Ο A LEGEND OF ALL HALLOW EVE. VER the distant Surrey hills lingered A cool, damp mist swept up from the river; but still I lingered at the garden wall, waiting, expecting. At nineteen I was simple Marjorie Cameron, an orphan, an heiress, and, they said, a beauty, but an untamed Highland lassie. My mind wandered purposeless, adrift, filled with quaint conceits, sown first by my old nurse, who hushed me to sleep with all manner of grim tales of the Borders-banshees and second-sight, and ballads of Donica of Arkinlow, and the Wild Huntsman, in whose existence I held firm faith. But the little neglected lassie was at last remembered by some aristocratic relations, and I was transplanted from the remote glen and its beloved gorse and heather to the exotic atmosphere of Lindenmere, the residence of my aunt, Lady Seton, and her daughters Edith and Louise, within a drive of London. Three or four years of boarding-school training failed to make me a proper society puppet, so I was gradually left to myself. I devoured indiscriminately all legends and traditions treating of the supernatural, peopling the pages of poetry and romance. I dabbled weakly in psychology and animal magnetism, and the hazy witcheries of superstition; nothing enchanted me more than a tale of wraith, or bogle, or warlock, and my dreams were all of something I had yet to discover. Nothing could disturb my faith in Oriental fatalism. I fully comprehended the longing to look into the future which had charmed with its weird fascination the philosophers and astrologers on the mooned plains of Chaldea and by the dark waters of Egypt. My book-shelves were filled with works upon spiritualism, manuals on magnet VOL. LIX.-No. 354.-53 ism, and novels, when they were weird and mystic, and so I despised artificial life and its restraints, and was, in fact, a most useless and uncanny young lady -so said my aunt's maid to her mistress. One of my few pleasures consisted in rambling about the beautiful garden of Lindenmere until awed by the darksome shadows of the linden groves, and, cold with dew, I would avoid the drawingroom, and steal away to my own rooms and their spiritual problems. In this purposeless manner the long sweet summer days would drift away, and still I waited for the inevitable something. My wild, passionate heart fretted at the coming winter, when there would be for me no more dreamy hours by the river, or wanderings over the breezy downs, peering into solemn woods for haunting Hamadryads and Oreads. An ardent lover of nature, like the Greeks, I believed that nature was instinct with the life of man. Flowers were but the palingenesis of some life cut short by grief or violence, and gods with human passions lurked in dense thickets and by the river's tide. As the days drifted into early autumn fogs and rain, there was a great deal of gayety at Lindenmere. My eldest cousin, Edith, made a great coup, and after Easter would be mistress of a château in the south of France, the young Baronne de Neville. I listened vaguely and impatiently to talk of being presented next season with my cousin Maud, but I chafed and fretted all the same at the conventionalities hemming me in; and then an event occurred which colored my future existence. II. This event was a letter from Scotland. I had no correspondents, and but one friend, whom I had loved ardently during the years of intimate companionship at school. After her sudden recall to her home, and the interchange of several letters, she ceased to write, and thereupon I moralized sagely upon woman's caprice and the fallacy of human hopes and affection. I fell into an ecstasy of delight as I opened the letter from Elsie Ronald, and read not only her assurances of tenderest love for me, but an invitation to visit her directly, and remain until after Christmas. As Glen Ronald was a wild coun try place in the Highlands, Elsie suggest- | her better judgment-silk, velvet, and ed my joining her housekeeper, Tibbie dignity. In white muslin I would have Macrae, who was then stopping in London, been spoiled by young men of limited inand who would escort me safely. My comes, younger sons, and unpleasant peraunt Mary graciously consented; in fact, sons of that sort; and so my dark blue her time and thoughts were so engrossed velvet and pearls, a little Ruskin, the with the future baroness and the trous- poor rates, Parliamentary duties, church seau, and trips to town, I don't think she and state, and sympathy for gout, made was really responsible for any other acts. me Lady Seton and a very happy wife "I shall firmly believe you have a dou- during the ten years of my marriage, ble," said Louise, as she lazily watched even if Lord Seton was forty years my the little bustle in my room attendant senior." upon packing my trunk, "and while you are here in the flesh, your familiar or your soul is among the witches over there in that dreadful Scotland. Nothing else can convince me that you could exist being buried in the Highlands in winter. The Macrae is a witch." "It is not for me to make restrictions, m'm," said Sims, my maid, severely, "but how ever Miss Cameron is to do her hair, lay out her dresses, and see to her laces, and be woke up, m'm, to her hot water, in that savage country, without me, m'm." "Without you, Sims?" cried Louise, amazed. "Surely, Marjorie, you take Sims with you?" "Only as far as the amiable Macrae," I