The Luck OF THE House

Southern Cross, Volume 5, Issue 38, 25 December 1897, Page 1

The Luck OF THE House

[COPYRIGHT,]

CHAPTER I,

Ox Deck

Clear and bright, with the crystalline clearness ' and brightness of atmosphere peculiar to Scotland, the brilliant summer day drew softly to a close. There was no cloud in the solemn blue depths overhead, but around the sinking sun a few fleecy ■ masses had been turned to crimson and gold, and were reflected in gleaming light and glancing blood-red hues ■from the bosom of the majestic river, as it widened between receding banks towards the Northern Sea. A London steamer, making its way up the channel to a port on the Forfarshire coast, whither it was bound, seemed to be plunging into a mystical land of glory as it turned its head towards the burning West. So it seemed, at least, to a girl who was standing on the deck with her eyes fixed on the shore which was ■half lost in a golden haze. ‘We seem to have come to a city of gold,’ she said, smiling to a gentleman who stood at her side. ‘ Some people have found it so,’ he .answered, rather dryly. ‘A good many fortunes have been lost and won in the good old town of Dundee.’ She moved a little, as if she did mot quite like his tone. ‘ 1 did not mean that,’ she said, in a lowered voice. ‘I know you did not,’ said,John Hannington, with a swift look at the ;-sweet, girlish face to which he was almost sure he had lost his heart during the last two days. ‘ I know you had some meaning that an unlucky brute like myself is certain to misunderstand. Something too beautiful and transcendental for my poor -ears.’ ‘ Oh, no, no,’ said the girl, deprecatingly. She coloured a little at his words. ‘My thought was a very foolish one.’ ‘ Will you not tell me what it was ?’ said Hannington, drawing a little nearer. *Do tell me.’ She had a very charming face, he thought. She looked half-frightened -at his request, and rhen a brave, modest expression came into her beautiful blue eyes. ‘lt is not worth making a secret of,’ she said. ‘I only thought— when I saw the golden light making those hills and buildings look so dream-like and unsubstantial -—of Buuyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress,

By Adeline Sergeant, Author of “ The Story of a Penitent Soul,” “ A Life Sentence,” ; “Sir Anthony's Secret,” “ Under False Pretences,” “ Jacobi’s Wife,” “ Caspar Brooke’s Laughter,” “Marjory’s Mistake,” “A Rogue’s Daughter,” “Esther Denison,” “No Saint,” etc., etc., etc.

and the Celestial City that the pilgrims saw from afar.’ In the silent evening air, speech sometimes travels further than we know. The girl was quite conscious that her clear, fine utterance had reached the ear of one other person besides her immediate auditor. A middle-aged man with a grave keen face, who had been leaning over the bulwarks, with his eyes fixed abstractedly on the water, and his bead turned away from the golden glory of the West, was struck by her words. He changed his position a little, so that he could seethe girl’s fair profile, studied it for a moment or two with a look of kindly interest, then rose up and walked away. But as he passed the couple, he heard John Hannington’s reply. An amused laugh came first. Then a half apology, ‘ I laugh from surprise, not from amusement, Miss Raeburn. The imagination required to convert smoky whiskey-loving, jute - manufacturing Dundee, into a Celestial City is prodigious Bunyan himself could not have possessed more.’ ‘ Ah, you do not understand,’ said the girl, smiling now and shaking her head. ‘ I had forgotten Dundee altogether. But you must not abuse it ; because it is going to be ray home.’ The gentleman who had passed them was out of hearing by this time. ‘Do you know who that is ?’ said Hannington, looking after him with interest. ‘ Moncrieff of Torresmuir ; one of the wealthiest men in Scotland. Some people say, one of the most unfortunate’ But I’m not among the number.’

‘ Why ?’ ‘ Why unfortunate ? Or why I am not among the people who call him so ? Well, I’ll answer both questions, Miss Raeburn. In the meantime won’t you sit down ?’ He grasped a small deck chair by the back-rail, and gently pushed it towards her. ‘ You can look at the sky while you sit just as well as if you were standing, you know,’ he said, in the broad, easy-going way which made John Hannington such a favourite with his acquaintances, and the girl accepted the seat with a little nod of thanks and a pleasant smile. ‘ As to Moncrieff—he lost his wife three or four years ago under specially sad circumstances yshe was thrown out of the pony cart which he was driving

