Rensselaer Republican, Volume 24, Number 13, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 November 1891 — The Heir of Linne. [ARTICLE]

The Heir of Linne.

BY ROBERT BUCHANAN.

CHAPTER IV — CONTINUED. So saying, he released the laird, shaking him off like a powerful hound who magnanimously but contemptuously releases a helpless rat. Panting and trembling, Mossknow stood against the wall, and for some moments tried in vain to speak. At last his voice found Utterance. '•Will the woman promise, if I send her the money she asks, to leave Scotland atonce?” “She asks no money,” said Mcgillvray. “Tis I, Willie Macmllvray, that demand it in her name. ’ •‘lf I consent, will you promise that shewill not remain around tomoTest me?' “I’ll promise nothing;' but have no fear—the lass is but too eager to be gOBC.’ Mossknow seated himself, drew towards him a portifolio which lay upon the table, opened it, ami drew fort h a cheque book. “I will send her .fifty pounds,” he' said. * I “You’ll send her a hundred!” §aid Willie. “Come, man, be generous for once. 'Tis for your owu flesh and* blood. *' - «> “I tell you I cannot spare so much. Do you think I am made of money?’ “I think you are, made of granite, the nether millstone, and that every golden guinea ye give is like blood gotten cut of a flint, But you'll give what I ask. for all that!' The laird hesitated, pen in hand!—“To whom can I make the cheque payable? If I write, her name here it will be flaunted before all the world.” “Make it payable to me, the Rev. William Ma. gillvry, B. D., of .Edinburgh University "

“You take me for a fool!” cried Mossknow, angrily. - “No, no, laird; I take ye for the fool’s cousin germane—a knave! Write, write and sign.” “How shall I know that you will uot steal the money and spend it in drink?”

“Because, knave tho’ you be, 3’ou ken an honest man when you see one. All the world kens Willie Macgillvray, who, though poor in the world's goods, is a preacher and a prophet, and never robbed a man or Woman of a bawbee.”

“Well, there!" cried Mossknow, filling up the-check, “take that to to the bank in the morning, and let Jessie Campbell havejthe money.” Willie took the check in his hand end read aloud: “Pay to William Maegill.vrav, or order, the sum of one hundred pounds. Signed, John Mossknow." "And now begone! But mind, “if I find you have misappropriated a penny of that money you shall rot in gaol for a thief. ” Willie smiled curiously. “I’ll risk it. laird. Understand that I accept 1 his small sum only on account. It belongs to \our wife and son. If your wife lists to go to Canada ’tis maybe only for a time." “Away' with you.” Willi© moved toward the window, but paused there, looking out. “Ah. but it's a bonnie night,’’ he said. “The heavens yonder arc thick with stars and Constellations and the moon’s walking the aisles o’ blue like a shining angel of Gcd. Be » arned in time Mossknow and shake od your guilt. Down upon your knees, man, and pray.” . ~ With this parting invocation he leaped from the window and was gone, The laird went to the window and stood there looking forth after him. Then his eves also looked upward to the glittering signs 6f the 6ky. and a feeling of awe and shame sunk deep into his hard heart. For, with all his evil qualities, he was a superstitious man. The medicant’s strange moral exhortation daunted and discouraged him more than he would have cared to admit, and for the first time in his life- he felt the lcncliuess of his position.

