THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL.

Te Aroha News, Volume VIII, Issue 487, 9 July 1890, Page 6

THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL.

BY AMELIA E. BARR.

CHAPTER 111. A SECRET LETTER AND ITS ISSUE. Oh. what a tangled web we weavo When first we practise to deceive ! A man with all the bad qualities his language has names for. T.nnk round the habitable world, how few Know their own good, or, knowing it, pursue? wind we arc* our wishes are so vain, That what we most desire proves most our pain.

Great were the needs of the present time , they made their demands first, and in their attack, so surprising and so blunt, men forgot all about the future ; its lofty ideals and beneficent plans. Grizelda obeyed her father because the powers present were too much for her to resist. But she was intensely angry, and her anger did not evaporate in a few indignant tears and words. Indeed she never thought of weeping. Her first act on reaching her room was to write a note which she sent by her maid to Lord Maxwell. She was especially anxious to prevent any positive quarrel between him and her father; and sho knew if the McNeils orders were carried out no future reconciliation was possible. . „ . Hitherto Maxwell’s admiration for Grizelda McNeil had been shown within legitimate and honourable bounds. In the houses of the neighbouring gentry, when lie met her, ho chose to linger by her side, to walk with her in the gardens, to make her conspicuously his partner in the dance. Grizelda was fond of riding, and it happened, perhaps with some vague understanding of it 3 likelihood, that their paths were often identical. And there had been at these times such love-making as naturally conics to pas 3 when youth and beauty and inexperience are at the mercy of a handsome man, skilled in all the ways of selfish gratification. For, undoubtedly, Maxwell was handsome. He had an aristocratic bearing, a manner at once suave and [authoritative, and a face of perfect regularity. But it w r as a face without a heart, a face that mierht have been carved from steel, so fine and yet so cold was it. The eyes never laughed when the man laughed ; and their glance, unsteady, piercing, obtrusive, left an unpleasant impression of something that was almost insolence. McNeil had disliked him on sight. At first he tried to reason himself out of such an unreasonable prejudice, but the toleration granted to the absent Maxwell was instantlv withdrawn when ho met him face to face.' Finally ho became aware that the aversion was nob to be eradicated any more than it was to be understood. ‘ Our souls are at enmity,’ he said to Dr. Brodick ; ‘ they do not believe anything our tongues gay.’ This was the state of feeling between McNeil and Maxwell on that night when Grizelda took her first wrong step. When her father sent her from his presence, she opened het heart to every evil power. Impulse is generally the devil’s own whisper, and she°followed her first impulse, which was to write and Cell Lord Maxwell of the intention of ‘ certain parties ’ respecting Ins offending dogs. Had she waited an hour she would have written a far less effusive note ; had she waited until morning, sho would not have written at all. Lord Maxwell was alone when he received it. He had been sipping wine, and turnino 1 the leaves of one of Sue’s novels for a couple of hours, and was precisely in the mood to find in Grizelda’s note the very stimulus his nature wanted, His first step was to secure his dogs. To have them shot and hung at his gates would be an intolerable insult, because it was one which he could not avenge. The law would give him no redress, he could not enter into a quarrel with servants, and, as he admitted to himself, servants of such gigantic stature and strength that they had immense physical advantage over him. Well, then, as he was unable to strike, it was better not +n lift Ms hand, and he said, with a hateful mil laugh as he tapped the table with Gr ‘Tthank n you, miss, for keeping me out of this trap, and for showing me the way to a far sweeter revenge. For Grizelda’s interference said plainly . l.„i. 1., had won the girl 3 heart; and at „u he felt a slight scorn for his easy Snouest he perceived that it put the 2?heart under his feet. The possibilities of his Plan, though as yet complicated and confused, were certain enough to •him in anticipation, an intoxicating draught of the sinful triumph he felt certain

° f He bad a shrewd idea as to where he would be likely to meet Grizelda next day : and he lingered near the spot for hours. Hut though Grizelda had precisely the same though sho was certain he was Blowlv riding up and down that part of the moor'which touched the wall of the fit m j „ nf i momentanlv expecting her to Ztrie fromTts aoen dipth.. GH»U. did notfkeep this mental tryst. She wished to So so but some womanly instinct made it impossible. She was naturally a very proud a Td and at this hour her pride stood hei in nlace of nobler sentiments. She felt keenly that she had forfeited something that belonged to the finest conception of woman- “ ,7 to Maxwell, and she could X delude herself with the idea that she had done so to prevent quarrelling, perhaps : bl S°ot S as d 'a kind of peace-offering to her i .i cplf-sliG did nob go to g! Zllkt the fir wood. She even compelled herself to remain in her own room, les :• the' exquisite weather might tempt her into the garden, and her weak heart tempt he ßut M»™culave I,or no credit tor this self-denial. He understood women so well "hat he had been over the whole ground of Grizelda’s feelings and reasonings before he left his own house, and had oven taken l net with himself that she would not come Her absence gratified his opinion of his own penetration, but still it did nob please him. Having ta-en one step aside from the narrow, conventional road ho would really have respected her Sore if she had dared to dp what lie knew her heart prompted her to do, and have thus given to his wooing something piquant ail Ho smiled as he walked homeward. ‘ meet me to-morrow, perhaps ; but if it be a vveek-a month hence-m the lonp run it will he the same. He was thinking such thoughts when he met Dr. Brodick. He stopped Ins horse and spoke to him with the utmost respect, carrying the conversation from ono topic S , nLc“o W ci b or g wa“ t i“of dccchcd V h'i. Suavity and he mot it by that blunt honesty which always confounds speech "tSSv he said.‘l have bean ta your place to seek a word with you. I