laughed, merrily. "I confess the waking up and laying out the dresses rather puzzle me; but my hair-why, Sims, I shall wear a snood, and buy a blue ribbon to do up my bonny brown hair." "Mamma, come to the rescue," cried my cousin, as Lady Seton looked in the door. "Marjorie absolutely refuses to take her maid, and insists upon leaving all her prettiest toilets behind." "Dear Aunt Mary," I said, coaxingly, "I want to be a Highland lassie, and wear a gay plaidie, with ne'er a laddie, in that mouldy, haunted old glen. I'm sure there's a family ghost, and I shall speer at it and entreat it." "And if there's a young Ronald, Marjie," said Louise, merrily, "make it tell you if there is insanity in the race, or whether there are mortgages on the estates, for mamma's dear sake. Only don't fall in love until after you have been presented." "And be careful of your complexion, my dear," added Lady Seton, impressively, at the door. "By all means take Louise's advice about the young Ronald. Nothing is more conducive to sentiment and that sort of thing than being in a country house where there are so many long corridors, funny little rooms, and great halls," "Oh, Aunt Mary, spare me!" I exclaimed, impatiently. "I detest being in love and getting married. By-and-by, when Louise is wedded to a knight of high degree, I shall build a tower at the end of your garden, my lady, and study the stars, and sometimes o' nights I'll appear to you, and tell your fortune. Meantime I shall enjoy my trip to the Highlands, and dance a strathspey at Edith's wedding. Sims, don't forget to pack my set of silver and amethyst thistles, and all of my wool 66 My aunt looked aghast at this piece of news as she advanced in the room with: "Marjorie, I am not quite certain about the Ronalds, excepting as regards their genealogy; but the grandmother, whose death you read of in the Times a few years ago, was one of the famous Mac-dresses-" pherson clan, and possessed of great wealth. Glen Ronald must be a castle, or tower, or something, and there may be a great deal of company. I look to your future always, my love. When I had made my début, my first visit was paid to Lady Matchem, where I met many very distinguished persons. My affections then were fixed upon white muslins and flowers; manima's ran into another channel, as she fully comprehended the duty she owed me as to my future. I yielded to 66 When I lived with my last lady," interposed Sims, plaintively, we went to a hejus great castle in Scotland, where there was a grand juke stopping, and my lady had six dresses, and jewels to match, for every day, m'm." Poor martyr! but you were happy, Sims?" "Yes, m'm; for there was sherry to the servants' dinner, and patty four grass to the ladies' maids, with port. But the big wide halls and the damps and mould gave "Never mind, Sims; I make you over to Lady Seton, to help Rose about Miss Seton's laces. I don't think Glen Ronald is a great mouldy castle; and if there's a ghost, it will be a nice, comfortable body that will rise up on my hearth o' nights and lay out my morning dresses;" and I danced down the long hall to join my aunt and cousins in the drawing-room, singing, cheerily : my lady a chill, and killed her, m'm;" and | ald stood before me in gray square grimSims squeezed out a tear. ness, made still more grim by its long narrow windows. Near by, over a ledge of rocks, fell the loch, like a shattered mirror, with a deep and sullen roar, into ragged depths below. The great iron gates leading to the lawn and drive up to the house lay back useless against the stone wall green with moss and lichen. Huge oak-trees and spectral pines lent a weird solemnity to the old-fashioned grounds stretching right and left, wherein grass-grown pathways led off in fantastic fashion to bosky dells in the distance. The soft breeze blew spicy odors from the pines, and where a few late roses bloomed. "But in his halls, on festal days, How blazed Lord Ronald's beltane tree! While youths and maids the light strathspey III. The station at Loch Arne was a mile from Glen Ronald, and the road was "awfu' bad," said Mistress Tibbie Macrae, "for the beasties; but if the letter callant ganged owre in time, though he's half gyte whiles, Elsie or auld Sandy will come with the chaise. My certie, a brave bit lassie like you wadna mind it owre the braes; but ye may be a wee bit fasht-" I tired! I laughed gleefully at the fancy. Every fibre in me thrilled with excitement. Even the old woman's broad Scotch had a charm, and the sweet shadow of a childish remembrance of the old nurse dead and gone. I looked about me, and taking off my hat, let the soft air, in which there was a subtle scent of the sea, blow through my hair. The amber light of the dying autumn day spread a radiance over the distant tiers of mountains, where a loch gleamed like a thread of silver; a corn-crake gave a drowsy call; the throstles sang in a grove of birches bordering the stretch of heather, where a boy was waiting till the "kye come hame;" a stray sunbeam touched leaf and yellow blow of a straggling vine; an old wagon in the distance stirred the golden dust in the road; and the sky, at that magic hour 'twixt the gloaming and the mirk, was lovely as a poet's dream. Ah, how inexpressibly sweet were the influences of the land of my birth! How I pitied those who were condemned to the din and duskiness of a great city on such an