CHAPTER VIII.

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 337, 26 January 1889, Page 4

CHAPTER VII I.

MALCOLM 3IACGRKGOR — READY FOR THE WILL. All day Sunday Reynard Bevevn had the butchers, the porters, the scullions, and the cooks of the castle busily engaged in preparingthefunereal meafcsforthe morrow ; for there could be no fcime on the day'of the event in which to make the preparations necessary to the feast which he meant; to provide for the people who should come to pay their last tribute of honour and respect to the dead baron. Not only had he brought up ironi the vaults the casks of beer that had been already brewed, but he made a draft upon the granges lound about for as much more. It was his boast that it should be 'a feast worthy of the occasion, aud worthy of him in '"hofae honour it was given.' * > Blanche, with tears in her eyes, had begged that such a teasb— such mountains of beef and mutton, and such butts of beer, and, worse than all else, so many measures of strong spiiits — should not be spread before the tenants of Ravendale — the young and the old, youths and maidens, the weak and the strong. She did not like it. But Reynard laughed at her. She had approached him a second time, during the eaily part of the Sabbath, for the purpose of urging; her request — her earnest prayer — when he said to her, with a look into her eyes that almost frightened her : * Blanche i Look ye : Suppose, by some wonderful turn of fortune's wheel, another should be sot ever me, as Lord Ravendale, would you begrudge me the satisfaction of playing master during the poor brief time that would be mine? Pah ! You are unkind !' Blanche shrank, and shuddered, and turned away ; and she interfered with him no more. Monday dawned bright and fair. A gentle breeze, coming from over the lake, brought a, soothing, calming influence with it, besides giving promise of its continuation. Such a breeze, ironi that particular quarter, with the rising of the sun, foretold smiling skies and kindly air through the day. The day was not more than four hours old when the lookout on the battlements of Edgar's Tower &aw a glittering cavalcade entering the village from the south. The riders had been hidden from the watcher's view by a gio\e of elms and maples that skirted the -village gieen, and he discovered them as they began to file out into the open space. He waited until he had seen the whole company — five-aud-tweiity of them — with their brighthelmetsand polished breastplates gleaming: in the sunlight, and then he went down to l'eport. Reynard received the intelligence with outward calmness : but within were tiies of wrath and indignation. He was awate that Colonel MacGiegor, of the Kind's service — knight and gentleman — was one and the same with the bright-faced, gallant boy whom he had so vilely traduced. He had heard that a force was to be stnt from the capital to beaich for the robbers of Ben Alpine ; but he had not dreamed until now that his aforesaid companion and tival, Malcolm, was to be connected with the expedition. Now, however, remembering- what Blanche had told him, and considering it in the light of this new revelation, he had no doubt that the youth he had regarded as his enemy in the other years was to be his enemy still, in more ways than one. • 0 '.' he muttered to himself, when once more alone, ' if that will does not appear lam safe. And it cannot. I know I had it in my hand. I opened it ; I looked over its contents ; I saw /»> name where mine should have been. I held it, surely, in these hands ; and it could not have gone off by power of its own. The — the — No matter what it was ; it took that will, and it will not bring it back by daylight. lam safe ! Let him come ! Let him come, and do whafc he pleases. As for the other matter — Bah !We will give his five-and-twenty men such a dance through our mountain passes as they will not be likely to forget ; unless, indeed, they should chance to lose their memories with their heads UHo ! that may happen ; and my face shall not be seen in the fray. JSi v arm will not be needed again&t such a squad.' An hour later, a young man, in (he rich J uniform of a colonel of the King's Life Guards, with the Order of the Hospital on |; his breast, and the golden spur on his heel, [' appeared at the great gate, where, seeing ' that people were passing in at pleasure, he stopped for a moment, and then moved ; on. He had taken but a step, however, when a hand upon his arm caused him to turn, and he met the eager gaze of the old waider. ' Master Malcolm ! Bless my soul ! It must be ! Dear Malcolm ! Myeyes do not play me false !' 'No, John.' My dear old friend! true heart! God bless you for all your goodness to mo ! I have nevei forgotten it.' Others gathered around — some of the castls, but more of the tenantty— and it was a considerable time before the young" 1 officer could get away ; but he broke free at length, and walked rapidly towards the inner gate, and thence towards the deep arch of the keep. Of course, we know who this new arrival is. Malcolm MacGregor, son of the late baron's only sister. He was lour - andtwenty years of age, tall and strong, with a frame peifecfc in all its part&, muscular and massive, and yet as graceful and easy of movement as the most delicate and sensitive fibre could make it. I His features were regular and strongly marked, . classic in outline, with the warmth of a noble, generous heart, and the light of a spirit that knew no guile, in the rilling. Then, too, there wa3 a kindly, beaming smile lurking around the full, ruby lips, and in the bright grey eyes, that gave added charm and

