
placing himself and his belongings at the disposal of this
fortunate young lady, the picture which was before her
mind's eye was a handsome lad, with flushed face and
sparkling eyes, shouting as he dragged her from her hiding-
place. It was the remembrance of a game at hide-and-seek
with Marget and Norman, long ago, at Baldovie, when
Cupid had shot his first fiery dart into her bosom.
Attributing Johanna's silence to maidenly bashfulness,
the valiant M.P. proceeded : "I do not wish to hurry
you, my dear Miss Deuchars, for I am aware that matri-
mony is a serious consideration; but it is natural that I
should await your reply with impatience."
Thinking that some demonstration of ardour might be
effective, he sidled nearer, intending to grasp her hand.
Johanna, waking from the vision, and contrasting it with
the object before her, felt an almost irresistible desire to
scream : " Marry you, you pompous old idiot!" She had
strength enough, however, to restrain this impulse, and to
reply with comparative calmness :
" Really, Mr. Simpson, you are very kind. But what you
have said has taken me very much by surprise ; and, as you
have observed, the subject is of so much importance that I
must have time for consideration. The fact is, I was not
at all prepared for—this honour."
The last words were uttered with a satirical intonation ;
THE LAST OASP 341
but Jeems was proof against satire. So he replied en-
couragingly : " Your modesty does you great credit, but
you must not let it stand in your way. The dearest wish
of my heart will be gratified if you will consent to sit at
the head of my table at Baldovie."
Baldovie ! The temptation of presiding there as mistress
again checked the refusal which was on her lips ; and, as
she let her thought dwell on the triumph it would afford
her, Simpson took her hand, saying :
" May I conclude that your silence means consent ? "
Hastily withdrawing her hand, but in a playful way,
which meant nothing, she inquired :
" Are you really going to buy Baldovie ?"
" I am so—that is, if, as I hope, you have no objections
to the house."
"Objections!" exclaimed Johanna, with a strange
laugh. " No ; I think it is a beautiful bouse."
"I am very glad of that," said Simpson, M.P. " since you
are to be the mistress of it."
CHAPTER LXII.
the last gasp
It was a bitter thought to Feuerheerd that, through years
of toiling, he had so successfully carried his schemes to
completion to find that, in the end, he was to be foiled by
some foolish miscalculation which he could not understand.
But not quite foiled. He had this box, which contained
enough to make him rich, and give him comfort in years
hereafter. Then the fools thought they had entrapped him!
He could .laugh at that, as he was going to the place where
they were least likely to search for him.
He was going to Baldovie.
He approached the house by the back entrance, and
made his way into the little dressing-room next to the bed-
room which Mrs. Carmichael had occupied, and the door of
which was opposite to that of the library. He had no
difficulty in finding his way to this place, for the doors were
open when he arrived ; and besides, hacl they been locked,
his asterisk of keys would have ensured him easy ingress.
His first object had been to divert attention by sending
his portmanteau to London, and that he had successfully
done. .The next object was to secure the contents of the
box about his person, and to make his way with the least pos-
342 A PRINCESS OF JTJTEDOM
sible delay to some country where no extradition treaty
could affect him. With that intention he opened the box
and took out the papers which it contained. At the first
moment he felt inclined to thrust them into his pocket with-
out examining them ; but something in the shape or texture
attracted his attention, and he hastily unfolded one of the
packets. It was blank paper.
With difficulty he restrained a howl of rage and vexation.
Then he quickly examined every paper, to find only blank
pages, and to learn that he had been in some way tricked.
He had no difficulty in deciding who was the trickster.
Bauer had done this. He was the only one who had any
clue to his secret, and he had used it to his own advantage.
How he had done it was not conceivable, but, undoubtedly,
he was the only person who could have perpetrated the act.
He must have calculated his time and measured his
opportunity most carefully. What was Feuerheerd to do ?
He dare not return to the house, and if he did so it would
be to murder the man who had hitherto pretended to be so
faithful a servant. That of course was folly. With every
officer of the law in pursuit of him, he had to take measures
to save bare life—if, since all his projects had failed, life
were worth having.
Yes, life was dear still. Looking at the thing calmly, he
had stillafuturebefore him. Butat that moment, whenhewas
calculating upon his chances of escaping from his pursuers,
the merest accident frightened him from his hiding-place.
