“THE WOOING OF DARIEL”

Waikato Times, Volume 111, Issue 18661, 13 June 1932, Page 4

“THE WOOING OF DARIEL”

STORY OF LOVE AND ADVENTURE.

(By May Wynne.)

(Author of “ Henry of Navarre," “ The Golden Hour,’’ etc., eto.)

SYNOPSIS. Dariel Deene arrives to help Captain and Mrs Walkes manage the Glanferne Castle Hotel. She has to walk from tho and is attacked by “ Sart Lizzie, the moorland witch, and Is rescued by the young Laird or Glanferne —Graham McAlne —who, owing to bad times, has let the Castle with option to purchase, and Is liv - Ing at Glanferne Farm with his mother ana Sl Arrived at the Castle Dariel meets Colin Brlnloch, but does not like him. Dariel’s room at the Castlo is a small one in the Tower, and-that night she hears strange noises, and the sound of someono stealing mysteriously along an unused passage. SK' ~ CHAPTER ll.—(Continued.) But Dariel was not the least bored, and -when McAlne came in.from working for a cup'of tea she was still there, chatting about the herbaceous border in the Castle' garden.. - ■ “I must be going now,” she said, “but,would you mind dreadfully if I asked -a question, witch- you may not like to answer? Please just forgive me if it is the case, and I won’t ask again; but —is Glanferne Castle jaunted?" ‘Graham McAlne paused in the act of helping himself to honey a smile twitching his lips. “Haunted?” he echoed. “What, are you trying to put a ghost into the old castle? Miss Deene, you must have had .'that idea suggested to you by a visitor from across the Atlantic. And it is no use.- Ancient as Glanferne is, it h§is never been guilty of harbouring anything so elusive and—romantic —as a ghost, so that hope is slain.” “What made you ask?” added his sister. “Was it the tower? Or have you been reading Wilson’s Tales of the Border? Poor Glanferne! What would Klrstie say if we told yer?" Dariel bit her lip. Mrs McAlne wassmiling, as if in excuse of her folly; Graham and Miss Ailsie were actually Joking. "I have the room in the tower,” she retorted, “and I did hear queer noises. I’m not hysterical or nervy, and I should not so very much mind sleeping in a room where a ghost appeared quietly and without fuss, but last night there was such horrid laughter and the sound of breaking glass. I went to explore, but there was nothing.. I had to run back, feeling squiggly and scared. I hated the feeling—that’s the truth. And if the Castle is ndt haunted, someono must have been playing me a trick." “A very mean one,” said McAlne; “and anyone to do such a thing ought to be shown up. I can’t understand it at all. in any case it is the first we have ever heard of it. There never has been a legend or tale of a ghostly visitor at the Castle, though the owls, are a nuisance.” “It must have been owls you heard,” added Ailsie, “or the wind. Won’t you •have some more tea? And would you like to see over the farm?" Dariel shook her head. “I must get back—l ought not to have stayed. Mrs Waikes will be expecting me to pour out' tea, and it is almost too late. To-morrow we are taking the flock to Craig Ross for a picnic. We are going in cars. Will you both come? It would be good of you—l know Mrs Walkes would be grateful. Only I shall understand if you—can’t. We could meet at the cross-roads near the village.” Ailsie looked at her brother. Mrs McAlne had left the room. “I’m afraid," she began, "we could not very well come. Graham is so busy, and ” "I think it would do you a world of good," quoth Graham unexpectedly, "and I am going to accept for us both. Gregory will be here to see to the farm work. It will be my first holiday.” Ailsie gave a .little exclamation of pleasure. She was very young—and ■could not help feeling, dull at times. She had secretly wished more than once that tjiey could be on visiting •terms with the new tenants of Glanferne, but this would have been heresy to her mother and Graham. She could hardly believe her ears now, and Dariel was quick to close with the promise. “You sports I” she cried, with' tears in her eyes, “And we’ll have a lovely day. I simply will not he formal with you. We are to be friends. Kismet,!” Graham’s eyes softened. "You must •come again," he said, “and see the farm. Au revoir!” , Dariel went singing on her way. She was glad she had put that friendship to the hazard —and won, If she had not gone to-day she might have failed of a welcome. She did not take the hill path towards the Castle, and her duties at tea were evidently forgotten as she scrambled over a foot biidge across a stream and so through a pine wood. She wanted to think over her experience. Would it be kind to ask the McAlnes to come up to the Castle Hotel and mingle with the gay crowd? “It won't do," she whispered, "they would be out of place. They could not —could not endure seeing such folk in their home. Oh, dear, do I want the hotel to be a success or no? I •won’t say. And I shall make the McAlnes my special care to-morrow.” • She halted as she spoke, having spied a figure strolling ahead of her along the path. It was Colin Brinloch and-she particularly did not want to walk home with him. Looking carefully around, Dariel spied a narrow' path leading to the right. She would go that way,■'make a detour, and return to the village; she was not afraid of losing her way,- even though the dusk would soon bo drawing in. What a tangle of briars and undergrowth there was to be sure, and once a tough bramble across her path sent her spinning. Someone was calling her name, too. She was sure Brinloch was trying to overtake her, and she was equally determined he should not do so. It was rude—really rude —of him to follow when ho ought to he able to see she wanted to avoid him. "Miss Deene! Please stop!” Tho call was repealed—Dariel turned, her pulses racing with vexation. Yes, there was Colin Brlnloch, hurrying after her, an expression half annoyed, half amused on his face. “Take care!" he, called, "Wall!" He spoke too late. Dariel. not heeding where she went, had slipped, and ■ now ran without being aide to check herself down a prccipitious hank into a deep pool wliieh lay halflilddCn by undergrowth—there under tiie trees. Down! Down into chilly water and oozing mud. Dariel screamed in a moment of panic.—then, tlnding her feet sinking into tho muddy bed below Hie dark waters, grabbed at curling roots to pull herself out. Vain effort! She- was in up above , her waist and some mighty force clutched at her feet. She was still