beauty to the face already as beautiful as face need be. And ho had come honestly by his good looks, and by the rare courage that had gained him fame and renown. His father had been acknowledged the handsomest man in the Scottish army, while his mother — the peerless Lady Margaret — had borne the palm for beauty and grace while she lived. But let his look pass. It is the man with which we have to deal ; and, as compared with Reynard Bevern, he was as Hyperion to a satyr ; or, as a spirit of light to the arch fiend himself. Malcolm went on, and entered tho keep. Reynard had received notice of his coming, and kept out of tho way. Blanche also had I received word, and she had come to meet ! him ; but she would not have the meeting where others could see. Sho retired to a small apartment on that lower floor which was her own, where she kept hor tame birds and her exotic plants, and thither she bade her maid to conduct him. Remember, they had not met for nine long years. When last they had stood face to face, holding each other by tho hand, he calling on Heaven to witness his innocence, and she, gazing through blinding tears, telling him, again and again, that she kneio he wan true and good ; then he had been in his sixteenth year — only a few months / beyond fifteen — and sho, but ten. In the years back of that, before he had known chat her hand was promised to another, they had talked of love and of marriage, with all the faith and fervour of maturity. He had called her his little wife, and she had answered him in term 3 as endearing and as significant. And from that day they had not met. But they had received messages, each from the other ; and Be sure those messages had not been without tokens of a lovo that had not grown le^s. Blanche stood near the centre of the room, with a robin on ono shoulder, and a bright-breasted oriole on tho other, while two canaries flew about her head, as though jealous of those who had gained place within reach of their mistress's cherry lips, whence they often took choice bits ot food. Presently the door was opened ; a strauger entered — a sti anger, in a garb that glittered and dazzled — and the birds flew away to the highest perches they could find. As Malcolm entered, the door is as closed behind him. He stopped and gazed upon the vision of loveliness before him. He had carried in his mind the bright-faced, gentle child — the little fairy, blithe and winsome — tho trusting, loving cousin, whom to take to his bosom and salute with a kiss was no offence. At first it was difficult to believe that this was Blanche who now appeared to his enraptured gaze. With her it Avas different. He had been a youth, brave and gallant and manly, ay hen he had left her. Morever, she had followed him in all his heroic course ; had seen him, in her thoughts — and her thoughts had been "very vivid — had seen him on the field of battle ; had stood by and seen the accolade given him by his king, and followed him in his preferment and promotion ; being thus prepared to behold almost the reality that now appeared. But not quite. She had not dared to expect all that stood revealed. By-and-by, a3 the soldier strove within himself to bring the past and present together — to find in the queenly beauty now before him his well- beloved of the othev years — while he strove for this, she smiled — a smile that lighted up her face, a smile, in short, that was a revelation. She smiled ■ and spoke : ' Malcolm ! O ! Malcolm !' : He could never tell how it was — how it came to pass. As she moved towards him ; he took a step in the same direction. Her : name, in tender, quivering accents, was on s his lips, and he opened wide his arms. It > was the impulse of the moment, and almost i before he realised the situation &>he was i resting on his bosom, his strong arms were I around her, and she, in the great flood of i her yearning, trusting love, kissed him on ! the cheek. He returned it on the lips. ' Blanche ! Blanche ! may I—o ! may I — say, my own ?' s ' Yes, Malcolm, if so your heart inclineth you.' i ' Blanche ! I can hardly realise it. Shall : 1 awaken and find myself called a-neld? ! Can this great joy be mine ? Is it to en- > duie? May I take this hand and feel ; that it is mine own ?' 'Malcolm, if this hand of mine— if its owner — is dearer to you than all the world i beside, as thou art dear to me, thou , mayest take it without tear, and call it ! thine own.' i ' Blanche,' he whispered, imprinting a : fervent kiss upon her brow as he spoke, 'in , all the world I know no other love like unto the love I give to bhee. Among all the : women I have met, and they are legion, I / have found not one with a smile or a word i that could win irom my heart one atom ot i the love I gave to thee in the days of long, long ago. 0! my darling, this is joy !' And by-and-by they sat down and talked • of the past. Blanche's most earnest desire, ! for the present, was that Malcolm should I know that his uncle had died, not only in > the belief, but in the full knowledge that he was innocent — innocent of all the evil s that had been so wickedly charged against him. 