PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT WILD EELIN HER ESCAPADES, ADVENTURES, AND BITTER SORROWS.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 11191, 13 August 1898, Page 3

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT WILD EELIN HER ESCAPADES, ADVENTURES, AND BITTER SORROWS.

By WILLIAM BLACK, j Author of " A Daughter of Heth," " A Princess «f Thulo, '" Macleod of Dare," " The Strange Adventures of a Phaeton," " Briseis," "Highland Cousins," etc., etc. "!

COPYRIGHT. ] CHAPTER XVIII. -TIMEO DANAOS. . There arrived afc Glengarva House a hamper of black game—with Lord Mountmahon's compliments. There followed a sixteen-pound salmon— with Lord Mountmahon's compliments. j Next came a haunch of venison—with j Lord Mountmahon's compHments. I And finally there appeared upon the scene Lord Mountmahon himself—gay. dauntless, self-assertive-: a gorgeous kind of ynung man he seemed to be, with the rcsnlendent buttonhole in his Norfolk jacket of brown velvet? this was no shame-faced, timid, anxious-eyed student, humbly .solicitous to please. The effulgent young man , occupied the drawing room, as it were. I lie dispensed his favours. And all his talk was of the,forthcoming festivities. "Never heard of such .riot and revelry.'' said be, grinning in the most amiable f.ishibn. "One's bam "whirls. Get's see: . what conies first? The Pony and Galloway ! races. T wish T had noticed an" entry in ■ your name. Miss Maeddnald wouldn't I have backed it? Yes, that I would! Well, the.re's plenty of, other things for one to settle one's money nn ; and I imagine these wjld merry-makings will cost some of us a. pretty penny The .exhibition of High land industries: T understand you have a stall there. Miss Eelin—— " Miss Eelin (hotly resentful at being ad- ; dressed by her Christian - name: an old fisherman,'a washer-woman, a young servant lass—these and their like were heartily welcome to use the familiarity: but not tliis efflorescent person)-Miss Eelin replied iii a somewhat cold manner that she merely , meant to assist, . ' i ' But your name's in-the paipers 'ha j exclaimed—and his hold and semi-bemused I eyes kept regarding her and examining her with evident "satisfaction. "Homespun cloths: Lady Helmsdale iand Miss Mac- . donald. o\ Kinvaig—l saw it in the papers' j 1 can .tell you there will- be some purchases j made at. that-stall!, fl should think so! j Yes. T stand by my friends. That's just I what's the matter with me. t don't know j Lady Helmsdale personally, r . but-I know I some of-her people : Dick Baillie. used to be j a nailer at polo : well, I'll be at that stall , j there'll be a purchaser at that stall, j you mark my words : 'if all the people in j Glengarva have ito go 'squiring about in | Harris tweeds—— *' '.'. f It will be very good for the people in i Glengarva,"i said Eelin—^ivibb rather proud ; lips- and then he interrupted her -.".,.. "Ah. but you know \Vhat I mean. It's., youi stall. T understand there's sometimes a^little rivalry among y"pu ladies ; oh, yesi; ; natural enough ; and yotti like to see things . going. Miss Eelin,..yojj/ri stall shall not be • neglected. Don't you fear.' You'll be j kept busy with your little pencil and note hook- —" ■-•''■'' " 1 shall not be there.. said Eelin of the j wave-blue eyes—arid those eyes had a ,! strange sort of wounded expression m ] them , perhaps she thought that her mother : should have interfered to protect heT."I; have given Lady Helmsdale all the help j ix^at she .heeds " , J '• Eelin !". .hei mother, protested. "You j promised to '-take the'/ stall until lunch '. time! r .- | Everything is ready.' was the reply. ; n'here is no necessity, for me to be at thf> : exhibition at all. , Lady Helmsdale will have a shopgirl with her,- to register the ; sales. There is no reason, why I should ; go— — ■ •-.'' My goodness gracious i ' Mountmahon cried. - "^hefe will .be iio attraction! Oh, , really', no|»! What do you think 1 want with Harrisi tweeds?. I was determined - to make yfour stall-the success of the show. ; And. of course 1 shall. Of course you must I he there." It's your'duty —to the cottars; and" erctffors and all,the rest, of-them. : ' Ot] course you npist go; and we'll make a : shindy of it, if I have to buy the whole counter. You just put my name down. Put my name down for anything you like': And they let you have afternoon tea, I'm told. . 