[MEandCHANCE
 
 9. 
 
 /is/ 
 
 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 NEW AND POPULAR NOVELS 
 
 AT ALL THE LIBRARIES. 
 
 MY LORD AND MY LADY. By Mrs. FORRESTER, 
 
 author Of "Viva," " Mignon," &c. " vote. 
 
 .MISS DAISY DIMITY. By the author of - ; Qufienie," 
 
 ••'•range Lily," ftft 3 vols. 
 
 s< )1>IIY : or, The Adventures of a Savage. By Violet 
 
 F urn, author of "Denzil Place," &c. ■'• vols. 
 
 TILL DEATH US DO PART. By Mrs. John Kent 
 
 SpBVDKR, author of "fiodwyn's Ordeal," &c. 8 vols. 
 
 LITTLE FIFIXE. By Katharine S. Macquoid, author 
 
 of "Beside the River," w. -vols. 
 
 BURST E.LACKETT, 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
 
 TIME AND CHANCE 
 
 % i 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. TOM KELLY. 
 
 "Fate, Time, Occasion, Chance, and Change. To these 
 All things are subject but eternal Love." 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 1882. 
 
 A 11 rights reserved,
 
 LONDON I 
 PIMHTEP BY DUNCAN MACDONALD. 
 BLENHEIM HOUSE.
 
 v. I 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 
 BOOK L— YOUTH AND DREAMS. 
 
 CH.VPTEK 
 
 I. The Montgomeeies of Kerinvean 
 
 II. Robert Montgomery's Trust . 
 
 III. The Lady of Cairn Douhl 
 
 IV. Boyhood 
 
 V, Interlapse .... 
 
 VI. An old Love — Off and On 
 
 VII. A young Love — for Aye . 
 
 VIII. After Long Years . 
 
 IX. Henceforth .... 
 
 X. The Destination of the Mistwraith 
 
 XI. A Highland Picnic . 
 
 XII. The Predictions of Lady Kinaire and 
 Mistress Gilroy . 
 
 XIII. Ingha 
 
 XIV. "I feel no Penitence, my Life is Love" 
 XV. Coming of Age 
 
 XVI. " I run the Gauntlet of a File of Doubts 
 
 XVII. On the Threshold .... 
 
 XVIII. " I did never Think to Marry " 
 
 PAGE 
 
 3 
 
 17 
 
 29 
 
 41 
 
 60 
 
 71 
 
 90 
 
 99 
 
 112 
 
 128 
 
 142 
 
 169 
 195 
 
 217 
 240 
 257 
 
 272 
 285 

 
 BOOK I. 
 
 YOUTH AND DEEAMS. 
 
 " . . . . The silence of Nature round kirn, her 
 freedom sealed to him, her glory opened to him 
 
 Pride of purple rocks, and river pools of blue, and tender 
 wildernesses of glittering trees, and misty lights of evening 
 on immeasurable hills ....... 
 
 So taught and prepared for his life's labour, sate the boy 
 
 . . . . and began to paint, "with cautious toil, the 
 
 rocks, and fields, and trickling brooks, and soft white 
 
 clouds of Heaven/' 
 
 RUSKIN. 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE jtfONTGOMERIES OF KEKINVEAN. 
 
 " Ye banks, and braes, and streams around 
 The Castle o' Montgomery, 
 Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, 
 Your waters never drumlie." 
 
 Burns. 
 
 A T Kerinvean, in the year eighteen 
 
 hundred and fifty-five, the spring 
 
 was roused from a sleep of snow-clothed 
 
 pines, ice-bound streams, and shrouding 
 
 b 2
 
 4 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 mists, broken by restless dreams of tem- 
 pest and drifting sleet. She awoke in 
 a harmony of blessing, which resound- 
 ed over miles of hill and wood and 
 glen. 
 
 The hills were jubilant with the songs 
 of rivulets that rushed down through 
 every available furrow and creek to the 
 river and loch, overleaping in furious 
 eagerness all stones and mosses which lay 
 in their way, streaking the heights and 
 rocks alike with innumerable glittering 
 courses ; and, with the sound of their im- 
 petuous ardour, was mingled the bleating 
 of the lamb, or, in the lonelier mountain- 
 passes, the far-off bellow of the wary 
 stag. 
 
 Reader, have you seen in classic lore,
 
 THE MONTGOMERIKS OF KERINVEAN. O 
 
 that old, sweet legend from the isles of 
 Greece, which Nature repeats unfailingly, 
 and have you listened for the songs which 
 the spirits confined in the trees sing, when 
 the buds have burst, and the leaves come 
 forth ? The words of the songs are far 
 beyond your divining ; but, gleeful or 
 lamenting, you can always hear the voices, 
 for the spirits are still only in the mo- 
 mentary hush that heralds a dirge, in 
 which humauity is defied, and you are 
 ever awed, by the God-like strength in the 
 wailing of the imprisoned. Here at Kerin- 
 vean the forests were rehearsing the 
 legend, and all day long, in waves of 
 melody, the chorale rose. At dawn the 
 birds souuded their own reveil, and on 
 through the day they sang, as if the or-
 
 6 TIME AND CHANGE. 
 
 chestra were a great gathering of treble 
 save when, in rare and quiet pauses, the 
 river's bass proclaimed its own share in 
 the psalm. All day long, till the eve 
 songs were ended, the birds were loud- 
 est, but one by one the river heard thei 
 hushed to silence, and its own deep voice 
 crooned a lullaby to the last restless twit- 
 terer ; then the woods held their breath in 
 the moonlight to listeu, as on it rolled, 
 everuntired, to lose itself in the sea. Aud 
 in the long nights, when no one watched, 
 thousands of stars dropped down on the 
 waters, leaving no fewer in the sky, and 
 there they lay, peeping in and out of the 
 wavelets, coyly smiling up to their sere: 
 sisters in the heavens, till Athena shot her 
 arrows through all space, and then, i
 
 THE MONTGOMERIES OF KERINVEAN. 7 
 
 silently and unseen as they bad descended, 
 they wended their way up to the myriad 
 of shining clusters from whence they had 
 come. 
 
 Perchance Kerinvean was too far re- 
 moved from the world of strife and din to 
 change her rightful aspect because fierce 
 war was raging ; albeit the locality was no 
 farther than the Western Highlands of 
 Scotland. 
 
 A great stretch of mountain, moor, and 
 farm-land, a salt water loch running 
 through its glens, and a river that flowed 
 between dark woods, such was the track 
 of country known as Kerinvean. It 
 was utterly separated by natural causes 
 from the tumultuous life of cities and 
 governments, the smoke of furnaces did
 
 8 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 not wind any pestilential fumes over its 
 mountain walls, and the noise of the can- 
 nons was all unheard in its water's roll. 
 Besides, it was nothing strange that the 
 influence of war did not alter the face of 
 nature at Kerinvean, for it was not a 
 populous district, nor was it rich in metal- 
 lic produce. Its surface had never been 
 blackened nor defiled ; and, just as a 
 demon could find his way all tracked by 
 familiar scenes through the dreary foulness 
 of our cities, so an angel might wander at 
 long intervals over Kerinvean, and recog- 
 nize no change save that of which he 
 would approve. 
 
 A massive granite castle was the home- 
 stead of the Montgomeries, the owners of 
 the land ; a. sombre stately pile, much of
 
 THE M0NTG0MERIES OF KERINVEAN. 9 
 
 which had been built in past centuries. 
 It stood on a level plateau at the base of 
 Ben Yeurnish ; to the left there was a 
 long sweep of loch seen from many of the 
 windows of the castle, and this loch was 
 bordered by headlands, varied by hill and 
 dale, rock and wood, which never looked 
 fairer than in that year of grace and war. 
 Away to the right were high hills and wild 
 glens, and in front, deep buried in the 
 woods which sloped down to its banks, or 
 abruptly ended in steep, craggy precipices, 
 rolled the river which the Montgomeries 
 claimed, as no one but themselves owned 
 a rood of the land which bordered it on 
 either side. 
 
 The limes and beeches were green earlier 
 that year, as if they had been suddenly
 
 10 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 roused, and bidden to look around, where 
 the old firs in their eternal dress were bow- 
 ing in venerable recognition to all younger 
 nature, creaking and straining like ships 
 on a troubled ocean ; the limes and 
 beeches had made haste to don themselves 
 in green like the larches, already sing- 
 ing their summer songs about the sea, 
 and bare branches were quite rare in 
 the month of May, eighteen hundred and 
 fifty-five. 
 
 Steuart Montgomerie, or, as he was 
 called, according to the Highland custom, 
 by the name of his property, Kerinvean, 
 was, at this period, thirty years of age. He 
 was still a bachelor, and had been in pos- 
 session of his estates since his majority. 
 In all Scotland there was no one more en-
 
 THE MONTGOMERIES OF KERINVEAN. 1 1 
 
 during on the hill, no one who could stalk 
 a deer, or play a salmon, with more skill 
 than he, and for him life seemed to have 
 no more serious obligation. 
 
 The laird's heedless nature was 
 in thorough contrast to the character 
 of Robert Montgomerie, his brother, and 
 junior by two years. A stern and God- 
 fearing man, grave beyond his years, 
 and known in his regiment and the 
 service, as the bravest and most fearless. 
 The property yielded a small allowance 
 to the younger brother, and Kerinvean 
 would gladly have added more, especi- 
 ally at the period of Captain Mont- 
 gomerie's marriage, but the offer was 
 declined firmly. 
 
 This event had taken place six years
 
 12 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 before the commencement of my story, 
 and a happy married life had been spent 
 in different parts of England, varied 
 by loug visits to Kerinveau, where the 
 beautiful wife received her due of hom- 
 age from the reticent men and douce 
 women of the hills, who were enthusias- 
 tic in speaking their praise of " my leddy " 
 at the Castle. 
 
 Mrs. Montgomerie was the only child 
 of a well known artist, but, though in- 
 heriting no little share of her father's 
 genius, she was too fragile for the inces- 
 sant labour which Art entails ; neverthe- 
 less, during her sojourns at Kerinveau, 
 she worked much as her tastes impelled. 
 
 Two children were born at the Castle, 
 which, Kerinveau said, was the rightful
 
 THE MONTGOMERIES OF KER1NVEAN. 13 
 
 birthplace of all Mori tgo merles, and the 
 tenantry, to whom their own opinion, on 
 such subjects, was a weighty matter, sin- 
 cerely acquiesced in the significance of 
 such a decree, and when the elder, a 
 boy, was born, they lighted bonfires on 
 all the hills, as if he had been the heir, 
 and Kerinvean joined the mirth as gladly 
 as if the infant had been his own son. 
 There was wondering among the people 
 when the name Roderigue was given to 
 the child, instead of a familiar patronymic, 
 but their conclusion about it was as char- 
 acteristic of their affection for the mother, 
 as of pride in their laird's family : An 
 authority was heard to say : 
 
 " Doubtless my leddy had a friend 
 called by this name, and it would not
 
 14 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 have a foreign sound if borne by a Mont- 
 gomerie, that just made all the difference 
 whatever." 
 
 The younger child, a girl, was called 
 Marie, and was the idol of her parents. 
 
 The Montgomeries were, at this time, 
 all together at Kerinvean, where the 
 children found the days too short for the 
 schemes that were developed in their busy 
 brains. They heard no ominous sounds, 
 they saw no shadows, only the fond hus- 
 band and father heard and saw the Inevit- 
 able ; it loomed darkly before him as the 
 hours of his day of grace sped on ; he 
 knew the maudate would soon come that 
 would forerun a parting full of terror and 
 anguish. 
 
 There was no doubt nor hesitation in
 
 THE MONTGOMERIES OF KERINVEAN. J 5 
 
 Robert Montgomerie's mind ; once duty 
 was recognized, he was invincible to all 
 other considerations, so, while Kerinvean 
 was too heedless to perceive the coming 
 danger, and the young wife too happy 
 to believe it could be near, he was 
 strengthening his courage for the doom 
 that might be awaiting him ere the leaves 
 of that fair spring were whirled from 
 their branches by the autumn wind. He 
 nerved himself for the parting, too brave 
 to be deluded by belief in immunity from 
 peril. Facing the possible worst, he grew 
 calm to meet his fate, whatever that might 
 be. 
 
 At length the bugle sounded, and its 
 echoes reached even to Kerinvean beyond 
 the hills, on the fairest day of all that fair
 
 16 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 springtide ; and of those whose hearts were 
 stirred by its stern call, only he who had 
 been listening was not astounded to hear 
 it. With a simple letter, an order from 
 the War Office to join his regiment at 
 Portsmouth a week hence, came dread and 
 grief into that happy household. His 
 favourite sports were unheeded by the 
 laird, the fair young wife laid aside the 
 palette and brushes she might never use 
 again, and the children looked wistfully 
 around for explanation of the strange 
 words they heard ; and the sorrow of the 
 parting hours seemed to foretell the over- 
 shadowing of a relentless fate.
 
 17 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ROBERT MONTGOMERY'S TRUST. 
 
 " Now thou art sealed the son of chivalry." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 TTERINVEAN, who was sincerely at- 
 tached to his brother, tried to 
 persuade him to exchange into another 
 regiment ; but, finding how useless were 
 his strongest arguments against the 
 soldier's sense of duty, he gave himself up 
 to the general regret, and sought no sur- 
 cease from his ordinary pursuits. The 
 vol. i. c
 
 18 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 terrible sorrow which filled Mrs. Mont- 
 goraerie's heart was never for one moment 
 lulled, and the brothers made arrange- 
 ments for her and the children, almost 
 without consulting her. Kerinvean asked 
 to be allowed to protect them all until his 
 brother should return. 
 
 "It would be childish in me, Steuart," 
 said Captain Montgomerie, " to ignore the 
 probability of my never returning; in that 
 case " 
 
 " In that case," responded Kerinvean, 
 quickly interrupting him, "your wife shall 
 be gently cared for. As long as it pleases 
 her to remain here, the house will have no 
 other mistress, and your children shall be 
 as my own to me. It is not likely that I 
 shall ever marry now. Be ." he added,
 
 Robert montgoherie's trust. 19 
 
 in a more cheerful tone, (i Ruy is already 
 recognised as the heir, and I believe there 
 would be a rising of our people if he were 
 supplanted." 
 
 " I do not think, Steuart," answered Cap- 
 tain Montgomerie, " that it will be judici- 
 ous to foster that idea ; it might bring a 
 harvest of sorrow. If I return, I will 
 certainly educate my boy with the prospect 
 of work ; I am sure he would ill become 
 the position for which you design him, if 
 he knew nothing by experience of the 
 worth of labour and self-reliance." 
 
 " Come, don't be hard on me, Bob," said 
 Kerinvean, " I mean kindly by the lad, 
 and even if you should not come back, 
 which God forbid, his mother's influence 
 would always be stronger than mine, and, 
 
 c>
 
 20 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 failing hers, I can but give you my 
 solemn word to do my best for Ruy." 
 
 "And with your promise I will rest 
 satisfied," answered Robert Montgomerie ; 
 "and now, with confidence, I trust all that 
 is dear to me to your care." 
 
 Kerinvean's serious manner somewhat 
 misled the grave young father, for he 
 thought no one could speak of such con- 
 tingencies without being impressed by 
 their importance. Kerinvean was im- 
 pressed at the time, and sincerely meant 
 to fulfil all he undertook, but it is a huge 
 responsibility for a man of thirty to fore- 
 tell how far he will, or will not, be swayed 
 by circumstances in the course of time. 
 To follow the career of Roderigue Mont- 
 gomerie will also be to track the foot-
 
 eobert montgomerie's trust. 21 
 
 steps of a destiny which made havoc of 
 the promise so generously offered, and 
 which was more irrevocable than a vow 
 to a dead brother, however dear his 
 memory. 
 
 When the day for fulfilment is present, 
 the engagements of the past have often 
 become all too visionary to compare with 
 the urgency of newer claims. What a 
 farce the most solemn human oath must 
 be to the recording angel ! 
 
 Roderigue, or, as his family called him, Ruy 
 Montgomerie, had a singularly impression- 
 able nature, and, though of a strong temper, 
 he inherited so much of self-control from 
 his father, and gentleness from his mother, 
 that already his character was greatly de- 
 fined for one so young. When Captain
 
 22 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 Montgomerie told his son of his intended 
 departure, the child's grief was well nigh 
 unrestrainable, but it was no small solace 
 to the father to see bow bravely he essayed 
 to roaster it. 
 
 " Go now, Ruy," said Captain Mont- 
 goraerie, putting the boy from his arms, 
 where he had clung sobbing in the passion 
 of his first sorrow, "go and tell your sister 
 ■what you have just heard." 
 
 The boy found Marie playing with her 
 doll under the trees. 
 
 " Marie," he said, sitting down beside 
 her, "I have something to tell you." 
 
 "Is it a secret ?" the gfirl asked. 
 
 CD 
 
 eagerly, laying down her doll. 
 
 " No, it is not a secret. Father is going 
 away next week."
 
 EOBERT MONTGOMERY'S TRUST. 23 
 
 " Oh ! but next week is such a long 
 time off yet," was the philosophic response, 
 and she took up her doll again. 
 
 " Yes, Marie, but he is going over the 
 sea to the war." 
 
 " Is he going to be killed, Ruy ?" asked 
 the little girl, throwing down Miss Doll. 
 " Nurse says that is what they go to the 
 war for." 
 
 Ruy had not time to answer ere the 
 prattler's thoughts took another turn. 
 
 " Ruy," she asked, "would you like to 
 go away over the sea with him ?" 
 
 " Yes, I would like to go when it is my 
 turn," he answered. 
 
 " Would you like to go and leave me ?" 
 
 she persisted, picking up her Doll, as if 
 
 to assure herself of not being left entirely 
 alone.
 
 24 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 "No, Marie," answered the boy, "not 
 till it's my turn, and then I suppose I 
 must go." 
 
 And the speaker's young face resumed 
 its habitual look oP fearless bravery, which 
 gave to the homely folk, whose right to 
 free remarks about the family was never 
 questioned, reason to say that already he 
 resembled the portrait of Sir David 
 Montgomerie, the bravest of all his 
 ancestors. 
 
 The likeness certainly was remarkable 
 between the boy and the picture of 
 the ill-fated bridegroom, who, on the 
 day of his marriage, received au order 
 from his exiled liege to go immediate- 
 ly on a secret mission into the Low- 
 Country. Ere nightfall he was sur-
 
 robert Montgomery's trust. 25 
 
 prised by a party of King William's sol- 
 diery, who shot him like a dog, for the 
 crime of withholding his master's secret. 
 His young page, who was considered too 
 insignificant by these ruffians to waste 
 shot upon, told to the third generation 
 how Sir David had gravely smiled, as 
 if he had caught a glimpse of heaven, 
 when the carbines were levelled at him, 
 and how the smile was still on his face 
 when he lay dead in the moonlight on the 
 night of his marriage, not forty miles 
 distant from his home and his waiting 
 bride. 
 
 Stories of bravery were common enough 
 in the Montgomerie annals, and Ruy loved 
 to wander up and down the long gallery 
 at Kerinvean, where the portraits of his
 
 26 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 ancestors hung. He knew most of their 
 histories by heart, and was never more 
 happy than when in the silent company of 
 these pictures, for his imagination gave 
 them life, and they were all real embodi- 
 ments of the most heroic qualities to the 
 thoughtful child. 
 
 At the time appointed, the brave, young 
 officer went forth to his doom in that 
 fatal Crimean war. The fiends of hell 
 might have envied the carnage, and spoil 
 of human beauty by human skill, there to 
 be seen, month after month, in sickening- 
 monotony ; but no stouter courage left its 
 record than that displayed by Captain 
 Montgomerie, when, bleeding from a dead- 
 ly bayonet wound, he urged his men to 
 follow him as he endeavoured to keep his
 
 ROBERT MONTGOMERY'S TRUST. 27 
 
 saddle and rode into the fatal charge, where 
 he fell. To his widow the world's acclaim 
 was nothing, save for the significance it 
 would be in the lives of the children, that 
 their father had died as a hero. Her wail 
 went from a heart broken and desolate, 
 and, ere the close of that eventful year, 
 Kerinvean's vow was due. 
 
 It was a strange position for this young 
 man, to find himself the sole guardian of 
 two orphans, and he did not adequately 
 realise his responsibility. Too impul- 
 sively generous to be other than careless, 
 and having had gratification for all his 
 own whims and wishes ever at hand, by 
 habit he shrank always from care and 
 trouble, and was averse to gauging the 
 extent of his duties. He accepted nearly
 
 28 TIME AND CHANCE, 
 
 all the changes in his life as natural 
 sequences. This guardianship, with all its 
 possibilities, gave him no great concern ; 
 for, when he entered upon it, he was still 
 grieving for the loss of his brother. The 
 only difficulty concerning the children was 
 the present emergency. Kerinvean did 
 not like them to be left to the sole care of 
 hirelings ; but it was some days before he 
 could decide on any step, and his thoughts 
 dwelt on many plans, till at length they 
 halted in satisfaction on the suggestion f 
 the existence of his man}'-times-removed 
 cousin, Miss Mathilda Mackenzie of Cairn 
 Douhl.
 
 29 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE LADY OF CAIRN DOQHL. 
 
 " No queen, before a shouting crowd, 
 Led on in bridal state, 
 E'er struggled with a heart so proud, 
 
 Entering her palace gate ; 
 Rejoiced to bid the world farewell, 
 
 No saintly anchoress 
 E'er took possession of her cell 
 "With deeper thankfulness." 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 rTlHE following spring was as full of 
 
 glory and promise as that which 
 
 had preceded it. The changeful beauty
 
 30 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 of unnumbered years showed on every 
 hill side, and nature wore no less glad 
 an aspect because there were so many 
 more desolate homes in the world than 
 there were a year ago. The pines had 
 dreamed once again, not of clashiug 
 swords nor booming cannons, but of 
 snow-storms and icicles, and the winds 
 of spring had come to toss and waken 
 them, as a giant shakes himself at dawn. 
 They swayed on now as solemnly as ever ; 
 up in their branches, close to the clouds, 
 there was no moaning over pain and loe 
 but only a song of deathless praise, unto 
 which human voices could never be attuned. 
 
 Miss Mackenzie had joyfully accept 
 Kcrinvean's proposal that she should 
 make her home at the Castle, and lie
 
 THE LADY OF CAIRN DOUHL. 31 
 
 had the good feeling to arrange that 
 
 o a o 
 
 there her position should be that of one 
 of the family. So attractive and winning 
 was their new monitress, that soon the 
 children placed entire confidence in her, 
 and this trust developed ere long into 
 strong and lasting affection. 
 
 Mathilda Mackenzie was a lady of un- 
 distinguishable years ; judging from her 
 appearance, one might have guessed any- 
 thing from thirty to forty-five, and, from 
 her sympathies, , any age between ten 
 and a hundred. A refined nature, a 
 fair, comely face, a straight, pliant figure, 
 a pleasant voice, and kindly manners, 
 such was Miss Mackenzie of Cairn Douhl. 
 She had been early left an orphan, and 
 had resided during the most part of her
 
 32 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 girlhood in London, in the home of a 
 distant relative, and, after his death, with 
 a penurious aunt, who had large posses- 
 sions. After seven years of illuess, dur- 
 ing which this miserly old woman dis- 
 played a degree of fractious wilfulness 
 hitherto unparalleled, Mathilda tending 
 her day and night, she died, leaving a 
 tiny cottage, called Cairn Douhl, and only 
 sixty pounds a year, to her devoted niece, 
 and the residue of her riches to public 
 charities. 
 
 Mathilda Mackenzie's womanhood had 
 been spent in struggling ; first to bring 
 her buoyant nature into harmony with 
 the only life possible in her aunt's house- 
 hold, and afterwards, when the invalid 
 grew more and more unbearable, daily
 
 THE LADY OF CAIRN DOUHL. 33 
 
 and hourly to fulfil the duties imposed 
 upon her with cheerfulness. After the 
 death of her aunt, there was more strug- 
 gling to be done ; poverty and Highland 
 pride strove together in the heart of 
 Mathilda, ay, and sometimes in the body 
 also, when the meals were scantier than 
 usual. Though appetite is a common-place 
 enough enemy, he rebels at bareness, 
 and unconquerably too, when health is 
 surest, but in most conflicts Mathilda's 
 pride vanquished its foes. No one un- 
 derstood how she managed to live on 
 her income, and certainly no one ever 
 presumed to hint that any management 
 was needed, but, her charities being in- 
 numerable, sometimes her attendant would 
 venture to remonstrate, though for answer 
 VOL. i. d
 
 34 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 would receive only the following, or some 
 similar reply : 
 
 "My race has always been renowned for 
 the giving of help to whom it was due, 
 when it was in the power of the hand to 
 do it, and only shame could be the portion 
 of a Mackenzie who dealt with ' a slack 
 hand.'" 
 
 Mathilda prided herself greatly on her 
 name, as purity of descent was her special 
 strong point, and historical knowledge her 
 chief acquirement. She had gained a 
 local celebrity for her memory of events 
 that had taken place in her own country. 
 There was scarcely a family of any note 
 in Scotland whose alliances, ancestry, and 
 remarkable characteristics were unknown 
 to her ; and, on all disputed questions of
 
 THE LADY OF CAIRN DOUHL. 35 
 
 pedigree and precedence among them, she 
 was a most valuable referee, and was, 
 moreover, always willing to give informa- 
 tion, whether legendary or authentic, and 
 it was not the fault of her array of ex- 
 amples if doubtful points were not decided. 
 On all festive occasions she wore a silken 
 scarf of Mackenzie tartan, fastened by a 
 jewelled buckle, an heirloom in her family, 
 and she would no more have considered 
 herself perfectly dressed without these de- 
 corations, than, at state ceremonials, would 
 our Queen without the blue ribbon of the 
 Garter. Woe be to the innocent who ven- 
 tured to admire either scarf or jewel, 
 unless he were prepared to listen to the 
 history of the first Mackenzie chief who 
 received the buckle from a royal person- 
 
 d i!
 
