LADY MARGOT’S LEAP.

Evening Star, Issue 11662, 24 September 1901, Page 2

LADY MARGOT’S LEAP.

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CBy Maooje Swan, author of 'Life's Blindfold Game,' etc.] CHAPTER I. in her curlier years Miss Rachel Blyth had kept a dame's school iu St. Cove, but when veil past fifty her health broke down, and liov temper—never a sweet one at its best—suffered sadly in consequence. Gradually, month by month, her pupils dropped away, and in the end she was forced to resign her profession. Old Dr Blyth had bought the Gable House <wi retiring from the army, and it was thero after his death that his daughter set up school, as a means of eking out a slender" livelihood. She was in her sixtieth year whan her niece caiuo to the Gable House to stay with her—tho only child of a brother whose existence had never before been heard of in St. Cove, but the general belief was that his career had not been what it should, else Miss Rachel would have been less guarded in making mention of him. At this time Lilian Blyth was only a girl cf sixteen, and many pitied her on hearing of her arrival at St. Cove, for to youth, with all its ardent desires for freedom aud pleasure, companionship with Miss Rachel meant noi.hing short of a living death. She was a Blender, graceful creature, with soft dark hair, which curled iu pretty, natural ringlets on her white brow and about her shell-like cars; color she had none, but when she came at first there was a brilliant lustre in her deep blue eyes which seemed to lighten up her. whole face. It was not long, however, before the depressing atmosphere of the Gable House began to leave its mark on her. , What marvel was it when Hiss Rachel kept her continually under her own vigilant eyes, and, if not. occupied sweeping and cleaning, saw to it that she was never a moment idle? For hours at a time she would be forced to sit. and sew worsted work, in all tho impossible colors which existed in the days of our grandmothers. Sometimes a little variety was offered in the way 'of making rough flannel or calico garments for missions—the latter being the manner in which Miss Rachel exercised the spirit ot' Christian charity. Lilian was not. allowed to make any friends in the place, and was seldom seen out of doors, except when accompanying Miss Radio.! in her d.iily walks or at church on the Sabbath day. She was nineteen when the even tenor of f--t. Cove life was broken by the arrival cf the Misses Janline's would-be nephew. The sinry of Robert Jardinc's youthful indiscretion—the forgiug of a cheque in his father's name to pay some debt of honor—had long since been forgotten by all save the oldest residents of the place. Among the latter was Miss Rachel, and she, curious to see the son of the man who had been one of the beans of St. Cove in his young days, and whose hasty banishment to foreign parts by his father had caused such general.regret, lost no time in calling at Craigo'er. On this cccisi'.in she did not allow her niece to accompany her, to Lilian's secret disappointment, for a kindred feeling had wakened in her heart when she heard of the young man's Arrival at the home of his atmts. " If young Robert Jardine has inherited all lis father's bad qualities, without his good ries, which is more than probable, I must :i!:c care. Lilian, that you don't make his ■.cquaintnnce," Miss Rahcel said, as she linned on her white India shawl and arranged her bonnet strings preparatory to set•jng our. What transpired during her visit :o Craigo'er Lilian did not learn till afterwards, and then from the lips of the young nan himself; but Miss Rachel came home in i furions temper, vowing never to set foot in Craigo'er again, so long at least as {he ladies chose to entertain their nephew under their roof. "The most detestable fellow it was ever my lot to meet,'' she exclaimed tartly when Lilian ventured to question her, " and I'm more than thankful I had the good sense to keep you at homo to-day. I won't permit any sort of intimacy between you—remember that, Lilian." These words only whetted the girl's curiosity, and she never went out with her aunt without hoping to meet Robert Jardine, a hope which was gratified beyond her expectation on the second Sunday of his stay in St. Cove, when he accompanied Miss Harriet Jar:Tino to the kirk. On this occasion Lilian occupied her aunt's pew alone, Miss Rachel being indisposed and unable to attend the service. The Misses Jardine sat in the pew immediafely behind, and' as Lilian was early in her place she saw Miss Harriet enter, followed by her nephew, and her interest at once centred on the latter. It was a mutual interest., for the young man's eyes fell on her also, and discerning in her a creature of a different type from the brown-faced fisher lassie 3 who thronged the pews, he studied her face