1?H be there. Lady Helmsdale's shopgirl can run the sales: we'll have tea, and a look at the rank and fashion and beauty of Invernish. Then there's the games—the kilted warriors of the northbagpipes—tartans—strathspreys :of course you are going, Mr» Maedonald?" ' For a moment he turned to the mamma, who answered him: Oh. uo. But Lady Helmsdale has been kind enough'to offer to take Eelin -with "Ah, Lady Helmsdale.?" he said, thoughtfully '. "It'is clear 1 muat make Lady Helmsdale's acquaintance. I must be of that party—if you will allow me, Miss Eelin " '. „ , . . '" Oh. but I'm not going, the girl j answered, hurriedly. " I-I have seen the Highland games often before- ' ' But not as they are to be this y*ar! he insisted. "Oh, really, you must go! You see besides the usual things, there are those gymnastic fellows from Aldershot—sword exercise — lance ' exercise — quarter-staff — vaulting horse—all kinds of things: rather dainty it will be, if there's anything like decent weather. And I'll be of your party ; yes I will; I've only to tell Lady Helmsdale that I used to know her cousin, Dick Baillie, before he got broke to bits and bolted—an awful fool, to make a hash of himself about a married woman. Well, now isn't there something about members tickets—separate entrance—for I must know where to find you " There flashed upon the mind of the girl a dreadful picture: the great enclosure—the terraced benches—the concourse of peopleall her friends from far and near assembled--ahd these not failing to observe that Eelin Maedonald was submitting herself to the insolent attentions of this too notorious peer And yet her mother did not interpose a word. i "Oh, there will be no difficulty,' con- j tmued the confident young man—and he resumed his enchanted scrutiny of her features. '■■ What I want I get. It's a way I have : and it's the only way worth having. You only live once. 'Persistare' is my motto. • Persistare' ?—no, it doesn't sound quite right; but what I mean is to keep on and keep on till you get what you're after. You'll see how I'll chum in with Lady Helmsdale at the Highland Industries. I'll buy the whole stall—dashed if I don't. Women are awfully proud of that sort of thine : biggest sale on record : all cleared out.° And I will be of your party at theGames —I mean, if you will honour me with your .permission, Miss Eelin; of course, I mean that. I'll square it with Lady Helmsjale—don't you fear. I've got a way, you know. I don't like to boast, but I generally get what I want. In reason, of course. I don't cry for the moon. But ' Persistare' is a good motto." At this po.int his Lordship was offered tea, which he declined ; but when he jocularly remarked that a little brandy and soda was j more in thfc nature of the medicine he was j accustomed to take, that refreshment was I provided for him ; and he joyfully resumed : ! " And now about the two ball evenings: i that's the great feature, of course ; all. the ] house parties in from the shooting lodges ; I swellest affair in the North of Scotland, : they tell me. Of course, you'll be taking '-. your' daughter, Mrs Maedonald? No?, Oh, still under the wing of Lady Helmsdale ? Then I perceive it is more than ever impera- ; tive that I should get at once into Lady ■ Helmsdale's goo<} graces. Yes, yes ; I can j mana»e it. Sometimes people don't cotton i to me at first -, I am aware of j that; 1 admit thut-: but very soon j they find I am not such a bad sort. 1 don't pretend to be. but there are worse sons of Adam wandering about this planet than I am. I'll put the blarney over Lady Helmsdale. I'll woolly-lamb her till she won't know where shy. is. And I hope, Miss Heliii, you'll be good to me. You see, I don't know many of the fair goddesses of these parts. . I shall have to rely on you. I'll come early, while your programme i.s as yet a virgin page ; and you'll give me as many dances as you can with decent propriety. - I'm not greedy. I would rather sit out—if there's any convenient place for strolling up and down ;or perhaps a corner in the refreshment room* " But, Lord Mountmahon, are you really aomg to the balls ?" iisked the gentle lady of the house. In truth she was shocked.