nnd killed before his eyes. Then, his only son is weakly—in fact, something of an invalid. He has a young daughter, I believe, bat no other child.’ ‘ How very sad !’said Miss Raeburn. Her gentle eyes were full of sympathy. ‘His wife’s death must have been a great loss to him.’ ‘ Conventionally, yes,’ answered Mr Hannington, fingering his black moustache, with a smile. He found Miss Raeburn’s simplicity adorable, and thanked Fate for sending him on board the steamer from London to Dundee, where he had found her in the charge of a lady with whom he was acquainted. ‘ln real life, you know, the death of a wife T does not always leave a man inconsolable. It is rumoured that Mr and Mrs Moncrieff did not get on very well.’ ‘ Oh, then, he is even more unfortunate than I thought,’ said the-young girl, quickly. ‘ You think lam very hard-hearted because I do not call him so ? I understand. To a sweet-natured, loving woman, it must seem strange —the callous way in which we men of the world look at things !’ cried John Hannington, with apparent impetuosity. He was really very much on his guard. ‘ To a worldlyminded man like myself, Miss Raeburn, it does not seem that Mr Moncrieff is anything but a lucky man. He has a fine estate ; he has a splendid income and a magnificent house ; he has —or may have—all the official county distinctions which he wants ; no career is closed to him ; and, although he has' lost bis first wife, whom rumour says he did not love, he is free and able to marry again, and to marry whom he pleases — which many men are not.’ A harsh note was audible in his voice. The girl kept silence. She was still gazing towards the west, where the light was growing faded and dull. It seemed to her, suddenly, that, if she listened long to Mr Hannington’s worldly wisdom, life also would fade in brightness as surely as that Western sky. But Hannington knew what he was doing ; he had an effect to produce. ‘ What am I saying he broke out, with an accent of sudden self-reproach. ‘ Inflicting my hard, worldly maxims upon you, who are so far above me — so far removed from evil ’ ‘ Oh, please, Mr Hannington, do not talk in that way !’ said the girl, with drooping head and flushing cheeks. And yet —Stella Raeburn would not have been a girl of nineteen if flattery had seemed quite distasteful. Mr Hannington knew that well enough. ‘ I must tell you—before we separate ’ —he said, in agitated tones, ‘ that since I knew you I have felt a different influence. I have felt as though a nobler, higher life were possible; I have seen that your standard was higher than mine, and have wished—wished bitterly, and I fear vainly—that I could attain to it I ’ He stopped short, as if emotion

impeded his utterance; and Stella, attempted a few words of deprecation. ‘ I am not worth such praise; I cart only wish that my own standard were higher,’ she murmured. ‘ Ah, don’t remove yourself further from me than you are now,’ he pleaded ardently. ‘ Be still yourself —the star of my dark night—the guiding-star, that points without its own knowledge, without its own volition, to. the birthplace of all thatis most sacred, most holy in the world.’ She shrank a little. In her peaceful maidenliness it seemed to her as if her reference to the Star of Bethlehem were half profane. He felt the momentary recoil. ‘Forgive me if I say too ranch. Your very name suggests it. Stella your friends call you, do they not ? I never hear it without rememberingall sorts of poetic fancies, lines that poets have written, and fables that have been told about the stars. Will you forgive me ?’ ‘ So long as I have only poetic fancies to forgive—it is not much ! * said Stella, lightly. But she rose from her seat as she spoke, and began to move about the deck, where several other persons were sitting or standing. Hanningron knew that he had gone far enough. The girl was sensitive* and perhaps a little proud, in spite of all her gentleness. He hovered hear her, as she walked, but he did not speak again till she addressed him. He knew that silence is sometimes as effective as speech. Meanwhile, Alan Moncrieff of Torresmuir, the tall and statelylooking man of whom Hanuington had spoken, went straight to the captain of the vessel with a question. ‘ Who is that young lady with fair hair who sits next but one to you at the table, captain ?’ he asked carelessly. The captain was busy, arid replied with curtness. ‘ Oh, you mean Miss Raeburn, daughter of Matthew Raeburn, of Dundee Raeburn and Miller—jute.’ ‘ Jute, of course,’ said Mr Moncrieff dryly. He recollected the names of Raeburn and Miller. They had one of the largest jute mills in the town, and were reputed to be wealthy men. What a delicate flower-like face Miss Raeburn had ! He had noticed, it several times since he came on board, but had not hitherto thought of asking anyone its owner’s name. A. sweet, delicate face; but strong, too, with a kind of squareness about the white chin, and considerable breadth of forehead. The pretty lips, moreover, closed firmljq and the beautiful eyes were serious rather than gay. There was character as well as beauty in Stella Raeburn’s face. ‘I suppose,’ said Moncrieff to himself, ‘ that she will live and die, be married and buried, in Dundee.’ He himself had a great dislike to the great manufacturing town, a dislike extending possibly, to the manufacturer's. ‘With that sweet face, she deserves a better fate than one of