may as well say it here. There is a very illwill to you in the country-side anent those vicious curs that are worrying the flocks ai’ound Edderloch. I have spoken to you before about it. Keep those dogs up, my lord, and you will save yourself a deal of trouble.’ ‘ Doctor Brodick, I am sorry you have interfered in this matter. I do not recognise your right to do so.' „ 1 Edderloch is my parish, my duty to reprove wrong in it, whether the wrong-doer be lord or shepherd. You are a stranger in these parts, lord ; but let me tell you that the thing you are responsible for is an outrage not to be tolerated in a community where sheep are a man’s main property.’ ‘Doctor, you have done your duty then ; let me say you are a trifle late about it. A much more persuasive tongue than yours has already counselled me. If it will give you any satisfaction, I will admit that I have listened to the voice of the charmer, and confined the objectionable animals. Have you been at the castle to-day ? I hope the McNeils are all well. Good evening, Doctor.’ And putting spurs to his horse, he rode oft' with the air of a man who had nob only cleared himself, hub also adr ministered a well-deserved rebuke in a very reasonable manner. For a moment the minister was in a bla/.e of anger, and his firso impulse was to lift the stout thorn stick in his right hand. But instead lie struck it firmly into the yielding turf. ‘ Keep yourself in band, Dug ald Brodick,’ he said, sharply.; ‘ keep yourself in hand ! Are you going to sin because an ill man tempts you ?’ For a few minutes the spiritual struggle was as intense .as it was silent and motionless ; then his lip 3 began to move, his large, grey eyes were uplifted, he whispered softlv, as he resumed his walk, ‘ Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee! Perfect peace ! nothing half-way, nothing incomplete in that promise. Take hold of it, Dugald Brodick !’ For a short time he walked rapidly, but it was not long ere he regained that absolute personal control which his usual thoughtful pace and calm countenance indicated. Then ho began to speak to himself in a remonstrabive tone : ‘Dugald. to be possessec of the devil is a bad thing, but I m doubtinn- whether it is as bad as to be possessed of yourself. Dugald Brodick knows Dugald Brodick so well that he has advantages even Satan has not. Dugald Brodick possessed of Dugald Brodick would bo. a sinner set upon a hill. Only Christ in him could cast out that tyranny.’ The imperative personal conflict over, lie began to reflect upon Maxwell 3 peculiai words. Connecting them with Grizelda s intemperate action of the previous night, lie was at no loss to divine the charmer whose voice had been listened to. But the conviction gave him a heartache. Grizelda, with all her faults, was very dear and pleasant in his sight. She had been born ‘shortly after the death of Ins own young wife, and lie had taken to her, and found comfort in her caresses, and had her much with him all through her babyhood and girlhood. He had felt a pride in her beauty and talents, and been very tolerant to the high temper and lofty will in which ho recognised a spirit very kindred to his own natural disposition. The next morning he made an opportunity to speak to his favourite. She was by this time in a mood to listen. A little shame for her own action, a little regret for her treacherv to the sacredness of home confidence, a dim knowledge in her own soul that she was in danger, aided.by the physical depression consequent on intense emotion and sleeplessness, all combined, made Grizelda unusually gentle and reasonable. ~ ‘He is the very worst sweetheart you could pick out, my dear,’ said the minister kindlv : ‘he can make you “my lady surely, but he is not as rich nor as good a man in any respect as young Finlay,of Fin-lay-steppe, who would oe proud, indeed, if you but looked at him. Finlay is a Highland gentleman, at homo here before ever an Englishman crossed the border. Maxwell is nothing but a stranger ; he only got a footing in Knapdale by buying your farofl cousin’s property, when the poor laud was in a trouble hs could not sort.’ ‘ There was nothing wrong in that. Malcolm McNeil wanted to sell. ‘ I am nob saying it was wrong ; but, Grizelda, there is a great prejudice against Lord Maxwell, and there are causes for it. A man that regards nob the rights of his fellow-mon is not likely to obey the commands of God. And if a man has no fear of God before bis eyes, how can a woman trust her life with him ?’ ‘I think Lord Maxwell loves me.’ < A man that loves not God loves not either man or woman rightly. He is nob to be depended upon. He goes out with the tide, and conies in with the tide, and never puts out an anchor, or grips tight bo any single principle of justice or-human kindness. I would nob trust my life with a godless man any more than I would trust my life in a fisher’s cobble without sail or oar.' 1 You are correcting me in advance of my fault, Doctor,’ answered Grizelda, fretfully. ‘Lord Maxwell has not asked me to trust my life r,o him, and if he did theiearo many things to consider. I suppose, for instance, my father would go into a passion about it, and Helen would look heartbroken, and Cousin Colin would fume about the family honour, as if he were a son of

