Serial Story. (PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.) A DAUGHTER OF MIDIAN.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXV, Issue XXII, 1 December 1900, Page 1004

Serial Story. (PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.) A DAUGHTER OF MIDIAN.

By

JOHN K. LEYS.

Author of “ A Sore Temptation,” “ The Thumb-print,” “ The Broken Fetter,” “ In the Toile," “ A Million of Money,” etc., etc.

COPYRIGHT.

PART lI.—THE NARRATIVE OF SYBIL GRANT.

CHAPTER XIII

1 MAKE AN ENEMY

I had sufficient food for thought that night, and for many nights to come. My conversation with Mr Mitchell had taught me a great deal, if not about myself, at least about the girl whose personality 1 Lad assumed. And 1 took a keen interest in all I had learned for two reasons—in the first place because I could not help entertaining a belief that 1 was connected with Sidney Grant by ties of blood; and in the second place because Mr Mitchell's conduct struck me as being very strange. It seemed to me that he was not acting in a straightforward way by Sidney Grant, any more than he had aeted in a straightforward way by me. It may be that the fact that I am an adventuress, a daughter of Midian, a stranger playing an unworthy part to serve a selfish end. has made me unduly suspicious. It may be that I am scenting mysteries where there are none—and yet, one or two questions occur to me for which I confess I can see no glimmer of an answer.

Why should the laird take so much pains to preserve the evidence of the invalidity of the marriage of a. mere acquaintance? And why should he offer to settle £3OO a year upon a stranger? What was the nature of those claims which he (Jeelared did not exist, but which he was willing to pay heavily to get rid of? And then, there remained the old puzzle— Why did he take the trouble to provide for me till 1 had reached the age of womanhood, and then take the most elaborate precautions against my finding my benefactor? The longer I thought of it. the more convinced T became that Mr Mitchell was playing a double game. In a few days I had a report fjom the Professor of the result of his journey to Scarton. He had set oft at once—l was lucky in having so good and true a friend! Scarton is a very small place, scarcely more than a village, in a secluded Cumberland valley! Everybody I here knew Miss Grant. She was a governess in a. large girls’ school of good standing kept by a Mrs Leadbitter. Miss Grant had been living at the school since she was a child -first as a pupil, and since she grew up as a teacher. She resembled me, the Professor said, both in face and in figure. He made no attempt to gain an interview with her, but he saw her at a short distance, and told me he could quite understand how anyone who had not seen her since she was a young girl should mistake me for her.

Not content with doing all I asked him to do. the Professor was at. the pains to give me a list of the principal inhabitants of Searton, such as the parson, the doctor, and the principal shopkeepers and farmers —such people as anyone who had resided for some years at the village would be sure to know. He said that I might at any moment betray myself by displaying a total ignorance about the place where I was supposed to have lived all my life, and he strongly advised me to learn by heart the details he sent me.

It was well for me that Signor Zucatti was so thoughtful, and well that I had to some extent followed his advice, for one day at lunch Miss Dalrymple surprised everybody by blurting out -"Do you know how Mr Pilsher is. Miss Grant?" For a second I stared at her in dumb surprise, not knowing whom she meant; but suddenly I remembered tjiat that was the name of the Vicar of Searton. Before T could speak T

caught a quick glance which Miss Dairy inple darted at Mr Durant. Then in the space of a flash of lightning 1 understood that a trap had been laid for me. and that although the trap had been sprung by the woman, it had been set by the man.

“You mean Mr Pilsher the Vicar of Searton?" 1 said with an expression of surprise. “He was very well when 1 saw him last. “Do you know him?”

“I —1 have heard of him. He must l>e. a very old man by this time.” Now luckily I remembered that Signor Zucatti had mentioned that the Vicar had only been at Scarton a year or two; and I replied with a smile, “On the contrary, he is quite a young man. And he has been there only a short time. You must be thinking of somebody else." I would have given anything to be able to add, “You must be thinking of the present Vicar’s father,” but it was too great a risk. It was quite possible that Mr Durant knew that the Vicar was a young man, and had prompted Miss Durant to speak of him as an old man on purpose to entrap me. As I had answered the remark in an indifferent tone, and with all the confidence that knowledge inspires, Miss Dalrymple looked rather foolish. 1 quite expected that Mr Mitchell would ask her what she knew of the Vicar of Scarton, and she looked so much afraid that some question of the kind would be put to her, that in pure mercy 1 changed the subject and withdrew'the laird's attention from her. But the incident filled me with grave uneasiness. It was plain that I was suspected —that I had an enemy —though why Mr Durant should take the trouble of meddling in the matter was more than I could understand.

