The Last of Their Race

by Annie S. Swan

He hastened on without stopping at the farm-house to pass the time of day with Elspeth Maclure, and presently his attention was diverted by the sight of the new railway track which had gradually crept up the side of the Loch, and which was about to culminate in a big viaduct over the burn at the lower end of Glenogle. He had not a very keen sense of beauty, but, somehow, he did not like the ugly scars on the hill-sides and all the unsightly paraphernalia of the work, though he knew very well what a boon it would be to them when all was finished.

He was still contemplating it when the post-gig drove up, and then there was another stop and an exchange of greetings with David, while the letters were handed over. He glanced at them with a sort of careless keenness, and, deciding that there was nothing affecting him, he handed them back and told David to deliver them at Creagh.

Finally he landed in the Hotel, where he spent a good hour at the bar, hearing all the gossip of the Glen and, incidentally, a good deal that he wished to know about the new folk at Achree.

"I think I met them, Miss Macdougall. Have they passed by this morning?"

"Yes. They have been in here, sir--the two young ladies, but they do say that the big tall one is a married woman that has divorced her husband. I don't know the story rightly, but that's what they say. She is very quiet and seems sad-like. The other speaks most of the time and is very lively. The old lady I have never seen, but they do say that they are a most superior kind of folk and not like some of them we get in the Glen in the shooting season."

"Do you happen to know whether Mr. Rosmead himself is in the Glen to-day?"

"No, he iss not, sir, for the motor went by with him for the nine o'clock train and syne came back empty."

"Well, I'm not supposed to know, so I think I'll call at the place as I go up. I have a good enough excuse anyhow, as I have been away so long."

And thus it came about that this bit of information did not deter Malcolm from doing that which he had in his mind.

About half-past twelve he passed through the familiar gateway to Achree and made his way to the house. His pulses scarcely stirred as he did so. The place of his fathers made no appeal to him. It was merely stone and lime, and if it had been in his power he would have sold it for hard cash to any purchaser. In fact, the thought uppermost in his mind as he approached the door was that, having once caught the millionaire, he might find it worth while to keep him. He determined to make himself, somehow, master of the law of entail in order to discover whether there was any loophole of escape from the disability to sell it. Not in his father's lifetime, of course. But when Isla and he should be left, of what use would this great, rambling, uncomfortable old house and its attendant acres of hungry moor and hill be? Far better convert it into the money with which they could enjoy life, making choice in the whole wide world of a place of abode.