CHAPTER V. ‘•QCOTU HE, ‘THERE WAS A SHIP.’” Early the next day, Will ietf Macgill vray stood at the door of Lizzie Campbell’s cottage, and. after knocking gently entered in _He found, the woman busy putting together, the few things that she possessed,! and preparing for her long journey. Robin was there, bright and happy (as only children can be) at the prospect of the change. ‘‘There, Lizzie, woman.” said the mendicant, '“I bring you part of your boy’s birthright.” And he' placed in her hands a leathern bag : containing a hundred pieces of gold. 1 “Has he sent it?' cried Lizzie amazed. ‘ Oh, Mr. Macgillvray. I cannot take it! Tis far more than I shall ever need!” “Whcesbt. and count it! 1 drew dt from, the bank .this morning. They j looked me up and down, as if L hall stolen the cheek or forged the laird's ' name. Count it, Lizzie, woman!” As he continued to insist, she sat down, and cdpated the sovereigns in her lap. Robin looked on in delight and wonder. When the counting was over, Lizzie looked up into Willie's face and cried—“Oh, Mr.'nlacgillvray, ’tis far more than I shall eyer need. H is yours as much as mine. Let me share it witn my only friei d.” “Put it up; Lizzie, and take care of it for the bairn,'* returned Willie,gently. *Aji i a thief, or a loon, 1

BOOK THE FIRST. THE LAIRD OF LIN HE.

that I should rob him of a single bawbee of his birthright?” “But you are so poor, and “It is good that the servant of God should be poor. The Lord feeds the young ravens and the doves o’ theiroek, and He will feed Willie Maogiilvray." Then they sat down together and talked of the future. The woman’s mind was quite made up; she would sail for Canada, and join her sister. Some day, perhaps, she might return; she could not tell; all she craved for now was to be far away •among strangers, in a strange land. Presently,having sent Robin on some pretext of a message to one of the neighbors, she heard the whole story of that stormy interview at the Castle; an<J at first, in her indignation, she was for sending every penny of the monkey back to the man who had betrayed her. But Willie persuaded hov-that she was only taking what belonged of right to her child. “Lizzie, woman,” he said at last, “the mills of God grind small, and everything comes to them that ken how to wait. Though you be far away, I shall be here, with my een upon the laird, and, day by day,* whene'er a chance comes, IT! be pleading the cause o’ the first-born. The Lord that makes the tiger's heart and the cruel heart of man kens how to subdue it. Trust in Him', Lizzie, and ne’er despair!” That vcrV night, after darkness had fallen, Lizzie Campbell and her son, accompanied by WiHie Maegi 11vray, walked on foot into the town of Clinne, and took passage in a small roasting schooner, which was about to sail from that port to. Greenock. A small wooden chest,, containing a.l poor Lizzie's worldly goods, was eatried into the town and aboard the vessel by a neighbor's sop, a stalwart young shepherd. About midnight when the wind was blowing freshly from the west, the vessel lifted her anchor and set sail. Three nights afterwards, mother.

and son found themselves on board one of the great ocean steamers that sail from the Clyde to Montreal. They had taken a passage in the in termediate cabin. The steamer was .o depart from Greenock at daybreak’, and all night long Lizzie and Willie stood on the decks, talking of the past and the future.. Then, as the sun rose crimson out of the east, bells rang to announce the hour of parting, crowds swarmed the decks and thronged the quays, men shouted, and. in the midst of all, .the. engines theobbed like a monster’s heart. Tears streaming down her cheeks; Lizzie bade farewell to Macgillvray. who cave her a fatherly kiss upon the forehead, and then, lifting Robin in his arms, kissed and blessed him feHdei3yv“-“ Robih pale and sorry, but his eve was as tirm as that of a young hawk, and his heart was full of boyish expectation. Then, almost before he knew, Willie was hustled ashore, where, as the great steamer beguu to move away, he stood amid the throng on the very edge of the quay’, stretching out his arms in blessing, and crying—