f How many weeks was it since this young i man had been following the coffin of his I drowned wife '.' ! "Why, they tell me these two dances are j the great event of the Gathering!" he cried. "And I've never been before. Always too bus} —yes, crawling through wet heather after measly stags, and missing them all over the place. Now 1 want a little enjoyment. ! I like a bit o' fun; but crawling on all fours for miles at a stretch isn't fun at all. Not much. A precious sight worse than the treadmill. And all the whisky in the world won't keep the wet out: wonder it isn't a ; bee-line for Kensal Green. But this is dif- ! ferent now—very different: youth and ; beputy, and a quiet chat in a corner: oh, you'll see if I don't woolly-lamb old mother Helmsdale—l beg your pardon, I do really---1 didn't mean to be disrespectful—l don't know the lady—she may be as fair and young and fresh as a rose in June: anyhow, you may take it that I shall be friends with her before this ancient universe is many liours older. Because I have a way, you know. 1 Yes, I have. I hold on, till I get what I want " - There could be no doubt whatever as to what all this portended;; and the moment the ebullient young man had gone. Eelin turned in a half-frightened, half-piteous kind of way to her mother. "Mother. I'm not going to the balls!—l would rather stay at home with you. And as for the Games, I've seen plenty of Highland Games before. And the IndustriesLady Helmsdale can get some one else to look after the stall: it- is rather insulting when any stranger has the right to come up and speak to you—before all the people. Mother, what does he want ?" she went on —and the dark blue eyes were very near to tears. "W by does he come here—ancl send all things—and wish for our acquaintance? I shouldn't . have thought he was the kind of person you would favour. Mother, I hate him!—! loathe the sight of him. If he comes here again, T*!l shut myself up in my room.: I won't see him He cannot make me see him —if lam in my own room. And T won't sit out any dances with him!—l won't go to the balls!—" Now the gentle Bean-an-Tighearn had ncvet thought of formulating for herself any philosophy of life: but in her anxious forecast about her daughter's happiness, she had ceaselessly inculcated the wisdom of tolerance —the wisdom of taking people and things as they are, not expecting too much, in short-, making the best of the only world which, for the present, we have the opportunity of using. And at this crisis, conscious of Eelin's vague alarm and distress, she begaii to defend the young man. How could any one say that th 3 stories told pf him were true? How could she know that there wereprizefighters at Bridge of Kinvaig? There might haye been at one time or another -.-and local gossip wns a wild-running thing. Surely she must at least credit Lord Mountmahon with generous intentions? Not every one was gifted with a fastidious taste. And so forth. Perhaps she, was a little too earnest. Or it may have been that the girl, high-mettled as' to physical courage as she always was, at the moment was unstrung nervously, and a prey to dim forebodings. She listened almost without protest. But none the less, a blaok terror, indefinable, held possession of her soul; she knew not what was before her, but she was overcome by ah instinctive dread; and she began to have secret thoughts. She ; would riot argue. She wanted to get out. of the house —to be away by herself. And in lime she did find herself free and in the open Lair: her eyes receiving no impression what- : ever from the wide stream, and the hanging ! woods, and the moving and changing- sky. | ' She walked quickly into the town, and [called at the Caledonian Hotel,, and asked !if Mr Allan Maedonald were within. She ; found him seated in the verandah at the back lof the house, overlooking the garden and the i river: and out there among the. brilliant ! flower-pots a young lad was marching up and ! down with the pipes over his shoulder, while ihe valiantly played "1 Got a Kiss of the I King's Hand." -But. the moment he caught i sight oi the visitor he changed his tune. His : braggart stride became a slow and stately step; and the wail of the pipes was "The ! Lament of Maedonald of Kinvaig." And it "I showed how unwrought and distracted the girl was that again the tears should have welled into her eyes. How. many hundreds and thousands of times had she not heard the Kinvaig Lament'!—and in the present m- ; stance-it waa only a sort of compliment and • recc'triition. And indeed there waa no fai- ' tering in her voice when' she went forward ito i?