uninterrupted, common place, middleclass prosperity. Yet-—what safer and happier fate could I wish for her, poor girl!’ He had no premonition that he himself was destined' to be One of the determining factors in Stella Raeburn’s fate. There seemed at present no point at which her life was likely to touch his own. He was to stay a night only in Dundee; he had come thither on business, and it might be months before he came again. He and his family mixed little in society, save of the exclusively aristocratic kind. He was not at all likely to encounter the Raeburns amongst his friends, and his house was nearly two hours’ journey from Dundee. He thought of her as one might think of a lovely picture hanging on the wall of a gallery, or over the altar in a foreign church : with admiration, with delight, but with no wish to possess it, and no especial desire to analyse the charm that it held for all-comers as well as for himself. He forgot her in five minutes. Why should he think of a manufacturer’s daughter, whom he had seen but never spoken to, on board a steamer bound for Dundee ? CHAPTER 11. Thoenbank. The golden glow was still resplendent in the West, but the light of day was gradually fading, and here and there lamps twinkled on the rising banks of the river. ‘We shall land very soon,’ said Stella to her companion as, they walked up and down the deck, stopping now and then to look at the men piling cargo and luggage in readiness for disembarkation, or at the vessels that passed them by. ‘Very soon,’ said Hannington. ‘Don’t you | think the town is picturesque, approached in this way ? People say it is like Naples, you know; the houses clustering down to the water’s edge, and the conical hill benind, to represent Vesuvius.’ Stella laughed. ‘ Has Naples those tall factory chimneys ?’ she asked. ‘ Ah, the factory chimneys ! After all they are important parts of the landscape <; they give out the smoke that hangs in a haze over the town like the cloud from Vesuvius itself. Miss Raeburn, said-John Hannington, in a suddenly different tone, ‘ may I ask what your arrangements are ? Do you expect anybody to meet you ?’ ‘ Oh, yes, 1 expect my father,’ said the girl, with a thrill of happy feeling in her voice. ‘He is sure to come. I have not seen him for four years.’ ‘ You have been abroad, I think you said yesterda3 r .’

‘ I have been to school in Brussels. In the holidays I travelled about with Madame Beauvais and the other girls. We went to Switzerland one summer, to Germany another, and to Paris. Then in winter, to Italy— Florence, Venice, and Rome. Oh,’ —with a pretty smile— ‘ I have seen a great deal of the world.’ Hannington smiled too. But he was not going to pursue the subject of her travels.

‘ And now you are to settle down in Dundee. Your father’s house is at the West End of the town, I believe ? You will be out of the smoke there.’

‘ Yes, I suppose so. I have not seen it. Papa removed to Thornbank when I was away. We had a dear, gloomy old house in the Ebthergate before.’ ‘ And you will be mistress and ■Queen of Thornbank, I suppose ?’ said Mr Hannington pensively. Stella blushed a little. ‘My aunt lives there. I think she is the queen of the house. Dear Aunt Jacky ! I have not sen her, either, since I was fifteen.’

‘You will allow me perhaps,’ said her companion, in a very formal tone, * to call and inquire bow you have borne the fatigue of your long journey from Brussels, and to make acquaintance with—Miss Raeburn ?’

‘Miss Raeburn? Miss Jacquetta Raeburn !’ said Stella merrily. ‘ You must remembeV. that she is not Miss Raeburn ; she is Miss Jacquetta : she is very particular about the title. ' I

