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

Patea Mail, Volume III, Issue 254, 15 September 1877, Page 4

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

o fßv Mbs. Harriet Lewis.] CHAPTER XXIX. A MOUNTAIN-EYRIE. Upon the north-west coast of Scotland, in a region of utter wildness and savageness, over which broods eternally an air ot awful desolation, a dreary promontory pushes itself boldly out into the seething sea, like the bead of some huge and terrible monster. This promontory is known as Black Rock. Its precipitous face rises steeply from the ocean to a height of several hundred feet, and in its many jagged crevices the cider ducks breed unmolested by even the most adventurous hunter. Seagulls circle about its top, filling the air with their wild screams, adding their share to the weird strangeness of the scene. Black Rock is far remote from all the haunts of men. The nearest cluster of fishermen’s huts, or shepherd’s cabins, is many miles away. No adventurous tourist ever treads the dangerous mountain passes that lead to Black Rock; no guide-book even contains its name. It is supposed to bo out of the pale of human seeking, and oven the fishermen upon the coast give it a wide berth, because of the treacherous, hidden rocks outlying it, their pointed, jagged tops, like sharks’ teeth, ever gaping for prey. Yet, despite the terrible loneliness of a spot so forsaken by man, and apparently forgotten by its Creator, a house stands upon the summit of Black Rock—a long, low, gray stone house of rambling shape, with a tall lookout tower commanding a magnificent view of the sea. The house is hidden in a thick growth of scrubby pines and hemlocks, so as scarcely to be seen from the sea, or even from the land until one stands at its very portal. The old bouse of Black Rock has a tragic history in keeping with its surroundings. A powerful Highland family once dwelt within its walls. This family became reduced in size as in power until, at last, two brothers, the last of their' race, only remained to keep the old hearth-stone warm. These brothers, horn in one hour, and devotedly attached to each other, as twins are apt to bo, fell both in love wuth the same la ly, a beautiful Lowland heiress. She played fast and loose with them, and secretly engaged herself to both. With the new love came the breaking np of the old. Jealousy crept in and made a wide breach between the two young men who had never before in all their lives known an hour’s alienation.

The younger son, fiery, impetuous, and passionate, yet withal noble and tender-hearted, retired to the wild Highland fastness, confident of the faith of his betrothed, and meditating upon schemes of reconciling his brother to his expected marriage.

That brother remained in Edinburgh, and paid such assiduous court to the Lowland heiress that she, discovering him to be the heir of his ancestral estates, yielded to his pleadings and became his bride.

No intimation of the marriage was sent to the young and trusting lover at Black Rock. The happy husband, unconscious of the treachery of his bride, planned to surprise his brother, and bought - and fitted up a beautiful yacht, in which he sailed with his false young bride for his northern cyriq.

In those days the place lacked much of the desolation of the present time. A score of Highland servants, trusted old retainers, who were in reality humble friends of the family, filled the servants’ hall. The stables contained many horses of rugged Highland breed. Boats filled the little harbor sheltered by the promontory. Guests thronged the great halls and quaint, low, drawingrooms, coming many days’ journey and often remaining months at a time. The gardens were bright with bloom during the brief summers, and all the year round the Black Rock conservatories held a wealth of tropical blossom and verdure in striking contrast to the rugged native productions.

To tins home the favored elder brother brought his wife. The yacht sailed into the little harbor onesummer afternoon near the hour of sunset, and the gay bridal party, numbering a score of persons, came swarming up the cliff by the flight of stops cut in the rocks.

They were met at the main entrance, upon the Tery threshold, by the dcc jived younger twin. The elder gaily introduced his wife. The younger stood appalled like a statue of marble. But as he comprehended the whole fatal truth, how he had been tricked and deceived by the smiling coquette he had so trusted, passion overcame the love of a life-time, a very whirlwind of fury seized his soul. He leaped backward, caught from the wall of the great hall a sword his grandfather had wielded in some memorable battle, tore it from its scabbard, and hurled himself upon his brother. Before the horrified spectators' could recover from the stupor ol amazement that held them enthralled the hapless bridegroom fell to the floor, literally hewn to pieces.