 36 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 age, and to a minute description of many 
 of his successors. Mathilda grew eloquent 
 relating how the Macgregors, their here- 
 ditary rivals, had fought the Mackenzies a 
 whole century because of a quarrel con- 
 cerning the bauble, and that even the 
 Kerinvean Mont^orneries had often claim- 
 ed a right to its ownership, because one of 
 them, in remote times, had married a 
 Mackenzie. Mathilda always ended her 
 account by saying she was glad to be the 
 possessor of the jewel, as the tradition 
 concerning it was, that "its owner should 
 never lack love nor gear." 
 
 This good woman's naturally genial dis- 
 position revivified in a remarkable manner 
 under the blessed influences of love and 
 plenty; her life seemed to have been trans-
 
 THE LADY OF CAIRN DOUHL. 37 
 
 ported into an enchanted castle, of which 
 she was nominal mistress ; the cessation of 
 daily pinching to make both ends meet 
 having a wonderful effect in brightening 
 the spirit which seven years of servitude 
 had tamed, though never crushed. 
 
 Kerinvean's most frequent guest and 
 nearest neighbour was Mr. Campbell, who 
 lived on the neighbouring small property 
 of Invean. 
 
 It would have been difficult to divine 
 the basis of the sincere friendship which 
 bound together two men so opposite in 
 character and pursuits. Mr. Campbell 
 had for several years honourably filled a 
 chair at Oxford, but, being devoted to 
 letters and antiquarian researches, on the 
 death of his wife, had retired to his native
 
 38 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 lulls, there to follow, undisturbed, hi 
 erudite tastes. The most apparent rea- 
 sons for the intimacy were that he posses- 
 sed a happy temperament, was fond of 
 quiet, social intercourse, and, having no 
 engagements save those of study, was as 
 free to come and go where he liked, as his 
 bachelor friend Kerinvean. Mr. Camp- 
 bell had one child, and this boy, Archie, 
 was as welcome at the Castle as in his 
 home at Invean ; a few years the senior 
 of Ruy Montgomerie, he was, to him and 
 to Marie, both hero and companion. 
 
 It was Mr. Campbell who had su 
 Quested to Kerinvean to secure Miss Mac- 
 kenzie's care for the children, and both 
 men were fflad now for their own Bakes 
 that she had come. Often, in the long
 
 THE LADY OF CAIRN DCUHL. 89 
 
 evenings after the children had retired, 
 they delighted in the society of this accom- 
 plished lady, who had added to her many 
 acquirements a most extensive knowledge 
 of the music of her nation. She would 
 often play for hours strathspeys and reels 
 without once repeating herself, varying 
 her performance with singing, there being 
 hardly a Jacobite song extant which was 
 unknown to her. 
 
 Miss Mackenzie had also the gift of 
 the story-teller, and very graphically could 
 she recount the doings of bye-gone days. 
 The recital of Highland legends was pe- 
 culiarly interesting to Mr. Campbell, and 
 many an appropriate question did he ven- 
 ture, in order to lead Miss Mackenzie to her 
 favourite themes. Gaelic lore invariably
 
 40 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 bored Kerinvean, and, when the clans 
 of Maclean, Macdougal, and Macdonald 
 got hopelessly mixed in his mind, lie 
 would break the spell which enthralled 
 these two lovers of primitive history by 
 asking for one of the laments or coro- 
 nachs which their names recalled, and the 
 unsuspecting Mathilda cheerfully acqui- 
 esced, this being onlv another mode of re- 
 counting the deeds of those who were 
 to her the heroes of the whole earth.
 
 41 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 BOYHOOD. 
 
 : ' Xine years old ! The first of any, 
 Seem the happiest years that come. 
 Yet, when I was nine, I said 
 No such word ! I thought instead 
 That the Greeks had used as many 
 
 In besieging Ilium. 
 
 J> 
 
 Mrs. Browning. 
 
 rTIHE years glided on very peacefully 
 
 at Kerinvean. Miss Mackenzie 
 
 taught the children, and they made
 
 42 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 great progress. She had no difficulty 
 in understanding Marie, but there were 
 times when Ruy sorely puzzled her. 
 His strange questioniugs, which often 
 found unprepared and weak places in 
 her hitherto unassailed orthodoxy, his 
 droll views of subjects she had never 
 before heard treated but with implicit 
 credulity, and his comprehensive grasp of 
 all the subtle points in his lessons, proved 
 to Miss Mackenzie that he would soon 
 need a more masculine guidance. 
 
 Meanwhile Mistress Nature had appro- 
 priated Ruy for her own pupil, and was 
 instructing him in deeper mysteries than 
 were found elsewhere; day by day there was 
 growing in his heart a love of the beauty 
 which surrounded him, and which made
 
 BOYHOOD. 43 
 
 woods and hills and river dearer than 
 human speech. 
 
 Kerinveau, who was attached to both 
 the children, was very indulgent after his 
 own inconsequential fashion, though he 
 preferred gleeful Marie's company to 
 Ruy's, for the latter always appeared to 
 feel most interest in subjects which to 
 Kerinvean were mere abstractions. 
 
 ISTo hours were so full of exquisite en- 
 joyment to Ruy as those he spent with 
 Archie at the river fishing unweariedly, or 
 when alone dreaming the hours away ; to- 
 gether they often followed the tracks of ani- 
 mals in unfrequented places, or the flights 
 of birds in the woods, till they had quite 
 satisfied themselves about the reason of 
 any habit which had before seemed strange.
 
 44 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 All the innumerable living creatures in the 
 woods were also Ruy's companions, his 
 sympathetic intelligence apprehended their 
 conditions, and he never felt lonely. In 
 his wanderings he would rehearse the 
 deeds of his ancestors, or the legends Mifi 
 Mackenzie had recounted. There was no 
 spot too secluded for the boy, who could 
 people it with imaginary knights and heroes, 
 and who heard in the noisy rush of the 
 streams the trampling of steeds, the clang 
 of armour, and songs of triumph. There 
 were no moans of the vanquished yet in 
 Ruy's dreaming. 
 
 He had one ally, who, besides being de- 
 voted, was, because of his peculiar charac- 
 ter and long experience, an unfailing help. 
 
 Peter Ramsay, a confidential servant under
 
 BOYHOOD. 45 
 
 the manager of the home farm, was a de- 
 pendent of a type rare in these times. 
 To him stalking a deer or making a 
 plough was equally familiar, and between 
 these performances could be counted a 
 hundred, alike on land and water, that 
 needed skill, and for which Peter Ramsay 
 had a willing capacity. 
 
 Many years ago, Kerinvean's father had 
 sent Ramsay in charge of some valuable 
 stock from the Low Country, and after- 
 wards had offered him a situation of trust 
 at the farm ; since then he had attach- 
 ed himself to the family, and had proved 
 his discretion on many important occa- 
 sions. He had never had any desire to 
 leave Kerinvean, and when Ruy once asked 
 him if he would not like to go again to the
 
 46 TIME AND CHANGE. 
 
 Continent, where he had spent two year 
 with a former master, Peter answered : 
 
 " No, Master Ruy, I'm content here, 
 and I hae travelled far eneugh in my 
 youth to ken noo that a decent body can 
 never find a better place than his ain 
 countree to bide in. A' thae cities you 
 speer aboot are mostly filled wi' dirty 
 beggin' folk, and there's nae kiud o' 
 righteous indiveeduality wi' ony o' the 
 nations except Scotland, and sae I'm con- 
 tent to baud up my testimony here." 
 
 Sometimes Peter soared beyond Buy 'a 
 comprehension as they sat by the riv 
 between their raids on the fish. He v 
 an odd mixture of shrewdness and religion, 
 ami, moreover, was ever ready to explain 
 the subjects of Ruy's perplexities, so that
 
 BOYHOOD. 47 
 
 the boy bad naturally a strong liking for 
 him. There was no one else who knew 
 the day the swallows would come, nor 
 the time they would muster for flight ; he 
 could show the owls' nests, and had prom- 
 ised to take the boys to the " Eagle's 
 Crag," where was a rock to climb that 
 would need a firm foot and steady eye, 
 yet when Ruy asked when they were 
 to go, for a long time Peter would only 
 answer with a smile: "We'll just bide a 
 wee ; there's nae hurry, it's aye there." 
 Which reply at length proved to Ruy 
 that Peter preferred to be the suggestor 
 of all such expeditions. 
 
 Peter was a splendid salmon fisher ; he 
 was acquainted with the best pools, and his 
 knowledge of where to get a grilse with
 
 48 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 little more than a single cast, when other 
 people had pronounced the river in " bad 
 trim," was a wonderful intuition in Ruy's 
 opinion. His gentle care of the boy en- 
 gendered a life-long gratitude. He would 
 often lift him over rocks and boulders, 
 himself almost up to the waist in water, 
 sometimes with a salmon on the line ; and 
 he would even take him on his back to 
 follow the vagaries of the fish. 
 
 When Ruy was eight years of age, Mr. 
 Campbell offered to become his tutor, and 
 the willing pupil went daily to Invean, and 
 many a never-to-be-forgotten ramble did 
 he and Archie have after their day's work 
 was over. At the end of three years of 
 this companionship, Archie went to Eton, 
 and then Ruy gave his heart to his
 
 BOYHOOD. 49 
 
 studies, in order that Mr. Campbell might 
 sooner consider him sufficiently prepared 
 to join Archie. Ruy had no other desire 
 in his anticipations of Eton, and the time 
 at length arrived when he was to go there 
 with his friend. 
 
 Then came the last day at the river ; 
 but, though Peter had rods and flies in 
 splendid order, the weather was some- 
 what too bright, or the wind played 
 pranks with the line, for the fish would 
 not rise. No salmon was landed till 
 Peter, who was always unweariedly per- 
 severing, succeeded, and at length the trio 
 sat down to eat their luncheon. 
 
 ft I can't understand," said Archie, 
 "how it was I had not a single rise." 
 
 " You maunna try to force a king in 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 his ain pairt o' airth, Master Archie ; ye 
 maun mak' terms wi' him. Just when ye 
 think you've got him, he's maist likely to 
 be lauchiQ' at ye. Gin ye gie him the fly 
 he wants, if you're no clever at playin' 
 him, he'll maybe gar ye gae awa' miles 
 doon the stream, no rneanin' to land ava\ 
 Whiles it's a big fly, and whiles it's a wee 
 ane he'll tak', an' ye dinna fecht him wi' 
 the richt weapons, ye'll never gaff him. 
 The wisdom in fishin' is to ken which. 
 Just as that callant Dawvid, the morn he 
 gaed oot to slay his adversary, ken't a 
 wee stane was the best for his sling. 
 Naethinof could ha'e killed Goliath that 
 day but a wee stane," added Peter, sen* 
 teutiously. 
 
 "Pity Hector did not thiuk of a small
 
 BOYHOOD. 51 
 
 stone when lie hurled that ponderous 
 one at the seven-fold shield of Ajax," 
 remarked Ruy, dreamily. 
 
 " I fancy there must have been some- 
 thing in the way David threw the stone," 
 said Archie, taking up a pebble and aim- 
 ing it at a twig that was floating down 
 the stream at the other side of the pool, 
 and hitting it with uncommon skill. " It 
 strikes me, Peter," he added, laughing, 
 " David himself could not have aimed 
 better than that." 
 
 "Dinna be makin' bachles o' Dawvid, 
 Master Archie," said Peter, looking shock- 
 ed at what he was pleased to consider 
 levity. " Ye'll no be mair thocht o' 
 for fameeliarity wi' Scripture charac- 
 ters." 
 
 E Z 
 
 LIBRARY 
 UNIVERSITY Of 1LLIN
 
 52 TIME AND CHANGE. 
 
 Peter liked to make all the biblical al- 
 lusions himself, and the boys were so 
 much accustomed to his ways that nei- 
 ther ever took offence at anything he 
 said, whether in censure or admonition. 
 
 After Peter left them, they strolled 
 about waiting for Miss Mackenzie and 
 Marie, who had promised to join their 
 pic-nic. They did not care to converse 
 much, for the river rolled along mightily. 
 They sat down after a time beside a deep, 
 black pool, where the wild, unceasing roar 
 was, for a few yards, lulled to peaceful 
 stillness. 
 
 There it came, from a bend in its bed, 
 down over the rocks which fretted it iuto 
 foam ere it reached the pool, though the 
 foam scattered itself, and showed only
 
 BOYUOOD 53 
 
 in a few stray bubbles on the surface of 
 the still, dark water in front of them. A 
 noisy, ruthless stream it was up at the 
 fall, proclaiming loudly enough that no- 
 thing should stay its course, not even the 
 great brown crag in the middle, which 
 some giant in sport must have tossed 
 from the hill above, for it lay, with a 
 defiant look on its immovable front, doing 
 no harm whatsoever save parting the 
 water, which joined fiercely enough, in 
 whirling foam, at its base. The ash, and 
 the alder, and the small birches bent lov- 
 ingly over the rocks, and in all the 
 crevices were innumerable tufts of hea- 
 ther and waving fronds, whole worlds of 
 beauty ; and there were few stones that 
 were not covered with mosses, green and
 
 54 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 golden. The ferns waved in noble, silent 
 fashion to the trees above them, and 
 nothing had a loud utterance save the 
 river. 
 
 At the side where the boys lingered, 
 the rowan-trees grew right down to the 
 water, and amid their drooping green 
 hung many a scarlet cluster. The reflec- 
 tions were as vivid as the berries them- 
 selves, so that it was almost impos- 
 sible to believe that those red and 
 glittering bunches in the water were 
 illusions. 
 
 But the boys were not thinking of illu- 
 sions ; Archie, to whom a day at the river 
 was a thorough delight, was looking round 
 wondering which of the trees was the high- 
 est, and considering their different merits
 
 BOYHOOD. 55 
 
 as regarded the feasibility of climbing. 
 Ruy, to whom climbing was as natural as 
 to a squirrel, was not thinking of anything 
 to add to the enjoyment he found watch- 
 ing the scene. Had he been asked what 
 his thoughts were, most probably he would 
 have said that he was listening to the far-off 
 songs of all the burns which rolled down 
 the hills to swell the big stream, and to 
 the "hush, hush," of the aspens, which all 
 day long they murmured monotonously 
 to the dark, still pool, and which the river 
 obeyed, till its bed grew wider a hundred 
 yards below, where stones and rocks lay 
 in such scattered masses that out of hear- 
 ing of the aspens its babbling began again, 
 and thence all the way down to the loch 
 its song mocked their entreaty.
 
 56 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 " You will miss the river at Eton, Hue," 
 said Archie at length. 
 
 "Yes," answered Ruy, "it makes me 
 wish I had not to go." 
 
 " Oh ! you won't be sorry, once you are 
 there," responded Archie, change and ex- 
 citement being in his anticipations of the 
 future, " though on a day like this I can't 
 help thinking of the river wherever I 
 am. 
 
 "And I — I think about it always," an- 
 swered Ruy, " there's everything in its 
 sound ; to-day I can fancy I hear the tide 
 rolling up against headlands miles away ; 
 I don't believe any place in the world 
 can be half so wild and grand as Kerin- 
 vean." 
 
 u And I am sure of it," said Archie, in a
 
 BOYHOOD. 57 
 
 tone that was quite unsuggestive of con- 
 tradiction. " Gore always laughs when I 
 tell him this, and says it's uncivil to Broc- 
 ton, but he is an awfully good fellow for 
 all that." 
 
 Dallas Gore was a schoolfellow of 
 Archie's ; their mothers had been related. 
 Ruy shared in his friend's admiration for 
 this vouth, who had chosen, and was de* 
 stined for, the career of a soldier, which, 
 in those clays, seemed to Ruy the synonym 
 for hero. 
 
 " We won't have any more picnics till 
 next summer, Archie," said Marie, as 
 they all lingered under the trees in the 
 sunset. 
 
 "Don't make rash promises, Marie," 
 answered Archie. " It won't make us any
 
 58 TIME AND CnAXCE. 
 
 more jolly at Eton to think of you and 
 Miss Mackenzie pining for us, will it, 
 Hue T 
 
 " We have not promised to pine," re- 
 sponded Marie. " And I fancy you two 
 will be much more likel} T to indulge in 
 that pleasure, for I think that even in 
 heaven I should want to come back some- 
 times to dear old Kerinvean !" 
 
 " Wouldn't it be grand," said Ruy, " to 
 be king's messenger there, and to be sent 
 to hell with an order for release to some 
 poor wretch who had served his time out, 
 and then to bring him here ; it would be 
 just as good as heaven." 
 
 The boy's face kindled as he thought 
 of his strange fancy ; Archie smiled at 
 Buy's enthusiasm, but neither of them
 
 BOYHOOD. 59 
 
 conjectured of a day when, to be tran- 
 sported to Kerinvean would have seemed 
 to themselves little less than a transition 
 from hell to Heaven, and when, alas ! 
 there might be no king's messenger to 
 free them from an exile in which soul and 
 body were to languish in utter longing 
 for release.
 
 60 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 INTERLACE. 
 
 " What is past I know, but what is for to come I 
 know not." 
 
 Esdras. 
 
 Ol EVEN years had passed since the date 
 of our last chapter. Seven years 
 had made little change on the landscape, 
 and had left but small trace ou the 
 grey homestead of the Montgomeries ; 
 all was the same save the shadows, which 
 flitted fitfully over in the sunshine, and
 
 INTERLAPSE. 61 
 
 lengthened dreamily in the gloom, seem- 
 ingly the only evidences of mutability in 
 all the land. 
 
 Ruy Montgomerie had studied vigorous- 
 ly during his school-days at Eton. His 
 career there might have proved to Kerin- 
 vean that Nature brooks no interference 
 with the destiny of those she appoints 
 for her priesthood, but Kerinvean lacked 
 the understanding that should have dis- 
 cerned this, and also the foresight that 
 would have made him shrink from the 
 sacrilege of appropriating that which she 
 had consecrated. 
 
 Ruy had gone forth with eagerness to 
 learn, for his ardour sought expression. 
 Fate decreed that an artist should one 
 day see a sketch he had drawn, and after-
 
 62 TIM?] AND CHANCE. 
 
 wards should give him frequent lesson . 
 Much to Ruy's delight, this friend en- 
 couraged the idea that Art was his voca- 
 tion, and, on leaving Eton, the boy felt 
 embolden to show Kerinvean some of his 
 drawings, telling him how earnest was 
 his wish to devote his life to the work. 
 
 Kerinvean spoke so disparagingly in 
 reply, both of the drawings and of bis 
 nephew's plans for the future, that Ruy 
 could say nothing in defence of either ; 
 and, moreover, when Kerinvean hinted that 
 any further thought of Art, as a vocatiou, 
 would only incapacitate him for the work 
 and position he expected him to be willing, 
 and able, to fulfil, Ruy's sensitive temper 
 was shamed into a consciousness of having 
 seemed ungrateful.
 
 INTERLAPSE. 63 
 
 Kerinvean bad so emphatically con- 
 demned the pictures that at first Ruy 
 feared he must have chosen the wron«- 
 art, but he solaced himself by thinking 
 that, if he had any capability, the destined 
 mode of proving it would appear, and he 
 would find a way by-and-by ; that, mean- 
 while, his work was merely a study, more 
 or less, of aesthetics, and that " in all 
 labour there is profit." 
 
 So afterwards he silently pursued his 
 drawing in leisure hours, and with time, 
 and increased facility, came a sure pleas- 
 ure ; then he knew the germ was growing, 
 and he was content to toil and wait. He 
 acknowledged that at present there was 
 but one career open to him, and while not 
 underestimating the advantages of leisure
 
 64 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 to study amid such influences as here sur- 
 rounded him, he at length decided to ask 
 Kerinvean for a definite position; and when 
 he was but twenty years of age he became 
 steward of the estates. 
 
 Through Kerinvean's mismanagement, 
 and the fraudulence of his late factor, the 
 property was not of the same value as 
 when he came into possession ; many of 
 the best farms were held by careless 
 tenants, much land needed reclaiming, and 
 the prospect before Ruy was a difficult 
 one. He was utterly inexperienced, and 
 had only the wisdom of thoughtfuluess, 
 aud so he was ever alert to observe and 
 to listen, where there was any chance of 
 procuring information. 
 
 A brave and ardent youth was this Ruy
 
 INTERLAPSE. 65 
 
 Montgomerie, with a noble face, albeit 
 somewhat stern ; his blue eyes and auburn 
 hair came from the Montgomeries, and 
 the men of the hills said he was " his 
 father's picture," but the women averred 
 that he reminded them more of " my 
 leddy." He was remarkably tall, and 
 very agile, his tread was firm but ever 
 unhurried, and his voice deep and clear. 
 The Montgomeries had always been 
 famed for their stalwart men and beauti- 
 ful women ; brave, heroic cavaliers, and 
 romantic, high-souled ladies, gifted with 
 rare personal charms ; and this Eoderigue 
 seemed to have inherited all their attrac- 
 tions of form and feature. 
 
 He was indeed a goodly picture, and he 
 did his progenitors credit ; he could have 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 passed muster with approbation before 
 them all, for there was a growing resem- 
 blance to the bravest and finest of the 
 ancestry in his face ; in sooth he needed 
 only to ransack an oak chest, and to don 
 some time-worn habiliments, to be mis- 
 taken for the portrait of Sir David Mont- 
 gomerie, whom Miss Mackenzie held to 
 have been the " Star of Chivalry of the 
 West Countrie." 
 
 And Ruy, like all the rest of them, 
 chose his career for himself, determined 
 in the loug run not to be balked, aud his 
 resolute power of working alone and un- 
 aided with that in view, made him some- 
 what crave ; there was a shadow of want 
 in his heart, for he fain would have given
 
 INTERLAPSE. 67 
 
 up everything to pursue his object. Mean- 
 while he was not without teaching ; the 
 impressions he was receiving from his 
 daily wanderings were making their own 
 way, and in the after time it was these 
 memories that were to cause him to be 
 merciless with himself, and to impel, year 
 after year, unyielding labour. But his 
 present life seemed, to his inexperienced 
 judgment, only a prelude with, which he 
 could have well dispensed. 
 
 Marie Montgomerie had grown into a 
 beautiful maiden ; she was graceful, and, 
 like her brother, tall, but her features 
 were more regular than his, and her violet 
 eyes quicker in expression ; they never 
 hid a feeling, and would brighten sudden- 
 
 f2
 
 68 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 ly, or become as quickly, tenderly sorrow- 
 ful, with emotion. Her chief beauty lay in 
 the wonderfully changing and sympathetic 
 play of her features. In character she 
 was enthusiastic and generous., though 
 with a tendency to reserve, a type of girl- 
 hood somewhat rare now, when the self- 
 repressed reticence of our grandmothers 
 is generally put down to prudery or 
 apathy. 
 
 All Marie Montgomerie's friends felt 
 that her ready comprehension and genuine 
 sympathy were her most loveable qualities, 
 and to be loved, greatly loved, was her 
 highest aim. 
 
 Kerinvean thought that n< arily 
 the mother's genius for painting ought 
 to be hereditary, and that it would be
 
 INTERLAPSE. 69 
 
 in the natural order of transmission for 
 Marie to possess it, but her bent in the 
 arts was for music, and this talent had 
 been much encouraged by Miss Mac- 
 kenzie. For two seasons they had been 
 in London, where Marie studied, and 
 had every advantage in education which 
 could be secured for her, and where she 
 heard music constantly, which could not 
 fail to stimulate a disposition for it. 
 
 And, at the end of their second season 
 in town, Kerinvean went up to accompany 
 them home. He wished to please his niece 
 by arriving unexpectedly on the eve of an 
 amateur, invitation concert, given by the 
 professor of singing with whom Marie 
 studied, at which only pupils were to per- 
 form.
 
 70 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 But, ere we relate further, we must 
 chronicle a page or two of Kerinvean's 
 early history, which had an important 
 bearing on subsequent events.
 
 CHAPTER VI. • 
 
 AN OLD LOVE — OFF AND ON. 
 
 " Thou wast quite perfect in the splendid guile 
 Of woman's beauty." 
 
 O'Shaughnessy. 
 
 II If ANY years ago, when Steuart Mont- 
 gomerie was still a young man, 
 be was affianced to an English girl of 
 equal birth, renowned beauty, and high 
 spirit. His bride elect was a spoiled and
 
 72 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 self-willed only child ; and, had it not 
 been for Kerinvean's sincere attachment, 
 he could not have borne, as long and 
 patiently as he did, with her domineering 
 moods and frequent displays of temper. 
 But at length he thought fit to remon- 
 strate with her concerning some rather 
 outrageous freak, whereupon, in an im- 
 perious and dramatic manner, she dismiss- 
 ed him. 
 
 Ere Kerinvean could bring his mmd to 
 sue for pardon, he heard that the beautiful 
 Honoria was about to become the wife of 
 a rich Italian nobleman, of historic name 
 and aristocratic birth. 
 
 II Marchese di Garcelli, his successful 
 rival, was killed by a fall from his horse 
 but a year after marriage. The young
 
 AN OLD LOVE OFF AND ON. 73 
 
 Marchesa was leffc with a very liberal 
 jointure, and the sole guardianship of her 
 child. Being a daughter, this child could 
 not inherit her father's titles, which was a 
 cause of great regret to the widow, who 
 could never willingly forego any possible 
 advantage in social position or influ- 
 ence. 
 