| am sure she will be exceedingly I pleased to see,yen.’ ‘ And you,’ said Hannington, dropping his voice almost to a whisper ‘ will you be pleased to see me, too, Stella?’ She started and moved a step or two away from him. They had been standing still for the last few minutes. The man followed her closely. He was not going to let her escape. ‘ Forgive me if I have gone too far,’ he said, ‘ But will you not give me one word of comfort ? Will you not say that you will be glad to see me too ?’ There was so much noise about them, so much talking, so much shouting of orders, dragging ot chains, bumping of bales and boxes, creaking of machinery, that he had to approach her very closely to bear the faintly murmured ‘ Yes ’ that fell from Stella’s lips. Her slim, ungloved hand hung at her side. It was easy in the gathering twilight to take it unobserved in his own, and to hold it for a minute or two in a very tender clasp. To Stella’s simple soul, the action seemed like a ceremony of betrothal. Was she too quickly won ? She had known John Hannington for less than six and thirty hours. She had come onboard the Britannia with her friend, Mis Muir, on Wednesday morning at 10 o’clock, and it was now Thursday night. Mr Hannington and Mrs Muir were old acquaintances, it appeared, and he had at once attached himself to them —or perhaps it should be said that Mrs Muir had at once retained him for her service. Every since that Wednesday morning he had been in their company at every possible moment. And the days at sea are very long ! Two whole mornings, afternoons, evenings, had John Hannington sat at Stella Raeburn’s side, walked with heron deck, whispered soft sentences into her ear under the shade of the same great white umbrella; in fact, as Mrs Mail noted with delight, he bad deliberately laid himself out to attract the sweet-faced, serious-eyed Estelle (or Stella, as her friends usually called her), and apparently he had succeeded, Stella did not know the meaning of the word flirtation. Her refinement, her thoughtfulness, lifted her out of the region where flirtation or foolishness exists. She did not even know that Mr Hannington was paying her more attention than was usual on so short an acquaintance. Others watched and wondered and commented, but Stella was ignorant. She only thought, vaguely, that Mr' Hannington was ‘ very kind,’ and hoped he would call at Thornbank before he left Dundee. Of course Mr Hannington did not live at Dundee. A commercial, shipbuilding, jute-weaving town had no attraction for him as a place of residence. He was a London man, a man about town, a man with a small private fortune (recently impaired by gaming losses}, and a reputation that was not quite flawless. He was not a ‘ bad man,’ in the ordinary sense of the word. He was by no means a villain. But be was selfish, callous, worldly, as be had called himself (and as Stella did not believe him) ; he was still capable, at need, of doing a generous thing, but he had a keen eye for the maio chance. He was clever, and, in some people’s opinion, handsome, in a dark, hard style, which other people particularly disliked ; but by young men and young women, who are not generally keen physiognomists, be was admired. Stella Raeburn admired him very much, though he shocked her now and then by his flippant manner of speech. He had friends at a erreat house in the neighbourhood of Dundee ; Lord Bsquhart’s second son, Donald Vereker, was his particular ‘ pal,’ as he explained to Miss Raeburn, and he had been invited to spend a week or two at the Towers for some shooting. The Raeburns were naturally not in the Towers ‘ set,’ but Hannington was determined to pursue his acquaintance with the manufacturer’s daughter, Stella Raeburn would have money,

and Hannington considered himself exceedingly poor. So he held her hand, and she stood silent, with downcast eyes, not drawing her fingers away. Hannington felt them quiver in his hand like a soft, live bird. At this movement he himself had a moment of tender feeling; it was not very lasting, but while it lasted it was real. He thought to himself that she was a dear little girl, and that he should be very fond of her. He rejected the imputation cast on him by his conscience of being a fortune-hunter, with disdain. Ho! he was in love with Stella.

Presently the steamer lay alongside the wharf, and through the gathering darkness and the flickering, changing lights, Stella watched anxiously for the coming of her father. Mr Hannington watched too, fingering his black moustache, and musing on the dowries and fortunes made in jute. He wanted to see Mr Raeburn before committing himself further. Stella’s friend and chaperon, Mrs Muir, came up from the saloon with many exclamations of relief at the conclusion of her voyage. She was the ■ wife of a clergyman in Dundee, and an Englishwoman,

‘ Of coarse the weather has been lovely, and the boat is very comfortable,’ she said, ‘ but you can’t settle down to anythin? in two days, and there seems so little to do. Confess, now, Stella darling, haven’t you found it a tiny bit dull ?’ Stella blushed beautifully, as she answered with a sincerity that John Hannington thought very sweet, that she had not been at all dull—not in the very least. ‘ Well, I’m very glad of it,’ said Mrs Muir, glancing at Mr Hannington, ‘ for I am sure I have not seen much of you : I never feel well enough at sea to walk about and enjoy myself like other people. I came this way, you know,’ —sinking her voice a little because its cheaper. Stella, there’s your dear papa. Don’t you see his head in the crowd over there by the gangway ?’

