COPYRIGHT STORY. MACGREGOR’S DAUGHTER

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLI, Issue 9, 26 August 1908, Page 54

COPYRIGHT STORY. MACGREGOR’S DAUGHTER

By

JEAN MIDDLEMASS.

Author of '‘Hush Money,” Etc.

THEY were two sisters of one race!” daughters of the Hon. Stanhope Macgregor. Celia was a beauty. Hilda was plain, still compensation had been equalised. Hilda was clever and attractive, Celia was undemonstrative and apathetic. That they could ever be love-rivals no one would either have expected or believed, still the unexpected always has a place in the world’s daily doings. Their mother, Lady Agnes Macgregor, had been dead for many years—neither of the girls had the slightest recollection of her. Old Nurse Brown had from childhood stood to them in the placa of a mother, and to her they both clung with a pertinacity that was touching in its intensity. It almost seemed as if they cared more for Nurse Brown than for their father, though he gratified their every whim; still he was a cold, reserved man, whom it was not easy to love or cosset t, thus the outpourings of these two young hearts were expended on Nurse Brown, till It was a clear frosty day in early January. No hunting cotdd be thought of, and the Hon. .Stanhope stood looking out of the library window, a frown on bis somewhat gloomy brow; it might be supposed because to indulge his favourite pastime was impossible, but there was an open letter in liis hand, and from the tight grip his fingers held of the delicately-tinted paper on which it was written, it almost seemed as if it were the letter, and not the imprisoned fox that had produced even a gloomier expression of feature than was usual. The two girls, skates hanging on their firms, clad alike in dark green sabletrimmed serge, walked past the window. Surely—pretty picture that they made, it were a sight to gladden the heart of any loving father, especially as they both looked up laughingly at the windows of the house. Mr. Macgregor, however, stepped back. It was not to him they were signalling, but to Nurse Brown, who from the floor above was bidding her ‘dearies to be careful, and not get into any accident Or trouble.” Thanks to the old woman for the care of his children did not, however, spring spontaneously in the heart of the master of Kooks Nest, where the Macgregors dwelt. “Curse her,” was the muttered exclamation. “It was an evil day when that hag took possession of mo and mine, silent she lias been, kept her word so far, but plotting rum nevertheless." Then he re-read the letter, on which he had closed his fingers—locked it carefully away in the drawer of his writingtable — and, after giving a few orders to men servants, planted his soft Panama hat firmly on his head and went out—- ■ Walking with a determined stride in a totally different direction from that chosen by the girls. As he went down the terraces, it was Nurse Brovin's turn to make observations about brag as she still sat working at an upper window. "Lord of the earth but not of himself—poor lassies—poor lassies. Wacs me for the future,” she murmured. Although she did not recognise it, the future was dying out. It had already become the present. The two girls had reached the lake, and were looking about them as though expectation was keen. Whatever the Hon. Stanhope and his “bete noire" the confiding Brown might believe, it was •earcely likely that tjvo young girls

would regard with anticipatory pleasure a day's skating, without the society of an escort—or rather two escorts were necessary to make the Paradise thev hoped for, since “Happiness was born a twin.” Only one escort nevertheless was awaiting them, and there was a look of such blank disappointment on both their faces, when Hugh Lethaby came up unaccompanied, that it almost seemed as if both the sisters were in love with the absentee. And all the time no one at Rook's Nest, not even Nurse Brown, knew that they were in any way acquainted with Hugh Lethaby, or the straggler, who was perhaps a fairly near relation of the Hon. Stanhope and his somewhat independent daughters, since he bore the name of Macgregor Wilton. For reasons, which iu his wisdom he considered expedient, lie had, however, omitted to give himself double barrelled importance, and thus called himself plain Charlie Wilton. "Where is Mr Wilton?" asked Hilda, who was ever the spokeswoman. “He lias been telegraphed for to go to liis grandmother—rather rococo, isn’t it?" Celia smiled and showed her pearly teeth —she had not a notion what he meant by rococo. The better informed Hilda laughed outright. “‘Not so dangerous as the modern girl,” she said in her light way, while Hugh Lethaby wondered what this fair maiden, who had passed her life at Rooks Nest, know about the modern girl. He evidently was not a believer in intuition, and being unable readily to solve the problem he had set himself, he took the practical line of proceeding to put on the young ladies’ skates. He began with Celia —Celia was the preferred one —her beauty appealed to him. lie. had no predilection for smartness and allusions to the modern girl. Hugh Lethaby was the eldest son of a neighbouring squire, rich withal, having inherited a large property from an aunt. He was in every way qualified as a “parti' for the beautiful daughter of the Hon. Stanhope Macgregor. Even Nurse Brown would surely not flout Hugh Lethaby, although she thought no king on earth was good enough for either of her “girlies.” The individual who did damp liis ardour was Celia herself—-cold as an iceberg, her stereotyped smile was ever sweet and beautiful—but try though he might, and with all the fire and electricity of youth, he strove hard, yet he could not succeed in awakening into volcanic life this seemingly unimpressionable mountain of stone. Among loving words and strong terms of endearment. that would have set most girls aglow with feverish excitement, Celia remained unreciprocal. She only smiled and gave no sign. Whether Charlie Wilton would have had more power to rouse her slumbering senses, who knows—but he was Hilda's attendant knight. In their case the fortunes were reversed. Wilton laughed and talked, and made himself pleasant without any committal of especial interest. Hilda laughed, too, and chatted glibly, while in the garden of seeming pleasantness a little flower bloomed, “And still it lived and throve, And men do call it Summer growth, But the angels call it love.” The day and ice were everything that could be desired, yet the skating adven-