The murderer, horror-stidckeif ■at s AiS‘ crime, backed his way to the edge of the cliff, protecting his retreat with the dripping sword, and hurled himself over the precipice into eternity. His mangled corpse was found among the rocks and buried with a stake driven through its breast. The bride became a hopeless maniac, and lingered out her long life in a padded cell in an insane asylum at Edinburgh. The scene of the tragedy was abandoned by the old retainers, the old house was closed, and only one old couple was found to remain upon the estate. They dwelt in a hut near the great house, but were careful never to visit it after nightfall. The property reverted to n. distant connection of the family who was wealthy and never visited his new acquisition. The fields and pastures went to waste, the Highland cattle grew wild and fierce, the gardens became a wilderness, and the old stone-dwelling began to show signs of age. Fifty years had passed since the date of the tragedy, and the scene of longpast gayety had become what we have described. ” The old house was believed to bo haunted by the spirits of the two brothers, and in fisher’s hamlets, fiftymiles down the coast, the story of the last of the Cathcairns was told in shuddering whispers, in the Gaelic tongue, about the smoking peat-fires on wintry nights, and when a wilder blast of wind than usual blew in from the Atlantic, the simple peasants half-believed it the wail of those lost souls.

The old couple who had dwelt in the hut, and taken some care of the estate, had removed fo the southward, when the infirmities of age crept on, and had died there. No one had ever been found to take tbeir place, but the tradition of the spot sufficed to protect the house and its contents from depredation and even from visits. From one year’s end to the other, no one ever came by sea or laud to desolate Black Rock, upon which so heavy a curse seemed to have fallen.

But fishermen, occasionally sailing at a distance from the promontry, told of spectral lights that burned on dark nights on the old tower, and surmised that the ghosts of the Cathcairns would never know rest while one stone of the old structure remained upon another.

The time in which wo introduce the old house to the attention of the reader, is a blustering afternoon in that very month of March, when the London detectives announced to Lord Glenham their belief that Cecil Rosse was dead and that further search for her would be time lost.

A faint smoke was curling from one of the chimneys of the Black Rock dwelling. At a small mullioned window of, the third story of the tower, a girl stood looking over the tops of the scrubby pines at the sea.

The panes of glass were small and diamond-shaped, and heavily set in load, in ancient fashion. The girl’s face, wan and wistful, was pressed close against the window, while her eager, mournful eyes surveyed the scene wfth intense dreariness.

The sea, a leaden surface lashed to a white fury by the March wind, -was nearly hidden by a thick white whirl of falling snow and driving sleet.

The girl who gazed so wistfully out into the.storm was no ghost of a perjured coquette, but a living reality. She was slender and graceful as a willow, with a youthful majesty of bearing as remarkable as it rendered her distinguished. Despite her pallor and thinness, her splendid young beauty was unmarred in a single line or feature. The red-brown hair with a golden shimmer upon its loose waves, her redbrown eyes with a golden glint in the depths, reminding one of a yellow star reflected from a clear deep well, the tender, [sensitive, lovely young mouth, the fairness, the sweetness, the unfaltering courage shown in look and attitude —surely these were the features and attributes of the lost young girl for whom so many had searches so long and vainly ! The girl was Cecil Rosse !

The room was large and long, and was connected by a half open door with a sscond chamber of a similar size.

There were four or five window, all overlooking the sea. There was a wide and yawning fire-place, large as a small room. A fire of logs blazed in it. The floor was covered with a heavy but faded old carpet that had done good service sixty years before. A halfdozen old-fashioned, straight-backed chairs, and sofas of similar pattern with a lady’s work-table, a writing-table, and various other conveniences for lady-like employment, comprised the furniture. The low walls were hung with ancient tapestry of French manufacture, and of great age. These hangings had formerly decorated the drawing-room, but had been removed to this chamber for greater convenience of repair.

A high chair stood before a section of tapestry that had been enclosed in a small embroidery frame. A needle threaded with red wool was thrust into the canvas. A second high chair close to the other supported a basket ’ of gay balls of wool, a cushion for needles, and other appurtenances for sewing. j TO BE CONTINUED, J