“‘May he who guides leviathan Through the waters pilot this ship across the ocean! May He who watches the husbandless and the ! fatherless spare the ship apd all the living souls therein. Amen! amen! " | Wild and rugged, he fell upon his ' knees, praying and kissing bands to ; Lizzie and her sou till they disap- ; peared from sight. Then, waving j his arms, he plunged into the crowd, j and amid the laughter and jeers of ; the people, who saw in him only a j half-witted gabevlunzie man, disappeared among the slums of the smoky seaside town. *lt was one dark, rainy afternoon, just three weeks after that scene of parting, that John Mossknow, standing booted and spurred on the i threshold of Castle Linne, saw a wild j figure rushing up the avenue towards him, and recognized with a start the ! face of Willie the -Preacher.' Pale as death, more ragged and wild than' ever. Willie ran up and met, the master of the Castle face to face. “Down on your knees!” he cri*ed. I “Down on your knees. John Mossknow-, and ask pardon of the God you have offended! The blood of the innocent is upon you*, head. the cry j of the mother and the orphan is ris- j ing up against you, and the curse of j Cain shoULrest upon you and yours, j till the Lord comes in judgment, and : the sea gives up its dead!” “The man is mad!” said Mossknow. j amazed and terrified. “What do j you mean?” Then he perceived with Astonishment that tears were streaming down the mendicant’s furrowed cheeks. Sobbing and wailing, Willie drew from his half-naked breast a newspaper, and placed it in the; laird s-hands, crying—- " The weariful woman, whom I loved as inv own daughter! The bonnie, golden-hair’d laddie, who was.dearer to me than my own son! Read, ye murderer, read. God plucks the beauteous flower and spares the baneful weed. The house of Linne is desolate for ever, and the curse of blood hangs for ever on this wicked doer!” Trembling from head to foot Mossknow stood in the doorway, glancing at the paper. Behind him, in the lobby, stood the two ’servants of the house, startled by the sound of the mendicant’s voice, aud aghast at the strange scene. In a moment

Mosskhow learned the cause of Willie’s agitation; for his eyes fell on an account of a great shipwreck—of the loss of the Clyde steamer Gienalorn, in a collision With an iceberg off the coast of Newfoundland. Only some dozen souls, including the chief officer and three of the crew, had escaped in the long boat, and been ?ieked up by a German steamer. he names of the savecl were given, but there was no mention of the names of Lizzie Campbell and her son. “My God! is it possible?” exclaimed Mossknow; then, turning tothe servants, he shrieked savagely. “Why do you stand gaping and glowering there? In with you; in with you!” # They disappearen in terror, and'he was left alone with the mendicant.“This is ill news,” he said. “God knows, I am not to blame!” “Not to blame! It is the judgment of God upon you for your cruelty in driving them forth! Their curse shall haunt you till your dying day, and drag you down!” “Peace, man, peace!” cried the laird. “As God shall judge me, I would give all I have to have averted this calamity. Come into the house, and let us talk it over.” He led the way into his library. Willie followed him, moaning bitterly. “iMaybe, after all. the lass and her child are saved," said the laird, pac ing up and down the Chamber. “This is but a hasty telegraphic account. Better news may follow!”

“Never, never!” moaned the mendicant. “I foresaw it. I saw death on her face as we parted on the quay,; Oh, God, why are the innocent taken and the guilty spared?” Over what further took place between the two men. it is unnecessary to dwell. To do Mossknow justice, he seemed deeply concerned at the unexpected calamity, and grieved that he had not dea.t more gently with Lizzie Campbell and her child. From that time forth a curious friendship. iMriendship it could be called, grew up between Willie the Preacher and John Mossknow, the laird of Linne. They had a common secret, and tp a certain extent a common sorrow. Mossknow was a lonely man, superstitious, eccentric,gloomy arid taciturn; he was fascinated by the character of his new acquaint mice, the only creature in the world that had ever uttered the truth to his face, and bearded him in his ,owu den.

Years passed on. No tidings from across the water came to contradict the cruel report of that fatal shipwreck. Willie Macgillvray went and came in the old wild way; a lit-, tie older and a little sadder, that was all. Mossknow did not marry, but as time advanced his eccentricities increased. He seldom left home, but lived an ascetic, life at tho Castle. From the tir k he was visited by Willie the Preacher. Every year deepened the intimacy between the two. men, but. not a soul in the neighborhood guessed the natux-e of the tie which bound them together.