Stella did see, and made an impulsive movement forward, which had to be restrained by the talkative Mrs Muir.

‘My dear child, you had better stay where you are. He can find you more easily ; he is making his way towards us.’ And, as she spoke, a tall man, with shoulders slightly bent, and fringe of white hair abcut his face, made his way towards the little group. Stella could be kept back no longer ; she sped to her father like an arrow from a bow He face seemed transfigured by happiness.

‘What a sweet girl she is!’ Mrs Muir exclaimed. Then she drew a long breath. ‘ Ah, he has kissed her. lam glad of that. I was half afraid that he wouldn’t!’,

‘ Not kiss his daughter ?’ said Mr Hannington, with an uncomprehending accent. Mrs Muir nodded at him. ‘ The Scotch are much more reserved in public than the English, Mr Hannington ; and poor dear Stella has lived four years abroad, among people who are more demonstrative than the English. I was half afraid that her father would seem cold to her, although I know that he loves her dearly.’ ‘He ought to love her,’ said Hannington, with emphasis.

‘ Mrs Muir favoured him with a keen look. ‘ You think so too, do you ?’ she said. * I quite agree with you ; but we are impulsive people— English, you know.’ ‘ I am not an impulsive person.’ ‘ Well, perhaps not. And if you are not you m\y like to hear that Miss Stella is not likely to be absolutely portionless by and by. She will bring a very handsome ‘ tocher,’ as my husband would say, to the man she marries.’

iJanningtoa made no reply. If he had been ignorant of the fact stated, he might have felt grateful to Mrs Muir for her information ; but as he knew it already, he was a little inclined to resent what be called her ‘ fussy interference.’ He waited silently until Stella and her father

approached them. Mr Raeburn spoke to Mrs Muir, thanking her for her care of his daughter, and then Mr Hannington’s introduction took place. The manufacturer gave the young man a pleasant greeting, and stood for a tew minutes on deck talking to him, while Stella, with her hand on her father’s arm, and a slight unconscious smile on her sweet face, listened to the conversation, and shyly thought that she had never seen anyone so handsome and dis-tinguished-looking as Mr John flannington.

The young man was not disagreeably impressed by Mr Raeburn’s manner. It was a little stiff and old-fashioned, but quite in keeping with his highly respectable appearance. The father’s eyes were like his daughter’s, though with more anxiety and less gentleness in their expression. The lines of his pale face were rather deeply traced ; his high wrinkled forehead and hollow cheeks showed signs of ill-health as well as care and thought. He looked lixe a man who bad great responsibilities on his shoulders, and whose life was never free from trouble of one sort or another. He spoke in dry gentle tones, hesitating now and then for a word with a slight Scotch accent, which, even Mr Hannington, in his Londonbred fastidiousness, found characteristic and picturesque. ‘We shall be glad to see you, sir, if you should find your way to Thornbank,’ Mr Raeburn said courteously to the young man. 1 Any friend of my daughter’s—or of Mrs Muir’s either—will aye be welcome. You’ll come and take your dinner with us one day, maybe, if you are to stay long in Dundee, and have the time to spare.’ ‘ I shall be delighted to come.* Hannington answered quickly. * Any day that suits you, sir—or that Miss Raeburn likes to fix. You will allow me the pleasure of calling to-morrow —to inquire after Miss Raeburn-—’and then, perhaps— ’ ‘ Any day,’ said Mr Raeburn, ‘ just any time you please, you will bo welcome.’ He gave a stiff little nod as if to show that the conversation was at an end. ‘We must be moving off, I should think, Stella, my dear. The carriage is here to meet us, and your aunt has got a fine tea ready for you at the other end.’ Stella, with her hand resting on her father’s arm, gave a gentle little smile to Hannington. There was something of regret mingling with the joy of her return home. Was she sorry to part with him already? Mrs Muir’s leave-taking was of an effusive kind.

‘ Goodbye, sweet Star of Hope,’ she said, as she kissed Stella. ‘ I shall soon come to see if you are still shining at Thornbank as you have shone on board. She has been the centre of attraction, Mr Raeburn, and I am sure we are all sorry to part from her. ‘ I’m obliged to you for your kindness,’ said Mr Raeburn, a little more stiffly than usual. ‘ Good night to you, Mrs Muir. Come, Stella, say good-bye to your friends.’