the family.’ ‘My lassie, tak* care of your words ! You have no right to criticise your father, even in your chougiits ; and the fleck at your Cousin Colin is not kindlike nor woman-like.’ ‘ 1 think a prejudice ought to give way before a good reason, and when a girl’s happiness is at stake —’ ‘ Happiness ! happiness! Whab is happiness, Grizelda? What is it? Gratified self-love ! Take my advice : Go and do your work and play your piano ; and don’t sit idle planning deceit and wrong. Evil thoughts are almost evil beings. The minute you conceive a wrong thought, you givo it form ; and ibis nobin human nature to conceive evil without, at the same time, rousing the do?ire to carry that evil into reality.- Don’t say, as so many young girls do : “My thoughts are my own !” They are not your own ! If they are-nob innocent thoughts they are tho devil’s, and bound to do him service.’ ‘What have I done? You are reproving mo without cause.’ ”Without cause! Did you nob betray tho purpose of your father’s house to his enemy?’ , T j M lb was a question based upon Lora Maxwell’s words, and the minister asked it with a heart fearful of her acknowledgment.

‘I did so for a good reason—to prevent hatred and quarrelling.’ ‘You are not permitted to do evil that good may come. It is a pernicious fallacy ! It is an insult to Almighty God to suppose that He must borrow the devil’s tools to do his work with ! All that concerns you, Grizelda, is to do right. Ho had bent toward her and taken both her hands in his. The majestic force of conviction was in his face and words; Grizelda could nob but be sorry for the wrong she had done m the presence of an accuser at once so faithful and so kind. So

he perceived in her face the resolve he desired, and ho left her in the full hope that she had seen the reasonableness of his reproof, and would be true to her conscience and her womanhood. _ Grizelda intended to be so. Sheresolved to keep out of temptation, and for three days Maxwell rode to his self-appointed tryst, and found no one to meet him. Then his confidence began to waver ; bis vanity was wounded; he perceived there were influences at work to prevent any meeting between him and Grizelda ; and the fiercest passion in man, the passion of chase blended with the passion of revenge, was fully roused in his heart, if Grizelda had been without a single charm, he felt now that he must marry her. But neither his natuie nor bis education led him to contemplate anything like the vulgarity of an elopement. It would be a far more perfect satisfaction to mould Grizeldaao completely to his will that his influence should be the dominant one in McNeil Castle; that it should fill all the rooms with a sullen sense of wrong and dissatisfaction ; put enmity between the child and the father ; and make his marriage at last a ceremony in which he would condescend to accept the girl whom he had made unfit for any society but his own. Of course, like all other schemers, he forgot to take into account any counteracting influence, any unforeseen contingency. lie simply conceived a plot, and demanded of destiny that it should be carried out. . His first movement was to write to Grizelda, and, as he bad resolved to fully commit himself, the letter was a passionate entreaty for an interview. It was Grizelda s first love-letter. It made her cheeks burn and her heart, throb with delight. There had been nothing underhand or secret about its delivery. It came with the regular mail, and the girl received it at the breakfast table with several other letters. Only Helen suspected its nature. Ihe laird never noticed li s daughters, suppressed excitement. He was eating a plovers egg, and talking in a piousant, desultory way of the birds breeding in the upland mosses. There was something pitiful in his innocent unconsciousness of the wrong before him ; something shocking in the readiness with which his child ordered her smile to nn et his, and assumed that air of happy contentment which she thought the best blind to the watchful love I surrounding her. _ . . For in the moments in which she read Lord Maxwell’s letter, she resolve: 1 , to take her own way. The decision was instantaneous, but positive. By a mental action she put behind her instantly every consideration that could make her waver, ror, Alas ! men and women are all The children of our first, mother live. Wluvt, is given is lightly valued : And the cunning serpent is ever near To show them the mysterious, mi tasted u ce. And heaven itself is not heaven If the lorbidden fruit be withheld. Russian poem. So, when the breakfast was finished, slio went bo her own room, and read over the few lines which had so powerfully influenced her : ‘Boautiful Grizelda: I have been watching three weary days for a sight of youi face. Your wonderful favour surely gave me some reason to hope for it. Lot me see you.l entreat! I know not how I shali endure another day without you, I live but to think of you, to hope for yon, to watch and wait for a glance fioni your eyes, a word from your lit s, and a touch of that hand whose touch can make me the happiest lover in the world. Surely, you will walk in the fir plantation this afternoon. Another disappointment will drive to dtspaii your adorer.