Next morning Mr Mitehell set out on his accustomed journey to Glasgow, and Mr Durant accompanied him. Miss Dalrymple and I had the great house to ourselves, and the morning passed drearily. We kept apart most of the time, for since Miss Dalrymple had shown herself sb openly a partisan of my enemy I felt rather afraid of her. in spite of her evident simplicity. In the afternoon I wrote a note to a shop in Glasgow for some thing's I wanted for my toilet, and on putting it into the post-bag that hung in the hall. I found one other letter in the bag. Moved by mere idle curiosity 1 drew it out and looked at the address.

It was aildressed to Mrs Leadbitter, Low Fell House. Scarton, Cumberland.

1 stood with the letter in my hand, stupefied. Miss Dalrymple, of course. The handwriting told that. But why should Misis Dalrymple write to Mrs Ix-adbitter? Because Mr Durant was not satisfied, and had persuaded her to write and inquire whether Miss Grant was still at the school. Miss Dalrymple had been chosen as the instrument, because Mrs Leadbitter might not have answered an inquiry on such a. subject coming from a man. The letter, I felt sure, could not have been prompted by Mr Mitchell. Mr Mitchell already knew Mrs Leadbitter. for he had put Miss Grant to school there. If he had wished to ask her a question about Miss Grant he would have written to her himself No- this was Mr Durant’s doing. Of that I felt assured. But what was I to do? How was 1 to meet this fresh atttack? I knew that the truth must eoine out some day, but I. had hoped to find out something definite about my parentage first, and I thought I needed but a. little more time to succeed. Could I not do something to ward off this blow, even for a few days? Wild thoughts of taking the letter

upstairs and burning it came into my head, but I put them away at once. I was both afraid and ashamed to play a trick of that kind. I dropped the letter into the bag again, and went slowly upstairs. By the time I bad reached my own room my mind was made up. There was only one thing to do. 1 must go to Scarton, confide in Mrs Leadbitter, and beg her not to expose me for a little time. It was a faint chance—very faint; but it was my only one. Nothing could be. plainer than this—that if 1 did not succeed in closing Mrs Leadbitter’s mouth, at the end of two days 1 would be forced to leave the Castle, and abandon all hope of fathoming the motive of Mr Mitchell’s conduct towards me.

But could I possibly reach Scarton Itefore Mrs Leadbitter posted her reply? In order to do that I knew I must travel by the mail car—with the letter itself, in fact, and if possible secure an interview with Mrs Leadbitter before it was delivered to her. But was there time? Yes, if I went by the postman’s gig. I knew that people sometimes did this, when they were not rich enough to hire a. conveyance of their own; and 1 did not care to ask for one of Mr Mitchell’s carriages. I preferred to act independently.

Half-an-hour before the mail-gig was expected I put on my hat and jacket, and with my bag in my hand walked into the smaller drawing-room where Miss Dalrymple was sitting in solitary state, yawning over a novel. “I am going to Glasgow—to Simpson. Hunter, and Young’s,” I said, as if the proposal were one that called for no remark. But Miss Dalrymple did not view it in that light. “You never intend going all that way to-night!” she gasped out, letting her book fall to the floor in pure astonishment.

"Oh, yes. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t. They can’t fit me properly' if I don’t go and see the dressmaker.”

“But the shop will be shut long before you can get there! lam sure of it. for ”

“It is no. matter. I can stay at an hotel, and see them in the morning!” "At an hotel! All by yourself!” "Why not? I’ve often done it. If you wouldn’t mind ordering a cup of tea for me, though, I would be greatly obliged to you.”

“But you might just as yell wait till to-morrow and go in by the early train." persisted Miss Dalrymple. I made her no answer; and as soon as the good woman saw that I was determined to go that day she exerted herself to such good purpose that a substantia] meal was provided for me in time. Not content with this, Miss Dalrymple forced me to take with me a packet of sandwiches she had made herself, and a warm cloak of her own.

The journey was long and dreary. I was unable to sleep in the train, and long before I crossed the border I was shivering with cold, in spite of Miss Dalrymple’s cloak. At Carlisle I had of course to change my carriage, and it was nearly eight o’clock before I alighted at the little white-painted station of Scarton. I had the satisfaction of seeing the mail bag which contained Miss Dalrymple’s letter taken out of the guard’s vaie and ami handed to a white-haired postman who was waiting for it. So far, I had been successful.

There was a little inn, where 1 washed my face, and got a cup of coffee. At half-past eight I set out for Low Fell House, for I wished if possible to see Mrs. Leadbitter before the letter reached her.