 By the time the Marchesa was free, 
 Kerinvean had become either too indiffer- 
 ent, or too much interested in his brother's 
 family, to care to seek a renewal of the 
 old ties ; and, moreover, he was so uncer- 
 tain of success, he never tried to repair 
 the breach, so the widow had not been 
 troubled by his claims in the years that 
 had passed since they parted. 
 
 The Marchesa's modes of spending her
 
 74 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 life were as variable as a fickle character 
 could make them. Honoria di Garcelli 
 was rarely gifted ; she had beauty and 
 originality enough to render her singularly 
 attractive, though her inordinate love of 
 admiration marred these graces, and her fit- 
 ful disposition caused most of her thoughts 
 to evaporate in mere words. Of a vigorous, 
 physical organization, she enjoyed splendid 
 health and unfailing spirits, so that her 
 numerous projects of travel were never 
 hindered by fatigue, and, had her plans for 
 work and philanthropy been fulfilled with 
 a steadiness of purpose adequate to her 
 bodily possibilities, the world would have 
 benefitted greatly by her good deeds. 
 
 Naples once proved an exception ; she 
 remained there from the commencement
 
 AN OLD LOVE — OFF AND ON. 75 
 
 of an epidemic until it was stamped out, 
 for it took the whole of that time to 
 baaish from her mind the chagrin and 
 mortification which had prompted her to 
 leave Florence, and seek oblivion in such a 
 mission. It was said that during that 
 terrible scourge, the result of along period 
 of dirt and indigence, there was hardly a 
 hovel in Terra del Greco but knew " la bella 
 Marchesa," who gave more relief to the sick 
 and dying by the vision of her beauty, than 
 by all the wine and medicine she bestowed. 
 After this, her longest charitable fit, she 
 went to her home in London ; but no endur- 
 ing traces of the scenes she had witnessed 
 remained to impress her volatile nature. 
 
 Sometimes the Marchesa's vapid career 
 had intervals of study ; during these she
 
 76 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 would wander from one art gallery to 
 another, occupying herself sketching pic- 
 tures which she never completed, or in 
 writing critiques, in which, although there 
 was undoubted ability, there was no con- 
 tinuity of thought, and these, too, were 
 always thrown aside, incomplete, for some 
 
 newer fancy. 
 
 Most absurd of all, in a character which 
 
 was replete with contradictions, were the 
 Marchesa's pious attacks, during which, in 
 a toilette always faultless, she paid in- 
 numerable visits to hospitals, where she 
 deliberated much with doctors and nurses 
 concerning different systems of cure ; and 
 to countless meetings for the propagation 
 of sound and unsound theories ; and to 
 any odd gathering where her presence
 
 AN OLD LOVE— OFF AND ON. 77 
 
 might be remarked. She was ever ready 
 to consort with people who would pay her 
 court, and withal there was such a lu- 
 dicrous mingling of religion, dress, pro- 
 priety, art, and scandal in the subjects 
 of her conversations, with manv a hint of 
 the speaker's own perfections, and many 
 a candid insinuation, that she lacked not 
 listeners — of a sort. 
 
 Doubtless piety, practical ingenuity, 
 frivolous ambition, brilliant vanity, untir- 
 ing conversational powers, and what is 
 deemed good taste in matters of living 
 and dress, are somewhat a heterogeneous 
 union of qualities in one human being; 
 yet, if a woman possess all these, in ad- 
 dition to wealth and beauty, there are few 
 people who will not consider her a desir-
 
 78 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 able acquaintance. The Marchesa freely 
 exercised the power which she possessed 
 in a rare degree, of fascinating and con- 
 ciliating people, without ever compromis- 
 ing herself. 
 
 During Marie Montgomerie's residence 
 in London she became acquainted witli 
 the Marchesa' s daughter, lngha di Gar- 
 celli ; they both studied with the same 
 professor of singing, and lngha was to be 
 one of the principal performers at the 
 concert which Kerinvean had unexpectedly 
 arrived in time to attend. 
 
 Kerinvean was not aware of this ac- 
 quaintance till the morning of the coucert, 
 when Miss Mackenzie remarked that the 
 Marchesa had called several times, to take 
 Marie to rehearsal.
 
 AN OLD LOVE — OFF AND ON. 79 
 
 " Oh ! uncle," said Marie, "she is so 
 handsome !" 
 
 " Another beauty ?" responded Kerin- 
 vean, smiling ; he often tried to provoke 
 Marie's enthusiasm by appearing in- 
 credulous. 
 
 "I suppose," he added, " she is a dark, 
 foreign-looking little thing, your imagina- 
 tion has idealized into a mysteriously 
 lovely being." 
 
 " She is not a foreigner, uncle," said 
 Marie. " I was speaking of the Marchesa, 
 not of her daughter, though I think Ingha 
 di Garcelli's the most beautiful face I 
 ever saw, yet some people say she is 
 too pale; but the Marchesa is admired 
 by everyone, and is so handsome and 
 brilliant."
 
 SO TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 " I knew her long ago, Marie, before 
 you were born ; so she is not quite a 
 stranger to me," and Kerinvean took up 
 his newspaper, and pretended to read. 
 
 He was greatly surprised to find 
 himself in such close proximity to his old 
 love, and he wished he had not come 
 in time for this performance, where, 
 even if he did not meet her, he would 
 without doubt see her daughter, and 
 he had an instiuctive dislike to have 
 regretful thoughts suggested to his 
 mind. 
 
 Having no excuse for absenting him- 
 self, Kerinvean went to the concert, and 
 was much impressed by Iugha di Garcelli's 
 beauty aud her singing, but it was not till 
 the music was all over that he saw her
 
 AN OLD LOVE — OFF AND ON. 81 
 
 mother. Before that glimpse, he had 
 been introduced by Marie to Ingha in the 
 ante-room ; Kerinvean complimented her 
 on her performance, and also said he was 
 glad his niece had become acquainted 
 with her, and he hoped it was possible 
 that their intercourse might be continued 
 in Scotland. Iugha's eyes brightened as 
 he spoke, but her smile vanished as she 
 bade farewell to Marie, and, when Kerin- 
 vean saw her again a few minutes after- 
 wards among the audience, it did not 
 occur to him that her wistful thoughts 
 were away among his hills. 
 
 The Marchesa did not know that Kerin- 
 vean was in town, and he saw her without 
 being recognized, and was surprised to 
 find how lightly eighteen years had passed 
 
 VOL. i. G
 
 82 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 over the brilliant woman, who was evi- 
 dently the point of attraction in the group 
 by whom she was surrounded. 
 
 Kerinvean sighed, as he reflected how 
 unlikely it was that she would care to 
 remember him. 
 
 Ingha di Garcelli stood beside her mo- 
 ther, and though her white gown was of 
 the simplest, its only ornament a rose of 
 the same colour, she seemed old enough 
 to be the Marchesa's sister, instead of her 
 child. Her pale, classic countenance was 
 suggestive of thought, and of a wistful 
 desire for response to an enthusiasm which 
 as yet had found no expression. 
 
 The mother's face was of a rare type, 
 not to be forgotten nor to be passed by 
 unobserved. Unceasing vivacity and self-
 
 AN OLD LOVE — OFF AND ON. 83 
 
 consciousness somewhat detracted, even to 
 the casual looker-on, from the lines that 
 were else chiselled and delicate, but lovers 
 of perfection of colour and form were 
 ever glamoured by the Marchesa's superb 
 beauty. 
 
 What wonder that Kerinvean's pnlses 
 thrilled with an unwonted touch ! His 
 life had known no other rapture save that 
 short-lived dream, and it all came back 
 in this glimpse of his early love. 
 
 u Canna swerve " had many a Mont- 
 gomerie said and thought, when stern, 
 resolute valour had pointed the way that 
 led far apart from hope and joy ; and this 
 — the most inconsequent of all Mont- 
 gomeries — he, too, had unwittingly made 
 his motto, and strangely and unawares 
 
 g2
 
 84 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 was he fulfilling the tradition of his 
 race. 
 
 In the course of the month subsequent 
 to her return home, Marie received a 
 letter from Inorha, in which she said that 
 her mother had accepted an invitation 
 to Lord Kinaire's place in the High- 
 lands, and she feared she should be 
 obliged to accompany her, as their London 
 home was to be closed. Ino-ha bad never 
 before been to any large party, and she 
 wrote somewhat despondingly about this 
 proposed one. Marie showed the letter to 
 her uncle. 
 
 " Miss di Garcelli does not seem to like 
 the idea of Invereothin with half Bel^ravia 
 there. As it is so near us, perhaps her 
 mother would permit her to come here
 
 AN OLD LOVE — OFF AND ON. 85 
 
 instead. If you would like it, Marie, 
 and you think the arrangement would be 
 pleasant to your friend, I will write about 
 it to the Marchesa," said Kerinvean. 
 
 " That would be delightful," responded 
 Marie, and the result was that Kerinvean, 
 after much deliberation about the wording 
 of his invitation, wrote the following letter : 
 
 " My deau Marchesa di Garcelli, 
 
 "I trust you will pardon an 
 old acquaintance for troubling you with a 
 letter. I would not have presumed to 
 do so save for the sake of my dear niece 
 Marie Montgomerie, and for the request I 
 am about to proffer. I understand that 
 you contemplate a visit to Invereethin, 
 and that possibly Miss di Garcelli might care
 
 86 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 more for the informality of Kerinvean than 
 for the gaiety of a large party. Marie in- 
 forms me that this is the case ; but perhaps 
 I ought to attribute some of her eagerness 
 to her genuine friendship for your daugh- 
 ter, to whom I had the honour of being 
 introduced in London. If she would con- 
 sent to favour Kerinvean with her presence, 
 I can assure you she will, on all sides, 
 receive the warmest welcome. I shall be 
 only too glad to meet her at any stage of 
 the journey and drive her here. Assuring 
 you of my sincere regard, and trusting 
 you will express to Miss di Garcelli my 
 hope that she will be our guest, believe me 
 to be, 
 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 " Stbuaet Montgombru."
 
 AN OLD LOVE — OFF AND ON. 87 
 
 As the Marcbesa read the letter, a smile 
 of conscious power passed over her face. 
 "You were riot once so formal!" was her 
 thought. 
 
 For several reasons she was glad to 
 acquiesce in her daughter's wish to accept 
 the invitation^ not the least important of 
 which was that she did not like going 
 into society with a grown-up child, and 
 Ingha was fast approaching womanhood ; 
 moreover, the Marchesa was accustomed 
 to absolute adulation, and did not care for 
 the prospect of sharing it. 
 
 In reply to Kerinvean's letter she wrote 
 the following, though not deliberating as 
 he had done : 
 
 " My dear Kerinveax, 
 
 " Accept my own and lny daugh-
 
 88 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 ter's warmest thanks for your unexpected 
 letter, for writing which there was no 
 possible need for you to apologise. We 
 are very much pleased to accept your kind 
 invitation. I intend leaving London a 
 fortnight hence, and will gladly avail my- 
 self of your offer to meet us, and will write 
 to you saying the hour we shall be at 
 Kilane Inn which, I believe, is twelve miles 
 from Kerinvean, and we shall await your 
 arrival there before I proceed to Lady 
 Kin aire's. 
 
 11 1 should much like to see you again, 
 and to give nry daughter into your care. 
 She is overjoyed with the anticipation of 
 her visit, and this is not greatly to be 
 wondered at, considering how charming 
 her associates will be. AVith our kindest
 
 AN OLD LOVE — OFF AND ON. 89 
 
 regards to Miss Montgomerie and Miss 
 Mackenzie, I am, 
 
 " Yours sincerely, 
 
 " HONORIA DI GaRCELLI."
 
 90 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A YOUNG LOVE — FOR AIE. 
 
 " I should certainly be glad. 
 Except, God help me, that I'm sorrowful." 
 
 Mrs. Browning. 
 
 A RCHIE CAMPBELL was still Ruy 
 Montgomerie's comrade, though his 
 present temporary home was somewhat 
 more distant from the Castle than In- 
 vean. He was now domiciled at Craig 
 More, the house of Sir Dallas Gore's 
 uncle, Mr. Douglas, who farmed a large
 
 A YOUNG LOYE — FOR ATE. 91 
 
 property which he had inherited. Archie 
 had been two years his pupil and manager, 
 and had to remain another year to com- 
 plete his term. 
 
 Archie's maternal grandfather had left 
 him a goodly fortune, of which only a 
 nominal sum was appropriated for his 
 education, the bulk being designed by 
 the testator to accumulate until his 
 twenty-fifth year. 
 
 Archie and his father had decided that 
 it should be devoted to the purchase of a 
 Highland property, which Archie proposed 
 to farm, and Mr. Campbell had from year 
 to year added something from his own 
 savings to increase the capital. 
 
 Archie had a very powerful motive for 
 wishing to arrange this plan, for beyond it
 
 92 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 lay the dream of a love to be won, a love 
 that had swayed all his boyhood with its 
 hope, and which now filled his manhood 
 with its strength. Archie's love was 
 silent in his own heart, and his passion 
 was as pure as the streams of his native 
 hills, and as unchangeable as the hills 
 themselves. 
 
 The morning Kerinvean received the 
 Marchesa's letter, Archie rode up to the 
 Castle. There was an unwonted look on 
 his face, and much dejection in his gait, 
 as he went unannounced to the room 
 where he knew, at this hour, he should see 
 some of the iumates. 
 
 He found Marie and Ruy together, and 
 they at once told him Miss di Garcelli 
 was comiug soon to visit them, but the
 
 A YOUNG LOVE — FOR AYE. 93 
 
 news seemed to be almost unheeded by 
 Archie. 
 
 " Is the Marchesa coming also ?" he 
 asked, trying to appear interested. 
 
 "No," answered Marie, "she is going 
 to Invereethin, so we shall have Inofha all 
 to ourselves." 
 
 " Will she stay long?" asked Archie, who 
 had a Highlander's dislike to new acquaint- 
 ances, and whose own greatest delight was 
 the niche in the Kerinvean circle, where 
 his humour, genial manners, and handsome 
 face made him ever welcome. 
 
 " One would suppose you intended ab- 
 senting yourself all the time, Archie," said 
 Marie. "You look as gloomy as if a 
 thunderbolt were about to explode in the- 
 midst of us."
 
 94 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 " Well, we don't know yet whether this 
 visit won't make an unexpected differ- 
 ence to us all. If your friend had been a 
 man, we could certainly have amused him, 
 but a lady, and a foreign lady too ; she 
 will most probably completely monopolize 
 you and Miss Mackenzie, and perhaps turn 
 all our notions topsy-turvy." 
 
 "Wait till she comes before you judge 
 her," said Marie, kindly. 
 
 It was so unusual for Archie to look 
 dismally towards any event which promised 
 either novelty or pleasure, that Marie 
 divined he had some reason be3 T ond the 
 arrival of a stranger ; so, with the gentle 
 tact born of an instinctive sympathy, 
 she turned the conversation into ano- 
 ther channel, and anon asked Archie if
 
 A YOUNG LOVE — FOR ATE. 95 
 
 he bad come from lnvean or Craig More. 
 
 So Archie told them the object of his 
 visit that morning; and gave them the 
 news of a bank failure, in which ruin for 
 hundreds was irremediable, and for himself 
 total loss of all. 
 
 It had been the greatest surprise to him, 
 and was a heavy blow to Mr. Campbell, 
 before whom his son had found it almost 
 impossible, he said, in the shock to appear 
 hopeful, or to offer comfort where he saw 
 none. 
 
 Archie did not tell them the bitterest 
 part of the blow, — how could he? for 
 it concerned Marie. Besides having to 
 look into the blank future, there was 
 a bitter knowledge that lay all bare in 
 Archie's heart, but must never go beyond
 
 96 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 it. As a Highland proprietor, well born 
 as he was, he could have sought Marie 
 Montgomerie for his wife; penniless, with 
 neither home nor income, he must not 
 try to win her, for it would be years ere he 
 would be in a position suitable to ask her 
 in marriage, and long ere that time she 
 might be wooed and won. 
 
 So Archie reasoned in these first hours of 
 his loss, but with no spiritless succumbing 
 to circumstances. He would never yield to 
 their mastery where they merely concern- 
 ed himself, but he was not selfish enough 
 to wish her to enter the struggle. He felt 
 that his life would know no other love, 
 but he had not passionately resolved never 
 to see her again ; he had merely come in 
 his straightforward way to tell his dearest
 
 A YOUNG LOVE — FOE AVE. 97 
 
 friends of his trouble, perchance with a 
 lurking desire to prove whether he could 
 go in and out her home in the old familiar 
 manner, without the old familiar hope. 
 
 Archie banished from his mind the 
 thought of winning her now; it was as im- 
 possible to cherish as a suggestion of 
 ceasing to love her, which would never be 
 likely to enter his mind. His devotion to 
 Marie was the freeest and purest homage 
 of his soul, and, although in no way should 
 it beguile her now, it was none the less 
 hers for ever. It had grown with all the 
 summers and winters of his boyhood ; but 
 the man that morning was glad that she 
 had had no hint of it from him. 
 
 And Archie rode- sadly away under the 
 old trees where, as children, they had 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 93 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 played together ; but he was not without 
 solace in thinking that he had Marie's sym- 
 pathy, though there was a significance to 
 him in the fact that it had been expressed 
 as if she had been his sister, but not as if 
 she had any personal share in the loss. 
 
 So it was that Archie felt relieved by 
 being isolated from her in his disappoint- 
 ment, from her, too, who alone could have 
 soothed or lessened it, and he rejoiced 
 that no shadow lay across her path 
 cast by the gloom of his lot. 
 
 But the end was not yet!
 
 99 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 AFTER LONG TEARS. 
 
 ; ' Down our old untrodden paths the wild weeds grow." 
 
 Gerald Massey. 
 
 "TT ERINVE AN was now forty-three 
 years of age ; in the vigour of 
 manhood ; a keen sportsman and a care- 
 less landlord. Though he appreciated the 
 advantages of his position, at all times 
 when practicable, he shirked its responsi- 
 bilities ; and he rode, and shot, and ignored 
 
 all care, and was at this period a bronzed, 
 
 h 2
 
 100 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 bearded man of splendid proportions, \vho r 
 for beauty of mien and stature, was called 
 throughout the county, " every inch a 
 Montgomerie." 
 
 To the IMarchesa di Garcelli the ap- 
 pointed meeting at Kilane had little of the 
 importance which its anticipation possessed 
 for Kerinvean. Her memory had out- 
 grown all vividness about her old love, 
 and although she had said in her letter 
 she wished to see him, it was more from 
 courtesy than curiosity : she supposed him 
 to have become by this time a sort of 
 country squire, or at best but a county 
 magnate, whose provincial ideas would 
 be social absurdities in her world. 
 
 Lady Kinaire had more than once spoken 
 of having met Kerinvean, and had said
 
 AFTER LONG YEARS. 101 
 
 repeatedly that her neighbours in the 
 Highlands, the Montgomeries, were charm- 
 ing ; but the Marchesa put this down to 
 the supposition that her friend knew all 
 her history, and how nearly she had been 
 allied to these same Montgomeries before 
 her marriage. 
 
 As the day approached Kerinvean found 
 himself involuntarily thinking a good deal 
 of his past, though it was somewhat dif- 
 ficult for him to associate the brilliant 
 lady whom he had seen at the concert 
 with the love of his youth, whom he re- 
 membered so well. 
 
 And yet it was not from fidelity to this 
 early dream that Kerinvean had remained 
 unmarried; he was not a man to live for 
 an idea; circumstances swayed him as
 
 102 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 often as inclination, and moreover he lacked 
 the imagination to comprehend the senti- 
 ment that could make a man faithful to 
 a hopeless love. His bachelorhood was 
 rather attributable to the fact that for 
 some years after his disappointment he 
 had met no girl who had fascinated him 
 as Honoria had done, and afterwards he 
 became so much engrossed with his own 
 household, he did not seek interest apart 
 from it. The events of the hour, and the 
 pleasures and excitements thereof, had 
 gradually become his sole incentives to 
 action. 
 
 Kerinvean did not expect that the Mar- 
 chess would treat him with more famili- 
 arity than she would any other old ac- 
 quaintance with whom she had not had
 
 AFTER LONG I EARS. 103 
 
 intercourse for many years, he was therefore 
 annoyed with himself for feeling so much 
 apprehension concerning the meeting. 
 
 For his own part, he wished simply to 
 make an honest impression on her, and, 
 though he would not have her think he 
 had pined for her sake, he felt that he 
 could not appear altogether indifferent, but 
 he was not forceful enough to take the 
 initiative. 
 
 Kerinvean was noted for the splendour 
 of his equipments, and nowhere could he 
 have looked more at ease than when driv- 
 ing his four finest bays to Kilane to meet 
 his old love, but some of the ease had 
 disappeared from his manner when he 
 asked the landlord of the little inn if the 
 Marchesa di Garcelli had arrived.
 
 104 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 " On, ay !" answered the old man, who 
 bad known Kerinvean when a boy, 
 though that fact did not make him less 
 respectful to his laird, who, if he were not 
 a hero, was at least a Montgomerie. " You 
 will be spierin' for the grand leddy 
 that cam' in an hour syne. Come awa' 
 in by ; ye'll find the Maircheesa waitin' 
 
 Kerinvean was ushered into a sitting- 
 room. It looked dingy coming into it out 
 of the sunshine, till he perceived the form 
 of the Marchesa, whose presence enlivened 
 the quaint, little, old-fashioned place in 
 a way to which it was not accustomed, for 
 the few bright flowers that twined them- 
 selves against the walls outside, and 
 climbed up around the window-frame,
 
 AFTER LONG YEARS. 105 
 
 seemed to be peeping in very coyly to-day, 
 as if they were rather afraid of such a 
 splendid visitor. 
 
 Anon the breeze that swayed the roses 
 must have died down, or the Marchesa's 
 voice must have exorcised all their shy- 
 ness, for they fluttered no longer, but 
 listened, in perfect stillness, while these 
 two talked together after eighteen years of 
 silence. 
 
 The Marchesa was, perhaps, somewhat 
 nervous when she really came face to face 
 with Kerinvean ; but she had smiled on so 
 many men, it was not difficult for her to 
 greet him without apparent disturbance of 
 her pleasant manner. Few could with- 
 stand the fascination of Honoria di Gar- 
 celli's smile, and those few were people
 
 106 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 whose discernment was certainty less 
 equivocal than Kerinvean's. 
 
 She could not divine from his face what 
 were his impressions about her, but she 
 remembered that of old he had been 
 trusty, aud she quickly saw he was honest 
 still, for he could not long conceal the 
 admiration he felt on a^ain beholding her. 
 More than one thought passed through 
 her mind in the moment that elapsed be- 
 tween his entrance and her first remark, 
 and her quick eyes saw that she had reason 
 to congratulate herself on her girlhood's 
 taste, for Kerinvean would have been con- 
 sidered a remarkably handsome man in 
 any society. Though there was a slight 
 diffidence in his demeanour, she had no 
 compunction in ascribing it to the surprise
 
 AFTER LONG YEAES. 107 
 
 her presence caused ; she had often seen 
 that sort of impression before, and, while 
 it did not make Kerinvean in the least 
 decree awkward, it enhanced him in the 
 opinion of his vain goddess. 
 
 11 It is long since we met, Kerinvean," 
 said she, in her most charming tones ; 
 " meanwhile I have been growing old, but 
 you look unchanged." 
 
 There was not much exaggeration in 
 her words about him ; his figure was a 
 little more stalwart, and his beard was 
 longer, but withal there was the same 
 
 CD J 
 
 manly bearing and frank expression which 
 had always characterised his appearance, 
 and he was now a finer specimen of phy- 
 sical manhood than when he had wooed 
 her.
 
 108 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 Probably she expected lie would contra- 
 dict her assertion concerning herself, and 
 would give her some of the adulation 
 which her small stock of refinement never 
 hindered her from seeking, though in 
 covert ways, her professed delicacy of 
 taste making her scrupulous only in mat- 
 ters of decorum, but not in purity of 
 thought nor speech. But Kerinvean was 
 hardly in the mood for compliments. 
 
 " You are changed since — since " 
 
 he responded, but halted slightly for a 
 word to express their parting, which she 
 quickly supplied. 
 
 u Since the time I behaved so infamously 
 to you, you ought to say. Ah ! well, we 
 are going to be friends now, I hope. Is it 
 too late to ask your pardon, or has in-
 
 AFTER LONG YEARS. 109 
 
 difference made you forget that I once had 
 the power to wound you?" 
 
 " No man could ever forget your power, 
 Marchesa di Garcelli," answered Kerinvean, 
 with the faintest possible emphasis in 
 pronouncing her name, as if to recall to 
 her memory that she had forfeited the 
 right to power over him when she married. 
 
 The March esa was determined to be on 
 good terms with him, and, coming up to 
 where he stood, she spoke : 
 
 "Monti," this was the name she was 
 wont to call him before he was entitled to- 
 that of Kerinvean — " Monti, let bygones 
 be bygones between us. I have suffered 
 much since those days, and sorrow has 
 left no trace on your face. Will you be 
 friends ?"
 
 110 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 A beseeching look of apparently genuine 
 feeling was on her face, and Steuart Mont- 
 gomerie was at once too unsuspicious and 
 too knightly not to be beguiled into the 
 belief that it was real ; he had had no 
 experience as precedent to guide him, he 
 had rarely seen so lovely a creature look 
 so sad, and he took her hand and raised 
 it to his lips, and for answer only 
 said : 
 
 " I thank you for this honour." 
 
 She knew that unless he had fully 
 exonerated her from all blame in the past, 
 he would not have kissed her hand, and 
 she was too wary to cany the conversa- 
 tion beyond certain limits. 
 
