The Last of Their Race

by Annie S. Swan

"Then, do you leave your ladies here?"

"Yes, for six months. Our tenancy of Achree does not expire till the end of October, and nothing, therefore, need be decided now. But I think that my mother likes the place so well that we might take a lease of it--that is, if Mr. Mackinnon does not wish possession for himself. Will the General's death alter nothing?"

"Nothing. They can't afford to live in Achree--and that's the plain truth of it, Mr. Rosmead. In these days very few of us can afford to live in the place of our fathers. Here am I stranded in a London house, like a bull in a china shop. I loathe the life, but I haven't any choice. A relation of my wife offered the loan of the house for the season: my girls had to come out, and we couldn't afford to refuse. I don't know what's to become of us now, as our mourning will stop all the gaiety. But about the Achree Mackinnons? It is a most unfortunate thing that Malcolm resigned his commission just when he did. Of course, it was on his father's account. The best thing he could do would be to try and get back to the Army. I haven't approached him on the subject--that is, closely. He seems uncommonly touchy about it. So does Isla. But it stands to reason and common sense that he can't loaf about Glenogle."

"No. I can imagine that would be quite impossible. But if he does not return to the Army he will probably seek something else. There is room in the colonies for such as he."

"Is there?" inquired Sir Tom with the doubtful air of a man who would be difficult to convince. "Well, they present a problem. She must come back with me to her aunt in London. I don't see what else is to be done with her. She can't remain eating her heart out in that God-forsaken place up at Creagh. I'll never believe anything but that the change killed my brother Donald."

Rosmead recalled the picture of the General's prostrate figure on the narrow hearthrug at Creagh, the letter clasped like a vice in the poor dead fingers, and he had his own thoughts. Such at least had not been Isla's opinion, but it was certainly no part of his business to stir up strife or sow the seeds of suspicion among the members of the family, who were evidently outside the real issue of the case.

Sir Tom was very friendly and communicative, talking to the strange American as if he had been at least an intimate friend of the family--an attitude which was largely due to what Isla had said about the vacating of Achree.

Just a few of the mourners went back to the house for tea, and perhaps to hear whether there was a will. But, though Cattanach was present, there was no mention of a will, and it was speedily whispered about that the General had left none. It was quite well known that for five years at least he had not been capable of transacting business, and, as he had had practically no money to dispose of, and the estate had to pass in entail to his only son, a will would have been superfluous.

But it was of Isla that most of them were thinking, and when they watched the slender, black-robed figure so quietly dispensing tea in the drawing-room, assisted by Kitty Drummond, they wondered what her future was to be.

Neil Drummond was there also, and had taken up his position close to the tea-table, with the result that Rosmead could not get near for a private word.