turc, to which both the girls had been looking forward, had scarcely proved a success, and as they, towards dusk, wandered back to the old house —Nurse Brown having already sent one of the men to look for them, and see if they had come to any grief—the spirits of both seemed to be at zero, and during the brisk walk home but few words were interchanged. Neither seemed anxious to confide what was in her mind, and yet till to-day these two sisters, of whom Hilda was the elder, had been as one, the difference in their temperaments being merely as the changeful moods, that frequently occur in the same individual. Could it be that jealousy had been awakened —-that the absence of Charlie Wilton was accountable for the sudden silent reserve, because neither chose to confess her disappointment to the other? They went into the house by the garden door, inside of which Nurse Brown was standing waiting for them in fretful impatience. "Mv dearies —my dearies, 1. began to think you were drowned!” “Nonsense, Nana —don’t be foolish — we are all right.” It was Hilda who answered. “Or all wrong, I’m afeard —there is sometimes worse tilings than drowning • things that even artificial respiration won’t help back into life.” “Whatever are you talking about? Don’t get dotty, Nana—we are. both tired—come and help us to get ready for dinner.” “Ay, dinner —dinner and the master— He has come in.” “Has he been asking for us? Docs he ” Celia now spoke for the first time, and nearly gave them both away in her fear lest her father had discovered that the skating expeditions, of which there had been several, were not simply under the care and supervision of an old faithful pensioned gamekeeper. That Jim would tell tales she did not for a moment suspect, but that her father was Argus-eyed she knew full well, though of course he might expect lovers sooner or later. Had not Brown been telling them for years that girls were only sent into the ■world to marry and settle down. But whether the master of Rooks Nest would approve of the manner of the settling was quite another question; nor did it appear to either of them that the pairing was quite arranged. The want of absolute certainty on this subject it was that was making them both testy and uncommunicative. It was with some trepidation that they joined their father in the diningroom. Nurse Brown’s insinuations whilst she was helping them to dress, being most ■mysterious—nothing inducing her to speak out—she had by no means given them courage, nor did the first glance at their father’s face in any way help to

reassure them. While the butler was in the room no pertinent remark was, however, made; they were not even asked if they had enjoyed their day on the ice. It was not ‘till the time arrived when they usually left Mr. Macgregor to the enjoyment of his post-prandial port, that he hade them remain where the# were, as he wished to speak to them. A shiver passed from one to the other, as they both wondered what was wrong. Their father, however, only by a curl o£ his lips gave sign that he remarked it. He knew, as well as they did, that the greater part of the day had been passed in the society of Hugh Lethaby, since by a circuitous route he had himself gone to the lake, and been an unseen witness’ of their “gambols,” as lie was pleased to consider them. Neverthless, it did not suit him to re* fer to what he 'had seen, though during a stormy interview he had had with Nurse Brown, thus had he designated the escapade of her two charges. Nurse Brown had, however, been strict* ly forbidden to speak in any way to his two daughters on the subject of lovers, until he had done so himself; but, being an old woman, whose garrulity was with, difficulty suppressed, she had treated, them to much mystery and innuendo, as quite to upset their nerves. Mr. Macgregor's remark when, after they had reseated themselves, and he had permitted himself the effect of a short pause—it had been spoken was so unexpectedly startling, that it brought the colour into both their faces. “We have hitherto not had many visitors, but I have instructed Brown to see that the guest chamber is prepared, as I expect a visitor in the course of to-morrow—a young man —a relative, in fact—-Isis name is Wilton.” It was a bomb with a vengeance—especially coming from the Honourable Stanhope, who was by no means given to’ explosives. For a second there was silence, then Hilda managed to murmur, “Yes, father.” It was not very expressive, or like Hie lively Hilda, who usually asked endless questions—that she asked none about this Mr. Wilton a little bit surprised Mr. Macgregor, who had been preparing himself fox- them. As for Celia, she did not speak at all, thus her father was com* pellcd to continue—- “ You will both be civil and make your-* selves agreeable—not leave him to his own devices, while you amuse yourselves on the ice. To your care especially, Hilda, since you are the eldest, I commend him. I do not think he is a bunting man, so in the event of a thaw, which seems imminent, I do not want to have him always on my hands—you understand.” “Yes, father,” repeated in the same meek, somewhat cowed voice. Neither of the girls could comprehend, either why Charlie Wilton was coming