Stella took her hand from his arm and gave it first to Mrs Muir, and then to Mr Hannington. He held it in his own for a moment longer than is usual under such circumstances, and then, as her father’s back was turned, and the lights around them were but dim, he bowed his head over it and raieed it to his lips.

Stella drew it away, colouring’ violently ; and as she did so her eyes met those of a gentleman who must have been a spectator of the scene It was ‘ Moncrieff of Torresmuir,’ as Hannington had named him to her; and the keen, cold face was set in lines of a gravity that was almost stern. Stella felt as if he had condemned her for this act of John Hannington’s, and she was conscious of an emotion of shame and distress, quickly succeeded by something very like resentment. What right had this stranger to look at her with those critical eyes ? Stella’s nature was very gentle, but she was not without her share of pride, which was a little wounded by his gaze.

It was not until afterwards that she was fully aware of the mingled pain and pleasure which the touch of Hanmngton’s lips on her little ungloved hand had brought to her. Meanwhile her flush and gesture of avoidance convinced Hannington that he had offended her, and when he came to the carriage door and handed her to her seat, he put on a look of the deepest concern and contrition, ■with which upon bis face be said goodby. Stella sank back on the soft cushions of the carriage when he had gone, with the feeling that she was in a new and exciting world. For a moment she forgot even her father. ‘ Ton’s a rather officious young fellow, I’m thinking,’ said Mr Raeburn, dryly. His daughter sat up, and passed her band over her eyes. ‘ He has been very kind to me, papa, she said, softly. ‘Very kind ? Well to hear it. Who is he F A friend of Mrs Muir’s ?’ ‘Yes, papa. He is going to Esquhart Towers to night, to stay at the Earl’s. He is a great friend of Mr Yereker’s.’ ‘Ho credit to him,’said Mr Raeburn. ‘Everyone knows that Donald Yereker will take up with the first-comer, whoever he may bo, Do you know anything more of him ?’ ‘Only that he is a friend of Mrs Muir’s.’ —well. I daresay we shall see no more of him. When he gets among his fine friends at the Towers, he won’t think of us again.’ Stella was silent; but a little smile crept to the corners of her mouth. What did Mr Hannington care for his fine friends, she said to herself, in comparison with her! He would certainly come—certainly : he had said so; and then her father would see how mistaken he had been in bis estimate of this young man who was not as other young men. But she said nothing, and Mr Raeburn presently began to ask her short, dry questions about her journey and her life aboard, and this sort of conversation lasted until the carriage swept round the curve of a gravelled drive which led from the road to the door of Mr Raeburn’s residence — Thornbank. Stella had not hoard much of the house, for neither her father nor her aunt was a good letter-writer; but she had gathered from their remarks that it was * a fine big place,’ and that it had been ‘ newly furnished,’ Still, she was hardly prepared for the solid magnificence of the mansion into which her father now conducted her. The broad stone steps, the spacious hall lined with marble figures and exotic plants, the big pictures and flaming chandeliers of the room in which her aunt met her, struck her with astonishment, but not altogether with admiration. She had seen too much of really good art and fine architecture in her travels to be anyth! ng but critical; and, in spite of her wish to like her father’s house, she felt oppressed by the blaze of light and the glaring colours of the furniture. It seemed incongruous, too, to see her aunt’s old-fashioned little figure hurrying towards her between velvet hangings and ormolu stands and all the strange new paraphernalia of wealth. Only when Miss Jacky had taken thejslim young figure in her arms, and was kissing the girl’s fresh cheek with a sort of rapturous delight, did Stella feel that she was really at home, in spite of the cold and bewildering splendour of the house. Miss Jacquetta Raeburn was a very little woman. Her head did not reach to Stella’s shoulder, as Stella was rather surprised to find for the girl had grown during her four years’ absence from borne —but what she lacked in stature she made up for in dignity of a vivacious and energetic kind. She was by no means an insignificant-looking person, for all her shortness of figure. She was dressed in a black brocade of very ancient make, but stiff and richlooking. O ver it, however, she had tied a blue bib and apron, with, rather