-reet/the tail...old ..tyjnd rfian. who was ['seated iri a" garden chair; and, of course, he could notl see that she was crying. " 1 am glad to find you at home, Mr Maedonald," said she, right cheerfully—when-he held up his hand as a signal that the piping should cease—because I want to beg for youi advice. It's about a girl I know.. lir afraid you'll think her an awful idiot, She's a young girl—about 20 I,should say. Anc nobody has ever asked her in marriage. That's the joke of it. Nobody has askec her; and yet she's frightened; for she thinks she has responsibilities; and she thinks that somebody is going to ask her; and she has responsibilities. Perhaps 1 can't explain very well ; but it's sometning like this. Suppose you imagine a young gir that has had 20 years of the most constaul care and affection—day and night—constant love and devotion and thoughtfulness: well, don't you think she.owes something n return, even if it took the form of a kind ol sacrifice of her own feelings ? And suppose that her mother is the last representative o: an old race; that sh? has valuable family j-elics, for example, that she might wish tc see carried over to some famous, histonca house ; and—and—if the mother expects th< girl to make what is called-a good matcn; and if the mother is so good and gentle anc unselfish that she will hardly suggest H; but the girl knows what her mother is thinking ; and the girl feels herself bound ii honour to do something in repayment fci 20 years of such extraordinary affection: surely she would sacrifice something of hei own feelings—supposing—supposing that ii was a marriage she had no.liking for ? Well Mr Maedonald, after all, you must considei that girl I have been telling you about .£ most silly idiot; for, you see, she hasn't beer asked; and it may be mere vanity on hei part—mere absurd , and ridiculous vanity ; ' and I am not wishing you to sympathise witl ; her in the least bit-. At the same tim< j there are appearances—perhaps she i.s over alarmed—but there are appearances; anc what she is thinking of mostly is what hei mother may expect oi her " . If the blind man could not see, he couh hear; and there was a sound of sobbing; for this Wild Eelin who used to have sucl splendid courage had utterly broken down. "God bless me!" he exclaimed, in con sternation. " What has happened ? Wha is happening V" .. ' „ , , But she had a fine spirit. She pulled her self together. Her handkerchief was no long at her eyes. •'""Well, I only wanted to ask if you eve: heard of such a ridiculous idiot of a girl!' she said—and she allccted to laugh. "I. girl who hasn't been ssked in marriage, am yet is frightened she will be—and goes anc worries her friends about such a vague pos sibility. I am sorry I troubled you. abou: her, Mr Maedonald. Girls take such fan C ies' And won't you tell that.young lad 1< begin nlaying again. The ' Seventy-ninth'! Farewell' is the best of all of them. Thi •Farewell,to Gibraltar' is the best of then The blind man sate silent for a consider able time. Then he said : " Miss Eelin, I hope you wori t conside ime impertinent. But 1 will venture to asl i you a question ; and you are free to leave i ' unanswered. Yes, it sounds impertinent; l> but I would like to ask you if you have ha( | any visitor of late at Glengarva House—. i mean, any.newcomer." ' ,"' t , ! She had wholly pulied herself togethe: iby this time. . ' "Oh, yes," she answered him, blither; enough' "" Lord Mountmahon has honour?< 'us by calling once or twice. He is the shoot ' ing tenant, you know, at Kinvaig—and - dare say the stories they repeat about hi; I having music hall people there, and prize fighters, are exaggerated or inventions al 1 together. But we're not going to tall about him. No, no. 1 want you to tell m i who this young lad is. He will make ni mark He has got the real thrill am ' tremble of the fingers. Mr Maedonald, bi< him play the ' Seventy-ninth s Farewell. ■- "Aye" said the old man, slowly, '" bu !if my" son Somerled was here, that is no ! what young Andrew would be asked V ! T'hiy." I "NO? Whet, StoTiH . !•' He would say l<- bun : _ -Andrew, yo , are playing before Miss Macoonald of Km vaig! Play " The Glens Mmc! : CHAPTER XIX.-A SITUATION OF PERIL. Indeed she was of a high-mettled kind ' She squeezed the last tears out of the sea blue eyes ; she held her head erect; and as in going into the street, she chanced to er

counter a friend of hers she hailed him with a fine air of good-fellowship. He was a drover—a short, thick, red-bearded man — and he had in front of him a lot of terrified sheep, three yelping collies, and two anxious young lads apprehensive of vehicles iiv this narrow thoroughfare. . " How are you, John? " she called to him, " I hope you are well." " Oh, yes, thank you ; and I hope Miss Maedonald herself is ferry well." "I thought rhy name was Eelin—to my friends," she answered him. " But never mind. That's a fine stick you have, John." " It's a good stick, this one," said he—but always with a concerned glance towards the huddling and crowding sheep. "I think I could find you some employment for it," said she. •' Ay?