evening! And so we wandered on over the braes and bracken at the side of the road, until we turned into a lovely lane, lined with hedges of brier and woodbine, shaded by clumps of stately beeches--and Glen Ron As we neared the wide porch the great doors opened, and Elsie, my golden-haired, pretty Elsie, had me in her arms, and in her little coaxing way begged forgiveness for the boy who had just brought the letter, which had lain two days in his pocket, and we ran laughing up the steps, while Tibbie, with righteous rage, vanished around the side path to vent her wrath upon the unlucky messenger. A shiver ran through me as we entered the vast gloomy hall. The branching stag antlers in the shadowy light seemed to me like beckoning spectral arms. IV. A little hot supper tête-à-tête at one end of an enormous dining-room, an hour's gossip by a blazing fire over past and present days, and then Elsie escorted me to my room: ascending a wide flight of stairs, crossing a large square hall dimly lighted by a back window of stained glass, and then turning into a narrower passage, we entered a large low-ceiled room, where a fire in the huge chimney-place and lights somewhat reduced the eerie sensations I was conscious of. "I am sure you will be comfortable here, Marjorie darling," said Elsie, kissing me. "This room is sheltered alike from heat and cold by a wall which you will see to-morrow. You are sure you will not feel nervous," she added, anxiously, as I started at a low tap at the door. "This is only Jeanie with your hot water, and she will always assist you, dear." "Oh no," I answered, bravely, "I shall not be at all lonely. I am used to sleeping alone;" and my suite of bright little rooms flashed across my mind. "But where are your rooms ?” "Quite at the other end of the house. -Jeanie, put some large logs on the fire. -Papa's health is so delicate that Malcolm and I are always very near him at night. The other rooms are empty, and mostly have a northern outlook-in fact, are not nearly so comfortable as this. Don't be afraid, my lambie; Glen Ronald is as secure as the Tower of London;" and then kissing me again good-night, I was left alone with Jeanie-a big red-armed lassie, who stared open-mouthed at my bravery of dress and ornaments, which I laughed to see Sims had smuggled into my boxes, after all. As the last sounds of Jeanie's shuffling tread died away I locked the door and looked about me. Three windows faced the fire-place, there was a fourth at the end of the room, and all were draped with dark green stuff; a huge bedstead with high posts hung with similar curtains looked like a dismal bier. I examined the room closely, with the lamp in my hand. Some hideous portraits, black with age, of fierce Highland chieftains, scowled at me from the dark stained walls. A desk with glass doors and a deep drawer stood between two of the windows, surmounted by a huge stuffed owl. Some funny-looking spiderlegged tables occupied the corners. A large brass-mounted chest of drawers and queer oval mirror, a modern stuffed armchair near the fire, some thick sheep-skin rugs on the faded carpet-nothing else was to be seen excepting portions of my own wardrobe thrown over the heavy carved chairs. I placed the lamp upon a table in a corner, and stood before the fire unbinding my hair. An inexpressible sense of something dreary laid a pall upon my heart. I glanced with fear and aversion at the sombre bed. I shrank from the green-eyed owl and grim pictures behind me, and after my night toilet was complete, I sat irresolute in the arm-chair gazing at the burning logs, and wondered why Elsie had not spoken of the dead grandmother, and why she wore such a cheap cotton gown-Sims would scorn such a one-and why the laird and her brother had not appeared to welcome me. The profound silence depressed me intensely. I impatiently drew aside the heavy curtains of a window, and listened to the faint sough of the wind; the stars shone through straggling drifts of black clouds; a branch of ivy clung to the ledge, softly swaying backward and forward; and the tall trees beyond looked like silhouettes against the sky. I crept back again to the friendly fire, and looked at the bed, when my heart beat violently at a slight, almost imperceptible noise at the farther end of the room. There was nothing to be seen. I satisfied myself that it was only one of those creaks in the walls and timbers of every old mouldy house which speak dumbly of the sinking flow back into the dust. Day and night it ceases not, this slow decay, but only in the night, when heart and brain are still, do we hear it. "I am nervous and tired,” I said to myself, "and perhaps a little homesick;" and with a resolute will I climbed into the great ugly bed, and sensibly went to sleep. I was awakened in the bright sunshine by the harsh creaking of a door, and, to my amazement, the curtains before the end window parted and disclosed the red head of Jeanie, followed by the body, armed with wood and hot water. "How did you get in that window?" I demanded, springing from the bed. "It's na window, mem," returned the girl, with a grin; "it's a door." A door!" I exclaimed. "Where does it lead to?" "I dinna ken, mem; it's aye here." I laughed merrily at the girl's stupidity; for, rested and in full possession of health and youth, my mercurial temperament rose accordingly. The blazing fire and the sunshine lent