‘ Maxwell,’

It was a very ordinary letter ; it had cost the writer scarcely a thought; but lor it the foolish girl was ready to cast away all the sweet love which had cared for and guarded her and blessed her throughout her life. The writer was a comparative stranger, who had put himself outside the goodwill of the community, and who had been covertly guiltv of a serious injuiy to her father’s interests ; but now she was quite ready to find excuses for all his faults, even though she had to slander those who loved her to do so, Nor was she infatuated beyond her reason. In her truest consciousness she felt his unworthiness. It was not passion, not ignorance, not folly, not ambition, not even wilfulness that laid the foundation of her sin. It was what many girls consider a fine thing ; sentimentality—the putting of imagination before principle and duty. It seemed romantic to meet her lover clandestinely; to compare honsclf with the heroines of her fancy, of her reading ; to ‘stand by her choice, though all the world was against him ; t-noting the fact that if her choice was unworthy of such devotion, the motive was deprived of every element of respect. Besides,

This was the way wnh > v r : to vaguely sigh, Hating the weary sameness or each nay; The no seless round of pleasant tasks t hat try To sweeten life in many a quiet »aj . Hating the scented sunshine, the still air. The plenteous gifts that came without a care.

She said, ‘I weary; if some change would

I want 'to sec. feel, hear the stress of life, I shall grow cold and blind and deaf an l I want'some active joy, though it bring Mv days are all alike; a change would be Like giving to a captive liberty !

So much she said in her unthankful mood, never reflecting that change comes seldom with pleasure, often with pain, scarcely listening to the sweet remonsbiabing voice of her better angel questioning, Art thou so weary of tliy sister’s love ? So weary of thy father s brooding cave? So tired of halcyon days that only move To the sweet, calls ot d uty and of prayer . Art weary of God’s blessing? Wouldst thou flee Out of the fold where He has sheltered thee .

Sing like a bird within thy happy nest. Bloom like a flower beneath thy c.oudless

slv y • , Rest like a child upon its mother’s breast, And pray that this change only conic to A thankful heart—thon thy long weary days Would be too short for liappiaass and praise.

It was this sentimental dissatisfaction with the blessings of hor daily life, and this longinu for something romantic, forbidden, something secret and personal, that made Grizelda turn aside from the right path. She was the captive of her own foolish imagination before she became the captive of an unprincipled man. _ _ Helen was not so unsuspicious ot the state of a flairs as the laird had been. The minister had given her a warning and advice, and her womanly instincts had led her to a clear interpretation of Grizelda s face and manner. As far as it was right, she was inclined to sympathise with her sistei She did not think the faults in Maxwell's character so grave as to preclude the idea of morringo if there were a true love between him and Grizelda. Bub she regretted the circumstances which were likely to prevent an open and honourable courtship ; for she still hoped that a better acquaintance with the young lord would reveal many good qualities nob as yet known.

She felt certain that the letter made an appointment which Grizelda would keep, and she thought it best to speak to her on the subject, and thus deprive the meeting of the silly sentiment of Becrecy and of a supposed opposition, only to be met b) a clever deceit.

In an hour Grizelda returned to the parlour. Helen looked at her with admiration

as she bent silently over her embroidery frame. Her countenance was so beaming that its rosy light made remarkable the whiteness of her hands, moving quickly among the brilliant colours of her worsteds. The countenance has always a luminous ness that the other parts of the body lack ; and Grizelda’s soul was in her face, darting from her eyes, flushing her cheeks, wreathing her lips with smiles, making her brow shine and her eyelids quiver, bhe was happy, and she showed it in the undulations of her figure, and the freedom of her wavy hair, straying and curling as if it was laughing and dancing to the girl s thoughts. ‘ How pretty you are this morning, Grizelda.’