Early as it was, I was admitted at

once, and shown into a small nicelyfurnished room, evidently kept for receiving visitors. In a minute or two the door was opened, and a woman entered —a woman about my own age, tall as I am myself, with features and eyes like mine. From the first instant 1 saw her I never doubted who she was. There was a subdued excitement in tier manner as she closed the door behind her and came up to me. “Are you Miss Grant?” she asked in a cold but trembling voice. “Yes; that is my name.” “You wish to see Mrs. Leadbitter? She is not very well this morning, and she has asked me to see you in her place.” Something seemed to choke me. 1 could not say a word —only stared at’ her stupidly. “Is there anything I can do for you?” she said. Her tone was as cold as her words, but I noticed that she twisted my eard nervously between her long white fingers. “Has the post come yet?” I blurted out. Miss Grant looked surprised, as well she might; and yet that tremulous, half-subdued excitement was there in her manner all the same. “No,” she said. “We don’t get our letters till half-past nine.” “Because there is one coming to Mrs. Leadbitter —about me. I would like to see her before she gets it.” I was speaking at random. Somehow I could not control my thoughts, so as to put the strange story I had to tell in a rational way. Yet I must say something, and that soon. “You are Miss Grant,” I said, bending forward in my eagerness. “Would you mind my asking if you have a sister?” It was a second or two before the answer came.

“I believe I had a sister who died when she was a baby.” The tone in which she spoke was cold as ice. “Are you sure she did die?” I asked in a whisper. “I—l was a child at the time, but 1 have no doubt that she died, as they told me.”

“Sidney! Don’t you know me? Don’t look at me like that! lam your sister!”

I had sprung to my feet, and was ready to run to her and embrace her: hut she remained sitting, as stiff and formal as though she were giving a French lesson.

“This is very strange.” she said. “What reason have you for thinking that you are my sister?” For answer I went up to her and took her hand. There was a mirror over the chimney-piece. I led her up to it, and pointed to the two faces side by side.

“Isn’t that proof enough?” I asked. “Oh. Sidney. I have never known what it was to have anyone belonging to me! Don’t turn away from me. just when I have found someone to care for me! If you knew what it was to be brought up like an outcast ”

I suddenly stopped, for I knew that I was on the point of breaking down.

“Sit down, and let us talk it out quietly,” said Sidney, in a kinder voice than she had used to me yet. She put me on the sofa, and sat down beside me. “How do you know—what reason have you to think that you are my sister?”

Then 1 began at the beginning, and told her the whole story of my life. She listened to me in silence till she understood that 1 had had the effrontery to pass myself off for her, and was actually staying at Inveroran Castle in her name. Then she flushed scarlet and rose to her* feet, quite unable to control her indignation.

“And you dare to come here and confess this to me!” she cried. Alas! I had not only done it, but had come to Scarton with no other object than to persuade her and Mrs. Leadbitter to conceal the imposture. Yet I did not despair. “Listen to me a moment, sister, before you condemn me,” I said. “Remember that 1 was like a child lost on one of your hills, and that 1 had no other way of finding out the truth about my parents. It was that or nothing. As for Mr. Mitchell, I still think that I was justified in deceiving him. He must have some interest in keeping me in the dark, else why should he have taken such pains to hide me away from the world, and separate me from you?” For some seconds Sidney was silent. She seemed to have forgotten for the moment her grievances against me. “I believe Mr. Mitchell has reason to

fear us, or to be ashamed for somethiug he has done,” she said. “If not, why should he offer to settle money on me on condition that 1 give up all claims upon him? What claims have. I upon him? I know of none. He brought me here when I was a mere child, and paid for my education, so I suppose I ought to be grateful to him. But I am not. 1 feel certain that he did not do all this for me without a reason. He says I have no rights, and I am bound to believe him——”

She stopped suddenly, and again a deep blush spread over her face. I knew what she was thinking of. “Sidney, if our father and mother were not properly married, it was not their fault,” I said firmly. “It was an accident that might have happened to anyone living in that unsettled country. Don’t think of it again. And, if we are sisters, as I have no doubt we are, that can be no reason for our not loving each other. I am ready to love you, Sidney, if only you will let me.”

Sidney said nothing, but she shrank a little away from me. I could see that there* was a struggle going on in her mind—a struggle about me; but what the nature of it was I could not tell. “You must tell Mr Mitchell who you are.” she said at length. ‘■Not yet. Sidney!” T pleaded. “Don’t force me to tell him until I can prove who I am, and can learn what it is he is so anxious to conceal from us. Do you think our father can have left money which Mr. Mitchell is keeping from us?” “No. From all I have ever been fold, my father died a poor man.” “But he may have been entitled to some property. Did he leave any will, do you know?” “I believe not. I never heard of any will.”