an air of faded respectability to the dingy old room. 66 "I thought you were a ghost, Jeanie," I said, as I brushed vigorously at my hair. Na, na," returned Jeanie, as she finished her work, "there's nae sic thing as ghosts; but auld Sandy says he hae seen half a score ghosts, and no a bit the waur, and bogles and rievers and sic like deevelry, mem. Sandy's daft; he saw naught but the holly buss, and Nance give a loud skirl and swarfed awa on the grund! She steekit her e'en and morning aboot a woman body dressed like a leddy with a sough o' a comin' wind. I'm no a Highlander like Nance, and I know a holly buss from a leddy." Naturally I followed Jeanie, and looked through the parted curtains. I saw a recess with shelves on each side. The entrance door beyond opened into a wide short hall, with one door on one side and a narrow staircase at the end. It all look ed commonplace enough, but I resolved to lock the door before I slept again. My inborn fearlessness asserted itself against the nervous tremors of the night, as I stood before the old dressing-table and greenish glass and tied back my long waving brown hair in a snood of blue ribbons, and the knot of lace at my throat fastened with a turquoise true-lovers' knot made me serenely content with my soft gray cashmere dress. I raised the heavy window and looked out. The wall Elsie had spoken of formed one of the three sides of a quadrangle. All of the windows of this part of the house were closely shuttered. An odor from the old-fashioned garden below floated up on the autumnal air-a faint decaying smell of thyme and southernwood. From a beehive in a corner of the stone wall came a murmur mingling with the song of the throstles in a grove of beeches which stood outside of the wall, forming a boundary line between the garden and patches of woods beyond, and great bushes of whins and heather like small oaks. The resinous odor of the firs, the rosy light stealing into the sky, the soft mist rising from the loch in the faraway distance-so perfect was the awakening day in its passionless repose that I felt it was a joy to be alive. My eerie room looked faded, innocent, and homely, nothing more; and I sang gay little chansons as I surveyed my small person in the queer old mirror that twisted my nose, and lent a green and yellow hue to my pink cheeks. V. tered and announced a man at the door from Loch Arne to see the laird about the pigs. A flush crossed the old man's thin cheek; he looked at me and at his son deprecatingly, and half rose, then reseated himself. Malcolm immediately offered his arm. "Come, Sir," he said, with a grave smile, "you must not keep the man waiting. So please, Miss Cameron, forgive us, and see how in our lonely lives even the question of pigs assumes vast importance." As he stood for a moment looking down upon me with those wonderful eyes, the thought crossed my mind, what a sensation this magnificent young chieftain would make in the home circle! As he followed his father, Elsie ran after him, and I heard her kiss him, and thank him for letting me come, and ask if she could have the gig and pony. I did not hear his reply, but made my escape by a side door which opened into a kitchen-garden, in a rather petulant mood. There seemed to be a mystery about everything and everybody, and I was indebted to Mr. Malcolm for my invitation. That odd old man, I thought, must have lost all their money, and is greatly ashamed of it. The cloth on the table was certainly very coarse, and everything was as plain as a cottager's fare. Poor Elsie! how glad I was that I had persisted in bringing my plainest dresses! Two or three days passed like a dream of enchantment. For the first time in my life I experienced a perfect intoxication of happiness and charmed content. We lived out in the hazy sunshine, rowing on the beautiful loch, walking and driving in the queer old gig or a four-seated wag ings were devoted to his father, and the rest of the day to us. Once, only once, he and I stood alone under the stars; the birches' leafy summits moved to and fro by the soft breath of heaven; a languorous hush was on the earth; heaven was in his voice, his eyes, his tender smile, and I felt that he was all the world to me, yet he spoke no word that others could not hear. Elsie met me at the foot of the stairs, and presented me to her father and brother in her own little parlor, where break-on among the braes. Malcolm's mornfast was laid. The laird, a painfully thin and nervous old man, welcomed me with a few hurried words and a limp grasp of my hand, and Malcolm led me to the table with the beauty and grace of one of the golden-haired Vikings I had pored over for hours in my old Norse legends. There was little or no conversation, and my mercurial spirits suddenly became depressed. Malcolm paid me no further attention, but devoted himself to his father. An intense And then followed a week of ceaseless strength of soul and restful gentleness rain and fine mist; great drops like tears shone in his dark steadfast gray eyes, and fell with the brown twigs of the trees. a sad sweetness dwelt in the curved lips. We stood, before parting for the night, All of the men I had ever seen seemed by the fire in the great hall. Malcolm, dwarfed by comparison into utter insig- looking more than ever like one of my nificance. I felt relieved when Jeanie en-hero. Vikings, lay full length on some |