‘ I feel so happy.’ ‘ You got a letter from Lord Maxwell, I think—at least, I thought it was his seal. Is he coming to seo you ?’ ‘ How can he come here? Just imagine the way in which our lather would receive him !’ ‘ He might bo coming to apologise and made things pleasant.’ ‘ Why should he apologise ?’ ‘ Well, I think if father’s dogs had done damage to Lord Maxwell’s flock, he would apologiso and make all the restitution in his power.’ Grizelda did nob answer; she appeared to he busy counting her stitches. ‘ Grizelda, dear, will you tell me what Maxwell wrole to you about?’ ‘ Why should son interfere, Helen ?’ * Because I love you so much, dear, and I am afraid he wishes you to meet him secretly.’ ‘There is no harm in that.’ ‘ There is both harm and danger. If you think there is no harm, why do you not tell father ?’ ‘ Lord Maxwell loves me.’ * Then ho ought to do so in an honourable manner.’ ‘ Helen, Ido not think as you do. I will nob have my allairs discussed by the whole household, and wrangled over by lawyers. If I love a man well enough to marry him, I am going to trust him absolutely.’ ‘ Grizelda, you remember our mother. If she were alive to-day, you know what she would say to you. Think that you are listening to her. My dear sister, do not meet Maxwell secretly. If he truly loves you, he will conciliate father and come to you.’ “This is my affair, Helen. Ido not interfere between you and Colin. I gob out of Mr Sehvyn’s way, and let him have every opportunity.’ , t _ Grizelda, Mr Selwyn never thought of love.’ * Oh, indeed ! He did not hide his thoughts from me.’ ‘I am speaking of your life, not Mr Solwyn’s.’ ‘ I can manage my own life very well, Helen. All I ask of you is to have eyes and see not, and ears and hear not.’ * I cannot do that, Grizelda.’ ‘ You intond to bo a tell-tale, do you ?’

‘ I intend to protest against your making assignations with Lord Maxwell. It is wrong ; it is unwomanly and unladylike. You wrong both yourself and your position by it. Dearest Zelda, let me speak in my mother’s place and my father’s place this morning.’ • 1 will nob listen to you. j\ low ! 1 Then, if you are determined to meo: Maxwell, let me go with you.’ 1 Certainly not. I can take care of myself, and I wish you would believe it. I was so happy, and. you have made me miserable. Tthink you are selfish beyond everything. Just because Colin and you choose to" do your courting by rule and method, vou want Maxwell and me to do the same.” There is something very unjust and unsisterly in it. Now lam nob going to say another word on the matter.’ Sh 6 set her face so dourly, and bent her head so determinedly to her work, that Helen saw further conversation was impossible. She knew nob what step to take. Something must be done; but she had a dislike to speak to her father, when he was already so angry at Maxwell. Who could tell what wretched results might ensue if bhe two men came in contact, with Grizelda between them? ‘ I will write to Dr. Brodick !’

The thought seemed to her the best solution of the difficulty, and thus it happened t hat the minister, as ho sab at his solitary dinner, received a letter which made him push his plate aside, and seek the more composing and reflective influence of his pipe. And the result of this session with himself was exactly what Helen had hoped and expected. ‘ I’ll see the young things together. I know where I’ll be likely to find them. If there is any sense of honour in Maxwell’s heart, and any sense of duty and home affection in Grizelda’s heart, 1 can surely make them listen to me. Love ought to be lovely and of good report; and I’ll take care there is no other kind in my parish, if Dugald Brodick can help it.’

CHAPTER IV. HER OWN WAY. Better a little chiding than a great deal of heartbreak. SIIAKSPERE. Bv Love tho young and tender wit is turned to folly. SIIAKSI’ERE, First, then, a woman will, or won’t; depend ° n ’t; „ , , For if she will do’t, she will; and there s an end on’t. Hill. We must do good against evil. SIIAKSPERE. The afternoon was a brilliant one ; nature herself seemed to be dreaming idyls, and Grizelda’s heart, beating to sweet imaginations, was responsive to it. She arrayed herself in a dress of exquisitely line muslin. Its pearly white, tinted with a wandering vine, gave etheral beauty to her dazzling complexion. A floating gauze scarf was across her a little straw bonnet on her head, brimmed with cornflowers and a few ears of wheat?'-’ Never had Helen seen her look more lovely, more full of life, more certainly happy. She went with hor to the door leading into the garden, and pub her hand in Grizelda’s. ‘ Are you quite sure you are doing right, ?’ she asked. ‘lam quite sure I am doing what will make me happy.’ ‘ Zelda, bear with me a moment. Ii this love is necessary to your happiness, then, dear, I will speak to father ; ho is so good, so self-denying where our welfare is concerned, that I am sure he will be quite reasonable about Lord Maxwell. _ Write to Lord Maxwell now, and ask him to call here. I will send a servant with the note. Is nob our drawing-room better for an interview than the public moor ? Think of what people will say.’ ~ 4 Very few people cross the moor at this hour. If I see anyone coming, I shall retreat among the pines.’ ‘ You' mean that you will hide yourself. Oh, Zelda ! Does nob that very necessity show you that there is something wrong ?’ ‘No. Many things are innocent that are not to be talked ahoub. And how is it p. ssible for Lord Maxwell to come here? Father would get into one of his passions, and order him out of the house.’ * Father is nob unreasonable. Lord Maxwell has only to offer fin apology —any man

would do that, under the circumstances. I will be on your side, Zelda. Write a few lines, dear, and let your maid take them to your lover. Let him come to you. That is only maidenly and modest.’ ‘ Helen, you are never on my side. Any other sister would take Borne interest in such a love-affair as mine; I do not want everything straightforward and agreeable just yet. A secret tryst is the only romantic one, and I do not thank you at all for interfering with mine. Even this talk about it has robbed me of some of its charm.’