sinking slowly when Brinloch reached the pool, and, stooping, lifted her bodily out. She had no idea he was so strong. His arms closed In a steellike vice, and a few seconds later she was seated panting on a mossy bank, with Brinloch beside her. Never had Dariel felt more like crying, but pride held tears back. She did not want Mr Brinloch’s sympathy! If she had been more sure of her volee •she would have stormed out the accusation -that It was all her companion’s fault. But here he forestalled her. “What an idiot I' am," he said, with self reproach, "I ought to have called out my warning. I knew about the pool and was afraid you might slip. I hastened the catastrophe and shan’t forgive myself. I can only say how ■frightfully sorry I am. It was entirely my fault." “No, It wasn’t,” replied Dariel with a'gulp. ' “I ought to have looked where I was going! Ugh! how sticky and horrid the mud is and my skirt is soaked.” She shivered as she spoke. “If you’ll come along down this path,” pleaded Brlnloch humbly—- " There is a cottage in the Hollow, rather a decent little place. You might get your skirt dried and the mud scraped off your shoes. Will you let mo help you?” “Of course,” said Dariel, half laughing, though her mirth was rueful. “And please don’t look as if you expected me to bite. I’m grateful for your help—and we will certainly go to the cottage." yShe liked the ■young man’s manner. He seemed to have guessed she was preparing to dislike him and to be pleading for a fair trial. And Dariel prided herself on loving to be just. The Hollow was- quite near—another surprise!—and the cottage, thatched and plctsuresque, seemed to have been ‘dumped down’ in an utterly lonely spot, which made the girl pity the tenant before she saw her. A grey-haired, handsome woman, sun-tanned and grim-eyed opened the door and held it as though half inclined to close it again. Dariel fan- . cied she seemed startled and afraid, as if she wished to hide something. But the air -of guilty anxiety disappeared when Brinloch spoke. “This young lady has fallen Into the Black Pool,” he said briefly, “her skirt is wet. Will you dry It for 'her and let us have some tea or hot -coffee? She is chilled.” “Yes,” replied the woman. "You can come in. You’re from the Castle.” She spoke with a strong Scottish accent and so slowly as to suggest the words were being dragged out of her. Dariel followed into an.inner room to change her skirt for a rough homespun. Her teeth were chattering, and yet she was interested in this queer -cottage with its packed furniture, its close atmosphere and its weird tenant. That described Ellen Pearns, as she called herself. An old maid, evidently, living a hermit’s- life! How strange it was. Had Colin Brinloch known 'her before? Unlikely, since he too was only a visitor here, and yet Dariel had fancied there had been a -swift interchange of glanoes at first—glances which puzzled her to name—not recognition so much as enquiry on one part—command on the other. Yet that was Impossible. "I wonder," said Brinlooh when they returned to the other room, “whether you would mind my returning to the Castle. I have an appointment with Waikes. As a matter of fact, I have promised to fetch a Miss Consell from the station. -Can you find your way home presently? I want you to stay and drink that tea whilst it is hot.” Ills manner was still deferential—hut with a note of interest and authority as if she were under his care. And Dariel was pleased to agree. In -this way she would avoid a walk -home with the man she had tried to avoid. “Thank you,” she' said, “You are very kind. I don't deserve it." He held out his hand. “You did not want to be friends, eh," he queried, "but I have set my heart on wishing we should bo such. Won’t you give me a fair chance, little comrade?” And Dariel wondered why in saying ‘Yes’ she felt untrue. The very clasp of this man’s hand repelled her. It was too—possessive 1