 "I am glad," she said at length, "that 
 Ino-ha is to £0 with you instead of to
 
 
 AFTER LONG YEARS. Ill 
 
 Invereethen. Kinaire's house is not the 
 best school for a young girl, but I know 
 you will take care of my child, and, if you 
 will let me, I will come over during her 
 visit. Ah, here she is." 
 
 Ingha came at this moment into the 
 room ; there followed a few more inter- 
 changes of courtesies, then Kerinvean 
 ordered his drag, and drove off with his 
 charge.
 
 112 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 HENCEFORTH. 
 
 " As if a stream that wandered aimlessly 
 Had heard at last the murmur of the sea." 
 
 TTERINVEAN'S driving was always 
 rapid, but that day the horses 
 seemed to feel their master's mood, and 
 they careered along unchecked, for the 
 pace suited Kerinvean. He found it 
 difficult to keep up one conversation while 
 his thoughts dwelt on another; but the 
 horses were too fleet for Iugha, to whom
 
 HENCEFORTH. 113 
 
 it seemed sacrilege to pass such scenery in 
 haste. 
 
 "If we were not driving to Marie," she 
 said at length, " I would ask you to re- 
 strain the impetuosity of those splendid 
 creatures. I have never seen anything so 
 wild as this glen before, and we seem to 
 be rushing through it." 
 
 Kerinvean smiled, and slackened the 
 pace a little. When they came in sight of 
 Yeurnish, the summit was covered with 
 a soft-white cloud, which very gradually 
 lifted, and showed the peak against the 
 blue sky, and then as gradually descended. 
 
 u That is the first time I ever saw 
 Yeurnish greet a new-comer so courteous- 
 ly," exclaimed Kerinvean. u Is he not a 
 noble old cavalier ?" 
 
 VOL. I. i
 
 114 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 " Oh ! yes," answered Ingha ; " and 
 what a welcome for me, and bow lovelv 
 everything is !" 
 
 As they approached the road leading to 
 the house, Kerinvean lessened the speed 
 considerably, for there were such wide views 
 at every bend, and he liked to see the im- 
 pression they made on the young girl, whose 
 face was aglow with delighted surprise. 
 He, too, loved it all, but only as a Greek 
 would have done ; there were suggestions 
 enough of pasture for cattle, and sport 
 for man ; but his fondness for it was 
 different from Ruy's, different, too, from 
 Archie Campbell's, and yet the three men 
 loved Kerinvean as no other place under 
 Heaven could ever be loved by them. 
 
 The welcome that Iugha received was
 
 HENCEFORTH. 115 
 
 truly warm enough to make a mucb more 
 formal person feel at home, and she was 
 charmed with the picturesque character of 
 the time-honoured house. The entrance 
 hall was filled with trophies of the chase, 
 suits of armour, old colours, and swords 
 and weapons which had been wielded by 
 Montgomeries, whose portraits looked 
 down in seemingly dismal patience from 
 the walls which her first glimpse dis- 
 closed. 
 
 The rooms appointed for Ingha's use 
 were in the oldest part of the house, from 
 the windows of which the finest views of 
 loch and hill were visible ; she saw that for 
 miles the low grounds were clearly defined 
 against the water in the afternoon sunlight, 
 and that there were ranges of hills, peak 
 
 i2
 
 116 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 beyond peak, which she had not before 
 suspected could be seen from the Castle. 
 
 Her maid's chamber was adjoiniug, so 
 that she would have no fear during the 
 night in the old house whose legends she 
 would doubtless hear ere long : stories of 
 wraiths, white ladies, and illusions, that 
 had terror enough in them when recalled 
 in the gloom of night, alone, in the very 
 chambers these ghostly apparitions were 
 supposed to haunt. 
 
 There was rather more ceremony than 
 usual at dinner the evening of In^ha's 
 arrival. Mr. Campbell and Archie had 
 been invited, and Kerinvcan introduced 
 them to Inglia, telling her the circle was 
 only perfect when their Tnvean friends 
 were in it.
 
 HENCEFORTH. 117 
 
 Ingha was remarkably self-possessed, 
 though it was owing more to her utter 
 lack of vanity than to any other cause, so 
 there was no shyness between the young 
 people. 
 
 During the evening Miss Mackenzie 
 was asked to play or sing; going to the 
 piano, she said, in passing Ingha : 
 
 " I will play some of our national music, 
 a lament for one of my ancestors, in 
 fact, for the identical chief who brought 
 this jewel into our family." Where- 
 upon she indicated the famous buckle on 
 her scarf, which of course to-night, ac- 
 cording to custom, she wore on the arrival 
 of a stranger. 
 
 " Oh ! yes, do," said Marie, who was 
 standing by, and who rather dreaded lest
 
 118 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 a raid of the Mackenzies might prevent 
 the party from hearing Ingha sing, 
 " and then you must ask Ingha for 
 music." 
 
 Miss Mackenzie was not the least dis- 
 concerted ; that chief would do for a future 
 entertainment. Miss di Garcelli was to make 
 a long visit, so she would not mind letting 
 her ancestors rest for to-night ; they were 
 all wondrously alert to spring from her 
 memory on the slightest provocation, 
 though some of them had been dead for 
 centuries. 
 
 "When Ingha's turn to sing came, she 
 played a simple prelude, and much sur- 
 prised all by beginning a Scotch ballad in 
 the purest of accents and in the mo 
 pathetic of voices, a rich, clear contralto
 
 HENCEFORTH. 119 
 
 that followed the singer's will, and went 
 straight to the hearts of the listeners. 
 
 Her audience seemed spell-bound ; the 
 strains gained in pathos and tone, and the 
 mournful line, 
 
 " In the salt, salt bree," 
 
 she sang more slowly, and her voice was 
 expressive of a great agony of loss, which 
 the fathomless depths of ocean alone 
 could have pre-figured as being immea- 
 surable as the grief that prompted such a 
 wail. 
 
 There was no excitement visible on the 
 sweet, white face, as they all praised her 
 singing. She loved so well to do it, ay, 
 even as much as they to listen. Is it not 
 ever so with a gift from the gods ? There 
 is neither choice nor concealment possible,
 
 120 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 the fountain has its source in Olympus, 
 and the stream can never be turned 
 aside. 
 
 Anon Kerinvean asked Ingha to sing 
 again, and said that he would like best 
 to hear another Scotch ballad. 
 
 Ingha began in a light manner, as if 
 relating a story, the familiar ballad 
 " Castles in the Air," but ere she had 
 sung many lines the sadness came back 
 to her tones, and no one would have 
 thought it was the voice of a young and 
 happy girl, for the comprehension of sor- 
 row was there, the pathos that is in art 
 never acquirable and rarely inspired. 
 
 There was a picnic planned for the 
 morrow, and, while Archie was discussing 
 with Marie where he should join them
 
 HENCEFORTH. 121 
 
 all, she looked at him inquiringly. He 
 smiled and said : 
 
 "Yes, you were right, she is very 
 beautiful, but not at all foreign-looking, 
 and her manners are as simple as a child's. 
 I was an incredulous fool not to believe 
 
 you." 
 
 Afterwards Archie tuned his violin, and 
 Marie and he played together, dreamily, 
 like two voices that never could reach 
 each other, but which went on w T ailing and 
 crooning over the love that made their 
 tones blend and then part, as one sighed 
 and the other moaned the yearning that 
 could never be satisfied. 
 
 And Miss Mackenzie dozed, ay, even 
 slept ; not with the profound unwakeful- 
 ness of her ancestors, but gently, behind
 
 122 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 a screen, where every night, towards 
 eleven o'clock, she in vain endeavoured to 
 keep awake, possibly by trying to count 
 her progenitors, but, if so, she always got 
 hopelessly vague and sleepy, and had to 
 yield to nature's demands. 
 
 " I never heard anyone sing with a 
 purer Scotch accent than yours," said Ruy 
 to Ingha, who smiled and answered : 
 
 " 1 must tell Coyla what you say. I 
 could not have tried any but Scotch songs 
 to-night. I feel that I understand so 
 much better now the love your country- 
 men have for their native land. I never 
 was so far north before, but I think the in- 
 spiration of their romance and chivalry 
 must have all originated among these hills. 
 I am beginning, too, to comprehend the
 
 HENCEFORTH. 12S 
 
 patriotism which was always a marvel to 
 me before to-day." 
 
 " To hear you sing, one would say you 
 had been born a Highland lassie," answer- 
 ed Ruy. " You give the spirit of our 
 songs as well as the language. To me 
 their grief, though expressed only in a 
 little sorrowful love-song, is always part 
 of a national wail. We are a gloomy 
 people," he added, smiling, " but we have 
 followed so many causes that have been 
 failures." 
 
 "Yes, I know," responded Ingha; "but 
 your national sorrow is not despair as 
 ours was in Italy. Your hearts go up to 
 the tops of your hills, but ours live among 
 the vines far below the summits. We 
 call ourselves Republican because we are
 
 124 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 idle, and, thinking we have no freedom, 
 we grow hopeless. You are industrious, 
 free, and truthful here. Ah ! I think I 
 should like to have been born in Scotland." 
 
 And so passed Ingha's first evening at 
 Kerinvean, and when it was over, review- 
 ing the new scenes and faces that had so 
 suddenly revealed themselves in her life, 
 she thought a fresh era had commenced, 
 and her spirit was strangely moved by its 
 enchantment. 
 
 And Euy ? Now that he had seen a 
 perfectly beautiful face, he wished more 
 than ever that his heart's desire might one 
 day be given to him. It was well he had 
 a patient spirit, for his present life required 
 it. There are no unexpectedly quick 
 results in the reclaiming of land, not, at
 
 HENCEFOETH. 125 
 
 least, until the miracles of frost, shine, and 
 shower have in turn bestowed their benedicite 
 upon the earth, and Ruy was greatly inter- 
 ested in many of these kinds of improve- 
 ments which he had originated. He was 
 fully alive to the magnitude of the account- 
 ability, which the owner of such an estate as 
 Kerinvean ought to feel : Though never 
 presuming to judge his uncle's waste of 
 life, he held that such for himself would be 
 sin ; and, while he considered to possess a 
 few miles of moor, or hill, or wood would 
 be the grandest of all riches, he worked 
 hard to bring things into order, not think- 
 ing so much of the fact that he, as heir, 
 would eventually reap the benefit, as that 
 the property and tenants had so long been 
 neglected.
 
 126 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 At times Ruy found it difficult to per- 
 suade Kerinvean to consent to his plans ; 
 often they were merely regarded as " ec- 
 centric and sentimental." But Ruy's 
 ardour did not lessen, and he was easrer to 
 drain, and till, and sow, to the utmost of 
 their capabilities, and beautiful use, all out- 
 lying parts, so that the small farms might 
 yield their meed of food for the labour of 
 man. 
 
 Kerinvean, by turns, contradicted and 
 consented, and often ended an argument 
 by the remark : 
 
 "You would make a grand smash of 
 the old place, Ruy, if I were not here to 
 put on the break." 
 
 And so day by day Ruy gave his work 
 and thoughts uuqTiido;incrly to the task
 
 HENCEFORTH. 12? 
 
 meted out to him, with many a vague 
 dream of a different toil ; but neither pencil 
 nor chisel yet, save by stealth, and for a 
 few weeks more Kerinvean would still be 
 his guardian. And then ?
 
 128 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE DESTINATION OF THE MISTWRAITH. 
 
 *' Like swift and lovely dreams that walk the waves of 
 sleep." 
 
 Shelley. 
 
 3UY joined the breakfast party next 
 morning, after returning from a long 
 ride, and remarked that he bad called 
 before six o'clock at old Peters cottage, 
 and bad found preparations for the ex- 
 cursion even at that early bour. 
 
 Tbese picnics were great occasions for
 
 DESTINATION OF THE MISTWRAITH. 129 
 
 Peter ; he was usually the responsible per- 
 son, and would never yield a point of his 
 prerogative to anyone. When a rowing- 
 boat was used, Ruy was always stroke ; 
 but, if under sail, Ruy might work as hard 
 as he chose, and a suggestion from him as 
 to slackening a rope, taking in a reef, or 
 changing the tack, always met the response : 
 
 " Why should ye fash wi' me in the 
 boat ?" 
 
 Ruy had himself to blame for humour- 
 ing the old man ; and he often recalled the 
 weary miles Peter had carried him over 
 moor and hill years ago, when his own 
 childish whims overcame better judgment, 
 and ingratitude had no place in Ruy 
 Montgomerie's character. 
 
 Miss Mackenzie had also a certain de- 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 gree of homage and popularity, and a pic- 
 nic rarely came to an end without giving 
 her opportunity for the recital of legends 
 of warfare, or for describing hereditary 
 feuds, among the scenes where they 
 had been all too frequent in ancient 
 days. 
 
 Peter had great respect for Miss Mac- 
 kenzie, and had once been communicative 
 enough about his judgment of her to Ruy 
 and Archie as to volunteer the opinion : 
 
 "I wadna say but she has the root of 
 the matter in her whatever." 
 
 Archie suggested, when out of Peter's 
 hearing : 
 
 " If Peter means the root of the Mac- 
 kenzie genealogical tree, I can vouch for 
 her memory containing the roots, trunks,
 
 DESTINATION OF THE MISTWRAITH. 131 
 
 -and branches of a whole Highland forest 
 of that growth." 
 
 The two girls strolled down to the loch 
 before the others, where they found Peter 
 surveying the Mistwraith, a taut and trim 
 little craft, a model of delicate lines. Her 
 crew, three hardy fellows in uniform of 
 white and blue, were making ready under 
 orders from their captain. 
 
 "This is Miss di Garcelli, a friend of 
 mine," said Marie. " We must give her 
 a good first impression of the glen to- 
 day." 
 
 " It's a pretty glen, my leddy, and ye 
 are welcome," ceremoniously responded 
 the old man, holding his bonnet in his 
 hand, and speaking as slowly as if he 
 were delivering a congratulatory address 
 
 k2
 
 132 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 to a princess ; but bis words came faster 
 as be looked into Ingha's sweet face, and 
 saw tbe genuine interest upon it. " Ye'll 
 travel far or ye'll see a bonnier bit o' 
 water tban I'll tak ye ower the day. 
 Whiles it's saft here, but ilka kind o r 
 weather gies its ain sort o' grandeur. 
 Miss Montgomerie weel kens that." 
 
 " And I am sure of it," said Ingha, with 
 a smile ; a lovelier smile than her mother's, 
 as the mysterious light of sunrise is ever 
 tenderer in its beauty than midday 
 glare. 
 
 Miss Mackenzie, Kerinvean, and Ruy 
 now joined them, accompanied by Ohm 
 a beautiful Eskimo dog of the smaller 
 breed, Ruy's constant companion. 
 
 The Chum was remarkable both for
 
 DESTINATION OF THE MISTWRAITH. 133 
 
 wisdom and beauty ; his hair was very 
 long, and white, with black points; his 
 paws were perfectly white, as were his 
 breast and long, curled tail, but his nose 
 and eyes were black. His foot was fleet 
 and his scent was keen, while his service 
 was faithful and incorruptible. Chum was 
 incapable of demonstrative likings; he had 
 his preferences, but his character partook 
 of a reserve that was doubtless imitated, 
 for even when a young dog, which at this 
 period he was, there was little display of 
 the frolicsomeness common to youth. 
 Gentle and perfectly obedient, when al- 
 lowed to go free he had the instincts of a 
 savage animal, and surprised all judges 
 and gamekeepers by his hardy, unflagging 
 endurance. His history is indissolubly
 
 134 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 connected with that of his master ; the 
 history of the one is that of the other, 
 for in all changes they were insepar- 
 able. 
 
 Ruy trusted Chum completely, and was 
 often touched by his devotion. The dog 
 never for a moment forgot his master. No 
 human being ever experiences more than 
 one absolutely perfect dog-friendship in a 
 lifetime — this was Ruy's — the trust and 
 love for one canine creature pre-figures, in 
 its limited capacity, another trust and lo\ 
 — but this is dogged heterodoxy. 
 
 All were soon on board the Mist wraith, 
 and the oars plashed steadily under lee of 
 rocks rising sheer out of the water, high 
 above the boat. 
 
 At the head of the glen loomed Ben
 
 DESTINATION OF THE MISTWRAITH. 135 
 
 More, and several lesser peaks, which now 
 shone pearly-tinted in the sun. All the 
 hills had a white sheen in the light, while 
 in the cloud-shadows they were richly 
 coloured, purple, crimson, and black, and 
 many of them were encircled by belts of 
 pine, and seemed to lie in a setting of dark 
 wood. 
 
 The course was devious : round by 
 quaint little rocky islands, and in and 
 out of sheltered bays, for glimpses of falls 
 that rushed down from the hills all fret 
 and foam, on whose banks grew ferns and 
 bracken, which reared themselves proudly 
 as if protecting the soft, dewy mosses 
 underneath, making wildernesses too in- 
 tricate for anyone but fairies. 
 
 Ingha was entranced at every fresh bend
 
 136 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 or curve. Miss Mackenzie and Kerinvean 
 had a long argument about a legendary 
 engagement which was said to have taken 
 place in one of the passes they sighted : 
 this was an old subject of debate between 
 them, and, although Miss Mackenzie al- 
 ways proved her point, Kerinvean never 
 failed to raise the subject when they were 
 in the neighbourhood which suggested 
 it. 
 
 Ruy was keenly enjoying his part of 
 the work, his fine, lithe form swaying regu- 
 larly to time, his face flushed with the 
 exercise and pleasure. Nature held no- 
 thing grander for him than these hills ; 
 they were associated with historic remin- 
 iscences which alone would have made 
 them sacred to him, but, beyond these
 
 DESTINATION OF THE MISTWEAITH. 137 
 
 associations, their own varying beauty was 
 a daily wonder ; and, above all, their im- 
 moveable serenity had schooled the dis- 
 quiet in his heart. Their perfect calm 
 enfolded his own spirit, and he was learn- 
 ing that life holds in her store both 
 poverty and riches innumerable, often 
 dealing both in the same lap, and he was 
 experiencing too, the deep peace that lies 
 in the soul of nature, and which she bestows 
 with so great largesse that these paradoxes 
 seem merely childish problems to those 
 who are taught of her. 
 
 Did it enhance the scene to E>uy that a 
 kindred spirit looked out of eyes as ques- 
 tioning as his own, for response ? Ingha's 
 face was not unheeded by Ruy, he had 
 never seen one so beautiful before.
 
 138 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 When Ingha's gaze was abstracted by 
 the scenery, a look of utter satisfaction 
 came over it, but, when her attention was 
 recalled to conversation, the wistful ex- 
 pression came back into her eyes, the 
 timid, shy depth that was but oue degree 
 from a look of brave and tender courage, 
 which, Ruy thought, a hero could recall 
 in dying for her sake. 
 
 Ruy was gentle in his ideas about 
 all women, but his feeliug of reverence for 
 this girl sprang wholly from his inteuse 
 love of beauty, beauty which in Iugha di 
 Garcelli was both of soul and feature, the 
 countenance ever true to inward impulse 
 or emotion. 
 
 It was not strange that a boy of Ruy's 
 nature should be at once impressed by her,
 
 DESTINATION OF THE MI ST WRAITH. 139 
 
 amid scenes so conducive to the most 
 refined emotions of admiration and de- 
 light. 
 
 Eadan Faibhile was a well-chosen spot 
 for a picnic ; a little grassy knoll, on each, 
 side of which towered great walls of rock 
 that hid the hills beyond. 
 
 In front lay the beach, and a long 
 stretch of loch down to Ben More. The 
 high rocks were covered with purple and 
 scarlet bloom and climbing ivy; heather 
 filled every nook between the jutting 
 crags, and over their tops drooped ash 
 and willow-trees, and beyond, huge firs. 
 
 One great break there was in the back- 
 ground of rocks, where the open gates of 
 a cathedral might have stood ; it led to the 
 grove of beeches on the higher ground,
 
 140 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 where their massive trunks like columns 
 supported the fantastic arches, whose 
 groining and tracery no sculptor could 
 imitate. 
 
 For flooring there was softest moss, 
 and many a brilliant spot of colour, from 
 serene little clumps of heather, and joyous, 
 wavy groups of wild flowers, that grew 
 undisturbed in tangled, luxuriant pro- 
 fusion ; and over all, here and there, flut- 
 tered a stray, faded leaf that had lost its 
 way, and could not find any niche 
 specially designed for it in this perfect 
 mosaic. 
 
 The tall brackens and ferns tried to 
 hide the temple's chrism, but the little 
 stream wimpled on, singing its own song 
 of praise to the God who had consecrated
 
 DESTINATION OF THE MISTWRAITH. 141 
 
 it, and who had his holiest of holies even 
 here in this lonely sanctuary, where rarely 
 a human voice was heard.
 
 142 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A HIGHLAND TICNIC. 
 
 a By every rill in every glen, 
 Merry elves tlieir morrice tracing 
 To aerial minstrelsy." 
 
 Scott. 
 
 A RCHIE and a stranger were waiting 
 
 at Radan Faibliile, they had ridden 
 
 together from Craig More. Ruy looked 
 
 for a moment at Archie's companion, and 
 
 springing out of the boat ere the keel
 
 A HIGHLAND PICNIC. 143 
 
 grated on the stones, exclaimed glee- 
 fully : 
 
 " It's Gore— Dallas Gore !" 
 
 Archie had found Mr. Douglas and his 
 nephew together when he returned the 
 night previous ; Sir Dallas was on his way 
 to Invereethin, but Archie had no dif- 
 ficulty in persuading him to join the 
 picnic. 
 
 Sir Dallas Gore was an English baronet, 
 who had become master of himself and 
 twenty thousand a year when he attained 
 his majority three years ago. Wishing to 
 see active service, he did not meditate at 
 present leaving the army. Thoroughly 
 educated, intelligent, and of a sensible 
 disposition, Sir Dallas had found his 
 responsibility so far to consist in keeping
 
 144 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 himself out of mischief, enough of which 
 is generally lying in wait for the in- 
 experienced owner of an unencumbered 
 estate. 
 
 Sir Dallas was greatly sought after 
 by a certain class, more than was quite 
 agreeable to himself, as he had suf- 
 ficient discrimination to know that, with- 
 out his rent roll, his good nature and 
 good looks would have commanded scant 
 courtesy. 
 
 The service each had to render for the 
 general comfort was inimical to ceremony. 
 Miss Mackenzie and the girls proceeded to 
 unpack a hamper, while the others made a 
 fire. Then a white cloth was spread under 
 the trees, and decorated with clusters of 
 rowan-berries, and, when all was prepared,
 
 A HIGHLAND PICNIC. 145 
 
 the party sat down in good humour to eat 
 the luncheon. 
 
 By this time, all the influences being con- 
 ducive, Miss Mackenzie burned to converse 
 upon the Gaelic associations of the spot, 
 but, alas ! the company was too intent on 
 the viands, and the strangers too much 
 delighted with the novelty of the enter- 
 tainment, to make any observation which 
 could act as suggestion for legend or 
 tracing of genealogical line. 
 
 At length Miss Mackenzie said, 
 
 11 1 believe, Sir Dallas, Mr. Douglas 
 claims kindred with the Black Dou- 
 glas ?" 
 
 " Yes," answered Sir Dallas, innocenthy 
 beguiled into a half confession of ignor- 
 ance, " I believe so, but I cannot inform 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 you why ; there were so many collateral 
 branches in that race, 1 am not sure that 
 he is a lineal descendant. The Craig- 
 More Douglases have always been of a 
 roving turn ; I don't think that they 
 have ever settled down long enough, 
 until this generation, to trace the line 
 themselves. " 
 
 " You must know, Gore," said Kerin- 
 vean, " that all old Highland families re- 
 tain their genealogical descent in legends 
 
 and songs when the veritable line is lost, 
 and I understand this to be the case with 
 your uncle's ancestry and the link to the 
 Black Douglas, for it is quite a tradition 
 in these parts that he is allied. Have you 
 heard," added Kerinvean, thinking effectu- 
 ally to change the subject, " if many
 
 A HIGHLAND PrCNIC. 147 
 
 sportsmen are coming to Invereethin this 
 season ?" 
 
 ri I heard of several," answered Sir 
 Dallas, " but I understand Lady Kinaire 
 means to have a good many of her own 
 friends also." 
 
 Miss Mackenzie, nothing daunted by 
 the interlude, turned to Ingha, and 
 said : 
 
 " You have no idea, my dear, how tena- 
 cious all who have borne the name of 
 Douglas have ever been to be considered 
 lineally descended from their star of 
 chivalry, and there is a curious story told 
 of one of my ancestors, how he taunted a 
 Douglas for having nothing else of which 
 to boast, except a pretended kinship with 
 a chief who would not have owned him 
 
 hi
 
 148 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 had he lived in the same generation. 
 Thereupon each of these men incited his 
 followers to fight, and Mackenzie killed 
 his rival, and afterwards married his 
 daughter." 
 
 The narrator here paused, naturally 
 expecting a remark from one of her 
 listeners, and Ingha put a question which 
 involved a long response. 
 
 " Do you uot think," she asked, " that it 
 was very undutiful in the girl to marry her 
 father's enemy ?" 
 
 u Oh," answered Miss Mackenzie, " that 
 was not half so glaring a lack of filial 
 affection as her own son afterwards dis- 
 played to herself." 
 
 The Mackenzies had now taken the field, 
 and, as Kerinvean knew that there would
 
 A HIGHLAND PICNIC. 149 
 
 probably ensue a waving of Mackenzie 
 tartan and Highland claymores till even- 
 ing, he rose, and, with the young 
 men, went off in the direction of the 
 rocks. 
 