* If you mean to marry Lord Maxwell, it can never be done in this way.’ ‘ I mean to marry him, and I know better than you do how to succeed. If my father had said yes, and the door was set open for him, he might not want the yes or the open door. But it is different whpre there is anger and opposition ; love is stronger for it,"yes, and sweeter too ! I prefer a little romance. Let me go, Helen. You are only . making things worse.’ She drew her hand away with the words, and went swiftly down the garden. Helen watched her until she passed into the pine wood. There the girl slackened her pace, and stood still a moment to regain her mental poise and serenity, for her breath came quick, and she was in a flurry of emotion. But how charming was the silence of the pines—silence, with a vague stir in it. There were no deep shadows where she 3tood ; she was in a beautiful gloom surrounded by light. It was here that Lord Maxwell found her. Ho had left his horse with his groom on the moor and came to seek Gri/elda At this moment he certainly believed himself to be deeply in love, and no lover could have been more tender, more eloquent, more irresistibly persuasive. Maxwell was even astonished at his own enthusiasm ; he had never expected to feel again emotions so sweet and so enthralling. And it was quite true thatin the clandestine nature of the meeting, in the belief that it was in direct opposition to the wishes of McNeil, in the probability that Grizelda’s hand would be angrily refused him, in the delightful contingency of overreaching the indignant father and carrying off liis daughter against his will, Lord Maxwell had found a piquant element in a love which was otherwise a delightful relief to the tedium of his purposeless life. , It was a charmed hour to both, and Maxwell became fascinating under its influence. For it is unfortunately true that bad men have often an irresistible power over women. Eve is not the only one who has found the devil a tempter not to be denied. Maxwell’s fine face caught the love-light from Grizelda’s ; his eyes looked into hors with a bewitching sensibility. He had the heart of the sentimental girl in the open palm of his long, cruel-looking, white hand. She had assured him of her of her willingness to do in all things as he directed her. She had put her father, her sister, her duty, the tender obligations of her whole life, under his feet. He could not but feel his triumph. She had r peated to him, also, her conversation with Helen. Sho had given to it the precise tone of injury which she thought suited the situation ; they were discussing with delightful gusto the probable consequences of her determined resistance, when they heard a slow, heavy footstep approaching them. Grizelda thought it was her father’s, and she trembled upon her lover's arm. Maxwell was not averse to the encounter; he felt he had poisoned weapons ready for it. They did nob turn. They continued their saunter and their lover-like conversation, listening all the time to the approaching steps. In a few minutes a hand was laid upon Lord Maxwell s shoulder, and he turned in a passion to confront Dr. Brodick. « Sir, your cloth gives you no warrant to be impertinent!’ ‘ It gives me a warrant to reprove wrongdoing and to save the foolish it I can. Grizelda McNeil, you had bettor go homo and if Lord Maxwell wants further speech with you, he can seek you there. 4 Grizelda, you have promised to be my wife ; you will remain with me ?’ ‘I am here in your father’s place ; you must go home now. My lord, release the girl. She is under age, and subject to her father’s control.’ 4 Grizelda, in an hour we can be at Blairgowrie. The minister is my friend ;he will marry us at once.’ Grizelda was now thoroughly frightened. A runaway marriage was the last thing she desired. She had already arranged, in her own mind, the ceremony as she proposed to have it ; the dresses and guests and wedding journey. Besides, Dr. Brodick’s authority was an indisputable one ; never in all her life had the possibility of disobeying it occurred to her. She dropped her lover’s hand, and in that moment of hesitation the minister gently turned her face toward the castle, and, stepping forward, placed himself between her and Lord Maxwell. Instantly Maxwellmade an attempt to regain his position by-Gri-zelda’s side,but Dr. Brodick’s hand fell upon his shoulder w'ith a grip that could not be gainsaid. 4 Doctor, remove your hand ! Confound it, sir, you shall not presume on your coat much longer.’ ‘ I will make you, lord, respect both my coat and the man in my coat!’ Then the doctor, becoming angry, though still visibly calm, fell naturally into hi 3 mother tongue. 4 Keep a ceovil tongue i’ your mouth, lord, and your ither hand by your side. Dinna daur to lift it. There isna a fisherman on the coast I couldna handle, nor a shepherd on the hills I couldna throw ; saoif you hae a grain o’ wisdom, you willna force your punishment frae me.’ Grizelda had stood quite still during this dispute. Maxwell answered the minister by addressing her: ‘ Grizelda, this is no scene for you, my dear one. Go home now and I will see you to-morrow. My rights are in your hands now ; I am sure you will not betray the least of them.’ Sho would have given him her hand with the assurance, bub Dr. Brodick stood like a - sentinel between them. And Maxwell was in a grip he could nob evade, while Grizelda lacked the moral courage to defy the prohibition which she saw in the doctor’s blazing eyes and watchful face. Until Grizelda was out of sight, the position the minister had taken and compelled Maxwell to take was preserved ; bub as soon as she bad disappeared, Maxwell let himself at liberty. They had been moments of intense feeling to both men. Dr. Brodick already showed the reaction from them. A gloomy regret was on his countenance. His voice, though authoritative, had regained its usual modulations and propriety. He first to speak. 4 Believe me, Maxwell, I am sorry for this occasion. My interference was for good. I saw no other way to prevent evil. ’

