Lady Trebor's Secret, OR THE MYSTERY OF CECIL ROSSE.

Patea Mail, Volume III, Issue 214, 28 April 1877, Page 4

Lady Trebor's Secret, OR THE MYSTERY OF CECIL ROSSE.

QRv Mbs... Harriet.- Lewis.]

CHA PTE 11 lll.— Continued. The' girl obeyed. The old pastor closed his eyes, and leaned back in his chair. His face looked singularly worn and sorrowful in the dim light, and there was a weariness in its drooping features that told of extreme physical weakness. No one marked the rapid change of expression in the young face at his knee, the passionate anguish in the sweet eyes, the tense lines about the lovely mouth, the bitterness, horror, and despair indicated in all her perfect features. The letter dropped at last from Cecil’s hand, and the bright head drooped to the pastor’s knee, while Cecil gave way to a burst of passionate weeping. “My child,” said the old scholar, arousing himself with his former bewildered expression, “hush, dear, you pain me. I would have kept this from you if I had dared. Lord Glonham may come back. Goodness, beauty, ami genius, arc of more value than ancestry, and his mother may think so, too, and open her anus to you as to a daughter. Put the letter in your pocket. It may prove a clow some day.” Ho gathered up the bank-notes, opened his desk, ami took from an inner drawer a leathern pocket-book, “ Here are seven hundred pounds of English money,” he said, putting the two notes in the purse—“all that your guardian ever sent me. This money is yours. Take it, Cecil. Keep it. No one knows what may happen. Yon may yet have sore need of it. I never used one penny of that man’s money for you, dear. We looked upon you as our own, ami so provided for you, and I kept this as a provision for your future.”

Cecil put the purse and letter in her pocket, as he again enjoined her. “ The good wife and I had saved from our earnings before our marriage,” continued Herr Brocken ; “ but wc furnished this house from our money, and used a portion to eke out my slender stipend as pastor. About fifteen hundred thalers still remains in bank to my credit. Grctchou has served me and mine faithfully for twenty years. She is old and alone in the world. The moner I leave should go to her.” “Yes, uncle, but why do you say such things ? You are well; you will live many years. Do not think of death.”

The pastor smiled tenderly. “ I should like to live for your sake, dear,” ho said. “ But for my own, I would like to see again the good wife. Yon need me. Yon will bo like a lamb in a den of wolves when lam gone. I fear for you—l tremble to think what you would do without the care and this safe shelter. If anything should happen to me, keep Grotchen with you. She loves you and will guard you with fidelity*!” “ You speak as if you expected to die. Are you ill, dear unci' ?” “’Not ill, but very tired. And you arc tired, too. The hour is growing late. There is only one thing more, and then you must go to bed, my darling.” Ho took' from the desk a small packet, which he opened. “ The good wife wrote out the history of your coming here,” ho said, “ and here it is. Wo both signed it. And the good wife, who was clover with her pencil, made that night, after your guardian’s departure, a sketch of his face. Hero it is. It can do you no good, but as the man might have been your father, wc preserved it for you !” Cecil seized the paper eagerly, and stared at the picture with great, devouring eyes. It represented a young man with a fair, English face, a heavy, cruel mouth ; small, blue eyes, the left one having a peculiar droop; and with a large mole on the left cheek. The face was hard, cold, and unpleasant, and Cecil shuddered as she studied it, feeling a quick sense of repulsion towards it. “Do you think that he was my father ?” she asked.

“ The good wife thought not. , But ho might have been. Men can be very cruel to their own flesh and blood when they are supremely selfish. Keep the picture, dear. And now, Cecil, we must say good-night !” Cecil arose, her anxiety dispelled by his placid look and gentle smil. Repressing her own emotion and agitation lest she should disturb him, she kissed him softly and moved towards the door. As she lifted the latch , he called her back. , ■ .■ “ You have been a good child to me, Cecil,” he said, affectionately. “ The world is full of perils and pitfalls, but God will,guide and guard you !” Cecil knelt down beside him, and he laid his hands on her head and blessed her. Then he embraced her tenderly, as sha arose, and dismissed her. The girl paused at the door and looked back at him with a vague anxiety,, which, was dispelled by the sight of his gentle, smiling face. She went softly up to her own room to brood over the story she had that night heard, and to wonder and weep in the passionate manner of youth, and to think of Lord Glenham, and^- filially, to dream of him.

The old pastor loaned back in his chair, still softly smiling, his pain and anxieties vanished, a blissful peace pervading his soul. His long, scanty locks fell around his venerable face, and his eyelids drooped wearily.

“ Poor little Cecil !” he said to himself, yet without seeming to realise his words. “ I seem to have a gift of second sight to-night. A terrible future yawns before her. Poor little one ! God shield her !”