 When Kerinvean returned, it was to 
 surest to Miss Mackenzie that he would 
 be glad to help her with tea. She imme- 
 diately rose, saying : 
 
 " We were so much interested I had not 
 noticed how time was slipping away," and 
 added to Ingha, " There is a great deal 
 more to tell you of Kenneth Mackenzie, 
 but I won't forget to finish the story some 
 other day." 
 
 " There is little fear of that," said 
 Kerinvean, smiling, as Miss Mathilda went 
 out of hearing. " I imagine you must have
 
 150 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 proved a rare listener, Miss di Garcelli ; 
 our story-teller seems as much pleased as 
 it" she had been leading her gallant Mac- 
 kenzie heroes and all their forces through 
 
 CD 
 
 a review for your inspection." 
 
 "I assure you I have been greatly 
 interested," responded Ingha. 
 
 " You must forgive her enthusiasm," 
 said Kerinvean ; u she looks upon Scotland 
 as the centre of the universe ; ancient 
 Highlanders are gods to her, and their 
 traditions gospel." 
 
 " I like her invulnerable belief in them 
 more than I can tell you, it is quite 
 infectious ; besides, it would not do any 
 good to spoil her illusions." 
 
 Ruy had joined them while Ingha was 
 speaking, and Kerinvean now went off to
 
 A HIGHLAND PICNIC. 151 
 
 help Miss Mackenzie, smiling at Ingha's 
 last remark. 
 
 " Some illusions are harmless enough, " 
 said Ruy ; iC but do you think people are 
 fitted for the rough realities of life who 
 carry into the world a conviction that 
 their fellows are better and higher-minded 
 than they actually are ?" 
 
 "I don't understand much about rough 
 realities," answered Ingha, " but I think it 
 would not be possible to attain to anything 
 noble unless one had faith in things which 
 may be only illusions to others. For my 
 own part, I know the people who give 
 me the impression that they consider my 
 motives better than I know them to be, 
 have more influence for good with me than 
 they who are unkind in their judgments.
 
 152 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 You will call this a strange mode of re- 
 generation," she added, smiling; " but 
 some natures require all sorts of helps and 
 
 incentives." 
 
 "It is a beautiful theory," answered 
 Huy ; " but I don't know that you will find 
 it act well on people with less principle 
 than you possess." 
 
 u If it did not seem the only way of 
 helping some, I would not hold it," she 
 answered ; " besides, it is so difficult to do 
 anything well, I am sure a person who is 
 honest with himself cannot have his work 
 praised, too freely. There is one thing 
 quite certain, Mr. Montgomerie, there is 
 no illusion in this : I never saw anything 
 so utterly beautiful as the country here, 
 though there may be illusion in the
 
 A HIGHLAND PICXIC. 153 
 
 thought that because it is so lovely it will 
 surely be eternal." 
 
 " But Nature has so many illusions," an- 
 swered Ruy ; u she is always promising 
 and holding out hope which we do not 
 realise, for when we compare the best art 
 works with her, we find how she lured 
 only to smile at the folly of her feeble 
 imitators. 
 
 " Oh ! no, no," said Ingha, " she smiles 
 just the same as she always did ere we 
 began the task wherein we may have 
 failed. I think we can never see scorn in 
 her unless we have scorn in our own 
 thoughts, and we are sure to feel con- 
 tempt towards our labour, if it will not 
 bear the scrutiny which decides whether 
 we have followed some other teaching
 
 154 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 rnore closely than hers. Sometimes we 
 confuse God's art and human art, and 
 fancy we can aid the one or the other, but 
 we can only be taught by each ; they are 
 both indepeudent of us." 
 
 " I know Nature is, but oue often hears 
 of what great masters have done for their 
 art," said Ruy. 
 
 U I do not think if they were true 
 masters they would have cared to hear 
 their work so spoken of," returned 
 Ingha. 
 
 "Does it not seem, on a day like this,* 1 
 said Buy, after a pause, " as if the 
 world had been created merely for 
 beauty, as if it were all one great 
 shrine for the worshippers of the beau- 
 tiful ?"
 
 A HIGHLAND PICNIC. 155 
 
 " Some of the loveliest parts are un- 
 recognized then," responded Ingha, "for 
 that significance is only acknowledged by 
 the few who perpetuate such wondrous 
 loveliness as this around us. God seems 
 to have dedicated all the highest beauty 
 to them, for only they, and those for whom 
 they toil, are at one with Nature when 
 apart from her." 
 
 "And only as their sympathy and 
 comprehension are true can their la- 
 bour be good," said Ruy. "You inter- 
 pret Nature instinctively. I have been 
 listening all my life, and she has never 
 been so articulate to me as you make her." 
 
 " I comprehend only her simple moods," 
 answered Ingha. "I listen, too, but her 
 meanings are so deep."
 
 156 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 " So deep," responded Ruy, " that they 
 always seem symbols to me." 
 
 "Do you find it so?" asked Ingha. 
 " Perhaps if you are ever separated from 
 her you will think it was Nature only who 
 spoke plainly, though with infinite purport. 
 It is the w r orld's noise that jars in her 
 utterances, and sometimes deadens the 
 sound of them altogether, for we often go 
 to Art to be taught things in which she 
 cannot instruct us." 
 
 "What do you define as being taught 
 • by Art ?" asked Ruy. 
 
 " Nothing except a mechanical utter- 
 ance, and the wisdom which results from 
 the experience of others who have labour- 
 ed in the same field. I don't think Art 
 can ever give an understanding of Nature,
 
 A HIGHLAND PICNIC. 157 
 
 though she can help the expression of all 
 that Nature alone can teach," 
 
 " Have you never felt," said Ruy, " that 
 Nature herself would be antagonistic to 
 you if you had no utterance, and that 
 even your great love for her would but 
 cause a yearning, and her riches would but 
 oppress your spirit ?" 
 
 " I think that feeling could onlv be the 
 result of some power that was still dor- 
 mant," answered Ingha. " I have no genius 
 for anything, but I think after some years 
 of labour I shall be able to make my voice 
 yield some service." 
 
 Ruy was surprised to hear her speak of 
 years of labour, as he regarded her already 
 as a priestess of song ; his knowledge as 
 yet was limited, though his studies had
 
 358 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 begun with the Alpha and Omega of all 
 true art life. It was dawning on his spirit 
 that this dark-eyed, thoughtful maiden was 
 inspiration of noblest sort, but he asked 
 himself no questions about her. He ac- 
 cepted most impressions without analyzing 
 their influence, as he looked for differ- 
 ent clouds and shadows with each new 
 sunrise ; and every revelation of natural 
 beauty went to enrich his experience all 
 unconsciously to himself. 
 
 " Miss di Garcelli," said Archie, after tea, 
 as the group sat watching the shadows 
 
 lengthening over hill and water, " do you 
 know I have been rash enough to promise 
 that I would ask a favour from vou for 
 another man ; and, though I know it is not 
 difficult to persuade you to act generously.
 
 A HIGHLAND PICNIC. 159 
 
 still he is hardly deserving of that 
 honour." 
 
 "What is it?" asked Ingha, laughing at 
 Archie's ceremony. 
 
 " To make a short story long," answered 
 he, " this Dallas Gore, this audacious man 
 has had the impertinence to assert that he 
 never heard a countrywoman of yours sing 
 a Scotch song with a true accent ; which 
 proves two things, one of which is remark- 
 ably clear : he has never heard you sing! 
 the second proposition is simply that the 
 said Dallas Gore is no judge of singing in 
 any language." Archie's mood was of the 
 old boyish days, and Sir Dallas enjoyed it 
 as heartily as the rest. 
 
 "Thanks, Flash," said he; "Flash" was 
 the Gore family name for Archie, Lady
 
 160 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 Gore having given it to him when he was 
 quite a child, averring that he was so 
 quick and bright he always reminded her 
 of lightning. " Thanks, but I won't retain 
 you as my special pleader. It is quite 
 true, Miss cli Garcelli, that I have never 
 heard good Scotch ballads since my 
 mother's voice saug them to me in my 
 childhood." 
 
 " She was like all the Douglases, Sir 
 Dallas, very musical," said Miss Mackenzie ; 
 " their genius for music can be traced back 
 to Fergus Douglas's time. His men refused 
 to row across the loch in the dark to sur- 
 prise the Glen Dhule Mackenzies unless 
 their piper was playing in the bows of the 
 boat; and, though he tried to play softly, 
 the pipes wakened our people, and the
 
 A HIGHLAND PICNIC. 161 
 
 old clan was ready for the Douglas raid 
 on their landing." 
 
 "Indeed," answered Sir Dallas, "it was 
 mean in Master Fergus to take advantage 
 of night in that way, and he deserved the 
 routing which I hope he got ; but, Miss 
 di Garcelli, won't you sing something to 
 make us more forgiving towards this 
 blundering, old, far-away relative of 
 mine r 
 
 Ingha, who was sitting by Marie, and 
 stroking Chum, who permitted this liberty, 
 though he rarely gave anyone but his 
 master the opportunity of ever attempting 
 it, said she would be very glad to 
 sing. 
 
 The young men were stretched on the 
 ground. Archie, with Ins fair face and 
 
 VOL. I. m
 
 162 TIME AND CHANCE 
 
 rings of brown hair, which, cut as close 
 as possible, would still be curly, his dark 
 blue eyes and fearless expression always 
 making a manly picture. Then Dallas 
 Gore's bronzed face and soldier-like figure 
 were in no way less attractive. And Ruy, 
 with his calm, grave eyes and fine, lithe 
 form, made the trio perfect. Kerinvean 
 was seated beside Miss Mackenzie, genial 
 and stalwart, a delightful subject for her 
 imagination to put some hundreds of years 
 back into the glorious times when Kerin- 
 vean, with his physical courage and manly 
 strength, might have been a hero ! Miss 
 Mackenzie sat quietly knitting, her thoughts 
 still Avith her valiant ancestors, doubtless 
 dreaming of how, had she lived in their 
 times, she would have knitted stockings for
 
 A HIGHLAND PICNIC. 168 
 
 these brave, bare-legged worthies, whose 
 wooings were done, and battles fought, 
 stockingless and unshod. 
 
 The boat was moored on the beach, 
 while Peter hurried about, calculating the 
 chances of collision with one of the 
 herring-smacks, if the moon did not 
 appear. 
 
 Marie told Ingha to choose her own 
 song, and, hesitating but a moment, she 
 began in a clear, soft voice, that had 
 neither break nor want in its self-sustain- 
 ing power, that most sad of all Burns's 
 
 songs, 
 
 " Ye banks and braes and streams around 
 The Castle o' Montsro-merie." 
 
 "» v 
 
 Her voice rose in pathetic fulness as 
 verse after verse she sang to the end. 
 
 m 2
 
 164 TIME AND CIIAXCE. 
 
 Her listeners felt the wild hopelessness of 
 the early love, how it had made everything 
 seen by the beloved, utterly sacred ; and 
 all the fruitless sorrow of the plaintive 
 words, which could in no way fathom the 
 depths of the loss, save by comparing the 
 vacant dreariness of the present with the 
 rapture of the past, the hours that drag 
 so sullenly with the hours that once were 
 winged ! 
 
 Xo one spoke for a few moments after 
 Ingha's voice died away, the stillness was 
 broken only by the lapping of wavelets on 
 the narrow beach. And then Sir Dallas 
 thanked her, and added : 
 
 " I never heard singing in auy language 
 like that." 
 
 Ingha listened quite simply as they all
 
 A HIGHLAND PICNIC. 165 
 
 praised her song, as simply as if they were 
 speaking of some one else, and then she 
 told them the reason she understood the 
 Scotch so well. 
 
 " My nurse, who is now my maid, is a 
 Scotchwoman ; Mistress Gilroy taught me 
 years ago the accent and also the poetry 
 of the language." 
 
 Ruy led Ingha down to the boat, and 
 ere entering it they turned for a last look 
 at the cove. The moon had suddenly shot 
 a thousand silver arrows down into the 
 little temple ; a pale light illumined it 
 throughout, white and shining on the 
 great trunks of the stately beeches, and 
 down among the bracken and moss all 
 was gleaming and shadowy. 
 
 " The fairies will take possession di-
 
 166 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 rectly," said Ingha, smiling, " and will hold 
 a grand court to condemn to their magical 
 vengeance all the idle people who have 
 intruded into their kingdom to-daj^, and 
 have ruffled enough of their possessions 
 to take them a whole week to put right. 
 I wish we could hear them congratulating 
 each other on their own industry, com- 
 pared with the idleness of pleasure-seeking 
 humanity." 
 
 " You need not fear their censure," said 
 Ruy. " You haven't been idle to-day ; 
 you have been instructing and suggesting 
 in more ways than one." 
 
 " Oh ! then they will call me a prosy 
 person," answered Ingha, laughing, "and 
 anathematize me more fiercely than anyone 
 else."
 
 A HIGHLAND PICNIC. 167 
 
 " No, our fairies won't do that," said 
 Ruy. " Since you believe in them so 
 implicitly, you will be precious in their 
 sight." 
 
 u Archie," asked Marie, " is your father 
 bearing it well ?" 
 
 " I hardly know, Marie," he answered, 
 as he walked slowly by her side down 
 to the boat. u I think he will get over it 
 by-and-by. It is just like you to be 
 thinking of my troubles, though, heaven 
 forgive me ! I had almost forgotten them 
 myself to-day ; but no wonder — we were 
 all so happy !" 
 
 u And why should we not be happy 
 when we can, Archie ?" she asked, 
 gently. 
 
 " Because sometimes it is not exactly
 
 163 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 honest to others," answered he, helping 
 her into the boat. 
 
 Archie and Sir Dallas said good-bye, the 
 latter having first promised Kerinvean to 
 make his stay at Invereethin short, in 
 order to pay a long-promised visit to the 
 Castle. 
 
 Contrary to Peter's fears, the loch was 
 all lighted by the moon, and on every 
 wavelet there was a quivering silver beam, 
 save where the shadow of dark rocks 
 made the waters black. And so Incrha's 
 first Highland picnic ended, though the 
 memory of the beauty and sweetness of 
 that day was to linger in more than one 
 life like the radiant images of an unfor- 
 gotten dream.
 
 169 
 
 OHAPTEK XII. 
 
 THE PREDICTIONS OP LADY KINA1RE AND 
 MISTRESS GILROY. 
 
 u . . Here's fine revolution, 
 An we had the trick to see 't. M 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 TNVEREETHIN had come into Lord 
 Kinaire's possession on the death 
 of his uncle several years ago. The 
 house, a great, old-fashioned building, was 
 situated about ten miles from Kerinvean, 
 and was, at this time, filled with a com-
 
 170 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 pany whom various reasons bad brought 
 together. 
 
 Invereethiu had always had the name of 
 being a splendid place for sport, so some 
 of the guests had come for deer-stalk- 
 ing and others for salmon-fishing ; and 
 there were ladies euougli to justify Keriu- 
 vean in calling" the gathering " half Bel- 
 gravia." 
 
 It was not a fast house, nor was it ever 
 called slow. The Kinaires were said to 
 be inimitable for taste, though a character 
 for that quality is easily acquired amoug the 
 ignorant, for either one's self or one's 
 house, with a good income and average 
 practical skill in the choice of trades- 
 people. 
 
 Lady Kinaire was popular both for her
 
 PREDICTIONS. 171 
 
 wit and good nature, and for a certain 
 conformity in ber manners and doings to 
 acknowledged standards, which in English 
 society, is deemed irreproachable. Young 
 men liked to be patronised by her, for she 
 gave pleasant parties, where the best 
 people were sure to be met — at least, so 
 thought the self-congratulatory ones ; but, 
 withal, Lady Kinaire had a warm heart 
 and a generous mind. She hated scandal, 
 but often screened her tenderness of dis- 
 position by quoting apt scraps of worldly 
 wisdom ; the hopes and interests of her 
 friends found in her a quick sympathy, 
 and few women gave themselves up so 
 readily to the causes of the distressed, and 
 no one was more skilful in devising how to 
 ward off trouble, or to bravely meet it
 
 172 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 •when it became inevitable, than Kathleen, 
 Lady Kinaire. 
 
 The Marchesa di Garcelli and Lady 
 Kinaire had always stood by each other, 
 and were firm friends ; indeed, some went 
 so far as to say that Kathleen Tighe, the 
 niece of a poor, Irish peer, would never 
 have married, in her first season, the rich 
 Lord Kinaire unless his cousin, the clever 
 Marchesa di Garcelli, bad arranged the 
 alliance ; but there are always people who 
 say things of this kind about marriages 
 which they themselves have not prognosti- 
 cated, as if matrimony were a game to be 
 arranged for the players, who had to com- 
 bat for rewards, to be assigned bv the 
 self-constituted umpires. 
 
 For her part Lady Kinaire might have
 
 PREDICTIONS. 1 73 
 
 considered that her youth, beauty, bright, 
 hopeful nature, and ancient lineage, were 
 quite equal exchanges for a husband 
 double her age, however rich and induW- 
 ent. Lord Kinaire was certainly both ; 
 though she was prodigal she was never 
 exacting, and they lived on remarkably 
 good terms with each other, there existing 
 a sincere mutual respect, and both were 
 greatly attached to their only child, a boy 
 of five years ; but beyond this, the cares 
 of matrimony did not weigh heavily on 
 either. 
 
 The night of the Marchesa's arrival 
 at Invereethin, Lady Kinaire went to her 
 friend's room, after her other guests had 
 dispersed. 
 
 " My dear Honoria, I thought I should
 
 174 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 never get free. I have wanted to talk to 
 you all evening," she said. 
 
 " What a number of guests you have, 
 Kathleen. I did not expect to meet half 
 so many. How did you overcome Kin- 
 ase's scruples about Dareton and the 
 Sidneys? And tell me who was the little 
 fat man who talked so incessantly at 
 dinner ? What a different looking person 
 his wife is P 
 
 " Firstly, you must know the odd pair 
 leave to-morrow." answered Ladv Kinaire. 
 "But what has been the matter with you 
 to-night, Honoria ? I never saw you look 
 so dull." 
 
 There was scant ceremony between these 
 two ; they were allies, and both were too 
 handsome to feel any rivalship. It would
 
 PREDICTIONS. 175 
 
 have been difficult to say which was the 
 more beautiful ; for though Lady Kinaire 
 had a less commanding figure, there was an 
 honest look in her bright face, which, on 
 the whole, was more expressive of dignity 
 than all the brilliant affectation of her 
 friend. 
 
 " I fear," she added, kindly, " you were 
 dreadfully bored, my clear." 
 
 " No, indeed, I v/as very much 
 amused. Now, Kathleen, tell me about 
 your new acquaintances, and how many 
 
 more are coming." 
 
 Lady Kinaire seated herself on a couch 
 beside her friend. 
 
 "No one this week, except Sir Dallas 
 Gore, and I thought it would be such a 
 splendid idea for him to meet Ingha ; that
 
 176 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 was before I knew you had other plans for 
 her." 
 
 " Don't go on so fast, Kathleen," inter- 
 rupted the Marchesa. u Ingha has prom- 
 ised the Montgomeries a long visit. How 
 did you manage to get Kinaire to 
 consent to have such a miscellaneous 
 party ?" 
 
 " Indirectly through the little fat pom- 
 posity about whom you were asking. He 
 is a City Magnate, and one of the railway 
 members in the House. His name is Sir 
 Dumple Brigworth, and ancestors he has 
 none. However, he is harmless enough, 
 though you would be amused if you knew 
 the trouble he has caused me. * All's well 
 that ends well !' I am also indebted to 
 him — indirectly, of course — for the sap-
 
 PREDICTIONS. 177 
 
 pbires ; Kinaire has written to order them 
 to be sent here." 
 
 "Do explain, Kathleen," said the Mar- 
 chesa ; " you are exciting my curiosity and 
 giving me no satisfaction." 
 
 " Well," responded her friend, " this is 
 how it came about : Kinaire one day sur- 
 prised me by asking if I would mind call- 
 ing on Lady Brigworth, to whom he had 
 been introduced at her husband's office in 
 Dark Lane. I inquired if she lived there, 
 and Kinaire, inclined to be this lady's cham- 
 pion, said she was a dutiful wife, who drove 
 to the City to take her husband home from 
 his office, and, if he were not ready, waited 
 till his business was completed, and that 
 was where he had met her. I did not 
 refuse Kinaire's request, but I wanted a 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 TIMB AND CHANCE. 
 
 favour myself, and I thought I would let 
 my plans mature in my little Irish head, 
 while his ardour for the Brigworths cool- 
 ed. The next day, however, Kinaire 
 actually again asked me to go and do the 
 civil thing to his new acquaintances, and 
 told me, if I would invite them here for 
 a week, he would give me permission 
 to have anyone I liked here this autumn. 
 So I went to their house in Lancaster 
 Gate, and found Lady Brigworth pretty, 
 well-dressed, and doing the fine lady 
 to perfection, but you may imagine how 
 chagrined I was to recognise in her no 
 other than my old fascinating governess, 
 Miss Teevan. I was equal to the situa- 
 tion, my dear, and greeted her by saying 
 that, as my husband had had the pleasure
 
 PREDICTIONS. 179 
 
 of meeting her, I thought I might pre- 
 sume, for the sake of old times, to call on 
 her ; and, accordiug to my instructions, I 
 invited them here." 
 
 " But I don't see anv connection between 
 them and the sapphires," said the 
 Marchesa. 
 
 " Oh ! Kinaire is making a good thing 
 out of some business he and Sir Dam- 
 pie have arranged; a directorship I 
 thiuk he called it. He tells me I don't 
 understand business, because I cannot my- 
 self make out why I am to have the sap- 
 phires when he will only have to give 
 his name. However, Kinaire says it is 
 quite common for noblemen to do this sort 
 of thing, but that they rarely spend the 
 half of the profits on jewels for their 
 
 n2
 
 180 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 wives. I don't trouble myself to under- 
 stand since I am having so much of my 
 own way through merely entertaining 
 these people a few days. Now I am 
 sure you are quite tired of my gos- 
 sip. Give me all your news. What 
 did you think of your old love, Kerin- 
 vean r 
 
 " I don't exactly know what I thought, 
 Kathleen," answered the Marchesa, some- 
 what wearily. 
 
 ''Don't you consider him handsomer 
 than ever ?" persisted Lady Kinaire. 
 
 " Oh ! yes, he is very handsome — quite 
 a fine looking man." 
 
 " Surely you are not in love with him 
 again, Houoria ?" pressed the little Irish 
 lady.
 
 PREDICTIONS. 181 
 
 " Oh ! for that matter, perhaps I have 
 never been out of love with him, but 
 by this time he must be invulner- 
 able." 
 
 " Invulnerable to you ! You are not 
 humble enough to think that, Honoria ; 
 but, tell me, would you care to marry 
 
 again r 
 
 "He has not asked me yet, Kath- 
 leen," answered the Marchesa, de- 
 murely. 
 
 " Well, this is too amusing, as if you 
 were not perfectly sure of him after he has 
 remained a bachelor for your sake all 
 these years." 
 
 " If I thought so — if it were so," said 
 the Marchesa, slowly, " such devotion 
 would deserve reward."
 
 182 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 "Nonsense, my dear; that sort of thing 
 is quite exploded ; if he has been such a 
 fool, it is no reason why you should be 
 another. If you go on in this mood you 
 will soon persuade yourself that you have 
 remained a widow for his sake. Did 
 Kerinvean's nephew come with him to 
 Kilane ?" 
 
 " No ; what kind of a boy is he ?" 
 "Boy, indeed !" said Lady Kinaire, " he 
 is as much a man as his uucle, and quite as 
 distinguished looking, though Kinaire says 
 not so genial, and as proud as all his 
 ancestors put together. I have not met 
 him often, for they do not go out much ; 
 but I always found Roderigue Mout- 
 gomerie very agreeable, and not the least 
 proud."
 
 PREDICTIONS. 183 
 
 " Then he is grown up ?" asked the 
 Marchesa. 
 
 " Of course he is, and looks much 
 older than his age, which, I believe, is 
 only twenty. If you marry his uncle, 
 Honoria, it will make him small enough, 
 poor fellow ! after having alwa} r s been 
 treated as the heir to Kerinvean." 
 
 "I did not say I was going to marry 
 his uncle, Kathleen ; but I think I have 
 been very foolish in letting Ingha go 
 where there is a young man of 
 the kind you describe. She is such a 
 very impressionable child." 
 
 " It will be unfortunate if you have 
 designs for yourself on the uncle. I would 
 have told you, only I thought you knew, 
 and that this might be one of your ideas
 
 184 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 about reparation ; you are so desperately 
 sentimental, my dear, I uever attack you 
 on a point of this sort. I am somewhat 
 of a match-maker myself, and I like 
 Roderigue Montgomerie ; besides, I was 
 in the heat of the Dumple Brigworth 
 warfare when you wrote to tell me Ingha 
 was going to Kerinvean. If you like, I 
 will ask the Montgomeries here, and Ingha 
 also ?" 
 
 " Thanks, Kathleen, but I promised to 
 go to Kerinvean, and intended requesting 
 you to drive me over." 
 
 u Certainly I will, Honoria, some day 
 next week ; but, as we are both tired to- 
 night, we would do well to seek our 
 slumbers." 
 
 They rose, kissed each other, and as
 
 PREDICTIONS. 185 
 
 Lady Kinaire walked towards the door, 
 she hummed in a low, sweet voice, 
 
 " Oh ! there's nothing half so sweet in life, 
 As Love's young dream !" 
 
 Then she turned round and said 
 archly : 
 
 " Tommy Moore was right, my dear, 
 was he not ? But we dream and waken 
 so often, we are apt to forget whose was 
 the ' form ' which ' first love traced.' Good 
 night, Honoria." 
 