‘lf by preventing evil you mean preventing Grizelda McNeil marrying me, let me assure you, sir, that you have failed already. I shall certainly marry her.’

‘ Then, my lord, do not teach the girl to be disloyal to her father. You only prepare her to be in the future disloyal to yourself. I have no more to say to you at this time.’

He turned on his heel, and left the young man fuming and chafing with rage and humiliation. And he went straight to McNeil Castle and talked the circumstance over with the laird. His depression was so groat that it had the effect of dashing as with cold water the father’s not unjust anger. Both men had the presentiment of sorrow ; they felt the first chill shadows of some long calamity. Bub .is an outcome of this conversation, McNeil’s carriage was at the do a the following morning very early, and Helen and Grizelda were making hurried preparations for a journey to Edinburgh. No reason for it had been given,bub both girls understood 4 the because ’ of the laird’s unexpected movement. McNeil had called it a little pleasure trip ; but no one baking the journey felt it to be so. Each wa3 leaving the person or the affairs which made the main interest of their lives. It was, in fact, to McNeil, a journey ot great self-denial. The , herring fishery was at its height, the gunning season was at hand, and the moors were alive with birds. And, aside from these disappointments, he feifc it to be a wrong and an outrage that his own child should have given a strange man, whom he despised and disliked, the power to disarrange his household and compel him to leave hi 3 home and his interests. For he was no more aware of this injustice and indignity than Grizelda was, and it gave him a heartache to see that she willingly subjected him to it. _ | lb was, moreover, soon evident that the journey was to be in vain. Grizelda would take no part in the life of the metiopolis. Dinners, dances, excursions had no temptations for her. She declared that she was sick ; she did not eat or sleep ; she was cold, silent, apathetic, and treated the old friends and kindred of the family with a sullen indifference which gave great offence, ( and which the laird, in some cases, found it beyond his power to explain away. One afternoon he desired to make a call upon Lady McNeil, the widow of his second cousin. Grizelda was her namesake; it was a matter of the gravest courtesy that ►he should accompany her father and sister. But the wilful girl made so many excuse?, was so determined to be disagreeable and disappointing, that it was thought best nob to insist upon her company. For such unkind and persistent ill-temper and selfishness the devil sometimes rewards his slaves with their own desires, Scarcely had McNeil and Helen left the door of thenhotel, when Lord Maxwell passed it; Grizelda, standing listlessly at the window, lifted her eyes and saw him. His gazo was fixed upon her, he was trying to arrest her attention. In five minutes she was by his side. They turned into a quiet square, and were soon discussing, almost merrilv, the events most interesting to them. Maxwell wa3 delighted with the tactics pursued by Grizelda. He perceived that they made him still master of the situation. And it gave him an intense satisfaction to know that he had really driven the laird from his home, his fishing, and his shooting, and all his familiar interests and amusements; to reflect, also, that the voung laird, Colin McNeil, was deprived of the society of Helen ; and that Helen was taken from her lover and from all the duties in the castle and village which interested her so much. 4 1 think we have had quite the b--'st of it, Zelda,’ he said, with a malicious triumph. 4 Now then, my love, meet me to morrow morning at ton o’clock, in St. Andrew s Kirk, and I will make you Lady Maxwell in spite of them all.’ 4 First, consider what I shall tell you, Walter. My father says plainly that if I marry without his consent, eighty thousand pounds in the Bank of Scotland will every shilling of it go to Helen. If ho agrees to my marriage, Helen and Colin are to have the estate and twenty thousand pounds, I the residue.’ v