'It was a blessed thing,' she said, • that i you sent me word of Dugald Garrow, tho . old keeper of the hounds. I brought him ■ to papa's bedside towards tno last, and when he knew that his kind old master was ■ dying he became braye — put away all fear i ot Reynard, and told the whole truth as he knows it. O ! if you could have &een my : father's face, and heard his piteous appeal ; to Heaven that ho might be permitted to see you once more betore he died — if you could have seen and heard, you would have known how he loved you. Ay, how he had never ceased to carry in his deepest heart his dead sister's son.' The recital affected the young knight deeply. Blanche did not tell him%of the new will, nor did he appear to think ofniich a thing. That his good old uncle had died blessing him, knowing his innocence, was all the good he craved. At that time he would have regarded a thought of the old man's wealth as a sacrilege. No ; the thought that his uncle's dying blessing was to rest upon him through life, and that the heart and the hand ot his dear and only love were his — to be his while he lived — was all that he asked, all that he dared to hope for : and so much more was it than he had ever in his wildest iancies expected, that even yet ho almost feared that he was to awake and find it all a dream. Blanche told the story of her father's adventure in the mountain pass, but she did not mention Reynard's name in connection therewith. And then she told how he had been biought home, and how he had died. When she had concluded, Malcolm, after a little hesitation, asked her if she had ever suspected that Reynard himself was connected with the daring robbers who had so long been a terror to the region round about Ben Alpine. It was a critical thing for her to answer — for her to consider. Her own prejudices, sh e knew, were all against the man in question. In short, she loathed and despised aa well as feared him. Before she answt red she tried to call back to her mind exactly what must havo been the belief of her father after he had been brought in from his fatalencounter with the self -same robbers. She was sure that he had discovered something fcha,t had

astounded him as well at> pained. Then she called to mind the eagerness with which the attorney had been sent for, and thedeep, heartfelt determination with which he had arranged for tho striking of Reynard for ever from any share in the inheritance of Kavendale. Of all this she thought ; and finally she said looking up confidingly, and laying a hand on the strong* muscular arm .: 'Malcolm, I know nothing whatever concerning Reynard's complicity in the crimes of those dieadful men. I can only think : under whom would he be willing to serve?' ' Ah,' responded the young soldier, with a melancholy smile. 'If he is one of them • he i& himself the chief. But, darling, I will not press you. I was wondering if it could possibly come to pass that I should want your assistance ; but I promise you in advance that I will not call upon you — ' ' Dear love !' she broke in, lifting the hand from his arm and throwing it around his neck, ' call upon me when you will, and I will do what [ can. Ido suspect Reynard of the crime. I am very sure my father suspected him. O! is it not dreadful? And — I — think — I havo reason to believe — that he was with those who met poor papa in the mountain pass on the day of papa's death. But mind : Ho did not strike'the fatal blow. 0 ! thank Heaven ! his hand did not that ! My father asserted so much, with an emphasis not to be doubted.' ' Well, well,' said Malcolm, after a pause, 1 time will tell. Perhaps you can imagine why I have been selected to lead this present expedition. It was because I knew every fastness and every path of Ben Alpine. I mean that every possible way in use in my time is familiar to me ; but this very circumstance of the baron's late fatal oncounter with the robbers, if it has been correctly reported to me, convinces me that bhoy have either discovered, or have constructed, secret passes which I know nothing about. But I will know. I will posses myself of their secrets hi spite of their every precaution.* 1 Malcolm,' with a yearning, anxious look into his calm, resolute face, ' you will be sure to ha\e men enough ! It was told to me that you had brought only — ' ' Hush, darling !' he interrupted her. ' I did not choose to expose vny full force before I was ready for work. I should havo all that I can possibly require. But — not a word of this — not even to — ' ITo any living soul !' said Blanche, filling out the sentence. He smilingly nodded ; and shortly thereafter they arose, and turned towards the door, and were ere long exchanging greotings with dear friends from the surrounding granges and farms. At length the youthful knight met Reynard Bevern. The latter had prepared himself for the event ; and had they been dwellers beneath the same roof during all the years that had passed, and had there never come coldness between them, saving only such as might result from wide difference in temper and disposition, — had this been the case, this meeting on Reynard's part could not have been rnoie calmly quiet — more commonplace, — or more rigidly cool and indifferent. Malcolm had been prepared to govern himself by the conduct and bearing of the other ; and when he met the reception we ha\e described, he was so gi'eatly relieved that tor the few moments of