 The Marchesa and Lady Kinaire went 
 the following week to Kerinvean. They 
 were both very charming, and everyone 
 was intent to do honour to the Marchesa 
 for Ingha's sake. Miss Mackenzie almost 
 forgot her chiefs and clans for the day,
 
 186 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 and there was a good deal of genial con- 
 versation at luncheon. 
 
 " 1 should like beyond anything," 
 said the Marchesa to Ruy, in a tone 
 which all present could hear, " to have 
 a day's quiet fishiug in your river ; it is 
 so long since I held a rod, I am ashamed 
 to go out with the experts at Inver- 
 eethin." 
 
 In the old times she and Kerinvean 
 were wont to fish together on her uncle's 
 river, and he had often ridden over 
 in time for breakfast, to have a long 
 day's sport with his beloved. Kerinvean 
 remembered all this while she spoke, but 
 he could not guess what her thoughts 
 were. 
 
 " You could have a day of our pools
 
 PREDICTIONS. 187 
 
 quite to yourself, Marchesa," said he. " Are 
 they in good trim, Ruy ?" 
 
 " I never found them better," answered 
 Buy. 
 
 "You must not make them too tempt- 
 ing," she said, smiling, and addressing Ruy, 
 " else I shall not be able to resist. Kath- 
 leen, will you let me come here for a day 
 at the river ?" 
 
 11 Certainly, my dear," answered her 
 friend ; " but the fishers go out early here. 
 You would need to come the evening 
 before." 
 
 "Pray do," said Marie, "and then you 
 will give us advice about Ruy's birth- 
 day. We want to devise some kind 
 of entertainment for his coming of 
 age."
 
 188 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 " If you will come and help us, Mar- 
 chess," said Kerinveau, " we will put the 
 whole house at your disposal. I want to 
 have a ball. Gore has promised to be 
 here soon, and you might come together. 
 I should be delighted to drive over to 
 Invereethin for you both." 
 
 " Thank you sincerely," she said, smil- 
 ing in her most bewitching manner. " You 
 are all too good." 
 
 Ingha was silent. 
 
 After luncheon Kerinvean proposed that 
 they should all go down and look at the 
 river. 
 
 " Shall you mind nry coming here, Kerin- 
 vean ?" asked the Marchesa, walking by 
 his side, looking demurely on the ground ; 
 then she turned her face suddenly, add-
 
 PREDICTIONS. 189 
 
 ing, in a tone that sounded as if she 
 felt how great a sinner she was, though 
 her bright eyes contradicted her peni- 
 tence, " Is your forgiveness perfect 
 enough r" 
 
 " Why do you ask such a strange ques- 
 tion ? There is but one way in which you 
 could use that word rightly," said her 
 humble dupe. 
 
 " How? I do not understand," she said. 
 
 " To bestow it ; but you would not have 
 come here to-day if you had not forgiven 
 me for all the past." 
 
 Miss Mackenzie said truly when speak- 
 ing of the Montgomerie family, that 
 " all the women of the house were beau- 
 tiful, and the men were ever chival- 
 rous."
 
 190 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 "Well, my dear," said Lady Kinaire, as 
 with a switch of her dainty whip she chal- 
 lenged her ponies to trot their fleetest 
 homewards, " I hope you are satisfied with 
 your lover ; he is as handsome as ever, 
 and the castle is charming, nothing Brig- 
 worthy about either of them. When do 
 you intend to take possession ?" 
 
 "Not till I am asked, Kathleen," an- 
 swered the Marchesa. 
 
 " Dear Honoria," said her friend, smiling, 
 " I would never have thought that the 
 mere asking would stand between you aud 
 any object you had fixed your mind upon ; 
 but I would have you beware of iuterfer- 
 ing with somebody else's hopes." 
 
 ''Whose do you mean?" 
 
 " Ingha's," answered Lady Kinaire ; " she
 
 PREDICTIONS. 191 
 
 is young and very attractive, so is Ruy 
 Montgomerie ; if they are not already in 
 love, they would think themselves so if 
 you parted them. A perplexing complica- 
 tion will certainly ensue if you are serious, 
 but I cannot think you are, for, although 
 ambitious, you have already refused a 
 duke for the sake of remaining free. Our 
 sainted friend il Marchese was generous to 
 you, Honoria : would you gain anythiug by 
 interfering with Ingha ?" 
 
 " Her preference for Mr. Montgomerie 
 is merely in your imagination, Kathleen, 
 and you will make me jealous of my own 
 child; already, since 1 came, you have 
 given her two husbands, and you object to 
 me showing mere civility to my own first 
 love."
 
 192 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 " Romantic folly, Honoria," said her 
 friend ; " it is all very well for Tommy 
 Moore and school-girls, but it is never 
 heard of in the world now-a-days ; however, 
 do as you like, dear!" 
 
 As if she ever did otherwise ! 
 
 That same night, Mistress Gilroy was in 
 attendance on her young charge when 
 Tngha said, 
 
 "Coyla, mother is coming to stay 
 here." 
 
 "When will she come?" asked Mistress 
 Gilroy. 
 
 "Very soon, I believe. I wonder if she 
 will stay long ; it won't be quite the same 
 when mother is here," went on the young 
 girl, dreamily. 
 
 Mistress Gilroy made no response, but
 
 PREDICTIONS. 193 
 
 her face wore a grave look, for she knew 
 the episode in the Marchesa's life which 
 concerned Kerinvean, and she was also 
 aware that Ingha was ignorant of it, and 
 many years of patient study had familiar- 
 ised her with the fickleness of the Mar- 
 chesa's nature. 
 
 And Mistress Gilroy sat at the window 
 of her own room long after Ingha was 
 asleep, looking wistfully down the loch, 
 as if her gaze could reach the infinite 
 sea where lay her dead, and saying 
 softly some words that sounded like a 
 prayer : 
 
 " Oh ! my bonnie bairn, if only I 
 might suffer for her ! ' Will mother stay 
 long ?' she said, and I could but think she 
 was coming to be always here. If my 
 
 vol. i. o
 
 194 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 bairn loves the young laird it will be dree, 
 dree, for she will have to bear the pain ; 
 her mother could not do it even to save 
 her own child's heart from breaking. 
 Father in heaven ! Thou hast taken my 
 heart's love to Thyself, let me suffer for 
 the bairn, and give me the right to call her 
 mine, through pain, if needs be, or lift the 
 clouds from off us all, if it be Thy gracious 
 will, Father in heaven !"
 
 195 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 INGHA. 
 
 " . . . . No man dare look on her his thoughts being 
 base ; 
 Nay, but men say even more than I have said — 
 No man could think base thoughts that looked on 
 her." 
 
 TNGHA DI GARCELLI'S girlhood had 
 been passed under rarely advantage- 
 ous influences for developing a vivid and 
 poetical imagination. The Marchesa's 
 restless and fanciful disposition had im- 
 
 o 2
 
 196 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 pelled her to go from place to place, 
 seeking new occupations and fresh excite- 
 ments, and she was always accompanied 
 by her daughter. It suited her love of 
 display to travel like a princess, and her 
 fortune permitted the necessary expendi- 
 ture. 
 
 Mistress Gilroy, who was responsible 
 for Ingha's welfare, was rarely absent 
 from her charge, except when her gover- 
 ness or masters monopolized the girl's 
 time. 
 
 In all Ingha's memories of foreign 
 lands there was mingled the tenderness of 
 Mistress Gilroy. In the Palazzo at Venice 
 she had been hushed to sleep nightly by 
 Coyla's songs, and for accompaniment 
 there was the monotone of the tide as it
 
 INGHA. 197 
 
 lapped against the foundations of the 
 building ; and, in the intervals, she heard 
 the refrains of the gondoliers' choruses 
 of Italia, love, and death. In the lone 
 chapelles of great cathedrals, Coyla and 
 Ingha had often listened for hours to the 
 organ's symphonies and to the anthems 
 of the priests ; but as the music swelled, 
 and Coyla's face grew more patient, the 
 little head would lean on the nurse's 
 shoulder and she would ask strange ques- 
 tions, which she thought Coyla alone could 
 answer, concerning the mystical rites she 
 witnessed. 
 
 Many faces and forms, which never had 
 other life than brush or chisel had given 
 to them, moved dream-like in Ingha's 
 memories, for she had already seen some
 
 198 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 of the greatest works of art in Europe. 
 Her observation had been free ; though 
 her governess had told her for what cer- 
 tain pictures and statues were remarkable, 
 she readily discerned between art jargon 
 and true appreciation, and preferred al- 
 ways the company of Mistress Gilroy, 
 whose unobtrusive silence did not mar 
 the delight of a beautiful impression. 
 
 The Marchesa had never left Ingha save 
 under the care of this devoted follower ; 
 in her impulsive way she was fond of her 
 daughter, though she could not quite 
 understand a nature the opposite of her 
 own, in its honest, unaffected genuineness. 
 She comforted her doubts with the hope 
 that experience would modify some of the 
 strangeness of India's ideas, and thought
 
 INGHA. 199 
 
 that time would curb the overflow of im- 
 aginative enthusiasm which made, in her 
 opinion, a girl's speech always remark- 
 able in society. Alas ! for the lack of it 
 there ! 
 
 Ingha's perception was too truthful, as 
 her discernment was too clear, to allow 
 her to think, because her sympathies were 
 all keenly alert to the influences of nature 
 and art, that she had any great creative 
 faculty, but already she realized how 
 much there was for her to accomplish, in 
 developing the power she possessed, that 
 anon she might inspire, and understand 
 the genius of others. It seemed to her 
 that life teemed with opportunity for occu- 
 pation and interest. 
 
 Ingha loved the drama almost as much
 
 200 TIME AND CHANGE. 
 
 as music, and sometimes confessed that, 
 had she needed to earn her livelihood, it 
 must have been as an actress. Her quick 
 comprehension of emotion ; her power of 
 putting herself in the scenes she imagined, 
 and of realizing the feelings of those who 
 moved in them ; her apprehension of silent 
 motives ; her natural eloquence, combined 
 with conscious strength of will, and de- 
 sire for noble action, made persuasion and 
 conviction natural to her. Added to these 
 qualities was a love of influence which ever 
 has a place in the minds of those who are 
 often designated — ah, me ! that it should 
 ever be in derision ! — romantic and senti- 
 mental. 
 
 But now her voice was her principal 
 study, as it was in reality her greater
 
 INGHA. 201 
 
 gift. Loving music with an intelligent 
 appreciation, and possessing a rare ear and 
 surprising quickness of acquirement, she 
 did not intend that one iota of her power 
 should be useless through idleness. She 
 knew already that labour evokes truth in 
 all studies, and in her art she was learning 
 many things which were not taught by 
 the schools. 
 
 Ingha had been but a few days at Kerin- 
 vean ere the young people were quite 
 familiar with each other's tastes and dispo- 
 sitions. Ruy and Ingha were one evening 
 standing at an oriel window in the gallery 
 watching the moon rise through the fir- 
 trees. Every cloud had a magical light 
 on it of which no canvas has ever shown 
 the radiance, ere the moon glided clear of
 
 202 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 them all, and shone full and round high 
 up in the sky. Over the tops of the firs 
 she sailed, lighting their dusky branchf 
 and, when she arrived at her zenith of 
 beauty, she seemed to be serenely watch- 
 ing all the transformation scene she had 
 made on the earth beneath. 
 
 " I don't wonder now." said Ingha, 
 " that Coy la always told me, when we 
 looked at the moon rise in Italy, that it 
 never seemed so lovely to her as among 
 her own hills ; for, when I asked the 
 reason, she said there was no sadness in 
 the skies there, and the trees were not so 
 grand as her own gloomy pines. I thought 
 it was the sadness of her own lot which 
 she felt then, but I understand what she 
 meant now. The colours are not so vivid
 
 INGHA. 203 
 
 here, but there are tears in everything. 
 Mr. Montgomerie, I think Scotland more 
 than Italy ought to be the land of 
 art.'' 
 
 " Perhaps it will one day," answered 
 Buy, u many centuries hence ; but you 
 have had the past for guide ; comparative- 
 ly we are only just civilized. In literature 
 Scotland can compete with any country, 
 but she is only dow beginning to care for 
 pictorial art. Already there are some ear- 
 nest followers, but there is no art history." 
 
 " Have you ever thought of art as a 
 vocation ?" asked Ingha, simply. " I have 
 seen some of your sketches, but do you 
 not paint ?" 
 
 Ruy explained to her that he was still 
 iu his uncle's guardianship, and also the
 
 204 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 nature of Kerinvean's aversion to his 
 
 choice ; and he went on : 
 
 lt I have never painted yet, for, when I 
 
 begin to model, all these and other years 
 
 of practice in pencil work will only make 
 
 a beginning." 
 
 " Then it is sculpture you would 
 choose ?" 
 
 " Oh ! yes, I have never thought of any- 
 thing else," answered Ruy, involuntarily 
 confessing the dream of his life. ci Sculp- 
 ture seems to be in itself the most perfect 
 of all the arts; painting requires its aid, 
 but sculpture is only degraded when she 
 borrows from colour. Besides, sculpture 
 essentially represents soul-beauty, and 
 appeals straight to the mind, while 
 painting is sensuous : these are not my
 
 1NGHA. 205 
 
 reasons for choosing sculpture ; I believe 
 
 it is instinctive with me to do so, for I 
 
 never remember having any doubts on the 
 subject." 
 
 " But you will paint also ; some have 
 said that sculpture is only a higher and 
 more intellectual form of painting, and I 
 think the power for both is very nearly 
 allied in him who has genius for either. 
 Long ago in Italy I had the impression 
 that painters alone could be sculptors, and 
 that only they who had proved themselves 
 masters on canvas dare ever touch the 
 stern, white marble. Ah ! you must paint, 
 if you want to represent the beauty here ; 
 you cannot sculpture rocks and hills." 
 
 " No," answered Ruy, smiling, " but 
 one can sculpture the human beauty,
 
 206 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 that would never Lave been so great save 
 for the love of these same rocks and 
 hills." 
 
 He was thinking at that moment how 
 statuesque was her own fair face in the 
 pale moonlight, and how transfigured it 
 became as she gazed on the grandeur she 
 loved so well ; beautiful her face always 
 was, but unspeakably so wheu it was 
 illumined by the thoughts which Nature 
 suggested, and these thoughts were now 
 giving a permanent expression of glad 
 serenity and ineffable tenderness which 
 Ruy knew would be an immortal wonder 
 could it be fitly expressed in art. 
 
 The day before the Marchesa's arrival, 
 Euy and Ingha had lingered by the river 
 after the others had returned home. It
 
 1NGHA. 207 
 
 was a glorious evening, and they sat on the 
 
 banks listening to the water, garrulous 
 
 and hurrying as ever. 
 
 " Mr. Montgomerie," said Ingha, at 
 
 length, " I imagine you are not much 
 
 interested in all the preparations to do you 
 
 honour; I am anticipating quite joyfully 
 
 my first ball, and you seem to wish your 
 
 birthday anniversary over." 
 
 " I am much interested, I assure you," 
 
 answered Ruy, smiling, " and I shall enjoy 
 
 the games and fun as much as anyone ; but 
 
 you must acknowledge that it is somewhat 
 
 an equivocal cause for congratulation, to 
 
 be the hero of the day when one has done 
 
 nothing to merit it, when mere accident of 
 
 birth has made one heir to a place like 
 
 this : I should not love Kerinvean one whit
 
 208 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 less, if that same accident had occurred to 
 
 some one else. The only Montgomerie 
 
 hero of this generation was my father, and 
 
 yet I shall be more congratulated for my 
 
 relationship to my uncle, than for being his 
 son." 
 
 "But," said Ingha, "perhaps one of the 
 reasons why you are a favourite with the 
 people, is partly because of their affection 
 for your father's memory." 
 
 " I hope so," answered Ruy ; "but I can- 
 not see much cause for rejoicing when I 
 think how slight is my title to heirship, so 
 small a thing might annul it, and my life 
 has not prepared me to work for 
 bread." 
 
 " But 1 think your future should be full 
 of hope," said the enthusiastic girl.
 
 INGHA. 209 
 
 " Even were you separated from the life 
 here, you would have your vivid memories 
 of it, as well as your creative faculty, 
 which together would give you Keriavean 
 in mauy a form." 
 
 " Not if the gains from them were my 
 only means of support. I should lose the 
 vividness you speak of in striving to 
 create what would be most remunerative. 
 Do you not agree with me, that to follow 
 art honestly is incompatible with working 
 for subsistence ? I think if one finds a 
 way to make money in art, before almost 
 a life-time of its teaching and study, it is 
 done at the cost of loss of possible ultimate 
 power in that art. Unless genius be al- 
 most transcendent, it cannot attain its full 
 development with absolute poverty for 
 
 vol. i. P
 
 210 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 dailv comrade. One must live, and the 
 crust is a daily necessity and lodging a 
 nightly want, and are facts that canuot be 
 got over once and for all, but are continu- 
 ally present, enfeebling the power and 
 thrusting aside all promptings that are not 
 trade-born ; so the imaginative faculty 
 gradually becomes crushed. I am certain 
 I should be mercenary if I were hungry 
 and sleepy. You will think I am looking 
 at life bitterly, but facts for one are possi- 
 ble facts for all. ' ; 
 
 " Are these what you mean by rough 
 realities?" asked In^ha, smiling. 
 
 "Very rough ones," answered Ruy; "but 
 we must not think of them any more to- 
 night : it seems too much like benediction 
 here for railing."
 
 INGHA. 211 
 
 And they remained silent again, 
 while the river sang and sang till 
 its rush seemed to be gradually receding a 
 long way from them, and at length became 
 like the hum of a distant city, where the 
 wheels rolled incessantly through the 
 streets ; now loud, now soft, were the ebb 
 and flow of the confused, far-off echoing 
 to which they involuntarily listened. Even 
 that anon died down to a solemn pause, 
 and all the wheels were stilled ; and the 
 silence was one of the rare moments in 
 life when the joy of peace is perfect, with- 
 out human effort, simple receptivity being 
 all the need of the hour. But the river 
 took courage again in a returning wave 
 of sound, and sped merrily over the 
 rocks. 
 
 p 2
 
 212 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 Strangely inexplicable is that influence 
 in Nature which seems connected with 
 Time itself, and lures us so utterly that 
 we forget all interest which a moment be- 
 fore occupied our minds, and lose in an 
 indescribable abstraction the sensible know- 
 ledge of that which invokes our spirits. And 
 when we come back to conscious thought — 
 from whence, who knows ? — we appear to 
 have been absent from our surroundings 
 an eternity, instead of a few brief mo- 
 ments ; and it is ever impossible to belie^^ 
 that in the pause, when this potent spell 
 was on us, the rush of sound was oroiuo; 
 on the same, and that the memories, which 
 w r ere borne like a flood into our mind 
 were but reminiscences of past hours in 
 our lives, instead of vague hint of
 
 INGHA. 213 
 
 experiences in a bygone existence which 
 we cannot recall. 
 
 The river flowed on, heedless as ever, 
 past the nodding rushes and drooping 
 ash-trees, where it was too dark for the 
 stream to see the berries, so it did not 
 gather their scarlet clusters, but took 
 the trees themselves as masses to fringe 
 its borders, and hurried away down to 
 where the dark pines stood like sentinels of 
 the ages ; and it went softly by them, as if 
 it knew these ancient monarchs had lived 
 through the glory and decadence, and on 
 into utter forgetfuluess of many an earthly 
 power, and were waiting for a new order 
 of things. They could afford to wait, 
 even for Eternity itself, since their strength 
 and endurance only increased as the cen- 
 turies rolled on.
 
 214 TIME AND CHANGE. 
 
 One glittering star peered out of the 
 pale blue overhead, and, when she saw it, 
 Incrha said : 
 
 " That star has come to remiud us of 
 our promise to follow the others soon, and 
 Ooyla will be wondering why I have not 
 returned to dress for dinner." 
 
 " The twilights are long here, and there 
 will be a myriad stars presently, and Coyla 
 is very patient," answered Euy ; " so will 
 you sing one song for the stars and me be- 
 fore we go ?" 
 
 "Yes, for you, but not for the stars ; 
 they have the river and birds to sing for 
 them," said Ingha. "Do you know 
 little ballad about ' the king wanting men, 
 and I for one must go ' ? It has a haunt- 
 ing little refrain, of which I warn you."
 
 IKGHA. 215 
 
 M No, I have never beard it, but I'll 
 chance the effect if you will but sing it," 
 said Ruy, wishing he might never be 
 haunted by more unwelcome memories 
 than the echoes of her voice. The sweet, 
 sad air did so impress itself upon him that 
 he often found himself involuntarily hum- 
 ming or whistling it, though he never 
 asked her to repeat it. 
 
 Ingha rose a few 7 moments afterwards, 
 thereby very much gratifying innumerable 
 birds, who, having ended their business 
 for the day, had been trying to sleep, when 
 her voice disturbed them into jealous 
 listening. Anyone watching might have 
 seen their little heads peering shyly over 
 the tops of their nests and between the 
 leaves, with surprise in their little bright
 
 216 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 eyes ; for strange indeed, they deemed it, 
 that anyone should venture there with 
 rivalling power. They were content enough 
 when they found it was merely the voice 
 of a peregrinating human being ; and soon 
 there were no sounds in the woods save 
 the hooting of the owls and the river's 
 nightly lullaby.
 
 217 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " I FEEL NO PENITENCE, MY LIFE IS LOVE." 
 " I feel no penitence, my life is love." 
 
 TTERINVEAN and Marie went over 
 to Invereethin to assure Lady 
 Kinaire of a welcome for all her guests at 
 the ball on the thirtieth, the anniversary 
 of Ruy's birth. The Marchesa and Sir 
 Dallas returned with them to the Castle. 
 
 Sir Dallas Gore had not seen Marie 
 since her childhood until the day they had
 
 218 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 met at Radan Faibbile, and he was very 
 eager to see her again. 
 
 Marie had now to assume the position 
 of hostess, Miss Mackenzie insisting on 
 retiring into the background., telling 
 Marie that many Montgomerie women 
 had been married ere they were her age, 
 and that it added to tbe dignity of a house 
 when the lady at its head bore its own 
 name. 
 
 The Marchesa's appearance the first 
 evening was superb and her conversation 
 brilliant; being Kerinvean's guest, she 
 occupied his attention almost exclusively, 
 although she often addressed the entire 
 party, assuming with apparent unconsci- 
 ousness that she was the chief attraction. 
 
 In conversation with Archie, Sir Dallas
 
 " I FEEL NO PENITENCE." 219 
 
 mentioned the death of Lord Kinaire's 
 stag-hound "Fury;" the Marchesa, over- 
 heariDg him, took up the subject in a tone 
 to which uo one could avoid listening. 
 
 " Did }^ou not hear of it here ?" she ask- 
 ed, generally. "It occurred the night before 
 the Dumple Brigworths left Invereethin. 
 Lady Kinaire had left me about a quarter 
 of an hour, and mv maid had crone to bed, 
 when I heard a piteous moaning out of 
 doors, and, meaning to look out of a stair- 
 case window for the cause, I opened my 
 door. You must know that wing of the 
 house contains no other rooms save the 
 Kinaire's private apartments. I saw a 
 light and a figure at the end of the lobby, 
 and imagine my surprise on encountering Sir 
 Dumple Brig worth ! When he caught sight
 
 220 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 of me — I wore a white dressing-gown — down 
 dropped his candle, and, turning round, he 
 ran as fast as his old limbs could carry 
 him. I heard doors open and shut with 
 terrific banging, and a shouting ensued 
 quite indescribable. Lady Kinaire had 
 been alarmed, and she explained that Sir 
 Dumple must have taken wrong turnings 
 both before he met me and when he re- 
 treated. Her maid discovered Sir Dumple 
 in little Harold's room, the child scream- 
 ing and the nurse much terrified, for Sir 
 Dumple, in a most excited manner, was 
 declaring he had seen the White Ladv!" 
 
 " But Fury ? — where was he ?" asked 
 Miss Mackenzie, who had listeued all the 
 while expecting to hear of the poor hound's 
 fate.
 
 " I FEEL NO PENITENCE." 221 
 
 " Oh !" answered the Marchesa, indiffer- 
 ently, not liking the interest to be divert- 
 ed from her own share in the episode, " he 
 was dying ; he had been shot by a 
 poacher, and had dragged himself under 
 his master's window to die ; no one 
 explained the history of the apparition to 
 Sir Dumple, and he has doubtless ere now 
 related the ghostly encounter to his brethren 
 in the city." 
 
 Ruy felt instinctive dislike to a lady who 
 could relate so rapidly an absurd adven- 
 ture to people who were expecting to hear 
 the fate of a noble hound that for years 
 had been Lord Kinaire's companion, and 
 whose fidelity was shown even in his death. 
 Ruy's reverence for women w r as innate, but 
 he could not overcome a suspicion that
 
 222 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 underneath the Marchesa's professed 
 ingenuousness, lurked a nature that was 
 both small and self -engrossed. 
 
 The day at the river came off, but the 
 Marchesa had no success. Peter express- 
 ed his opinion with a candour and incisive- 
 ness common to himself. 
 
 " You wad see, Master K,uy, the Mar- 
 chiss is ower glaikit for salmon. She can 
 cast a line, I'll no be sayin' she cannot do 
 that whatever, but she canna hand her 
 tongue when the fish rise, and folk should 
 na tak' in hand siccan a serious occupation, 
 if they're no mcanin' to gi' ower havers in 
 the pursuit." 
 
 The Marchesa gave herself to the task 
 of encouraging Sir Dallas's intercom 
 with the two girls, for she hoped a partial-
 
 " I FEEL NO PENITENCE." 223 
 
 ity for her daughter would ensue ; but, 
 alas ! for her plan, he was fast giving him- 
 self up to the other maiden's influence, 
 though Marie seemed quite unconscious of 
 his preference. 
 
