THE BRIDE ELECT; OR, THE DOOM OF THE DOUBLE ROSES

Auckland Star, Volume XXX, Issue 31, 7 February 1899, Page 6

THE BRIDE ELECT; OR, THE DOOM OF THE DOUBLE ROSES

BY ANNIE ASHAIORE,

fllntbor ef ul Rienzl,' 'Corinne's ■"Janeem,' 'Waiting for Him,' 'The Diamond Collar,' Etc.

CHAPTER IV.

THE LADY OF STRATHMORE

Precisely ten days prior to the openfag of this chronicle, two young men were pacing back and forth in front Crf a small inn, in a quiet, antiquated town in Elgin. Blithe, light-hearted young fellows enough they were, with their deer hounds hanging of their heads and stretching of their streaming tongnes while they stalked behind their masters, whose careless negligence and general air of good mature contrasted pleasantly with the rtolid faces of the Elgin ladies who Btared at them. It was easy to see that those young gentlemen were travellers, summer tourists, who probebly had never before been beyond the Grampian hiUs, who were exploring the savage region of the North partly for amusement, partly to obtain one long, ecstatic 'breather' among the grand highland mountains and peat moors. Apparently they had achieved their object, for their goodlooking faces were embrowned, their luxuriant beards seemed to have weathered many a harsh blast among the heather, their light gray travelling quits had lost, much of the pris- ! tine freshness that had graced them perhaps four weeks ago, and the rifles, shot-pouches, fishing-tackle, etc., thrown in the stable yard, had a wellworn look, as if hard usage, and much of it, had been their lot. 'Well, Phil, I'm no philosopher,' dried the younger man of the two, shaking his leg energetically with his cane as he walked, 'and I'm no Don Quixote, but, honestly and verily, a highland litfe is the life for me. I declare I would scarcely care if I never saw Auld Reekie again.' 'No philosopher? Ha! ha! ha!. You don't need to remind me of that, Moray. I never accused you of aping Diogenes. But, do you actually assert that already Edinburgh has lost all its interest for you?' asked the elder gentleman, with a quizzical glance at the bright, careless face of his comrade. 'Humph! no,' admitted Moray, with a bothered look. 'Of course I'm still clanish enough, spite of all my paroxysms of admiration over these glorious Northern hills, to prefer my own town to any of them. 'There is nae hoose like my am hoose,' well, I wot. But then, you see, Phil, I haven t had your advantages. I've always been the scapegrace and ne'er-do-weel ot pur family, ranging about from country to country, with no settled preference for thing, place, or body; while you, my steady elder brother have stayed quietly at home m Auld Reekie, have married yottr bonnie iLammermoor lassie, nave taken the ■ goods the gods provided, and are lappy. Phil, you are.a good fellow afd'Wye-Tseen ijJdi;^tßali » brother of me- and in memory of the legion ox scrapes you have in times past rescued me from, I'll stick to you like a burr awhile yet.' * The other laughed cheerily. 'Bide a wee, Moray,'my boy! cried, he 'Stop till you meet some other honnie Lammermoor lassie, whose modest grace shall achieve what 1 never can achieve, the task of inducing m y wild brother to settle down on his money,. in the other half of Phil Hazeldean's double house; and then a fig for ancient Europe, highland' hills, or everlasting ocean! .You'll narrow your life, too, stare no loneer at a blinding mirage thats lifted in air, hut keep glad eyes on a heaven by your own fireside; and then you, too ,will be happy.' TMoray did not immediately answer; Ib pulled round one of the great hounds, and twisted his ears, with a *$«££. right, % said he at last; 'and I suppose I could Profit by your advice, if I did not just S?eV her again a4 soon as I go back Z l&iaburfh. Shfe'll drive out of my head all the Leamles and Jessies I ye seen among the highland heather just m die drove out of my poor, stupid pate all the Italian signormas the grman fraulinas, and the French demoiselles last winter. Heighhol I .■wish I were married—and 111 tryi_ Ind Moray Hazeldean lifted his sbepherd tartan cap to toss back h,s -led Phil's breezy vofre as he dealt him a hearty slap on the back. 'We'll see you yet Vh<* rest was lost in a sudden and tumultuous baying of the hounds, as a Ravelling carriage rattled through the narrow, irregular street, and drew up close beside them. Foanfflecked were the two handsome horses, and dimmed was the T,oli«h of the carriage panels; the fee armorial bearings were nearly obliterated beneath a layer of thick red dust, that was powdered over every part of the sumptuous equipage during a long and rapid drive on the post-roads. The coachman descended from his box and opened the carriage door, and two persons emerged from its depths; the f-t,-a tall, stately old man; the second, a radiant young lady, who accepted the .proffered arm of her companion with a certain air of grand triumph, and •whose glowing face turned on the young tourists with the air of a duchess, ere she vanished in the quaint little inn. . ■Come from Kieth, my man?' m--0 quired Philip Hazeldean, lighting his cigar in the shelter behind the carriage. 'Na, na, sir,' grumbled the old coachman; Ve've ridden a' the way frae Aberdeen, an' wow, but it's a weary fii-'gate.' Moray now came from his scrutiny of the arms on the panel, and joined his brother.