—and would Miss Maedonald say what was her pleasure?" he made answer to her—but all the same he was watching two farm carts that were coming right down through the drove. " Well, I should have imagined," she retorted, proudly, " that after all the years that you and I have known each other it woulcl not be ' Miss Ma-cdonald ' and ' Miss Maedonald'! And I am sorry to have interrupted you. Good-day to you, lain Ruadh!". " Miss Eelin—mv young lady—you're not going away like that!" said the distracted man—and therewith he called in. Gaelic to the two lads, and he shouted to the excited collies, and there was a vast amount of gesticulation, and whistling, and frantic reproach, at the end of which, and in an amazingly short space of time, the nebulous multitude of sheep had been withdrawn from the narrow thoroughfare, and had been collected together in a compact, circular, and quiescent mass, on the open ground that lies between the Invernish Observer, office and the riverside. Wild Eelin laughed in approval. " I never saw you do better, John!—no, not on any hillside in all Glen Shira! " " And what will Miss Eelin' be wishing with me?" said the drover with the redbrown eyes and the shaggy eyebrows. " I want, to tell you a story, John. It's about a number of children—small boys mostly ; and it's about a scoundrel who sells fruit and sweeties in this town ; and he got a consignment of plums that he knew to be rotten —every one of them filled with maggots ; and yet he tempted the children by putting out a placard of a penny a pound ; and you can guess what crying there was among the small people when they discovered they had been cheated." "He was a mean man, that one," observed the drover, reflectively. " And is that all you have to say about it?" she challenged him. "For, don't you see, the law can't punish him.- at least T' suppose it can't: there's no evidence—all the rotten fruit has been thrown away. And yet I think he ought to be punished— law or no law— —" There began t-b dawn ori the mind of Red John some, idea of what this was that Miss Maedonald*,, of Kinvaig, demanded of him. "Aw, Cosh, Miss Eelin, would you like me to give him a weltin'V" he exclaimed. " That's a thick, stick of yours, John," she observed, regarding it. The red - brown eyes began to burn a little. " Where• uz that man? Will he tek tre to him? The sheep can bide here ferry well. And if Miss Eelin is of opeenion that, he .deserves a weltin'—well, we'll see what can be done about that: we can try, whateffer." So the proud - stepping daughter of a Thousand Thanes and her friend the thickset drover went away up the passage by the sWe of the Observer office, and crossed over Church street, and followed down another lane of a slummy character ; and not a word did either of them utter, for Red John was clearly nursing. his wrath. Then they . came to a dingy little shop in the window •of which were displayed shabby fruit and cheap confections; and they found behind the counter an unshaven, pallid-faced person, who looked rather frightened when be saw them enter. He hacl reason fot his alarm. ■ ■ I " Was you the man," said John, with his j red-brown eyes burning deep, " that was i selling the rotten fruit to the weans?" ! Tbe man glanced at the drover's stick, ; and knew what was coming"; and instantly :he made a dash for the small bapk parlour. He did get.inside the door ; but he had ho time to turn the lock, for the burly drover 1 was agile enough ; and the next moment ; both men had disappeared. At first there was only a scuwirig and scrimmage ; but presently 'came thud !—and "thud; \-~- until ! Eelin grew frightened. Was a murder ' being perpetrated there? j The .door was opened, and the unshaven I wretch was dragged out by the scruff of the | neck. "'■■ ■' '-,'',' " You will ap.olpchise to my young lady!" j said John. ; "No, no," said Eelin, interfering with j that air of quet authority she could assume on occasion. " Let me speak to him." She turned tb the craven hound at the end of the counter." "You richly deserve what you got," said she, "but if you wish to take proceedings I will bear the brunt of them. I ■ alone am responsible. My name is Eelin . Maedonald ;. and I live at Glengarva House—just, outside the town " " By Kott, there will be no proceedings!" said John, vehemently, with his red eyes glowering at the fear-stricken fruiterer. "If there's any proceedings, then I will come back and give him another weltin— and mebbe a better weltin' than that one " "At least,"-' said the man, panting and shaking, and yet anxious not to lose an opportunity;' "at least—there will be— compensation-^—" " Yes," Miss Eelin replied, promptly, " there will be compensation—for those children whose money you stole: as far as I can find them out each one shall have back his or her penny. But as for you, you' will get no compensation—from me. Good-day! " Sc she and Red John left the shop, and returned along the lane, and then