 One day's beauty and peace had come 
 between Sir Dallas's heedless past life and 
 his present hope, marking time as no other 
 of his memories had power to do, and he 
 had pondered about the possibilities of the 
 future till they had grown up into his 
 thoughts like realities. Though the years 
 had no worse blot on them than aimless- 
 ness, he bitterly regretted now that there 
 had been no work nor manly worthiness 
 wherewith he could give this fair woman 
 proof of his will and power to make a 
 career in the time to come. Perhaps
 
 224 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 regret for the past was surer proof 
 of amendment than resolutions for the 
 future, based upon hope of grace from 
 Marie, but Dallas Gore as yet thought 
 more of his own unworthiness than of his 
 possible success with her, who was his first 
 love ! 
 
 The Marchesa dreaded that Ruy might 
 already have made an impression on 
 Ingha, but she could not divine from his 
 grave, self-possessed manner whether 
 he had even a predilection for her. 
 As Archie and he were necessarily often 
 absent from the girls, Sir Dallas had 
 plenty of opportunity for making himself 
 useful to them, which, of course, served to 
 make the Marchesa hope that he would 
 profit thereby to advance his suit with
 
 " I FEEL NO PENITENCE." 225 
 
 Ingha, which suit was wholly imaginary on 
 her part. 
 
 The Marchesa was quite at ease think- 
 ing of Archie Campbell ; he was frank and 
 open always, and she had judged his feel- 
 ings aright, and could see he was too 
 wholly absorbed in his attachment for 
 Marie to be turned aside ; and yet Sir 
 Dallas did not observe this ; and for the 
 rest, they were so much accustomed to 
 regard Archie as one of themselves that 
 no one, save Marie, had thought of him in 
 the light of her lover. 
 
 He hovered about her as he had al- 
 ways done, argued with himself that 
 this was his day of grace, hopeless as 
 it was, and that, when she gave herself 
 to another, he would go away asking 
 
 VOL. i. Q
 
 226 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 nothing in return for the love of his whole 
 life. 
 
 The Marchesa was eager to know 
 Ingha's opinion of the young men ere she 
 went back to Invereethin ; and with this 
 desire, and some purposes equally, if not 
 more, matrimonially maternal in her mind, 
 she went to spend an hour in her daugh- 
 ter's room the afternoon previous to her 
 departure. 
 
 She found Ingha arran^ine: the flowers 
 which every day Ruy sent up to her. 
 The Marchesa made no remark upon the 
 occupation, but seated herself on a couch 
 near an open window, where she could ob- 
 serve her daughter's face without appearing 
 to be watching it. She talked of various 
 subjects ; Ingha's dress for the ball, the
 
 " I FEEL NO PENITENCE." 227 
 
 weather and the scenery, and was almost 
 despairing of opportunity to bring the 
 conversation round naturally to the design 
 she had in hand, when she espied Sir 
 Dallas and Ruy in the grounds, and this 
 was suggestion sufficient. 
 
 " There go Sir Dallas and Mr. Mont- 
 goinerie," she said ; " what a contrast there 
 is between those two young men; Sir 
 Dallas so genial, well informed, and charm- 
 ing, while his friend always seems to me 
 quite morose. I suppose," she went on, as 
 if speaking merely for her own edification, 
 " he is too self-sufficient to care for inter- 
 course with ordinary people." 
 
 " You are wrong, mother dear," answer- 
 ed Ingha, innocently eager, " Mr. Mont- 
 gomerie does care for intercourse, he is 
 
 q2
 
 228 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 highly cultured, too, and he has most 
 artistic tastes, and is the very opposite of 
 morose or self-sufficient, and " 
 
 Ingha stopped suddenly, for on looking 
 up from her flowers she found her mother 
 intently regarding her, as if to apprehend 
 the whole meaning of her words. Iugha's 
 eyelids drooped, and her usually pale face 
 flushed, though she could not have told 
 wherefore, save that maybe her ardour for 
 truth had made her more zealous than her 
 mother would approve. 
 
 "What absurd phrases you use, child,'' 
 said the Marchesa, in a somewhat indig- 
 nant tone. "One would suppose you 
 were some primitive Puritan who had never 
 been out of an English village. Your 
 language is often ludicrous, and, if you
 
 "I FEEL NO PENITENCE." 229 
 
 -continue to foster your oddity, you will 
 only be laughed at in society. I may as 
 well take this opportunity," she added, 
 rising as if to leave, " of warning you 
 that it is just possible your inexperience 
 may be construed into forwardness here, 
 and therefore, though Mr. Montgomerie 
 serves you for hero, you should be cautious 
 about letting everyone see it. as it might 
 be said you were trying to inveigle Kerin- 
 vean's heir, and that he did not reciprocate 
 your feelings, paying you no more atten- 
 tion than is courtesy to his uncle's guest." 
 
 The Marchesa pretended to yawn, as 
 she looked out of the window, and after a 
 pause said : 
 
 " I think I will go and have a siesta 
 before I dress."
 
 230 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 Ingba had turned her face so that hi 
 mother, walking towards the door, could 
 not see it, but, when the door closed again, 
 down drooped the face on the roses, the 
 sw r eefc, fragrant clusters of Ruy's white 
 roses. 
 
 The rude, cruel waking from her fair 
 dream had been sudden, and now Ingha 
 realised that it had been a dream. Ruy 
 had appeared to her an ideal of man- 
 hood, and she had given him the homage 
 which seemed his due, though the coarse 
 construction the Marchesa had put upon 
 her feelings, transformed her idyll into a 
 vulgar tale. The poor girl mused a long 
 time wearily ; she did not see how she 
 could act differently towards Ruy without 
 being false to herself, and tears, pure as
 
 " I FEEL NO PENITENCE." 231 
 
 the dew-drops of the morning, fell on 
 Ruy's white roses. 
 
 Through the open windows came the 
 merry singing of the birds, and, in the 
 distance, the river had a soothing sound, as 
 if for lulling pain ; anon the voices of the 
 young men talking and laughing under the 
 trees came to her listening ear, and her 
 thoughts went from her own perplexity 
 to wonder about their conversation ; but 
 Ingha never moved till Coyla came to help 
 her to dress for dinner. 
 
 Coyla discerned that some rare occur- 
 rence had caused the tears of which she 
 saw the traces, and her kind voice touched 
 Ingha so sympathetically that she wept 
 again. 
 
 "Coyla/ 3 she said, "I cannot help it,
 
 232 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 4 ' mother has been here, and has spoken 
 hardly to me ; she ought to give me no- 
 thing but truth and love." 
 
 " Hush, hush, my bairn," said Coy la, 
 for she concluded that the sorrow she had 
 dreaded for her young mistress was all 
 too soon beginning, and that it would 
 be encouraging an undutiful feeling to 
 listen to the daughter's complaint ; un- 
 questioning obedience to parental authori- 
 ty being one of the creeds deep rooted in 
 Mistress Gilroy's mind. 
 
 " You will have love enough yet," 
 she said, " don't ask for it too soon, 
 and tears will but spoil your sweet 
 face." 
 
 The loving woman, who had been more 
 than her own mother to Ingha, soothed
 
 " I FEEL NO PENITENCE.' 233 
 
 and quieted her without asking a single 
 question of her interview with the 
 Marchesa. 
 
 In Ingha's heart there was a sense of 
 wounded self-respect, but, as she was 
 conscious of innocence, she determined 
 there should be no apparent change in her 
 conduct before her mother left the Castle, 
 as that would be equivalent to a confession. 
 In planning for the future she determined 
 to check all her impulses that were not 
 conventional, and certainly the free life 
 here prompted many ; her perception was 
 quick, and she thought she could be honest, 
 and yet adopt a greater reserve, though 
 she knew that, if she acted against her 
 convictions, she would commit more wrong 
 than even her mother had insinuated.
 
 234 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 To-night she would not change her 
 manner, lest she might deceive the Mar- 
 chesa, seeming repentant of the design of 
 which she had been accused ; so she took a 
 brief respite, put some of Ruy's white roses 
 in her hair, and tried to forget her mother's 
 undeserved reproaches. 
 
 The Marchesa had been cordially invited 
 to defer her departure till after the thir- 
 tieth, but she was too wary to yield. 
 She wished Kerinvean to feel her absence 
 ere she gave him further encouragement ; 
 she knew he would be dull after she left ; 
 she had devoted herself almost entirely to 
 him for three days, riding, fishing, and go- 
 ing to old haunts forgotten by her till 
 reminded of their associations by her lover. 
 He was completely absorbed by her,
 
 "I FEEL NO PENITENCE." 235 
 
 and a willing captive, though often, 
 when responding to her questions, his 
 words lost half their importance, as 
 her thoughts were occupied with plans 
 irrelevant to the topic of conversation, 
 though they concerned both the speaker 
 and the future disposal of his time and 
 property. 
 
 The Marchesa was too much engrossed 
 with herself and her desire to make a last- 
 ing impression on Kerinvean to-night, to 
 take notice of Ingha ; and when the elders 
 were in the lesser drawing-room apart from 
 the young people after dinner, Marie asked 
 Ingha to sing, a request that was as usual 
 eagerly seconded by all, but most earnestly 
 on Ruy's part. 
 
 "Yes," said Ingha to herself, though she
 
 236 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 only smiled and went to the piano, " to- 
 night for him, to-morrow for the stars !" 
 
 She did not ask them to choose her song, 
 she played very softly the first bar of 
 Schubert's ballad, " Der Nussbaum," and 
 very softly also rose her voice with the 
 second bar, hardly louder than a whisper, 
 if such can be in song. No effort of me- 
 mory mingled with the sweetness of the 
 cadences as she sang on in her calm, 
 passionless way. Ruy watched her in- 
 tently from a dim corner ; her white 
 form and pale face gleamed with a strange 
 magnetic beauty ; he had never thought 
 her so radiantly lovely, and in her voice 
 was a deep, thrilling tone which made him 
 spell-bound, when the others asked her to 
 repeat the song.
 
 "I FEEL NO PENITENCE." 237 
 
 The wild melody and her own tumultu- 
 ous feelings had strongly affected her r 
 and she gladly sat down to repeat the 
 ballad. 
 
 Not a note did she slip or sing imperfect- 
 ly ; strain after strain the music grew in 
 pathos and joy wonderfully mingled by the 
 genius that made it seem like an improvisa- 
 tion, held in by the tenderness of the 
 accompaniment, the crescendo passages no 
 louder than to be but the faintest help to 
 her voice, which its own power sustained 
 throughout. The last two lines she sang 
 so softly and distinctly, that when it all 
 died away, though the tension of the 
 hearing of the listeners had been great, 
 there was no sudden silence ; the song 
 was learnt in their hearts, and her clear.
 
 238 TIME AND CHANGE. 
 
 glorious voice seemed to be singing there 
 still. 
 
 " How marvellously well you sang it, 
 dear !" said Marie, who thought Ingha's 
 too critical judgment concerning her own 
 performances would be gratified to-night. 
 
 " Yes, yes, I did sing it well the last 
 time ; I shall never sing it better than 
 that," she answered, somewhat eagerly ; 
 her face was white as ever, but there was 
 a glad look in her eyes. 
 
 Was she thinking of her resolution of 
 never singing again specially for Ruy, or 
 only of her art? She was right in saving 
 it would not be possible for her ever to 
 sing that melody better ; they often re- 
 called the effect her tones had on them 
 as she repeated it.
 
 " I FEEL NO PENITENCE." 239 
 
 It was no little matter to Ingha di Gar- 
 celli that at last, if only for once in her life, 
 she had been able to do perfectly what 
 she loved so well, and what had cost her 
 infinite labour to make possible. Art 
 yearnings were lulled for a brief hour in 
 fulfilment so great that the long days of 
 resolute work found their reward in the 
 singing of a simple German ballad ; not 
 in the approbation of the listeners — that 
 might have gratified her, flushed her calm 
 face, and heightened her wondrous 
 beauty, but it could never have wrung 
 from her undeserved acquiescence in her 
 own praise.
 
 240 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 COMING OF AGE. 
 
 " 'Twas when the wan leaf frae the birk-tree w 
 
 fa'in'." 
 
 Old Song. 
 
 " ' Now tread we a measure!' said young LoehinvaiV ; 
 
 Scott. 
 
 fTIHE inmates of the Castle were early 
 astir on the morning of the thirtieth, 
 and many a hearty greeting Ruy had to 
 acknowledge. 
 
 Kerinvean gave his nephew a cheque for 
 a thousand pouuds. The tenantry present- 
 ed him with a splendid piece of silver,
 
 COMING OF AGE. 241 
 
 which had been designed to commemorate 
 the event. 
 
 Ingha timidly offered Ruy a book, 
 which, she said, had been both friend and 
 guide to her for a long time, and which she 
 hoped would be acceptable from haviDg 
 been so precious to her. 
 
 He gladly promised to prize anything 
 that had been prized by her, and was 
 delighted to see that she had written his 
 name under her own, which she had crossed 
 out, and these words : 
 
 " If thou thy star do follow 
 Thou canst not fail thee of a glorious port." 
 
 He was surprised to find the book was 
 Carlyle's (< Sartor Resartus ;" and yet, he 
 thought, her strength of purpose, her 
 belief in the power of resolutely follow- 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 242 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 ing a course to achieve the highest suc- 
 cess, and her large sympathy, roust have 
 been helped in no small degree by this 
 master. Ruy smiled as he noted that, 
 almost unconsciously to herself, Ingha was 
 unfolding a kinship of intellectual and 
 poetical life for which he had never 
 expected to find so gentle a comprehension. 
 He had never sought, a sympathy apart 
 from nature, but with this human inspira- 
 tion, strange, new hopes and dreams were 
 dawning, which no after purposes would 
 ever exorcise or change. 
 
 From far and near the people gathered ; 
 old men, who still remembered Captain 
 Montgomerie with loving pride, came to 
 do honour to his son, whom they regarded 
 as having been born specially to be laird of 
 them and of Keriuvean.
 
 COMING OF AGE. 243 
 
 The } T outh arrived in great numbers, for 
 
 they claimed Ruy as their leader, because, 
 
 when prowess and skill were needed, he 
 
 could compete with their best athlete ; and 
 
 women young and old were there, and all 
 
 had a good word, and an earnest hand grip, 
 
 for the hero of the day. Euy cheerfully 
 
 yielded to what was expected of him with 
 
 the grace that was habitual to him, and, 
 
 as he stood bare-headed amongst them, 
 
 many a mother thought of the joy and 
 
 pride his parents would have felt had they 
 
 lived to see their son honoured as he was. 
 
 And, as these homely souls spoke to him of 
 
 the past, his heart warmed more than ever 
 
 towards them, touched by an affection more 
 
 real and strong than mere tradition could 
 
 ever have produced. 
 
 r 2
 
 244 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 The weather was lovely all morning, a 
 blue sky with great white clouds. No 
 time was lost, for games, dancing, and 
 bag-pipes were early the order of the 
 day. 
 
 Marie and Ingba gave themselves up to 
 the amusement of the children, of whom 
 there was a goodly crowd. 
 
 The Chum, well known to everyone, 
 went in and out among the people fa- 
 miliarly, as if he felt that to be noticed 
 by him was an honour only second to a 
 recognition from his master. In a group 
 surrounding Ingba he found a little curly- 
 haired urchin whom he sniffed, and then 
 quite pleasantly allowed the boy to stroke 
 him, a sign of approbation rare on the part 
 of the reticent Chum.
 
 COMING OF AGE. 215 
 
 " He is a beautiful dog, and a good dog 
 too/' said Ingba to the bo}\ 
 
 " Yes," answered he, speaking slowly, 
 trying to put on his best English, " and he 
 is also — wise." 
 
 " Why do you think so?" asked Ingha, 
 attracted by the boy's droll expressions of 
 admiration. 
 
 "Because we've got Whaup, his brother, 
 at home, and d'ye no see hoo weel he kens 
 it? Whaup grat for mony a day efter 
 Mr. E-uy took this, but he was the bonniest, 
 sae faither gae him till the young laird. 
 An' uncle that's deed took their mither 
 from Greenland." 
 
 Old Peter had to assist with the dis- 
 pensing of hospitalities, and it was a 
 labour in which many were enlisted, for
 
 246 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 innumerable healths had to be drunk, and 
 long fasts of expectancy to be satisfied, 
 ere the dispersing, but before dinner Peter 
 found time and opportunity to speak to 
 Ingha. 
 
 " Has your leddyship," asked he, " ever 
 seen Highland games afore ?" 
 
 u No, this is the first time ; but I have 
 been greatly interested already." 
 
 " They are fine fellows these hill folk/' 
 
 said Peter, " and weel they ken there's nae 
 
 anither country like their ain ; and gin ye 
 
 o-ie them their ain wull, and ha'e nae dis- 
 
 putations about doctrine, nor kirk, nor 
 
 state, ye feel at hame after biding a wee. 
 
 There's no siccan a braw (shield as the 
 
 young laird in a' the lowlands." 
 
 Peter's garrulity was fatal when he
 
 COMING OF AGE. 247 
 
 w 
 
 began to talk of Ruy, but Ingha was ever 
 a sympathetic listener. 
 
 ?• His nain sel is weel eneugh," he went 
 on, " but, when it pleases the Lord to tak 
 him, it will mak a man of Master Ruy, 
 and there'll be better clays for the folk in 
 the shieliugs then, for he taks tent of 
 things himsel', and tries to gar Kerinvean 
 do bits o' jobs for the puir bodies, but 
 the laird just lets a' gae its ain gait, 
 and whiles it's no the richt ane, my 
 leddy." 
 
 " But everything looks nice to-day," 
 said Ingha, puzzled to know what to 
 reply. 
 
 " Ay, it's fine," said old Peter, his heart 
 quite full, " it's fine to think hoo I ha'e 
 lived to see this day, for I learned him the
 
 248 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 fishin' when the laddie wasna sac big as 
 ray gaff, and the things the bairn would 
 spier would ha'e ta'en the General Assem- 
 bly itsel' to answer, but he was aye thinkin', 
 thinkin', and likit weel to be in gude com- 
 pany." 
 
 Towards afternoon the clouds grew 
 darker, and threatenings of storm sailed 
 up from the horizon, and the glens were 
 filled with gloom ; anon the rain com- 
 menced, and the weather became hopeless. 
 Bonfires had blazed brightly enough on 
 Yenruish, and on the surrounding hills, 
 at Kuy's birth, but it was understood ere 
 the people dispersed, that it would be in- 
 judicious even to attempt to light them 
 on such a night as this promised to 
 be.
 
 COMING OF AGE. 249 
 
 After the people had all gone, Ingha 
 sat alone at the window of her own room, 
 and watched the downpour ; it seemed as 
 if sunshine could never have reigned 
 supreme over the woods and loch, so 
 dreary was the scene ; she felt unusually 
 depressed, and was glad when a message 
 was brought to ask her to go and have 
 tea in Miss Mackenzie's boudoir. She 
 found Marie, Miss Mackenzie, and the 
 three young men already there, and 
 all were laughing as she entered the 
 room. 
 
 " She is so antediluvian," said Archie, 
 as Ingha appeared. 
 
 "My dear," said Miss Mackenzie, ad- 
 dressing her, " we are speaking of the 
 Dowager Duchess of Tentowers, a noble
 
 250 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 old lady, who has accepted the invitation 
 for to-night, and I maintain, contrary to 
 the others, that Kerinvean will open the 
 ball with her. She is of the highest and 
 purest lineage, indeed so ancient is her 
 family that the Queen herself might rank 
 second to her in Scotland." 
 
 Miss Mackenzie could hardly be con- 
 sidered a proper judge of the precedence 
 of the English Royal House, for, I regret 
 to say, she had little reverence for its 
 pedigree save where the line of Stuarts 
 came across it, to lend lustre and re- 
 nown. 
 
 " I maintain, Miss di Garcelli," said Sir 
 Dallas, " that Lady Kinaire will be the 
 favoured individual, and that Ruy will 
 meanwhile be compelled to restrain his
 
 COMING OF AGE. 251 
 
 youthful impetuosity in paying court to 
 her venerable grace of Tentowers, who, I 
 imagine, must have foresworn dancing 
 before Kerinvean was born." 
 
 " You are wrong, Gore," said Kerin- 
 vean, who joined the group as Sir Dallas 
 was speaking. " Ruy will ask the Mar- 
 chesa for the first dance." 
 
 Euy stooped to stroke Chum. 
 
 " Have you any commands for Flash and 
 me, Kerinvean ?" asked Sir Dallas, u and 
 must I wear my war-paint to rival the 
 magnificence of your scarfs and swords ?" 
 
 " As you like, my dear boy," answered 
 Kerinvean. " My only command is that 
 you enjoy the ball. As for Archie, it 
 would be no use giving him anything to 
 do when the McWheezies are present."
 
 252 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 Whereupon everybody laughed, for this 
 was an old joke of Kerinvean's. 
 
 McWheezie, of Glen Owl, was Archie's 
 special aversion ; this chief's domestic pos- 
 sessions consisted of a wife who was tall, 
 gaunt, and red ; and three daughters, 
 whose charms resembled their mother's, 
 exasperating all her attractions of height, 
 awkwardness, and colour. The house of 
 Glen Owl had ever been remarkable in 
 the county for its intense desire for preced- 
 ence, its paucity of sons, and for the in- 
 herent ugliness of its numerous women. 
 
 The invitations to the ball had been 
 most graciously responded to, rather to 
 the surprise of Kerinvoau, who had visit- 
 ed little of late years, but Miss Mac- 
 kenzie gave traditional reasons for it to
 
 COMING OF AGE. 253 
 
 Ingha while the others were conversing. 
 "You know, my dear," she said, "the 
 Montgomeries of past generations have 
 been renowned for the magnificence of 
 their hospitalities, and the coming of age 
 of the heirs was always a cause for 
 general celebration, indeed it was often 
 foretold how their careers would progress 
 from the manner in which these anniver- 
 saries were passed. One story undoubt- 
 edly proves how this may be depended 
 on : You remember the portrait of Sir 
 David Montgomerie in the gallery, whose 
 face everyone thinks so strongly resembles 
 Ruy's ? On the day he was twenty-one, a 
 large banquet was held here, and at the 
 end of the table an old blind piper stood 
 up fearlessly before the whole assembly
 
 254 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 and played the Montgomerie Coronach, to 
 which all listened till the last notes died 
 away, without anyone seeming to under- 
 stand how inappropriate such music was. 
 After a pause, Sir David himself rose and 
 said : ' It is seldom, my friends, that a man 
 hears his own lament as I have done to- 
 night, so let us drink one more doch-au- 
 dorrach together before we part, and 
 here's to the man that comes after me, since 
 Kerinvean will never be mine.' And he 
 died bravely enough ere a month had 
 passed, defending the king's secret." 
 
 By-and-by Ingha went through the 
 gallery, and could not help looking again 
 at the portrait of the ill-fated youth. 
 " Surely," she mused, " it bodes no harm 
 that the features and expression of this
 
 COMING OF AGE. 255 
 
 brave-looking, mailed soldier so strangely 
 resemble liis descendant !" Hearing a 
 step she turned, and Ruy accosted her, 
 and they walked to the window to- 
 gether. 
 
 "What a pity about the bonfires !" said 
 Ingha, dreading that Ruy should divine 
 her thoughts. 
 
 " Yes, our people will be sorry, but it 
 has been a long day ; I am glad one can't 
 be twenty-one more than once in a life- 
 time. It was jolly enough in the morning, 
 but, since the weather changed, sooth- 
 sayers would pronounce the indications 
 somewhat ominous for the future, if Miss 
 ^Mackenzie's legends are to be relied on," 
 he added, smiling. 
 
 As they looked out on the landscape,
 
 256 TIME AND CHANGE. 
 
 there was nothing but dreariness visible, 
 no lifting anywhere, the rain came down 
 sullenly as if for doom, varied in the down- 
 pour only by swathes like bending corn. 
 
 In spite of youth, hope, and comfort, 
 there was a strange foreboding in Ruy's 
 heart for which there was no actual rea- 
 son, but the autumn duluess had come 
 suddenly, and the gloom seemed to have 
 fallen like a pall on the hearts of these 
 two who were ever more susceptible to 
 the influences of nature than to those of 
 ease, luxury, or festivity.
 
 257 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 " I RUN THE GAUNTLET OF A FILE OF DOUBTS." 
 
 rpHE party in the Castle assembled in 
 the drawing-room a short time 
 before the company was expected ; Miss 
 Mackenzie was resplendent in black lace, 
 the scarf and traditional buckle of course 
 fantastically conspicuous. The girls both 
 wore white, and it would have been 
 difficult to decide which was the lovelier 
 maiden. 
 
 vol. i. s
 
 258 TIME AND CHANGE. 
 
 As the guests began to arrive, Archie 
 expatiated to Ingha on their character- 
 istics and peculiarities. 
 
 First of all came Mr. and Mrs. McCora- 
 nach, he a great-limbed, handsome, fair- 
 haired individual in a kilt, and she a tiny, 
 dark, sparkling, little coquette. 
 
 " The giant and fairy of Gleuhuli- 
 kin I 1 ' said Archie, bowing to tbe little 
 lady, whose quick e3 7 es saw every good- 
 looking man in the room the moment she 
 entered. 
 
 Very soon after Lord and Lady Liptrot 
 arrived. Miss Mackenzie found oppor- 
 tunity to say to Ingha, 
 
 " A new peerage, my dear," — the 
 speaker's antipathy to recently created 
 titles was instinctive. " Lady Liptrot's
 
 " I RUN THE GAUNTLET." 259 
 
 mother was a Strathkinnen Campbell, and 
 tbat gives them the entree here." 
 