‘ Sixty thousand pounds ! Whew !’ ‘ We ought not to throw that away.’ • Indeed, we ought not.’ •It is worth a few words, Walter ; and I do not like to come to you penniless and bv stealth. Father is really kind-hearted ; quickly in a rage, but just as quick to forgive. A little conciliation will win him.’ ‘ I have already ordered my factor to see his factor, and pay whatever they decide to be right for those miserable sheep that were worried. When you return home, I will call upon him and ask for your hand. If he consents, he can scarcely refuse your fortune ; if he does not consent—’ ‘ I shall make his life so wretched that he will be thankful to change his mind. It is a very hard thing if a girl cannot choose her own husband. Oh, my dear one, how happy you have made me ! I can endure all things now Till we meet again.’ There was nothing for Grizelda to endure but the burdens she laid upon her own shoulders ; but it pleased her to imagine herself an innocent victim of parental oppression and unsisterly lack of sympathy. It was impossible for her to remain long with her lover, but arrangements were made which permitted her to meet him nearly every day, for a longer or a shorter time. And it gave her no compunction to save all her smiles, all her pleasant ways and words for her lover, and darken all her father’s and sister’s days with an affection of suffering which had now no shadow of existence. In a week or two, Helen began to suspect this. There were times when it was impossible for Grizelda to quite subdue the light of expectation in her eyes, or the dreamy smile of retrospective pleasure around her mouth. Grizelda was in the daily society of Maxwell ; Helen was satisfied of that; bub there was something in the girl’s nature which forbade her to watch her sister, no matter how excusable circum°tances might seem to make the act. Her eyes, indeed, questioned her, and Grizelda was aware of the suspicion. ‘Things are coming to a crisis,’ she thought, ‘ and I may as well direct them.’ One afternoon, the laird, having been sorely tried by her contradiction all the morning, refused to go out for liis customary drive in the afternoon. His heart failed him. He felt as if it were useless to prolong the conflict. The very chivalry of his nature led him to a trust and consideration where his daughter was concerned that he would by no means have conceded to a disobedient son. He could riot watch Grizelda’s movements and read her letters and be stern and imperative with her. The pale, silent, weary-looking girl on the sofa appealed to him, not on'y as his daughter, but as one of a sex which demanded his courtesy and consideration. He felt this day, her injustice, her want of appreciation for this courtesy, and his heart was so sad that ho could not make the effort to face the world. . As the time approached for Grizelda to keep her tryst, she throw off her indifference, rose from her sofa, and went to her room. The laird did not notice the movement, bub Helen followed her sister. She was taking out her bonnet and mantle, and she made no secret of her action. ‘Are you going out, Grizelda? How pleased father will be! It is not yet too late for a drive.’ • ‘ I am not going to drive,. and I do not want either father’s company or yours. I do not mean to be rude, Helen, only I must go alone.’ ‘ Are you going to meet Lord Maxwell? Ob, Zelda, I have suspected this !’

* Then your suspicions are correct, Helen. lam going to meet my Walter ! Goodness knows, it is all I have to live for !’ ‘ You should not say such wicked things. You have all that truest love can give you. But if you are meeting Maxwell here, father ought to know. He is pining for the moors and the sea and the comforts of his own home. He has been denying himself for six weeks everything he enjoys, simply in the hope that he was keeping you outsido the influence of a bad man.’ ‘Then tell him to go back to Edderloch. He cannot keep Lord Maxwell from me unless he locks me up in the castle strongroom, and he cannot keep me from Lord Maxwell if X have the wit and strength to reach him. I despise a gill who gives up her lover because her friends don’t approve of him. I would die first !’ «There is no necessity for heroics, Grizelda. No one asks you to die. And don’t you think there may bo something equally despicable in deceiving a good father, ana putting him to daily anxiety and discomfort,, because your lover does not approve of him ? Depend upon it, father has no intention of locking you up. lie thinks you have chosen an unworthy husband, and be would sufier a great deal himself to wean your heart from Lord Maxwell, or to show you that there are plenty of better lovers in the world, but he has no intention of forcing you to give him up.’

‘ Then tell him we may as well go It will be more comfortable for' everyone. This news was more easily broken to the laird than Helen had dared to hope. Returning to his presence, she found him mournfully watching t.he gay throng which makes Princes-street in the afternoon so fair a sight. ‘I was thinking of Edderloch,’he said, as he burned awav. ‘ I would give some' thing to see the great billows tumbling wild and high and sending clouds of spray against the castle wall, or to be in the shadow of the hills and see the brown huts nestling there, and the collie dogs, and (locks of sheep moving to and fro; or, belter still, to be after the cock grouse or watching the red deer going westward in a swinging gallop.’ ‘Dear father, wo may as welt go back tomorrow.’ Her face, troubled and pitiful, told him the rest. Ho lot his head fall forward as he asked, in a low voice, ‘ls he here ?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘ And she is meeting him ?'

‘Yes.’ Then his soul forgot; all words but the mournful Gaelic in which his fathers had. cried out in their sorrow for unknown centuries : *Oh ! hon-n-rcc ! Oh ! honctrce 1’ And upon his clasped hands the tears dropped down, and Helen knelt at his side and kissed them away.

(To be. Continued.)