The House of Whispers | Page 4

heard also," answered the girl.
"And yet you are not going to the ball, Gabrielle, eh?" laughed the old
man mischievously.
"Now come, dad," the girl exclaimed, colouring slightly, "you're really
too bad! I thought you had promised me not to mention him again."
"So I did, dear; I--I quite forgot," replied Sir Henry apologetically.
"Forgive me. You are now your own mistress. If you prefer to stay
away from Connachan, then do so by all means. Only, make a proper
excuse to your mother; otherwise she will be annoyed."

"I think not, dear," his daughter replied in a meaning tone. "If I remain
at home she'll be rather glad than otherwise."
"Why?" inquired the old man quickly.
The girl hesitated. She saw instantly that her remark was an unfortunate
one. "Well," she said rather lamely, "because my absence will relieve
her of the responsibility of acting as chaperon."
What else could she say? How could she tell her father--the kindly but
afflicted man to whom she was devoted--the bitter truth? His lonely,
dismal life was surely sufficiently hard to bear without the extra burden
of suspicion, of enforced inactivity, of fierce hatred, and of bitter regret.
So she slowly disengaged her hand, kissed him again, and with an
excuse that she had the menus to write for the dinner-table, went out,
leaving him alone.
When the door had closed a great sigh sounded through the long,
book-lined room, a sigh that ended in a sob.
The old man had leaned his chin upon his hands, and his sightless eyes
were filled with tears. "Is it the truth?" he murmured to himself. "Is it
really the truth?"

CHAPTER II
FROM OUT THE NIGHT
There are few of the Perthshire castles that more plainly declare their
feudal origin and exhibit traces of obsolete power than does the great
gaunt pile of ruins known as Glencardine. Its situation is both
picturesque and imposing, and the stern aspect of the two square
baronial towers which face the south, perched on a sheer precipice that
descends to the Ruthven Water deep below, shows that the castle was
once the residence of a predatory chief in the days before its association
with the great Montrose.

Two miles from the long, straggling village of Auchterarder, in the
centre of a fine, well-wooded, well-kept estate, the great ruined castle
stands a silent monument of warlike days long since forgotten. There,
within those walls, now overgrown with ivy and weeds, and where big
trees grow in the centre of what was once the great paved courtyard,
Montrose schemed and plotted, and, according to tradition, kept certain
of his enemies in the dungeons below.
In the twelfth century the aspect of the deep glen was very different
from what it is to-day. In those days the Ruthven was a broad river,
flowing swiftly down to the Earn, and forming, by reason of a moat, an
effective barrier against attack. To-day, however, the river has
diminished into a mere burn meandering through a beautiful wooded
glen three hundred feet below, a glen the charms of which are well
known throughout the whole of Scotland, and where in summer tourists
from England endeavour to explore, but are warned back by Stewart,
Sir Henry's Highland keeper.
A quarter of a mile from the great historic ruin is the modern castle,
built mainly of stone from the ancient structure early in the eighteenth
century, with oak-panelled rooms, many quaint gables, stained glass,
and long, echoing corridors--a residence well adapted for entertaining
on a lavish scale, the front overlooking the beautiful glen, and the back
with level lawns and stretch of undulating park, well wooded and full
of picturesque beauty.
The family traditions and history of the old place and its owners had
induced Sir Henry Heyburn, himself a Fellow of the Society of
Antiquaries, to purchase it from Lord Strathavon, into whose
possession it had passed some forty years previously.
History showed that William de Graeme or Graham, who settled in
Scotland in the twelfth century, became Lord of Glencardine, and the
great castle was built by his son. They were indeed a noble race, as
their biographer has explained. Ever fearless in their country's cause,
they sneered at the mandates from impregnable Stirling, and were loyal
in every generation.

Glencardine was a stronghold feared by all the surrounding nobles, and
its men were full of valour and bravery. One story of them is perhaps
worth the telling. In the year 1490 the all-powerful Abbot of Inchaffray
issued an order for the collection of the teinds of the Killearns' lands
possessed by the Grahams of Glencardine in the parish of Monzievaird,
of which he was titular. The order was rigorously executed, the teinds
being exacted by force.
Lord Killearn of Dunning Castle was from home