! an odd effect. On her head was perched a very high cap, adorned with many spikes of green grass, upright feathers, artificial flowers and iridescent beads, such an erection as had never been seen on the head of mortal woman before, and was the pride of Mrs Jacquetta’s heart. ‘ Eh, my bonny woman !’ she cried 1 with a little shriek of delight, ‘ and it’s you that are back again, after all this weary while. And me and your have just been wearying for a sight of you! And you must be quite done out with your journey, I should think, and will want your tea sadly !’ ‘No, Aunt Jacky, I don’t know that I do,’ said Stella, laughing a little, and stooping to kiss the delicate, wrinkled face. ‘ But when I sit down I daresay I shall find an appetite.’ ‘ I’m sure I hope so, my dear. I’ve been trying all day to mind what you used to’ like, and I Think you’ll find something to your taste. Now come away upstairs and lay by your bonnet What a deal there is to show you and tell you about, to be sure ! Did you ever see. such a fine house as this, Stella ? And your own little room — well, just come away with me, and I’ll show you what your papa’s done for you.’ She led the girl hurriedly across the hall and up the broad, wellcarpeted, illuminated staircase, refusing the attentions of one or two of the servants who stepped forward to offer assistance on the way. ‘ Not now, John Just go downstairs again, Mary; I will show the young mistress to her own chamber, myself, if you please. You’d never believe the thought your papa has taken to have everything just so before you came home, my dear. But it’s not me that would deny him his way, as you know, and every one in the house is as glad to see you as hitnself. And now, look here.’ Miss Jacky had preceded Stella for the last few minutes, and now threw open the door of a room, in which she evidently took great pride. And indeed it was a charming little nest. White and pink were the colours that predominated ; the mirrors were framed in silver, the toilet requisites were in ivory and silver; the silken bed-quilt and curtains were edged with delicate lace. A white rug lay before the fender, and a small but cheery wood fire burned in the grate. Evidently good taste bad presided over the choice of every article, and Stella was the more grateful and surprised because the rest of the house, with all its gorgeousness, had not pleased her very much, ‘ There’s a parlour opening out of it,’ added Miss Jacky, with infinite delight, ‘ so that you can just slip away up here when you’re tired of us old folk, Stella, ray dear. And I hope it’ll be to your fancy.’ ‘lt is lovely —it is charming !’ cried the girl, with a bright flush of colour on her delicate face. ‘ I never saw a room half so pretty ! How good of papa to sretit all done so beautifully.’ ‘ He did not hold his hand, certainly,’ said Miss Jacky. ‘ He had people from London to see about this room; the folk here weren’t good enough for him, though they did the rest of the house. I’m just hoping that you’ll tell your papa, Stella, that you are pleased for he’s made a sight of work about the place, 1 can tell you ; and it was easy to see that you didna care so much about the public rooms below as he would have liked you to do.’ ‘Oh, dear Aunt Jacky,’ said Stella a little stung by the implied rebuke, ‘ I never, never said a word. I only thought they looked —very —grand.’ ‘ They’re not much to ray taste,’ said Aunt. Jacky, grimly. ‘ A deal too much gilding and velvet about them for me. But your papa likes them ; and surely I think he’s gone clean daft over this house and its furniture. He’s for throwing good money right and left as it were dirt. And it’s ‘ Would the child like this P’ or ‘ Would she have the other ?’ till I’ve been fair dazed at the sound of your name. Not but it’s a sight for,

sair een to see you standing there, my bonnie lassie/

Stella was slowly pulling off her gloves and laying her hat upon the bed. She did not speak for a minute or two.

‘ It’s very beautiful, it’s all very grand/ she said. ‘ I will certainly tell dear papa how grateful 1 am to him for this dear little room/ Then, after another pause, she said, with a rather puzzled look, and in a hesitating voice, ‘ln papa’s letter to me be kept saying that he was so poor. I I did not expect anything like this.’ ‘ It doesn’t look as if he were poor, does it, my bairn P A year or two ago he was anxious enough, I know. And then his sadness of heart seemed to leave him all at once ; and he began to talk of this new house, and since then he’s spent just an awful deal of money —so it will have been only a passing cloud, you see.’ But, in spite of these cheerful assurances, Miss Jacky’s face wore a cloud of anxiety and almost of fear, which Stella was quick to interpret. ‘ Don’t you think he is well, Aunt Jacky ?’ she asked. ‘He says that he's well, my lamb,’ said Aunt Jacky, ‘and she would be a bold woman that would contradict him. And so far that’s a good sign. For its only when a man’s near death that he lets himself be contradicted without flying into a rage.’ (To be continued.)