Again there was a short silence. “You will keep my secret, Sidney?” I said, timidly.

My sister shook her head, and ray heart sank. It was hard that the only relative I had in the world should take part against me! At that moment a tall figure that I recognised as the postman’s passed the window. “And the letter, Sidney?” I ventured. “Will you not help me a little?” “What is it you wish me to do?” she asked, stiffly. “Ah, Sidney, how cold you are!”

She looked' troubled, and turned away her head: but there was an obstinate look on her handsome face.

"What is it you wish me to do?” she repeated. “Only to persuade Mrs Leadbitter not to answer the letter from Miss Dalrymple. After all, Miss Dalrymple and Mr. Durant are both of them strangers to Mrs. Leadbitter. There is no necessity for her to answer the letter at all.”

Sidney did not answer me, but she rang the bell, and had the letters brought to her. I easily picked out the one I had followed all the way from Scotland. “I will take it upstairs with the others, and see what Mrs. Leadbitter says about it,” said Sidney, as she left the room with the letter in her hand. In a few minutes she came back, her hands empty. “The letter from Miss Dalrymple is exactly what you supposed it to be,” she said. “Miss Dalrymple says she believes Mrs. Leadbitter has a governess called Miss Grant, and she begs to be told whether Miss Grant is still an inmate of her house, and whether she is at home at present. Mrs. Leadbitter did not pay any particular attention to the letter, and when 1 offered to attend to it she said that would be the best way.”

“And you won’t answer it, Sidney? Tell me that you won't answer it!” “Not at present,” said Sidney, as quietly as if she had been decidingsome point of school routine. “1 will give you a little time to carry out your plans with regard to Mr Mitchell. I think he deserves no consideration from either of us. for I agree with you that it is not a philanthropic motive that has prompted him to act as he has done by us. But of course I cannot allow you to go about the world under iqy name for an indefinite time. In a week or two. you must tell Mr Mitchell plainly who you are, or I must write to him myself." “Thank you, Sidney ” And in spite of all my efforts my voice broke. “It is more than I had any right to expect from you.”

I suppose something of what was in my heart was visible in my face, for Sidney’s face altered a little, and

once more she turned her head away as she s|M>ke to me. “I suppose you are my sister, though we have no proof of it.” she said, in her cold, even tones. “But. even if it is so. I can’t pretend to lie able to feel as you would like. I can't get up an affection at a moment's notice for any one. By and by. perhaps, it may be different.”

The hist words were spoken abruptly, hurriedly, as if they had not been premeditated, as most of Sidney'swords seemed to lie. She kissed me coldly on the cheek, and I went away. The tears would come in spite of all I could do. I felt as though I had lost a sister rather than gained one. It was small consolation to be to remember that in a sense I had succeeded, and that for a few days, at all events, the imposture I had been practising was to be concealed. 1 caught a return train to Carlisle and was in time for the day express, reaching Inveroran the same night. CHAPTER XIV. MR. MITCHELL’S GUESTS. Late as it was when I arrived at the Castle I could see that something hail occurred to turn the whole place upside down. The hall was crammed with tables and chairs, and there was a smell of furniture polish in all the air. 1 went off to bed, feeling sure that the morning would bring an explanation. But Miss Dalrymple was in such a pitiable state of mental confusion when I saw her next morning that it would have been cruel to question her. I gathered, however, that neither Mr. Mitehell nor Mr. Durant had returned, but that they were expected that evening along with some “strangers.”

Among the army of helpers that had been hastily summoned to the Castle was Mrs McPhail, and from her I gathered a few facts with which to allay niy curiosity. It seemed that a neighbouring landowner, Lord Innisfal, had succeeded in letting, at the last moment, his shooting lodge at Strathallan, and in consequence his family had to turn out at a few days’ notice. Mr Mitchell had met his lordship in Glasgow, and on hearing of his dilemma had immediately invited the whole family, or as many of them as could accept the invitation, to stay at inveroran for some weeks. Lord Innisfail, who was not a rich man, had accepted the invitation for his sister, one of his sons, and one of his daughters —the viscount was a widower—and they were expected to arrive at the Castle in the afternoon.

“The laird never thought that we werena fit to receive company, what wi’ the want o' servants, an’ no’ a shop nearer than Perth that ye can buy onything at, and everything keepit mair like a museum nor a leevinhoose,” said Mrs McPhail. “But we behove to do oor best, for when the la rd speaks, it’s ill for them that doesna lisren.”