intently, such rrlimpses,: at least, as he could' C3tch of it when she turned her head during a service which, to one of his nature and upbringing, was decidedly irksome. Till the close of. the service Lilian had to satisfy herself with the brief view of him she had gained, as he followed his aunt down the aisle, but Ms was a personality which, though only seen in a. casual way, could not be forgotten. His tall, slim figure, and handsome face tanned with foreign suns, his sharp observant features and keenly glancing dark eyes, all these points Lilian noted; and, aware that his eyes mefchers with equal interest as he passed the end of the pew,. heT heart-beats quickened, and the listles3ness faded from her face. "Aunt," she heard him say in a loud whisper as soon as. he was seated, " I thought you said the old termagant sat in' the pew btfore us. Has a mysterious metamorphosis liken place, or who is that, sweetly interesting young creature-?" ■ Lilian heard Miss Harriet silence him in a l'i'.r flustered whisper, and could imagine the Loi. of offended propriety on her withered old face, her own cheeks flushing at the comment, so loudly made on herself. At the close of die service she again heard him say something to Miss narriet, of which she was the s-ihjF.cr, and when she rose to leave the pew fii- occupants behind rose also, while Miss Harriet touched her nervously on the shoulder. " Miss Lilian, this is our nephew Robert, he sacks to make your acqaintauce," she said faintly, with the air of one compelled to an act of imprudence. Lilian's pale cheeks flushed a lovely rose, and she lifted her dark eyelashes tremulously to meet tho young man's gaze. He bowed and offered his hand with a winning grace of which he was master; then the trio left the church, walking together until they reached tho street in which the Gable House stood. Kven then the young man seemed loth to part, and would have had Miss Harriet go up the street and round about instead of toiruinj? directly down to Craigo'er. Lilian, however, interposed with much firmness, being filled with dread lest her aunt should sec them from the window, and put an end, at the very outeet, to further intimacy between them. . " However, we will meet again—very soon," he said in a low voice, as Miss Harriet turned away. For a brief instant their hands, met and their eyes—a moment not too brief for the mystery of love to wake up passionately in the hearts of each. CHAPTER IT. Clever and scheming as the would-be Ro- . Bert Jardine was, it remained always a wonjder to St.. Cove how he succeeded in cultiIvating acquaintance with Lilian Blyth, while 'her shrewish old aunt remained entirely ignorant of the fact. Lilian herself was amazed 'at the frequency with which they managed to ;sce each other, but accepted everything without questioning. In Robert .Tardine's society she entered upon a dream life, wherein, to her long starved senses, the very gates of paradise seemed to open. One morning, several weeks after their first meeting with each other, Robert' Jardine having arranged Lilian's escape from the Gable House.they wandered far along the top of the cliffs to an old ruined tower facing the sea. '■ You have not yet heard, have you, the •old story told about this tower?" asked Lilian as they made their approach, and Ro'i°rt Jardine replying in the negative, she al once went on. "It is :he proDertv of Hj-» ij.' vers, yonder is the old castle i:'ir id on !•„• hill—and the story is about a c?a«ieHcr of the Earl's who was callod Lady JJlar»ot A. French gentleman fell in love miti he;- and vented to- marry her, but for some private reason the Earl hated him with a fierce m-'.rcd, and forbade his daughter having to do with him. 'Leddy Margot,' as sne is always spoken of now amon" St i eve folks, was of a different mind, however, and when the Frenchman sought her .coiv-eutcd to run away with him. She was to ho waiting for him at midnight in the to-.ver here, and he was to land a little boat m that bay below, and row her out to his .yaent. True to her promise, she went to t.ic tower, but their scheme had been discovered, and though a boat did land it was r.ol her lover's, but her i'ather'3, and driven frantic by his passionate outburst of wrath sue jumped over the cliffs, and was seen no jiiioie. That is why the point hero'is called j'Lady Margot's Leap* to this day, and St. Cove folks aver that her ghost walks round the tower at midnight—a figure robed in a long grey cloak and hood." While she told |the story they had reached the tower, and (now stood leaning against its walls, their Ifaces turned seaward. \ Robert Jardine was verjyiear.tq.LiH_an Jb so >