His smile deepened. The candle burned low and went out in a guttering noise. The shadows filled the study, and the night deepened, but still ho did not stir. The kitchen clock struck loudly the hours as they passed, but he did not heed it. When morning dawned, he still sat in bis easy-chair, his head thrown back, the gentle smile frozen on Ids features, which were rigid us marble. The old pastor had gone to join his good wife. Ho was dead, and Cecil Rossc was left alone in the world to meet the terrible perils in store for her ! CHAPTER IV. MR. TUI,FORD. Upon the northwestern coast of Scotland, in a grim, wild region, upon a high, precipitous bluff overhanging the seething ocean, sits throned a gray old castle, once the stronghold of a powerful Highland chief, who gathered his hosts of armed retainers within Ids halls in troublous times and bade defiance to his foes.

The marriage of the daughter and only child of its latest Scottish owner had carried the ownership of Castle Cliff into the possession of an equally powerful English family, that of the proud-Marquis of ot. Leonards. The grim old stronghold had been skillfully ■ modernized throughout half its extent without greatly marring its value as a relic of feudal times. The small slit-like apertures in the thick walls had been replaced by French windows, an oriel or two relieved the blank spaces, the stone floors had been replaced with oak, and other small improvements made, but the immense and cavernous chimneys remained intact, the dusky old wuinscotings had been polished like mirrors, and the battlemented towers were unaltered. But Castle Cliff, with its air of desolate grandeur, was no longer a residence throughout the year.. Lord St. Leonards visited it for a month or two nearly every autumn with a party of friends, shooting in the vast woods, deer-stalking and fishing; but ho had grander estates in England, and returned to them regularly with the coming of cold weather. But the marquis was not expected at Castle Cliff this season. Ho was now seventy-five years of age, hale and vigorous still, and had by no moans given up active pursuits and sports, but he had spent the summer at Vichy, in Franco, and was expected to remain there during the autumn. Ho had written to his granddaughter. Lady Trevor, placing the, castle at the disposal of herself and friends during the month of September, and her ladyship, with a dozen chosen companions, was already in possession. It was the first week of September, a raw and chilly day, with a fine mist pervading the atmosphere, blotting out the distant features of the landscape and giving a funereal aspect to the woods and gardens, and to the dull, leadcnhued sea.

The gentlemen had gone out with dogs and guns at an earlier hour, before the mist had begun to fall, and were not yet returned. The ladies had retired to their rooms to read, to write letters, to lounge, or to sleep. Lady Trevor was in her own private sitting-room alone. The great chimney yawned like a cavern, and she had caused to be built in it a fire of resinous pine that filled the room with warmth, light, and fragrance. The heat had driven her ladyship to the oriel window, where she half reclined in a luxurious lounging chair, and idly watched the sea below and her yacht which rocked upon it. Lady Trevor, the granddaughter and heiress of Lord St. Leonards, was the widow of a baronet.who had had the reputation of being one of the worst scoundrels of his time. Sir Albert had been dead nearly two years, and his widow had re-entered society, creating a sensation by her beauty and wealth. She was always attended by an elderly companion, who was also a widow, and whose plainness of feature served as an admirable foil to her own beauty. The baronet’s widow was about thirtythree years of ago, but owing to the skilful arts of the toilet appeared scarcely five-and-twenty. She was a tall, stately brunette, with an olive, skin, flashing black eyes, abundant black hair arranged in the fashionable style of the day, and with a full figure which was setoff to the best possible advantage by costly Parisian costumes. Haughty and imperious, with passionate love of luxury and display, she was utterly devoid of the softness and sweetness which are woman’s greatest charms, and was as hard and cold and glittering as her own treasured diamonds.

She was already dressed for dinner, although it was hut five o’clock, and dinner would not be served until seven. Her robe was a combination of claret velvet and cream-coloured silk, which was . strikingly effective and very becoming to her. Her ornaments were of rubies, large and of the true “ pigeon’s blood” hue, with hearts of ruddy flame, and the glpw dnhirhing stars.

She had dismissed her maid and settled down to a survey of the gloomy sea and the drizzling mist, and to the enjoyment of her own thoughts. Tiring of these she pulled a boll, and when a servant appeared, commanded: “ Send Mr Pnlford to me.” The order was obeyed, and Mr Pulford presently made his appearance. Ho was a man of middle ago, with a florid complexion, small gray eyes, keen and furtive in their glances, and a full sandy beard that concealed his mouth, completely covering the lower half of his face. There -was something sinister in bis appearance, in spite of his insinuating manner—something sly and secret about him that would have impressed a student of physiognomy with a keen distrust of him. [to be continued.]