'Some Highland chief, or laird, I think,' he whispered; 'i can't make out more on the panel than something like a griffin with a chain in his mouth, and a horrible Gaelic inscription. Who are they?' 'Aiy dear brother, I don't »now or care, it's half-past four, ana I want my dinner. Let's go in and remind mine host. Age beiore honesty won't do this time; we came .first; and intend to be served first." 'She's pretty, isn't she, Phil? What a tall, striking figure.' 'Pshaw! a supercilious free it had, as if it was saying, "Do you observe my grandeur?" ' 'Well, perhaps —but I like hauteur, and she's evidently noble. I wish I knew her name.' Philip whistled 'Jock o' nazeldean,' his favourite tune, and looked down the odd little street of quaint Forres, with its lovely wild scenery around. 'Did you ever see such an old woman?' he exclaimed presently, as a figure, bent almost double, and leaning on a stout staff, approached slowly, gazing at the carriage with eyes strangely black and brilliant. She came nearer, stopped beside the carriage, dropped on her knees: and kissed the dusty panel whereon was blazoned the armorial design; then crept down the street again, murmuring in unintelligible Gaelic. The two loungers watched her as she slowly retraced her steps to a small cottage where a Forres wife was spinning by the open door. 'By Jove!' ejaculated Aloray, with enthusiasm, 'this Highland loyalty and simple worship is as strong in this nineteenth century as v.. the days of Bruce and Wallace. I suppose that old woman ' 'Never mind, Aloray, I'm going in. The coach comes along at six o'clock, and my appetite is at least an hour strong.' 'Faith, so is mine,' rejoined Aloray. So they tossed away their cigars, and turned' into the 'Forres Stag Inn.' To their surprise they found the illustrious lady traveller sitting alone by the window, and regarding the carriage, to which fresh horses from the 'Forres Stag Inn' stables were being attached. Her brown travelling robes had not been removed, and her little straw bonnet and long veil were lying on a chair near her. There was the same radiant triumph, ill-repres-sed, in her fine face which they had before remarked, arid she turned quickly as the door opened, with a joyous smile, which, however, faded when her glance encountered strangers. 'Oh, I beg pardon, madam,' said Philip Hazeldean, essaying to withdraw; 'we were not told that this room was occupied. Excuse the intrusion.' 'No, don't go away, sir,' replied she, with dignified politeness. 'I have no doubt you had engaged the room before I arrived; don't make me aware of my intrusion by leaving me to enjoy the wretched little place alone.' She glanced around the dwarfed walls arid dingy chintz curtains with a little shrug of contempt,-and looked out again at her well-appointed carriage. With thanks the Edinburgh gentleman accepted her civility. Philip picked up a book from the table, and, yawning, turned the leaves. Aloray took a chair not far from the young aristocrat, and entered into conversation with her.. . , 'It is not often one looks on a more enchanting scene,' murmured Aloray, following her glance out of the narrow window. She lifted her eyes from her carriage and rested them a moent on the j ' distant hills, then they waftdered over : the yellow corn fields, the whin bushes | shaking their golden bloom, the j funereal fir, and the stout larch thickets, and lastly on the hale bronzed face of the tourist at her I side. I 'Beautiful!' said she, with shining "eyes. 'Yet my domain, they tell me, | is richer far. You love enchanting scenes, then?' 'I have hitherto paid the devotion of a life-time to them,' returned Aloray, 'but seldom have I enjoyed their beauty with such sweet concomitants,' with great gallantry. She did not notice his gallantry, did not answer his enthusiasm, her dark face was radiant in its absorbed exultation. 'If you stay any time in Forres,' resumed Aloray, determined to make her speak to him, 'you should visit the obelisk erected near here, "King Swino's stone," some say representing, the murder of Macduff. You remem- > ber, perhaps, how Shakespeare has celebrated that hill over there—the Knock of Alves in "Macbeth," where the weird sisters prophesied his future greatness. How far is it called to Forres? What are these, So withered and so wild in their attire. That look not like the inhabitants of earth, And yet are on it. 'You have heard the lines? If you had been at that window an hour ago, you would have been forcibly reminded of them; for I saw a woman, so old that she scarce could walk, creep up to your carriage, kneel, and kiss with fierce devotion the arms on the panel.' The lady started, and looked curiously down tbe street; her interest was at last aroused. 'An old woman, sir? I am surprised. This Forres does not belong to the lands of Strathmore. I know of none of my people here.' Moray crimsoned. He felt his presumption in so persistently addressing a lady whose high rank was, at last, avowed. 'Pardon me,' murmured he, confused. T had no idea that you were a j scion of that noble house. I confess ! my presumption in addressing you so freely.' 'Pshaw! nonsense!' cried she, laughing, and drawing her pretty form to its height. T neither meant to preserve an incognito, nor to avow my station; still, as you are so good as to try to amuse a stranger's passing hour of ennui, you deserve a fuller knowledge of your protege (though I must confess I trespass on my uncle's command in speaking to strangers). Therefore, behold before you. Kilmeny Strathmore, Lady of Strathmore, who, having just obtained the title through a succession of curious circumstances, is now on her way to the Highland estate, to take possession of the fair- I est domain in broad Scotland.' j With a blush, and a bow, and a I bland pride, Lady Strathmore extended her hand to Aloray Hazeldean, who gravely .pressed it in his, and gravely gave his own name in return. "Then you have never seen your inheritance as yet?' asked he, his eyes opened to her no longer mysterious exultation. | 'Not yet, Air Hazeldean; nor did I . expect to see it, had not my cousin—' • She paused, bit her lip, and changed the subject. 4I am not accustomed to being treated as of much importance,' she