near that his breath touched her cheek, and suddenly becoming conscious that his ryes dwelt on hors eagerly, she raised her own, and met his gaze with the confidence of assured love. "It would be rather interesting to sec ! ' Leddy Margot,' don't you think-so, LiliauP" he said, his face relaxing into a half-smile. "Only I suppose there is small likelihood of her appealing to us in the broad clay. Some night, perhaps, we will manage to cheat Miss Rachel, as we have cheated her this morning, and take a midnight stroll along the cliffs. You would not be afraid to come here alone with mo?" " No," she answered shyly. " I -would go with you anywhere without fear." "My darling, you can trust me then so 'much," he returned passionately. "Would to lieaveu I had it in my power at this very' moment to take you away for ever from your present miserable life, but till my position with my aunts is more secure than it is now—l am bound hand and foot." "But my life is not now miserable," added Lilian with shining eyes, "and will never again be so long as you remain: here in St. Cove, where I can see you almost every day." " And if so little yields you such happii ness, Lilian, what will it be for us both when we aro free to claim each other till death parts ns?" he continued passionately. "The desire to hasten matters overrules me almost at times, and I have to keep a tight grip of myself. Penniless as I at present am, I would not have dared to ask you to share my life bad I not known that ray aunts' patrimony, once secured, would make me independent for all time. Strange to say, they are still haunted with the idea that I am not their nephew, but given a few more months to establish their faith in me—all will be well. You at least, my darting, know mo to be anything but an impostor." Poor Lilian! Her trust in the man who had won her love was so implicit that not a donbt shadowed it. -The upward glance of her lovely eyes proved this wholly, and if no qualm touched his conscience at that moment he was even more utterly base than he was afterwards proved to be. It was the afternoon of this day that the true Robert Jardine came home to claim his own. The news of it reached the Gable House through the medium of Lisbeth Wishnrt, who came in an evening at a time to scrub out Mifs Rachel's kitchen—the rest of the housework Lilian managed herself. During the scrubbing process Miss Rnche! always kept a watchful eye on Lisbeth, and shortly after the tatter's arrival on this evening she came to hor niece, her face visibly glowing with satisfaction. " I've just heard the mo3t welcome bit of news that has come my way for years," she exclaimed. "That detestable fellow over at Graigo'er is no nephew of the Misses Jardine after all, but a wicked impostor. Robert Jardine's true son has come home today, and shown up all the deception—so he has been forced to flee the place. His real name, it seems, is George Stapleton, and lie was working on a gold claim out in California with Robert Jardine when Robert took fever: .Thinking he might not recover, Robert entrusted all the letters and papers proving bis identity to this fellow, for the purpose of sending them homo to hi 3 aunts, and the deceiver saw his opportunity at once. Instead of waiting to nurse Robert back to health he forsook him that very night, and made his way over to this country. Well, I'm downright thankful his villainy has been proved in the end. What is it, girl? Why do you stare at me as if you had taken leave of your senses?" But Lilian's only answer was to fall in a swoon at her aunt's feet. CHAPTER IIT. It was as Miss Rachel had told. George Stapleton—the would-be Robert Jardine — had fled the place, and whether deterred by shame or fear of further discovery without seeking even a brief interview with tho girl whoso love he had won. Miss Rachel's suspicions were aroused by the manner in which her niece had received the news of his treachery, but with the wisdom of the serpent she kept her own counsel in tho matter. At the first Lilian's faith in her lover received a terrible shock, and she recoiled almost from the thought of over seeing him again, but too soon such feelings passed, and a passionate yearning for the love which had been like nectar to her thirsty soul dominated every other thought and feeling. What did it mutter, she asked herself wildly, though he was base and treacherous to othersif only he was true to her? And if he sought her she would stand by him against the world, careless of all shame, and fearless of the future. One week passed, another and yet another, and still she clung to the hope that despite his long silence he had not forgotten her —a hope which strangely enough was finally satisfied. One morning a letter came to her from George Stapleton containing, after many expressions'of undying love, these lines: " And having done my utmost to prove how great is my love for you, can you trust. me, as you said you could on that fatal day of onr parting, .and give up all for my sake? In six days