 Archie was accosted by an acquaint- 
 ance, and Ingha for a while quietly watch- 
 ed the arrivals. Of Highland proprietors 
 there was a goodly array, and of kilts, 
 dirks, jewels, and tartans, a profusion. 
 Ingha soon recognized the McWheezies, 
 and could not help smiling as one of 
 the girls, whose red locks betrayed her, 
 stretched out a redder arm, and grasped 
 Archie's hand. 
 
 There came Campbells in groups ; 
 Campbells young, Campbells old, bache- 
 lor Campbells, and spinster Campbells, 
 and Campbells innumerable. 
 
 During the evening Ingha remarked 
 to Marie that she was amused at the 
 
 s2
 
 2G0 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 similarity of names, everybody seemed to 
 be Campbell. 
 
 " Surely it is a very great family," 
 she said. " Are they all related to Archie, 
 dear ?" 
 
 " Oh no," answered Marie, " Archie 
 is a Glen Dim Campbell, and the others 
 are of different ilks." 
 
 " There is no dearth of people here, 
 Marie," responded Ingha, "but there is a 
 great scarcity of names." 
 
 " Oh, it is a sort of fetish with them to 
 be named Campbell," returned Marie. 
 
 " Indeed," said Ingha. " I suppose, as 
 in Italy, the children are so often christen- 
 ed by the name of a patron saint. Is 
 there a Saint Campbell, dear ?" 
 
 " Ask Miss Mackenzie, or, better still,
 
 "i EUN THE GAUNTLET. 261 
 
 Archie," said Marie, going off to greet 
 some new arrival, and smiling as she 
 left Ingha and her perplexities with 
 Archie. 
 
 " I am sure you won't laugh at my 
 ignorance, Mr. Campbell," she said, "but 
 is there a saint of your name in the Scotch 
 traditions ?" 
 
 " He does not belong to our race, if 
 there be," said Archie," but it must seem 
 odd to strangers to hear the name so in- 
 cessantly. In the Western Highlands, to 
 be called Campbell seems to hide a multi- 
 tude of sins. I believe some people con- 
 sicler it a sort of title, but too often it 
 is only the synonym for pride and pre- 
 tension, though there is many a heroic 
 example to the contrary."
 
 262 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 "But they all seem very nice, friendly 
 people," said Ingha. 
 
 " Oh, yes, here we all behave properly, 
 and there is no opportunity for displaying 
 bad manners, but we can be unconscion- 
 ably rude and vulgar when we con- 
 sider we have occasion to assert family 
 pride. 
 
 " I am inclined to doubt vour sreneraliza- 
 
 •/ CD 
 
 tion," answered Iu^ha, smiling. "You 
 are such a numerous race there must be 
 mauy an exception." 
 
 "Yes, we Campbells are numerous, it 
 has become quite a joke all the world 
 over. I heard a man say the other day 
 that when conversation flashed, in travel- 
 ling, or at dinner-parties, he always asked 
 his neighbour, in a tone that could I
 
 "i EUN THE GAUNTLET." 263 
 
 heard by more than the person addressed, 
 if he knew Captain Campbell, and as 
 everyone present was sure to know at 
 least three or four Captain Campbells, 
 there invariably ensued a perfect entangle- 
 ment of talk." 
 
 The Invereethin party arrived an hour 
 after the dancing had commenced. There 
 needed but one glance at the Marchesa 
 to decide who was the belle of the 
 ball. 
 
 Magnificently dressed, wearing jewels 
 even finer than Lady Kinaire's Dumple- 
 Brigworth sapphires, which to-night ap- 
 peared for the first time, Honoria di Gar- 
 celli looked fifteen years younger than her 
 age, and radiantly beautiful. 
 
 Kerinvean welcomed the party with
 
 264 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 evident delight. Notwithstanding Marie's 
 inexperience in society her girlish dignity 
 was much admired. Ruy received the 
 Marchesa's fulsome congratulations in 
 his usual quiet way, and asked for the 
 pleasure of the next dance, while Kerin- 
 vean went into the ball-room with Lady 
 Kinaire. 
 
 The brain of the Marchesa was busy 
 to-night ; there was much she fain would 
 know and say, and she prided herself on 
 her tact. She had some little arrows to 
 aim at difficult marks, that needed as 
 skilled and practised a judgment as her 
 own ; little poisoned arrows which doubt- 
 less would speed fast home. After a 
 brief general conversation with Ruy she 
 said :
 
 (It T.rTXT mT-TT^ /-* . rr,r mr ,. m » 
 
 I RUN THE GAUNTLET. 265 
 
 "I have not yet seen my daughter. 
 Can you tell me where she is ?" 
 
 "Just opposite us, in the alcove, with 
 Sir Dallas," answered Ruy. 
 
 " They seem very much absorbed," re- 
 marked the Marchesa. " I hope they are 
 good friends. When they were children 
 Lady Gore and I were wont to speak of 
 their futures ; I knew Sir Dallas's mother 
 intimately, and she often said she wished 
 our children when grown up might become 
 attached to each other." 
 
 Ruy bowed as if acquiescing in the hope 
 of these far-seeiug parents, but the Mar- 
 chesa could read nothing from his calm 
 face. Anon she saw Sir Dallas dancing 
 with Marie, and perceived his manner, 
 which had betokened mere courteous inte-
 
 266 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 rest when conversing with her daughter r 
 had now changed, and that he appeared to 
 be listening eagerly to every word Marie 
 uttered. The Marchesa was bitterly an- 
 noyed at the breaking down of one of her 
 schemes. 
 
 Later in the evening Sir Dallas was talk- 
 iug to the Marchesa, when anon she asked 
 how they had all been amusing themselves 
 since she left. 
 
 " Oh ! we have had great fun," answered 
 Sir Dallas, " shooting, fishing, boating, 
 picnics, and lots of music ; this rural life 
 is something delightfully new to me, espe- 
 cially the days in the woods, where every- 
 one is quite content even without sport." 
 
 "What a charming girl Miss Mont- 
 gomcrie is ! ' said the Marchesa, choos-
 
 "i RUN THE GAUNTLET." 267 
 
 ing her wickedest, surest arrow, " quite 
 distinguished-looking ; don't you think 
 so ?" 
 
 " Verv," answered Sir Dallas. 
 
 " It seems a pity," went on the Mar- 
 chesa, in an assumed tone of unconcern, 
 u that Kerinvean should encourage young 
 Campbell's attentions to her. I know he 
 is your friend, and I consider him a very 
 good fellow, but she might have had a 
 much better parti, though of course first 
 loves are insurmountable difficulties." And 
 she smiled as the arrow sped unerringly 
 home. 
 
 " I suppose so," answered Dallas the 
 soldier, whose face would hardly have 
 grown so white in sight of a deadly foe. 
 It was a frank, honest face, true as
 
 268 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 Archie's own to the thoughts in his heart, 
 and the Marchesa saw that he loved Marie 
 Montgomerie beyond all hope of change. 
 He had never dreamed of that which the 
 Marchesa had revealed to him, though 
 wherefore he had not, seemed now a 
 mystery to himself, as he remembered 
 the familiar intercourse between the in- 
 mates of the Castle and their friends at 
 Invean. 
 
 The gaiety was now at its height, but 
 heedless hilarity was over for ever in the 
 life of Dallas Gore. 
 
 The Marchesa was eager for an oppor- 
 tunity of settling her own personal affairs ; 
 inconsistent and scheming, she thought if 
 her engagement to Kerinvean were ratified 
 it would put an end to any embryo hope
 
 " I RUN THE GAUNTLET." 260 
 
 ■which Ruy or Ingha might entertain 
 regarding each other. 
 
 She had not much difficulty in arranging 
 a quiet half hour with her admirer; he 
 asked her to dance, and, pleading a slight 
 fatigue, she very winniugly told him she 
 would much enjoy a stroll through the 
 conservatory. Down the gallery they 
 walked together, she in all her brilliant, 
 conscious beautv, and he with no other 
 thought than devotion to her, the love of 
 his youth ! 
 
 A little converse on ordinary topics, 
 leading gradually to personal subjects, a few 
 artful hints, a tenderer tone as the past 
 was borrowed to make the present more 
 significant, a guileless expression of coun- 
 tenance, and those eyes that had gleamed on
 
 270 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 so many men, became surprised id their 
 gleaming as Kerinvean spoke the words 
 for which she waited. 
 
 Then came the question : 
 " Do you really love me, Monti?" 
 The response somewhat abashed in its 
 earnestness the woman who recked not the 
 cost save for the power it gave her. 
 
 And Kerinvean made the secoud great 
 vow of his life, the fulfilment of which 
 would, I ween, mar the purposes of his 
 promise to the dead. 
 
 " I do love you, Honoria ; God only 
 knows how I will ever love and serve 
 
 you." 
 
 Does the same recording angel register 
 all the pledges of a life ? I suppose, if he 
 does, they can only be entered as " possi-
 
 "i RUN THE GAUNTLET." 271 
 
 ble lies." Recording angels must Lave 
 had a fair experience of two facts almost 
 unfailing in human history : The vow- 
 prompted by love or passion for a woman 
 includes the probable breaking down of all 
 the foregone resolutions of a man's brain ; 
 and also, that the more unworthy the 
 object sworn to, the more certain is it that 
 none but the Almighty is deemed of suffici- 
 ent magnitude to witness and attest the 
 declaration.
 
 272 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 ON THE THRESHOLD. 
 
 " Thou hast no cause to grieve ; but I, but I, 
 O Greek, I loved her ; I have slain temptation." 
 
 Tales of Mileti 
 
 QIR DALLAS GORE did not know 
 
 ^ afterwards bow the rest of that night 
 wore away, and he never cared to recall 
 the ball. When the Marchesa left him he 
 passed Archie and Marie, unnoticed b} r 
 them, and he imagined he could already
 
 ON THE THRESHOLD. 273 
 
 perceive in their voices and manner all that 
 was needed to confirm the Marchesa's hint. 
 
 Marie's face was glowing with excite- 
 ment, she was smiling at Archie's con- 
 gratulations to her as lady of the castle ; 
 he had been reminding her of some scene 
 of their childhood, the antithesis of the 
 present, and very lovely and winning she 
 looked, saying, as Sir Dallas went by : 
 
 " Oh ! Archie, will you never forget 
 that ?" 
 
 The stern conflict of Desire against 
 Fate, fierce longing for forbidden fruit, 
 powerless hands trying 
 
 11 To grasp the roses of heaven ;" 
 
 the hour when the fiat reveals itself, and 
 the tempest breaks on human impotence ; 
 vol. i. t
 
 274 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 that unforseen experience through which 
 most of us some time or other have to 
 pass, had come to Dallas Gore. 
 
 There are hearts that ever after such 
 strife bear deep scars, while others bleed 
 mortally from the wounds that can never 
 be healed; but some, rare enough, ala I 
 emerge strong and nerved for all after 
 struggles, having conquered in their first 
 grim warfare with the fiends that lurk in 
 each man's path, ever ready with thrust and 
 lunge when the sword-arm trembles, the 
 casque is off, and parry impossible; though 
 when these demons of envy and passion 
 are once dislodged, love may still remain 
 the armour of him whose banuer bears no 
 other device than a hope forlorn ! 
 
 Fortune had always smiled upon Dallas
 
 ON THE THRESHOLD. 275 
 
 'Gore till now, and her frown goaded him, 
 and jealousy gnawed his heart, and in the 
 first moments of confused realization his 
 manhood was paralysed and his thoughts 
 were those of a fool ; he felt wicked 
 enough, ay, fierce enough to slay his rival 
 w 7 ith the idle sword that hun^ at his side. 
 
 He would not risk seeing him again 
 to-night, but her face, ah ! her face, with 
 all its luring sweetness, all its arch, win- 
 ning beauty, would it ever again leave his 
 memory ? He felt he hated his fellow- 
 creatures now, all but her, and even for 
 Marie there was yet but a perplexing 
 sensation of pain and disappointment, the 
 only homage of which he was capable, 
 while the tumult of passion held sway in 
 his heart. 
 
 t 2
 
 276 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 The music and mirth maddened him, so 
 he turned purposelessly to his room and 
 there closed the door ; but, though it was 
 already two o'clock, he did not think of 
 sleep. 
 
 He unfastened his showy dress, flung 
 its gay ornaments aside, and breathed 
 hard while he sat looking at, though not 
 seeing the dying embers of the fire ; and 
 when his dog, a beautiful, sad-eyed New- 
 foundland, having tried in vain to win 
 some sign of recognition from him, lay down 
 on the rug and licked his feet, her gentle 
 eyes watching him the while, the muto 
 tenderness of the appeal must have con- 
 trasted strangely with his own emo- 
 tion, for he rose up suddenly and said 
 aloud :
 
 ON THE THRESHOLD. 277 
 
 " My God ! I never felt like a murderer 
 before." 
 
 He had been thinking that if Archie 
 were dead, out of existence altogether, 
 there would be no barrier between him 
 and his fierce desire. 
 
 This was not a selfish man, indeed he 
 possessed qualities that often produce 
 great heroisms, but experience was lack- 
 ing, and his first strong temptation had 
 touched him in a vital part. Anon his 
 thoughts grew less wild. 
 
 " Why should I not have my chance 
 with her ?" he pondered, " there's no need 
 to be such a coward as to give in without 
 a fair fight. He is poor, and I am rich ; 
 the Marchesa said she ought to have a 
 better parti. I wish we might fight for
 
 278 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 her ; we were botli good fighters in the old 
 days ; but we were always on the same 
 side, Flash and I." 
 
 And he recalled how they two had held 
 by each other through all kinds of frolics, 
 and more serious ventures. Neither had 
 had many family ties, and as children 
 they had been like brothers, and in boy- 
 hood sworn allies. He recalled also how 
 generous Archie ever was, how he owed 
 him even the hopes that had been so short- 
 lived by being brought again, after a long 
 interval, into association with the Mont- 
 gomeries, and suddenly it struck him that 
 his own present impulses were treacherous 
 and unmanly. 
 
 He walked restlessly about the room for 
 a time, and then opened the window, and
 
 ON THE THRESHOLD. 279 
 
 sat by it to watch the dawn. Hour after 
 hour passed, and gradually a sense of 
 shame came over him, conscious as he was 
 of having built his castles, with Marie for 
 their sunlight, and that she, all the while, 
 had been perfectly indifferent. 
 
 "Ah, if I had not come on this scene 
 all too late," his thoughts were, " she 
 might have loved me, and this aimless life 
 would have become earnest for her sweet 
 sake." 
 
 As this hope drifted away, he felt the 
 utter want of his wrecked heart, and 
 his eyes gazed vacantly towards the 
 hills. 
 
 " How dreary any sort of service will 
 be now after this, and it would not be 
 one degree better at the old place. I
 
 280 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 should always be thinking there how 
 she would have altered and brightened 
 everything." 
 
 The pale, yellow gleams of dawn were 
 streaking the horizon in faintest lines. 
 
 " I wonder what I shall do now ; the 
 future will be as empty as all the past 
 seems to me to-day." 
 
 The dawn-gleams were mounting slowly, 
 and the highest peaks had rosy hues upon 
 them. 
 
 11 Flash has the most right to her. He 
 must have always loved her ; no one is 
 more straight and true than he. It was 
 just like my conceited foolery to imagine I 
 had any chance." 
 
 The rain was over, and in the woods 
 were stirrings and chirrupings, hints of
 
 ON THE THRESHOLD. 281 
 
 the morning psalm, and busy carrollings 
 as the birds cleared out the rubbish with 
 which yesterday's downfall had filled their 
 nests. 
 
 " Perhaps, in time " (he still pondered) 
 " I may become accustomed to think of 
 them together, but for me no other love. 
 She will always be the star I could not 
 reach !" 
 
 Hesperus was still shining serenely over 
 Veurnish, the mist-arrows were cleaving 
 the glens, and out from between the hills 
 rose columns of crimson cloud, and all 
 suddenly the sun broke through the haze, 
 and shone on this man's face. 
 
 "How lovely it is! God help me! 
 How can I leave it to-day ?" 
 
 He bent his head on his folded arms, 

 
 282 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 and for a long while remained as if in 
 sleep, and when he lifted it again there 
 was stern purpose on his face, and light 
 flooded the chamber with gold and crim- 
 son, and out in the woods the son^s of 
 joy, love, and hope had broken the still- 
 ness far through all the land. 
 
 He heard a young girl's voice across the 
 loch calling the cattle ; he heard, too, the 
 plash of oars belonging to the herring- 
 boats that were coming in after their hard 
 night of work, and he knew that it was 
 time to begin his part of the duty-life that 
 had never before seemed to have such 
 urgent claims upon him. 
 
 "Flash, my boy," he said, half aloud, 
 " only to you would I have given in with-
 
 ON THE THRESHOLD. 283 
 
 out a fair fight, and you shall never know 
 I left the field because you were on the 
 ground !" 
 
 Then he made his arrangements for de- 
 parture. Go where he might, and he must 
 needs wander far ere he found content, he 
 knew he could not stay longer at Kerin- 
 vean 3 where he had been on the eve of 
 trying to win her, whom now he acknow- 
 ledged by all codes of honour, to have no 
 part in his lot ; and he must needs go forth 
 alone. 
 
 He had stood on the threshold of an 
 enchanted palace believing he had a right 
 to ask for entrance, and while the hope of 
 gaining it was delighting his soul, sud- 
 denly had come upon him the knowledge 

 
 284 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 that it was treachery even to have gazed 
 therein. 
 
 Archie Campbell was his friend, and 
 this man's heart was wholly loyal.
 
 2S5 
 
 ; CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 "j DID NEVER THINK TO MARRY." 
 
 " I did never think to marry .... 
 .... but doth not the appetite alter ?" 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 TZ ERIN YE AN, whose dislike to making 
 plans, and to trouble of all kinds, 
 was inherent, had let events take their 
 own course, and he now found that certain 
 results had ensued, consequent on having 
 shirked the initiative. 
 
 The day after the ball he went to
 
 286 TIME AND CHANGE* 
 
 Invereethin, and burl an interview with 
 the Marchesa; she was charming as ever, 
 welcomed him warmly, and succeeded in 
 making her lover feel that he had secured 
 a rare prize. 
 
 She told him she wished to return to 
 London at once, accompanied by Ingha ; 
 afterwards the enslavement could be 
 made known, and that she would like her 
 marriage to take place in town. It did 
 not occur to Kerinvean, as it would have 
 done to a nature more suspicious, that the 
 Marchesa's plans were wonderfully matur- 
 ed, considering that it was barely twenty- 
 four hours since he had acknowledged his 
 love for her. But Houoria di Garcelli well 
 divined the character of the man with whom 
 she had to act, and knew that by assum-
 
 "i DID NEVER THINK TO MARRY." 287 
 
 ing a lead she would at once gain absolute 
 power over him and his possessions. She 
 gave Kerinvean a letter for Ingha, in 
 which she bade her prepare to come to 
 Kilane the following week, and said to 
 Kerinvean, on delivering her missive : 
 
 " You will have a good excuse to come 
 over again to make arrangements for 
 Ingha to meet me." 
 
 Not one word of Ruy nor of Marie she 
 uttered, though the thought of them lay 
 somewhat heavily on Kerinvean. 
 
 On his way home he called upon Mr, 
 Campbell, to whom he wished to tell the 
 news of his engagement, and to consult 
 him about his proceedings with Ruy ; he 
 felt a lurking desire to avoid the pain of 
 informing his nephew, and he hoped his
 
 288 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 old friend would suggest some way of 
 avoiding what he dreaded. 
 
 Mr. Campbell was greatly amazed to 
 hear Kerinvean's story, but, notwithstand- 
 ing his surprise, warmly congratulated 
 him. 
 
 " You will speak to Ruy at once, I 
 presume ?" asked he, after Kerinvean had 
 mentioned that the marriage was to take 
 
 n 
 
 place very soon. 
 
 "Well, the truth is," said Kerinvean, 
 somewhat ashamed of his confession, " I 
 dread telling him." 
 
 " Of course it will be a sad blow, but I 
 am sure he is too unselfish not to rejoice 
 in your happiness." 
 
 "Yes," went on Kerinvean, "I know 
 that, but I have always led him to believe
 
 "l DID NEVER THINK TO MARRY." 289 
 
 I would never marry, and, until I saw her 
 again, I had not the faintest notion of 
 such a contingency. I am much afraid of 
 his leaving me ; he has odd ideas, and 
 though he is my heir presumptive, he may 
 take it into his head that he ought to go 
 away and make a career for himself else- 
 where. He is of great use to me, and, 
 poor boy ! he would not be happy banished 
 from Kerinvean any more than I should 
 myself." 
 
 " I would advise you to tell him at 
 once," said Mr. Campbell, "in order that 
 he may not be hurried into taking any 
 steps precipitately." 
 
 " I think Marie will in every way be the 
 gainer," went on Kerinvean, trying as 
 usual to get rid of unpleasant thoughts. 
 
 vol. i. u
 
 290 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 " She has already found a friend in Miss di 
 Garcelli, and they will go out now into the 
 world together under the auspices of the 
 Marchesa. and Miss Mackenzie will thus 
 be relieved." 
 
 Mr. Campbell smiled benignly as was 
 his wont when Mathilda's name was men- 
 tioned, but he merely took Kerinvean's 
 hand at parting and said, 
 
 "I hope that you and yours may have 
 every blessing. I have no more fear for 
 Buy than for my boy Archie, they are 
 both good fellows, and Ruy was never 
 selfish." 
 
 Archie, who had remained at the Castle 
 since the ball, and stayed till Sir Dallas 
 took his departure, arrived at home just 
 after Kerinvean's visit.
 
 " I DID NEVER THINK TO MARRY." 291 
 
 Mr. Campbell told his son the news, and 
 
 Archie's reception of it was a long, low 
 
 whistle ; but, after a moment or two of 
 
 silent amazement, he said : 
 
 "Ton my word, dad, it's a bad busi- 
 ness." 
 
 " Why, Archie ?" asked Mr. Campbell. 
 
 " Ruy will be so cut up about having to 
 leave, and heaven only knows where he 
 will go ; he can't sta}^ there after she 
 comes. Such a breaking up of everything 
 there will be at Kerinvean ; she is too gay 
 for the old place, and won't be content 
 there unless she crowds it, and then dur- 
 ing the London season she'll want to shut 
 it up or let it ; that sort of person always 
 does that sort of thing, and Kerinvean is 
 a, fool, and he'll repent his foolery before 
 
 u 2
 
 292 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 three months." Archie stopped a second 
 for want of breath, and then began again. 
 " It wasn't particularly nice of her to 
 choose yesterday for her manoeuvre, when 
 the country was acknowledging Ruy heir 
 to Kerinvean. I am sure she made the 
 offer; such a thing wouldn't have occurred 
 to her venerable flame, it isn't natural." 
 
 " Don't be too rash, Archie, Kerinvean 
 is a man still in the prime of life, and he 
 was engaged to this lady before her first 
 marriage ; besides, though it will give 
 present disappointment to Ru}', he will 
 outlive it, and it will be a great advantage 
 for Marie — at least, so says Kerinvean, and 
 that she and Miss di Garcelli are already 
 like sisters." 
 
 " Yes, but he isn't going to marry h< .
 
 11 1 DID NEVER THINK TO MARRY." 293 
 
 dad ; the mother and daughter are quite 
 different. The Marchesa looks like mis- 
 chief always, and Ingha is as high-minded 
 as her mother is meau. I suppose Miss 
 Mackenzie will get her conge now. Why 
 didn't Kerinvean marry her? I'd rather 
 have her for my wife than a hundred 
 like his choice. It's a bad business, a 
 hopeless business for our boy." 
 
 " Archie," said Mr. Campbell, following 
 up the train of thought concerning Miss 
 Mackenzie, and, while speaking, taking 
 off his spectacles, and earnestly regard- 
 ing his son, " Archie, I have been won- 
 dering lately if you would object to 
 my asking that good lady to share our 
 home ?" 
 
 Archie did not whistle now, he rose
 
 • 
 
 294 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 from bis chair and went to his father's 
 side ; standing there, with his arm round 
 the old man's shoulder, he said, 
 
 "Dear dad, I am so glad, I never 
 thought of such a thing for you ; I'll go 
 and ask her, if you like." 
 
 " That would hardly be suitable or 
 dignified, my son ; but, if you wish, I will 
 be the bearer of any message you may 
 send to assure her of your acquiescence in 
 my desire that she should honour our 
 home with her continual presence. I am 
 growing old, Archie, and a great tie on 
 your jounglife. It is very lonely here when 
 you are absent; but I never thought of 
 marrying again till, after years of inter- 
 course, I discovered the worth and con-
 
 11 1 DTD NEVER THINK TO MARRY." 295 
 
 geniality of Miss Mackenzie's character 
 and disposition. '' 
 
 Archie responded in fitting words, and 
 smiled as he pictured Mathilda and her 
 array of chiefs and clans in the quiet house, 
 and thankfully he mused on the difference 
 between the two proposed marriages. 
 There was a farther cause for gratitude in 
 the fact that now he might make defiuite 
 plans for himself, for lately he had been 
 greatly perplexed about his future. Should 
 his father's offer be accepted, he would be 
 free to go anywhere, and his thoughts had 
 often turned to Canada as a chance not to 
 be lightly considered. 
 
 Archie rejoiced so much in his father's 
 hopes that he was eager to have the matter
 
 296 TIME AND CHANCE. 
 
 . 
 
 settled ; but Mr. Campbell belonged to the 
 unimpulsive school, and, although this 
 subject had been on his mind for some 
 time, he did not wish to trouble Mathilda 
 till the path was quite free from 
 obstacles. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST BOOK. 
 
 LONDON: PRINTED BY DUNCAN MACDONALD, BLtNHKIM IIOUSK.