CHAPTER 111. “It’s a grand place, Glanferne Castle," • said Ellen Pearns slowly. Dariel had Just set down her empty tea-cup and was wondering If 'her skirt were dry. The woman opposite made her feel nervous, she had such a trick of staring—though her fixed gaze seemed to look through its object rather than at it I Dariel answered readily. “A splendid place . . . and such lovely country. You-havo lived here for long?" Ellen Pearns smiled in vague contempt. “I was born at Glanferne in the village,” she replied, "and my Minnie and 'Gran’minny before me." “But not here for so long," objected Dariel —"You could not have lived alone here for years?” The woman ran her finger along the edge of the table. “♦.'ears and enough,” said she, "hut no matter for that. You’ll be strange in Glanferne." “Yes,” said Dariel, “but I am staying for a long time I hope at the Castle.” From under level brows Ellen Pearns looked at her. “Oh aye,” she said, “but you winna stay since you’re no Scots leddle.” Something in the speaker’s manner prompted Dariel to put . a question. “Why not?” she asked. “Why should no stranger stay at Glanferne?” The other shook her head. “You’ll ken soon eno',” she replied “You'll hear soon eno’. There’s no secret better kept and no secret better known to ail than flic secret o’ Glanferne." Darlcl’s pulse quickened. “A secret?" she asked, trying to speak indifferently, “What do you mean? A secret —or a ghost?” She was surprised to see how those last words startled her listener, who shuddered, rose, paced restlessly, and then re-sealed herself. “You’ll no speak lightly o’ tiie ghost of Glanferne, leddie," site whispered, “it’s ill luck you’ll bring."

And Dariel’s curiosity was awake again.

“Is there really a ghost?" she asked. “And what do you mean hy .the secret being kept?" Ellen Pencils sighed. "There will be monny to tell,’ she muttered; “but none who will wish do ill-pleasc the young laird." “Put 1 must know," urged Dariel, “it is ... . necessary. Oil, do go on and tell the story. I . . . . need not believe it" The woman’s smile was grim. "A silent tongue Is best," she said. “How do I know you'll not repeal ;ny words? and those who have taken

t' Castle will be off their bargain. - ■l’d ha’e no forgiveness from t’LMrd.” ■■l nromise.” said Dariel, -her voice quivering in excitemcoh-t, “not to tell anyone you have tolc,l me the story. I . . . . I shall not believe it . . . but I want to know.’ r " “It’s a curse for six generaddons, leddle," said Ellen Yearns, “And -such is- not lightly lifted. Maggie Daralyne spoke truth when she said t’Laird John McAlne slvould know no rest for -t'sin he sinned against tills sweetheart.” “Tell me it all," said Dariel, and at last tho other yielded. "It was in the 4'5,” said she, ‘“’and McAlne o’ Glanferrpe was true to King George whiles all his neehors- and friends were out cvl’ Charlie Stuart. Laird John was not thirty in years, but old in cruelty. It was a b’tock record 'he had before he fell in Hove wi’ winsome Maggie! And afterwards when he learnt she loved Hal McDryne, hate his heart. ,He trapped young ITal—the pride of the countryside—and murdered him in -the ■Old Tower .... whilst Hal stood

drinking the wtoe offered 'him by a false traitor who'had promised to s:tve him from his enemies. ' It was- -a black deed, and when puir Maggie heard it she cursed the murderer wdao was found dead in the Tower passage, none knowing by whose 'hand he passed to judgment. But he went in his sin, leddle, and sin isyne his ghost and that of the puir lad Hal haunt t’Towor . . . '. though :’tls said they bring .dll luck only to foreigners- and strangers who ha’ no kinship with McAlnes.” : Dariel had listened with cold fejar creeping round her heart. Oh, it was ■horrible! horrible, -and to-night. . .

last night. . . . to-morrow she migM . . . . she might still. . see those awful figures of doom which brought the threat and curse of -madness on those who saw them. And Graham McAlne had deliberately lied when he said there was no ghost at Glanferne. Bitter disap--pointment brought the stinging tears to her eyes, whilst as 'her he'art heat in heavy throbbings she felt a sense of dismay stealing -over her. After all, why should sbe care so much in that Graham McAlne had been guilty of commonplace lying and deceit in hiding what would, if it were known, prevent him selling the home he found it so necessary to part with, the home he loved.

“I suppose he called It business,” thought Dariel, as she formally thanked Ellen Pearns and paid her for her services before retracing her steps homewards. “And ... of course a •great many people don’t believe in ghosts. I never knew I did. . .. . before. And . . ."what reason can 1 give for wanting to change my- room when I particularly asked for one in the Tower.”

She was thinking oyer the problem as she reached -the Castle. Brinloch’s -car stood before the door and on the ■top of the steps stood a girl—Dariel knew it must he the new guest. Fiavla Consell —who had just arrived. 'Flavia was looking towards her and Dariel noted -the vivid type of her beauty, the white skin, green hazel eyes and auburn curls showing under her small hat.

“I wish she had not come," -thought Dariel,.“l don’t like her. . j .. . I know I, never shall .... and oh i how I wish I had never met Graham McAlne.” Yet she knew' that because she had met him life would never be -the same again. But between him and a vague yet tender dream fell a shadow. It was the Ghost of Glanferne, and somehow, linked with that shadow, ■stood Flavia Consell, the red-haired beauty who had come to take them •all by storm. (To be continued.)