said, artlessly. 'I have moved, hitherto, in a very 1 oderate sphere, and my exaltation is delightful to me; it satisfies a fierce ambition 1. have always been a victim of; it lifts me beyond old, petty trials, paltry pleasures, and —humble loves.' Again she paused, a hard, relentless expression crossed her face with sinister force, the ungloved fingers in her lap closed tightly on each other. Moray silently regarded her; truth to say, he began not to admire Lady Kilinenj', of Strathmore, so much. Here Philip, who had for some time been looking at her over the top of his book, remarked, respectfully: 'No doubt your elevation will have left some mourners in your old station, my lady. Hoy did your family like losing you?' She frowned. At first she did not seem inclined to answer; then, changing her mind, looked around at him serenely:" 'Oh, there was no one could truly claim me or my duty but an aged grandfather and half-deaf grandmother. I had always lived with them in Aberdeen, my birthplace, since my father died, many years ago. They are my mother's parents, not my father's/ He was a colonel, and next of kin to William, Lord of Strathmore, whose title I now bear. The uncle now conveying me to Strathmore is the youngest brother of the three, and heir after me, if I do not—well, if I don't marry. Of course, my old connections rejoiced with me in my good fortune. At all events, whether they did or not, I have raised myself immeasurably above their approbation or dissent by deserting them.' As she uttered these unlovely sentiments her mellow voice rang sweet and clear and her selfish soul looked out arrogantly from her fine eyes. This time neither of the gentlemen soug-ht to break in on her reflections till she flashed an impatient glance from the window, murmuring, 'What can have detained my uncle? We are to travel to Nairn to-night, and it is high time we had started. Dear me!' she cried, suddenly, gazing down the street with great interest. 'Is that where my LTncle Tyndale went to?' Moray glanced out. The old man was emerging from the little stone cottage wherein the aged devotee of his house had disappeared an hour and a half before. Lady Strathmore eyed his approach, as, with slow steps and eyes on the ground, he neared the inn. She half rose, her breath came sharply, her countenance became watchfully alert. Tyndale Strathmore gave some imperious orders to the groom, who was harnessing fresh horses. Tyndale Strathmore strode into the Forres Stag and opened the saloon door. His face was pale, his grey eyes contracted, his lips compressed. They looked at each other—the uncle and niece. He faltered as he.saw strangers. . 'Come here. I want you,' quoth he, quietly. He held the door open for her to pass through, took her hand, and led her to a private room. It might have been twenty minutes subsequently that Lady Kilmeny Strathmore came out from her uncle and stood in the inn doorway, leaning against the lintel. She gazed blankly down the street and at the winding Findhorn. Her eyes, large, black and fathomless with some fearful shock, her countenance chalked with dreary dismay, and the exulting blush for ever faded from her bloodless lips. The Hazeldeans were out in the yard collecting their hunting apparatus, and hiring a bare-legged boy ! with valises, etc!, to convey to the j Royal Hotel up the street, where the t huge yellow stage coach for Keith was now standing. I Moray heard a sigh, and looking up |at her saw her face and dropped his rifle in the straw of the stable yard. 'Heavens!' ejaculated Moray, in hor- | ror, 'what's the matter with my lady?' i Tyndale Strathmore came out and laid his hand on her shoulder pityingly, soothingly. 'Come in, Kilmeny,' he urged gently. 'You are too spirited a girl to sink under this. Come, we will rest here to-night. We won't start till to-morrow morning.' Then she turned a blazing, passionate gaze full on his disturbed face, and then she looked at the roseate clouds and the beautiful earth, and at last her dry eyes met those of Moray Hazeldean, fixed with mournful interest upon her, ere he should turn away to follow his brother stepping fast down the street, i And she laughed a. little dreary laugh, and kissing her hand mockingly cried with bitterness, 'Farewell, my friend of short duration. Look your last on Kilmeny, Lady of Strathmore.' And so she vanished with her uncle. (To be continued daily.)