they ■ parted—he hurrying off to his sheep, and she going on her way triumphant, for jus- -, tice had been done in one small corner of •the earth, and certain tiny friends of hers i had been well, avenged. She walked quickly, 1 having much tti do. First .she called at the Highland Home' Industries, to see if there were any more parcels for Lady : Helmsdale's stall that might want pricing ■ and ticketing. Then she looked in on Mx j.Edel, and told him that an elderly gentlej man, an acquaintance of hers, was staying lat the Caledonian Hotel, who was very - much interested with everything connected ; with the Clan Donald ; and if he, Mr Edel, I came across any old pamphlets relating . thereto, he was in nowise to part with them | until she had inspected them, for she might ; wish to make a present of them. Thn she i went into""one shop after another, to order i things for the house.- Next she visited Mrs _ Fordyce the grocer, and purchased consider- ' able stores of tea and' sugar (for she was ! rich now: no longeT had she to wear the j beggar's badge of Huntly Parish: Somerj led Maedonald had emancipated her from j that extreme need) ; and these she herself ! carried along to old Granny Sinclair, as an i excuse for setting the room to rights and i getting some fresh air in by an opened winI dow. These varied" and busy employments | may for the moment have banished certain i fancies from her brain ; at all events old I Mother Sinclair declared she had never seen ' Miss Eelin look so well and bonny, and never seen her in such high spirits either, i so gay and wayward ancl domineering was i she. And again, when she set off for home —throueh the golden evening, with the/tall , elms shivering down silver-grey shadows on j the smooth current of the river—she was j making a brave show of herself, to herself. ; She walked with a buoyant air and a swing- ■ ing stride.- She persuaded herself that there was nothing else ringing through her empty head but the blithe lines : O say, will you marry me, Neliy Munro? , O say, will you marry me, Nelly Munro? • Fcr guidsake, for ony sake, dinna say no, Or else ye may bury me, Nelly Munro! She watched a black cat —about as black as her own Beelzebub—creeping stealthily after a robin; and she flung a stone at it; strange to say (but she had alquired some boyish accomplishments) the stone did fall near enough the animal to interrupt its stalk. She found two small urchins sending a dog into the river ; and she stopped to remonstrate with them ; she pointed out I that this was a salmon stream, and that tc ' have a spaniel splashing about in the pools was not the best way of encouraging the fish to remain tliere ; then, observing that ; her monitions had considerably depressed : the two culprits, she gave them each a ! penny, and told them to go away into the ■- town and buy sweets. "But what sweets will you buy?" said • she, with due regard to their welfare. . The one shock-headed brat looked at the ! other, and at?'length mustered up courage ' to, say :

"Ay, but what kind o. droaps?''' she demanded again. " Acid droaps." | " That'll do," she said. " That'll do. \ Off you go ; and leave the pools alone." Then she'came upon old Fergus, who was out in the water, and throwing a beautiful line wifch the Spey cast. " That's a fine line, Fergus! " she called to him. " No. better than- you can do yourself, Miss Eelin," he answered her. "Ob, get away with you! But I don't see you catching any fish ! " j " There's no luck."' 1 " There's no salmon 1 " " Ay, maybe that's the way of it," said Fergus-; and again fche long line came in with a slow side sweep, then there vvas a uiver at the top of the rod and a foward and upward stroke, and again fche almost invisible thread flew away out, while only a practised eye could have told where the fly touched the water. , She watched him for a minute or two, but nothing rose; so she resumed ehr route ; and this one or that who knew her, and chanced to meet her— exchanging a smile and a passing word— they also thought they had never seen Miss Eelin look so handsome, and merry, and high-spirited. She seemed to go " singing on her way"—wth all the audacious carelessness and happy vitality of youth. But now a singular thing occurred. When she entered the gate, and went a little way un the carriage drive, sh could see through the thick belt of laurel and holly that her mother was seated on! a bench fronting the tennis lawn, engaged in some kind of work ; and for the first time in her life she paused and hesitated before going round to report herself; nay, after a brief second of shame and self-reproacr, and with burning face and bowed'head, she guiltily stole-by unobserved and got into the house and sought the safety of her own room "Vliab, then, was this "that had come betw - -nother and daughter—leaving the latter a prey to hidden thoughts? Why should she not have gone