there, or their father’s interest in the matter, and since both of them felt guilty of having kept their acquaintance with him a secret, silenee suited them best. Nor were their tongues loosed with their usual freedom, when they left their father to the enjoyment of his port. They went into the drawingroom, and knelt together in front of the fire, as if warmth was a necessity, if they wished to regain their wonted geniality. Hilda was the first to speak. “I love him,” she murmured beneath Jicr breath, while a sudden flame lighted up her face, the light in which died away as suddenly as tlie flame, when Celia, .whose silenee had till now been truly golden, gave herself away by also murmuring— “l also love him.” Hilda sprang to her feet. ‘‘My father has placed him in my charge, and if you interfere —” But Celia’s arm was round her. “Dear Hilda, let events shape themselves —I will show no sign.” The beauty possessed the sweeter nature of the two, still strong love would never in her stir the depths, that would be stirred in the heart of. the more impassioned Hilda. Meanwhile the first rift had appeared in the lute, on which the sisters had both bo harmoniously played since childhood, nor was coneord re-established by old Brown. She was so garrulous, and yet so mysterious, that both girls were more perplexed about the coming of Mr. Wilton, than they had even been when their father had announced it. When he arrived, the master was out —• purposely it almost seemed. It was Brown who came forward fussily, as if it were her province to receive him. “My boy, my bonnie boy,” she said, “welcome to Rooks Nest. That I have lived to see this day is good for my longing heart.” “What did she mean ? What did Nana know of Mr. Wilton?” The girls’ eyes asked the question of each other. Everybody seemed to have been secretly acquainted with him. Altogether it ■was most uncanny. Would he explain it? They both devoutly hoped so —yet the

explanation might come in a form, for which they were wholly unprepared. For the moment it did not eome at all. Mr. Wilton accepted Nurse Brown’s welcome cordially, shook hands with tho sisters —they were his hostesses, but except by the smile that lighted up his handsome fae e and his mischievously wicked eyes, that were beaming with fun, there, was no betrayal of previous acquaintance. Before any unwitnessed interview could take place between him and the young ladies, he was summoned to one of a far more sedate nature in Hon. Stanhope Macgregor's private sanctum, from which not till the dressing bell had rung did he emerge—his hands full of papers. All this time the girls were on the tiptoe of expectation —while none of the cross-examination to which they had subjected her would induce old Brown to gratify their curiosity, as to who this man really was, or why he had come there. “He’ll tell you himself —or perhaps the telling will come from the master —’taint likely as I shall reveal family secrets now, as I’ve known afore you was 15orn, Missie Hilda.” Not till the morrow was any light permitted to dawn from behind the mysterious cloud, by which the Rooks Nest seemed to be shrouded. Sleep only in snatches had come to the excited girls, who rose betimes, and donning their green serge frocks went on to the terrace. as the first rays of the sun were causing the icicles to drip. “I am getting bored by this perplexing nonsense, and 1 mean to accept Hugh Lethaby,” said pretty Celia, just as a, manly form emerged from a clump of laurel bushes, and stepped on to the terrace at the far end. It was Hugh Lethaby. The plot was thickening—a fresh surprise—what was he doing here? Mr. Maegrcgor did not as a rule court the society of young men. Though he and Squire Lethaby, the father, often met on the Justices bench, and he was occasionally invited to come and sip postprandial port with the master of Rooks Nest, yet Hugh had certainly never before been invited within the precincts of