“It will make a great change, having visitors at the Castle,” I observed, for want of something better to say. “Ye may say that, Miss Grant. An’ a greater change may be forthcomingin due time, if I’m no’ mista’en.” "You mean that Mr Mitchell may marry?” “That’s just what 1 do mean; and it. my opinion he’ll ask Miss MarjoryKeith—that’s Lord Innisfail’s dochter

—>.o lie the lady o' the Castle before the moon's mouy days an Ider.” “But surely—surely she must be ever so much younger than Mr Mitchell,” 1 objected. “Hoots! What does that matter? Better be an auld man’s darling nor a young man's slave, as the sayin’ is. An’ my leddy’s stood her market mair seasons nor she likes to mind, or I'm mista’en. But 1 hae my wark to dae. and little enough time to dae’t in.” 'I his was a hint for me to retire, and I speedily obeyed it. I reallythought that Miss Dalrymple would l ave been unable to play her part, as hostess when the guests arrived, as I watched her struggling, red of face and loud of tongue, with the countless difficulties ami worries she had to contend with. But she had more strength of mind than I had given her credit for. At the right moment precisely she sallied forth into the hall, dressed in the stiffest of black silks, to welcome her uncle’s guests.

My impressions of the laird’s visitors are set down pretty fully in my journal: —

The Honourable Juliet Keith, the viscount's sister, is a tiny little dried up looking creature, who gave one the impression that she had been mer-, eilessly "sat upon" for the greater part of her life, and had but lately eome into the [lossession of such a measure of independence as she enjoyed. She never spoke unless she were first spoken to, and does not expect to In* ain used or entertained in any way.

Miss Marjory is a fine-looking woman, not yet thirty. I should think. Iler face is. a trifle hard, as though she had found that life is not all champagne and sweetbreads, even for those who are highly born. I wonder whether she has any idea of her host’s intentions with regard to herself. If so. she must surely be disgusted with hetsexagenarian lover. He is such a com-mon-plnce Lttle man. too, with his smug, hard faee, like the face of u small groeer with thievish propensities his pompous manner, and his intolerable conceit of his eastle, his estate, his horses, his furniture, anil everything that, is his. But that is her look-out. If she likes to sell herself for i large income and a place in the Highlands it is no business of mine. I forget to say that along with the Honourable Marjory Keith came her brother, Captain Ronald Keith. He is only a year or two younger than his sister, but he looks younger than he must be in reality. His is the face of a simple-minded, good-hearted fellow, without a thought beyond his regiment, his betting-book, and his shooting, I fancy he means to staysome time at the Castle, for the shooting here is not to be despised, and he is not likely to get any elsewhere, as irost people, I believe, have made up their shooting parties some time ago. It is a pleasure to look at. his goodnatured. manly face as he sits at table. He caught me looking at him one day. and I dropped my eyes and blushed (I am afraid) without any'- reason. I noticed that he looked away. too. almost at once. A little later he stole another look at me, but I took good care not to show that I knew of it. If he only knew how I was envying him at that moment —envying his honest, straightforward life, without fraud or concealment! I wonder what he or his sister or even gentle Miss Juliet, would think of me if they could see me as I really am!

Mr Durant is here permanently now —to help Mr Mitehell to amuse his guests. He has given up the pretence of staying at his little shooting-box up among the hills. And two or three more men are expected as soon as the shcoting begins, so we shall be quite a large party. I scarcely know whether to be glad or sorry for the change. It is pleasant enough, as far as it goes. But Ido not see how lam

to make any advance—how 1 am to gather any fresh facts about Mr Mit- . ebell or my father —in the midst of all this bustle and gaiety. Ou the other hand, 1 gain something of the advantage of obscurity. 1 pass unnoticed in the little crowd of distinguished visitors. 1 think that even if Mr Durant were to denounce me as an imposter to-morrow Mr Mitchell would scarcely have time to listen to him, so busy is he in making himself agreeable to the Honourable Marjory. How I would hate the man if he behaved in that way to me! Surely an elderly man playing the part of lover to a woman who might almost be his grandchild is one of the most odious sights on earth. But this is merely a woman’s view of the matter. I gather from Miss Dalrymple that it is the laird’s ambition to enter Parliament, marry a woman of good family, and at length by the help of his political friends and his wife’s connections, be raised to the peerage. To found a family that will take its place among the great families of his country is the laird’s ambition. One would scarcely think, looking at the little shrivelled creature, that his thoughts soared so high. At any rate it looks as if in one direction at least his ambition were about to be fulfilled. And it is clear that whatever uneasiness may have been caused by my presence at the Castle has quite faded away, and been forgotten amid the dreams of future magnificence which the laird is dreaming every day. (To be continued.)