the present, he folt a leally friendly inclination to the man, and grasped his hand warmly, and spoke most kindly. When they had separated, and while Malcolm had stopped," a few yards away, to exchange greetings with another, Reynard gazed after him with lowering brow, muttering to himself, with curses dire and deep : ' The hypocrite ! I wonder if he knows ? Of course he does ; else why should he smile and smirk s-o happily ? Oho ! my bird of plumage gay ! We will pluck your feathers tor you ; and if that bedizened body of yourh don't leave us a head shorter, I'm a false prophet !' The clock in the hall struck the hour of noon ; and those who cared to heai the woids of the aged preacher, gathered in the great banquet-hall, and in the anterooms and passages around. At length the funeral was over ; the mortal remains of the late Lord ot Ravendale had been deposited in the deep \ault beneath the chapel ; and then the vast assemblage were summoned to the tables that had been spread in the inner court, whei e plenty of servitors were in attendance to see that all were provided for. Then, within the Keep, prepaiations were made for the most important ceremony of all to follow the burial, — the reading of the will. It had been arranged that, besides the members of the family, and the attorney, and his clerk, and Dr. Griffith, the older servants should be present, together with a few of the more wealthy and influential of the tenants. Malcolm MacGregor would have held back from giving his presence ; but the old attorney insisted that he should be of the number. When all was ready, Mr Kirkland called upon Lady Blanche, Reynaid Bevern, and Dr. Griffith, to go with him, and witness the breaking of the seals, and the production of the Last Will and Testament, of the late baion. In the end he turned to the young colonel. 1 Malcolm MacGregor, as ths nearest living iclative of the deceased, next to the daughter, I will also request your attendance. ' More than one present had expected to see upon Reynard's dark visage a scowl of anger and disapprobation. Possibly, he might openly object. But, no. Instead of that, they beheld only a look of malignant triumph. It was the look of a man entirely satisfied, though somewhat anxious. • Aha !' said the old attorney, to himself, ' he has no thought of the existence of a new will.' The great chamber was dark and chill when the party in quest ot the will entered it. The swinging, casements of the embrasures had been open through the night, and the curtain had been dropped. Dr. Griffith, when he saw how gloomy it appeared, and how deep was the shadow that enveloped the old cabinet, stepped to the loophole opposite and lifted the curtain away. The effect was all that could be desired. The sun had now got around upon that side, and the light pouted in fieely. ' > Mr Kirkland led the way, with the keys in his hand ; immediately behind him came Griffith and Reynard. The last-mentioned hadsetforthintlierear ; buthehadprobably thought that such a proceeding would excite remark, if not suspicion ; so he had convo forwaid to the doctor's sido. Malcolm and Blanche followed next, &ide by side. The companionship had not been of their sooking ; the others ot the party had so left them, and they had simply accepted the situation. , Tho attorney had arrived at the cabinet when Griffith camo baok trom the open , embrasure. 4 You will observe, my friends, that the outer seal is intact,' he said.. There was no need of critical examination. The disc of, wax, wibb its clearly-cut, embos&ed sur-; face, was before their eyes, and the tape' had not been cut or broken, ' -With a pocket knifo the old man cut the band, and then unlocked the door. The

came ceremony was gone through wi<fch*beforo' opening the smaller inner door ; also before removing the seal'from the drawer. ' My friends,' the lawyer said, as he drew the drawer forth* from its compartment, • you are aware that I have' been the late baron's sole legal adviser during all the years of his manhood. I have made all his important deedß, and— and — this will— j > He came to a dead stop at this point, and turned a white, scared face around upon those behind him. 'What is the matter?' asked Griffith, advancing close to the attorney's side. 'Is anything missing?' Kirkland gasped for breath. Instead of answering the doctoi-'s question, he plunged his hand again into the drawer. In his left he held a folded parchment ; but it was not what he sought. 'Mr Kirkland !' ciied Blanche, in a quiver of lear and apprehension, • what is the matter ?' The lawyer turned upon her a blank, horrified stare, his heavy frame quaking at every joint. Presently he found voice to utter : ( ' The will ! It is not here !' ' .Not there ?' came trom the lips of Blanche and Griffith in concert. ' 1L is not here !' ' What is that in your hand?' demanded Reynard, taking a step forward, and for 1 the first time assuming the tone and bearing of authority. ' This ! this !' said the stricken old man, holding up the yellow parchment, and gazing upon it. And a look of horror — of a greab dread — overspread his face as the thought, for the first time, fully occurred to him : 'If the other will is gone, what shall prevent this one from standing ?' '. ' Ay, what is that ?' repeated Reynard, with a palpable touch of fuiy in his tone. 'Is not that the will ? Open it ! Open it, and let us see !'