the old place, and surely he would not presume to intrude without an invitation. He camo up laughing, and looking quite at home. "Funny, isn’t it?” he said, as he shook hands. “When we wer< on the ice together I didn't think the climax would be quite so soon, though of course I and my governor have known all about it for weeks past. Ah, there is Mr. Maegrcgor, he sent word I was to come over to breakfast.” No time for questioning Hugh Lethaby, the Hon. Stanhope was coming along the terrace accompanied by Charlie Wilton. The girls naturally went up to their father forthwith to wish him “Good morning,” but lie was so strangely altered in appearance, that they both started back aghast. There was a gray look in his face, that made them fear that he was seriously ill. He noticed the shade of anxiety that had come over them, and at once sought to allay it by speaking cheerily, and trying by every means lie could to make that terrible English ordeal, the breakfast hour, pass pleasantly. Hugh Lethaby was in reality the only individual who was wholly at his ease. He devoted himself to Celia with an assiduity that showed he bad no recollection of little snubs and coldnesses, especially forgotten were they, since she now elected to receive his attentions with gracious acceptance. The beauty was wise. “She was not going to throw away such a good match as Squire Lethaby’s heir, because she fancied this mysterious Charlie Wilton, who was not only devoted to Hilda, but probably merely a pauper to boot—some outlying relation, whom Nurse. Brown had induced their father to acknowledge out of kindness.” At least, this is what Celia decided, as she looked across the breakfast table. No one had ever heard that this Wilton had any money, and the rather grave manner in which lie received Mr. Maegregor’s courtesies, while he meantime east occasional longing glances at Hilda, quite settled Celia in her belief, that if permitted to sue at all it would be “in forma pauperis!” What Hilda thought and felt was undefinable —but she was very quiet—all the sparkling fun and repartee, in which

she was wont to revel, had been suppressed, and as she glanced every now and again from her father’s face to Charlie Wilton's she dreaded she knew not what, and was thankful that she had an old-fashioned breakfast urn in front of her, which to a great extent, concealed the play of her features. As soon as she possibly could she made a move, and went out by a side uoor on to the terrace. To get away from them all, aud hide herself with her own thoughts in the den below the terrace was her aim. She had apparently quite forgotten, that Charlie Wilton had been committed to her hospitable care, and that she was expected to entertain him. It scented almost as if he were aware of the fact, an did not intend to let her off, for no sooner had she settled herself in a spot sheltered from the. north wind, aud on which the sun's rays were shining, than looking up she saw him standing in front of her. “Dearest Hilda,” he said. “I am come to make my peace if possible. I woyder if you will ever forgive me.” “Forgive you? What for?” Was this a new riddle propounded for her to guess? When lie gravely answered “for living,” she quite thought that it must be so. But Hilda felt weary. She was in no mood for guessing conundrums. “What does it all mean? I am tired of mystery, Mr. Wilton!” “It means, darling, that I love you, and that 1 have my uncle Stanhope’s consent to woo you—not clandestinely on the ice, but here in open day on terra finna at Rooks Nest.” She looked at him witlT wide open eyes. ■ “Uncle Stanhope,” she ftiurmured, “you are ” “The outcast nephew—whose mother was supposed not to be the lawful wife of my late father, though old Nurse Brown was always positive that the marriage ceremony had been legally performed. It had taken place in France. The proof, however, was not obtainable, till about a month ago, when an old priest sent for my maternal grandmother, told the tale on his death-bed,an dthe legal certificate was found among the archives of the church.”

“Then you—you are the son of my father's eldest brother, and ” Hilda grew deadly white, as sh? stammered out these few words, but it was for her father, not for herself, she was suffering. She knew now why he had suddenly become aged and altered, Tfle proud man • —the assertive lord of the soil must give up Rooks Nest to this scion of the elder generation. “There need be no change—Rooks Nest, ns long as he lives, shall have Uncle Stanhope for its master. You and I will save the situation." She looked at him askance. “Dearest, you love me,” he went on. “Do not say that I have been deceiving myself.” She put her hand in his and pressed it •—while she whispered: “But my father—how can our love save my father —since you— ■” “If I did not exist you are his heiress—jointly w.j will let him know no difference. Luckily, there is no title, so society need not be taken into our secret.” “And Celia?” “She is not in it. She is only entitled to a younger son's or daughter's portion—besides, of course, she will marry Hugh. He is rich enough for both.” “Oh, Charlie, how strange it all is.” It was the first time she had called him Charlie, and it spoke volumes. His arm was round her, and she was clasped to his heart, only managing to free herself just in time, as Celia came to tell them, how she had decided to accept woman's inevitable lot, matrimony, in the form of Hugh Lethaby. To say that Stanhope Macgregor was ever again the proud master of the Rooks Nest would be wide of the mark. His step was less firm, his head less erect, nevertheless he was a happy, contented man, and never was allowed to remember that, save for Charlie’s generosity, a terrible society bomb might have exploded in his home.