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

Patea Mail, Volume III, Issue 265, 27 October 1877, Page 4

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

[By Mrs. Harriet Lewis.] CHAPTER XXXYll.—contd. Tiie shepherd's surprise increased. “ Dinna ye know the Bomnar valley ?” he demanded. “ This is the Benmar valley, then ?.” said old Grotchen. “ But what country is it ? Are we in England, or Norway, or Sweden, or Iceland ?” “ It’s Scotland !” was the reply, as the. host leaned against the inner door-post, “ If ye’re here, how happens ye didn’t ' know that?” “ What part of Scotland is it ?” asked Grotchen, paying no heed to his question. ‘ “ The Hiolan, ot 'course. Do you see mountains like these’ in the Lowlan’s ? Are ye daft, woman ? Sure your mistress knows all this,” and he turned his gaze upon Cecil. The girl did not answer, but her look's and her silence were sufficient negative even to this dull-witted questioner. “ Our ignorance of our whereabouts must seem strange to you,” said Cecil, noticing his looks of suspicion and general uneasiness. “Wo supposed that ve were in Yorkshire, until very recently —Yorkshire in England. We were brought up the coast in a yacht and landed at a lonely old house were wc have spent the winter.” “ The servants in charge of the house were our enemies,” exclaimed Grotchen. “ They tried to kill us. Wo succeeded iu making our escape yesterday morning before daybreak, and have ridden hard ever since. Our enemies arc in pursuit of us. They mean to kill us both. They may arrive at any moment Will you protect my young mistress and save her?” pleaded the old woman, earnestly. The Highlander did not reply. In his own mind he deemed “ the foreign woman” decidedly “ uncanny.” He regarded Cecil questioningly. The shepherd scratched his sandy head, and vainly wished for his comrade’s return.

“ It’s a strange story, a vera strange story,” he commented. “ I dinuo think I ev-or heerd the like afore. Murders and them things dinna belong to the Hielan’s. Where was the house whore you lived the winter ?” “ It was called Black Rock ” answered Miss Rosse. “ Black Rock? The house of the lost Cathcairns? Ikon the place. And you have been in that house ?” “ We have spent the winter there !” The shepherd looked incredulous. He did not believe the assertion. “ The old house is ha’ntccl!” he exclaimed. “ For fifty years no human being has boon inside its doors. It is cursed. The blood of the murdered laird stains its flares. The twin brithers walk the balls and chambers, and spectral lights are seen in the windows. No one Avould sloop iu Black Rock 'House for a king’s throne'. An’ ye say ye’ve spent the wiuior there ?” “ Wo have!” declared Grotchen, stoutly. “ Ye linin’ be mistaken. I dinna think it possible !” declared the shepherd, still incredulous. “ You have not answered me,” said Grotchen. “ You have not promised to protect ns.” “ No one shall kill ye, be sure o’ that. Make yourselves comfortable, while I attend to the ponies,” was the reply. The fugitives ate their supper, while their host made a pretence of looking after their steeds, and kept up an impatient watch for the return of his comrade. The shepherd had no faith whatever in the story he had heard. He waited outside until Cecil came out and stood beside him, looking anxiously iu the direction she had come. “ You look beat, leddy,” he said, respectfully. “Ye’d better turn into one o’ them bunks and go to sleep. Yo can fasten the door to suit yonrsel’, and I II watch outside. I expect my comrade hack soon, and we’ll let no harm happen 3' c -” Cecil raised her trusting eyes to lus iu gratitude. She put out her little white hand, which he seized and looked at as if it were a curiosity presented for his examination, and then dropped it as if it had burned him. “ May , God reward you for your kindness to two friendless creatures !” said the girl, softly, “ Wo will go to bed and to sleep, trusting in your promise to protect us. Good-night.” She went inside and closed the door. “ They can’t help bein’ fules,” mused the best, touched by her beauty and sweetness into more consideration than he had before displayed. “ She’s a pretty file, anyhow. To think she didn’t know t mt this was Scotland! She must be chain daft i” Ho resumed his smoking. In the course of an hour his comrade returned, and the story was rehearsed to him, Avith such additions and eiiibelishuunite as Uio circumstance seemed to warrant. “ Wo’ll fine to sleep outside,” said the new comer, Avhoso name was Sandy. l( From what yon say, Wully, it seems