straight to fche bench beside the tennis lawn, and said frankly, "Mother, what do you mean by so earnestly defending that young man? What do you mean v it? "What is it you expect of me? What are your own wishes and hopes?" But well she knew that fchat would have been of little avail. For whatever dim desires and projects might have been in the mind of the Bean-an-Tighearn, as the last representative of an ancient family, nob one word would she utter that might in any wav compromise her daughter's happiness, elm knew that, well enough. Her mother would nofc speak. It was .for to guessthough this attack of nervous foreboding hacl not left her judgment very clear. ' For indeed all tbat fine bravado v/ith which she had sought to impose on herself as she walked home was a thing of naught. All the time, deep down in her mind, she was haunted by certain omnious sentences. 'I generally get what I want': the phrase by itself is meaningless enough ; not so the; dance .- by . wbich ifc was . accompanied. '"Persistare" is my motto'; another idle phrase—but the significance of it, as he uttered ifc, wns unmistakable. And then her mother had deserted her ; or rather hacl she nob ranged herself on the other side, though her desires and expectations were as yet dumb? And what was demanded of the girl-descendant' of the "Rex Insularum?^'; Afc the presenb moment she could define nothing accurately: she only knew that she was possessed by a vague, instinctive' dread, and fchat the fufcure seemed full of looming terrors. . And then she said to herself, Oh, this will never do! This will never do ab all!" and she deliberately went to her writing table; and sate down, and opened her portfolio, and after a minute or two of thinking proceeded to continue a little paper she had begun for bhe Invernish Observer. Ifc was entitled " Two Mites in a Cheese " ; and it took the form of a dialogue between these personages, who with great difficulty had climbed to the summit of an eminence almost as big as 'a pin's head. One of them, it appeared, had invented a most ingenious instrument called the phantasmoscope, which was capable of determining the composition of the various substances in the world around him, each of these substances, when volatilised, having its phantasm or arrangement of lines of various breadth; a^d this mite the- first went on to argue that when he applied his marvellous instrument tq othor worlds, and obtained identical scrolls, it was a fair assumption _ that the same substances, iii equivalent Conditions, existed there as well. 'Unfortunately mite the .second-appeared tpbfi.of a 'somewhat sceptical; turn,..-.- He demurred to the assumption. Then mite the first grew warm. He said that any mite that was <i mite must perceive the clearness of the reasoning. Mite the second said there was. no reasoning.; that the. phantasmo-. scope proved nothing; that to assume that the conditions were similar in' the other worlds, and to assume that these thick and thin lines meant the same thing in all circumstances, was an outrageous begging, of the question. At this point (for their language was growing emphatic) Wild Eelin began to giggle; and all her troubles• were for tlie moment forgotten. It was the scientific mite who had most completely lost his temper; and finally, when'the discussion was like to have culminated in blows, he declared that he would.. contend no longer; that ifc was useless; that the mite had not the brain of a mite, bufc bhe brain of a misbegobten .jackass, who could nob perceive this greab truth; and that he, mite the first, had triumphantly proved, had proved to demonstration, that the whole of the created universe consisted of but one element,' and that that element was . "What, then?" snarled mite the second. " Why, Stilton, of course— you mitunculus!" And so the paper ended. It was a harmless bit of banter: not even the most sensitive among the scientifies—if any such were likely to come across a copy of the Invernish Observer — could have been wounded by it. She folded up the-MS., and put it into an envelope, ancl addressed it to Mr Grieve ; and then she began hurriedly to dress for dinner, which was early this evening, because she and her mother were there after going to the theatre. And she understood that Archie Gilchrist was to be present; and she had made up her mind that, if they chanced to meet, she would be most kind and gracious towards him; for he at least was modest, and intelligent, and respectful—not bold-eyed and insolent. Curiously enough, and almost unknown to herself, she was absently wondering whether, under that shy apprehensiveness of his, there was a sufficiency of strong and manly character: he seemed to have an indefinable and anxious craving for alliance and shelter and protection—now that her mother appeared to her to have become in some strange way silent and reticent and apart. (To be continued.)