I leave for Manchester, where I have secured a ternporary post, and what I wish to propose is this: that next Tuesday evening after dark you wait for me in the old tower on the cliffs. I shall come for you from Westerhaven in a carriage which will wait out on the road beyond, and convey us to Anstruther. There wo shall bo compelled to stay for the night, but nest morning we can catch a train for Edinburgh, and continue our journey to Manchester. I shall endeavor to be at the tower between half-past nine and ten, when it is quite dark. Earlier wo might be seen, which is, of course, what we wish to avoid. My darling! I wait in keen suspense for your answer—my weal or woe for the futuro now depends entirely on you." Lilian's answer need scarcely be told. She wrote that same night to George Stapleton, and posted the letter by stealth, for an uncanny feeling possessed "her that her aunt was watching her movements suspiciously, though she spoke never a word. The next five days came and went all too slowly _ for hor whose whole being throbbed with feverish anxiety lest any new turn of events should change the prospect before her. But the appointed night came at last. Sickness and languor had so ofto.i c-vcr-come hor during tho past few weeks that it was not difficult to feign both on this occasion, and retire to her own room shortly after nine. Miss Rachel, who was a poor sleeper, never went early to bed, but Lilian knew she could easily escape by the kitchon door, which was far removed from the room in which her aunt sat. It was now the end of August, and, there being no moon, it was quite dn-k when Lilian stole out into the street, dressed tor the journey, and carrying with her a small black bag. The St. Cove folks !..°pt. crly hours, so that she did not encounter a single soul, but as she sped- across Ihe braes each breath of wind that fanned hor chesi-.. or dash of the waves on the shore beneath, filled hor with vague and ever-increasing terror. Reaching the tower at length, she looked about eagerly, hoping to find hor lover already on the spot, but there was no sign of living thing anywhere in sight, and as she paced restlessly to and fro, peering about her in the darkness, a new dread took hold of her—the thought of Lady Margot's ghost. How strange that the memory of Lady Margot should not have occurred to her before, when thus far their fates, were so similar. Ah, surely, no such terrible end awaited hor as bad befallen the Lady Margot! Why did her lover not come? It must bo past the appointed hour, and she felt that she could not bear the dread loneliness of the place a moment longer. What silent figure: was that moving towards her n'.w, robed in a long trailing cloak—not her lover, but a woman, tho ghost of Ibe lady Margot! With a shrill cry of terror she stepped backwards, not knowing how near she already stood to tho edge of the cliffs. Another step, and yet another, despite the warning cry of the advancing figure, and the next moment the sea beneath had opened its dark bosom to receive her. At the same moment George Stapleton reached the spot, hurried thither by the first shrill cry of terror, and in the darkness Miss Rachel and he came face to face. "You have killed my niece!" si-.o gasped out, while they looked into earn or-'er's fear-stricken eyes. "I have killed her? Woman! Want- do you mean?" he returned hoarsw-y. " At your dastardly bidding she came here," continued Miss Rachel, and I, knowing your evil heart, followed her hither, to save her from you, but so great was her terror — alone in this God-forsaken spot to which you have called her—that driven to madness she has leapt over these rocks! You, and no other, are responsible for her'awful end!" "Woman, you lie—it is you who-. have driven her to death!" cried George Stapleton, passionately, " and before you quit this earth you shall pay the price of her life, and my soul's weal." Miss Rachel put out.her hands as if in wild protest, and George Stapleton,, turning then with sudden haste, lof b her i&one with her • conscience. George Stapleton was never , again, heard of in St. Cove, but the tragic part he had played in the life of poor Lilian Blyfch was told again and again with bated breath, even after long years had rolled away. Through Miss Rachel the detail <»f the story. came out, for, having wat-caed the movements of her niece with a, vigilance scarcely comprehensible, she had Euspac'-.ed her intended flight with George Stapleton - fallowed .toi...the ._to.wer,._ iateading.

to frustrate her plans at the last mooient. How she had succeeded is already t*jld, and hor part m Lilian's sudden cu-i so preyed upon her mind that reason became unhinged. For a few years she lingered on in the Gable House,- a crazy, God-forsaken old woman, in whoso life George Stapleton's prophetic words found ample fulfilment!