that the two women are daft. If anybody is after- ’em, it is because they need lookin’ after, I dinna in murders in these times, nor in any canny person living at Black Rock House.” The shepherds watched outside, and talked, ami found it hard work to keep awake. Both were dozing about midnight when they wore aroused by the sound of hoofs close at hand. Starting up, they found themselves confronted by Jarvis ! “ Good evening sirs,” said Jarvis, politely, drawing rein, but not alighting. “ Have you seen anything of two women travelling alone ? By Heaven ! there are the ponies now ! The women are here !” Ho sprang lightly to the ground, bristling with excitement. , “ There are two women-crcatures here,” responded Sandy, with true Scotch caution, “ but if they be tbe ones ye seek we dinna ken.” “ They arc the same. I recognise the ponies. One of them is an old foreign servant-woman. The other is a girl—” “ A pretty bit lassie, with' eyes like clouds Avith the suu shinin’ through ’em,” said Wully. “ The same! I’ve been on their tracks those two days. Thank fortune I’ve found ’em. Have a drop, sir ?” He brought forth from an inner pocket of his heavy overcoat a longblack bottle half filled with Scotch whiskey, and offered it to the two men. They accepted tbe courtesy, drinking copiously. Under the warmth of the fiery liquid, their caution and reserve fled. Their distrust of the fugitives inspired them with zeal for the pursuer. Jarvis tossed down a draught when they had finished, and restored the bottle to its previous receptacle. “ About the women ?” ho said. “ You’ve given up the hut to them, I see, while you took the outside. That’s kind of you. I suppose they are asleep? I suppose they told a queer story, eh ?” “ Ay, they did,” said Wully. “ They talked like twa fulos, I never heerd the like, mon.” “ Wo concluded they were daft,” said Sandy. Jarvis was quick enough to seize upon the word and the idea it contained. “ Daft,” he repeated. 11 That’s jest what they are—as crazy as two Bedlamites. They escaped from me—l keep a mad-house, you know—and they are dangerous—l am Dr Graham —I demand you to surrender them, in the name of the law.” The two Highlanders were impressed. “Is your mad’us at Black Rock ?” inquired Sandy. “ Black Rock ?” echoed Jarvis, pretending horror, “ I should hope not. I have a sanitary retreat at Incledon. They came from there.” lucledon was a small hamlet on the coast, fifty miles distant from Black Rock. The shepherds looked at each other significantly. 11 1 knew that no one would bide at Black Rock over night,” said Wully. “ I knew the twa women-croatures were clean daft. And ye’re their keeper? And they escaped fare ye ? I kenned they wouldn’t be wandering around alone without a man with ’em if all was right, lam glad ye found ’em. They’d a froze or starved to death amang the mountains in a day or two. Their stories were altogether too curious to bo true. I didn’t believe in ’em for one minute,” and he drew himself up importantly, pluming himself on his worldly wisdom. “ I shall have to halt to-night anyhow,” said Jarvis. “My beast is tired out, and I need rest. And in the morning you’ll surrender my patients to me, eh ?” “Certainly,” replied Sandy. “In the morning the two puir creatures shall bo given up to you. Do you take us for heathen, that we’d let ’em escape to perish amang the hills ? They may say what they will, puir, daft things. WeTl see that they go back with ye.” CHAPTER XXXYIII. A FAILURE. A day or two after the scene iu Lady Trevor’s drawing-room, in which the handsome widow had found herself at such disadvantage between Lord St. Leonards on the one hand, and Mr Pulford on the other, the Earl of Glenham returned to London from his trip to the Continent. As the marquis had said, Lord Glenham had gone abroad upon a false clew, like very many others they had before pursued. His lordship returned disheartened and well-nigh discouraged, and proceeded directly to his town house, where his mother waited and watched, with ceaseless anxiety, for his coming. The countess sat alone, a book on her knee, her eyes turned towards the window in an absent, unseeing gaze. She was thin and avovu ; the proud and haughty old face wore a very sforrowfnl expression, “ Lord Harry Ravendale married the woman he loved, and she wrecked his life !” thought the countess. “ Gordon Avill not marry Miss Rosse, I trust, yet none the less will she be his ruin ! If he had never gone to the Black Forest on that unfortunate hunting-trip, he might to-day have been the happy husband of Lady Trevor !” [to be continued. J