Johnnie Todd was particularly anxious to get possession
of the forged letter which had induced Will Carmichael to
leave the house on the evening of his disappearance and
supposed murder. He had insisted that the letter would
be found, and he had been haunting the house in search of
it. This search drove Feuerheerd from room to room, until
at last a stray scrap of paper made Johnnie suspect that the
man whom all were seeking was in the house. Without
giving any alarm, he communicated with the police ; but
Feuerheerd was too quick for him. He had observed his
movements and calculated the result.
He waited till the night fell and moon had risen. There
were heavy clouds moving slowly across the light; when
they broke, there was a bright line on the shore and on the
water. Feuerheerd's object was to get to the Fife coast,
and as the only boat he could find was a small one which
THE LAST GASP 343
lie well remembered, lie shuddered when he pushed-it oft'
across the sand. It was the boat in which he had taken
Will Carmichael to his doom. At that time there was a
shout of several voices, and above them all was Bauldie
Munro's. " What the deevil are ye at ? That's my boat."
The figures moved like shadows along- the shore, and
Feuerheerd rowed with all his strength away from it. His
hand slipped, and one of the oars whirled astern. He rose
fiercely to his feet, and with the remaining oar began to
scull. The oar broke, and he flung the useless shaft from
him. Then, standing upright in the boat with arms folded,
and gazing scowlingly at his pursuers, he waited until the
boat sank. With his knowledge of the Indian plants
Feuerheerd had calculated upon achieving a great fortune.
He had failed—and he died—perishing at the moment
when complete success seemed to be in his hand.
The man who had been his slave, Bauer, and who had
chuckled over his downfall, was no more fortunate. When
he buried the box containing the bonds and securities on
which Feuerheerd had depended, he had done so under the
eyes of a London detective, Inspector Dier; who, having
promptly unearthed the box, restored the valuable contents
to the real owners.
There are only a few words to say about Culross. He re-
covered from the effects of the poison which had been adminis-
tered to him, and he was sorry that he had not throttled
the villain, Feuerheerd, when he had him under his grasp.
The box unearthed by Inspector Dier saved the credit
of Carmichael and Co., and enabled the widow to return to
Baldovie without any feeling of shame.
In the light of the astounding revelations of Feuer-
heerd's villainy, all were inclined to accept what had
from the first been Marget's view of the explanation of
Packet No. 10. It, too, had been a forgery. The sus-
picion was changed into certainty, when Mrs. Carmichael
discovered that the crumpled paper in the secret drawer
of her husband's desk was a rough pencil draft of what
had evidently been the real statement of his last wishes.
Will had come home and told his father about the
marriage with Jess, and what his father really wrote was to
the effect that Jess Culross was to be in every way dealt
with as one of his own family. The document which was
found in the Packet No. 10 was entirely a piece of Feuer-
344 A PRINCESS OP JUTPDOM
heerd's clever manipulation. He had obtained, the key front
Will Carmichael after drugging him ; and, whilst too timid
to go to the extent of murder, he had kept him under the
influence of the drugs until he had lost consciousness and
memory. During his sojourn in India he had met George
Outram, and had learned from him the story of his love-
passage with the wife of John Carmichael; and it was
this story, told in casual chat, which Feuerheerd afterwards
turned to so much account.
It was resolved to act in accordance with the terms of
the document now found, until William Carmichael should
be completely restored to mental and physical health.
In course of time, under the loving care of Jess, Will
did entirely recover from the effects of the terrible drug,
and was enabled to take his place as head of the house
which his father had founded. The affairs of the firm had
meantime been wisely regulated under the supervision of
Mr. Whitelaw, Johnnie Todd, and Mr. Dalgleish. In the
grave man of business and the loving stay-at-home husband
and father, the younger generation of Jutedom might look
in vain for any traces of what had procured him the nick-
name of Wild Will.
Norman and the Princess were wedded with all the
honours pertaining to a royal ceremonial; for there were
enthusiasm and earnest God-blessings in the greeting of the
crowrd. On the day of the marriage, Norman's new ship
was launched, and, by his desire, Marget christened it, and
it was known by her name.
When the June roses were giving their perfume most
graciously to the atmosphere, Marget and Norman were
standing on the top of the hill, looking down on the great
hive of industry, and thinking about the sad times through
which they had passed—thinking about the hard times
through which the people down there were passing even
now—pitying them, and wishing to help them.
" How hard it is, Norman, that we can do so little to
help the people who are suffering around us ! It is so very
little we can do, even when we strive with all our strength."
He pressed her arm under his own as he spoke :
"Yes, Marget; it is so very little wTe can do ; but God
counts the wish as something."
THE END
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