'I 'm thinking of that awful ghost,' said Leucha.

'Do not be silly, Leucha, my pet. Didn't I tell you he will not try his hand again on an English girl? Now, then, I 'm going to sing something so soothing, so soft, that you cannot, for a moment, but love to listen.'

The rich contralto voice rose and fell. The girl in the bed lay motionless, absorbed, listening. This was sweet music indeed. Could she have believed it possible that Hollyhock could put such marvellous tenderness into her wonderful voice?

'Ye Hielands and ye Lowlands, Oh! where hae ye been! They hae slain the Earl o' Murray, And hae laid him on the green.

'Now wae be to thee, Huntley, And whairfore did ye say I bade ye bring him wi' you, But forbid you him to slay!

'He was a braw gallant, And he rid at the ring, And the bonnie Earl o' Murray, Oh, he might hae been a king!

He was a braw gallant, And he played at the ba'; And the bonnie Earl o' Murray Was the flower amang them a'!

'He was a braw gallant, And he played at the gluve; And the bonnie Earl o' Murray, Oh, he was the Queen's luve!

'Oh, lang will his lady Look owre the Castle downe, Ere she see the Earl o' Murray Come sounding thro' the town!'

Leucha's eyes half closed, half opened, and she was soothed inexpressibly by the lovely voice. Hollyhock, holding her hand, continued:

'Oh, waly, waly up the bank, And waly, waly doun the brae, And waly, waly yon burnside, Where I and my luve were wont to gae!

'Oh, waly, waly, gin luve be bonnie, A little time while it is new! And when 'tis auld it waxeth cauld, And fades awa' like mornin' dew.'

The voice was now so soft, so altogether enticing, that it seemed to the feverish girl as though angels were in the room. Hollyhock dropped her notes to a yet lower key:

'Over the mountains And over the waves, Under the fountains And under the graves; Under floods that are deepest, Which Neptune obey, Over rocks that are steepest, Love will find out the way!'

There was no sound at all in the room. The sick girl was sleeping gently, peacefully—the unhappy, miserable girl—for love had found out the way.

When the doctor came in the evening, he was amazed at the change for the better in his young patient. All the fever had left her, and she lay very calm and quiet. Hollyhock suggested that a little camp-bed should be put up in the room, in which she might sleep; and as her power over Leucha was so remarkable, this suggestion was at once acceded to both by Dr Maguire and Mrs Macintyre. They had been really anxious about the girl in the morning; but now, owing to Hollyhock's wonderful management, Leucha slept all night long, the beautiful sleep of the weary and the happy.

Once in the middle of the night Hollyhock heard her murmur to herself, 'Love will find out the way,' and she stretched out her hand immediately, and touched that of Leucha, with a sort of divine compassion which was part of the instinct of this extraordinary child.

During the next few days Leucha was kept in bed and very quiet, and Hollyhock was excused lessons, being otherwise occupied. But a girl, a healthy girl, even though suffering from shock, quickly gets over it if properly managed, and by the middle of the week Leucha was allowed to go downstairs and sit in the ingle-nook, while the girls who had hitherto detested her crowded round to congratulate their beloved Hollyhock's friend.

'Yes, she's all that,' said Hollyhock; 'and now those who want me to talk with them and make myself agreeable must be friends with my dear Leuchy, for where I go, there goes Leuchy. Eh, but she's a bonnie lass, and she was treated cruel, first by our deserting her, and then by what will not be named. But she 's all right now.—You belong to me, Leuchy.'

'That I do,' replied Leucha; and so marvellously had love found out the way that the very expression of her unpleasant little face had completely altered. As Hollyhock's friend, she was now admitted into the greatest secrets of the school; but the real secret of the ghost was still kept back.



CHAPTER XX.

MEG'S CONSCIENCE.

All went well for a time in the school, and all would have gone well for a much longer period had it not been for Meg Drummond. Meg did not mean to make mischief; but, alas! she was troubled by a conscience. This she considered very virtuous and noble on her part; but she was also troubled by something else, which was neither virtuous nor noble. She seemed jealous—frantically jealous—of Leucha Villiers.

Lady Crossways had spoken of her young daughter as 'my cold, distinguished child, who never wears her heart on her sleeve.' Lady Crossways was very proud of this trait in Leucha, and Leucha herself was proud of it, and treasured and fostered it until she came across Hollyhock. From the first she was attracted by Hollyhock—a queer sort of attraction, a mingling of love and jealous hate; but now it was all love, all devotion. As a matter of fact, she tried Hollyhock very much, following her about like the kitchen cat when she smelt cream, fawning upon her in a way which soon became repulsive to Hollyhock, refusing to have any other friend, and over and over again in the day kissing Hollyhock's hands, her brow, her cheeks, her lips. All this sort of thing was pure torture to Hollyhock. But although she was terribly tried, she determined to go through with her mission, and hoped ere long to train Leucha into finer and grander ways. By their father's permission, Leucha was invited to accompany the Flower Girls to The Garden on a certain Saturday. The boys looked at her with undisguised disdain, and expressed openly their astonishment at Hollyhock's taste; but when she begged of them to be good to the poor girlie, the Precious Stones succumbed, as they ever did, to bonnie Hollyhock.

The school had been open now for some time, and the full number of seventy was made up. Leucha was now so infatuated with Hollyhock that she no longer regretted her being the queen of the school. Hollyhock, for her part, held serious conversations with her sisters about the girl whom she had so strangely conquered.

'We must make a woman of her,' said Hollyhock. 'She is naught in life but a cringing kitchen cat at present, but it is our bounden duty to turn her into something better. How shall we set to work, lassies?'

The Flower Girls considered. Jasmine inquired anxiously if Leucha was clever in any particular branch.

'No,' said Hollyhock; 'she could not even make a ghostie.'

'Well, can we not pretend that she is clever?' said Gentian.

'That's a good notion,' exclaimed Hollyhock. 'I have heard whispers that there are big prizes to be given in the school by the Duke to the girls that are best in different subjects. We don't want prizes, not we; but that little Leuchy, she 'd be up to her eyes with joy if we were to set her trying for a prize. I 'm thinking that Mrs Macintyre will declare the nature of the prizes very soon. After prayers to-morrow I 'll set Leuchy on to try for one. I 'll help her, if I can, privately. She has got what I have not, and that's ambition. I can work on that; and, lassies, it will be a great relief to me, for I hate—I hate being purred on and kissed all day long. I must put up with it; but it's trying, seeing my own nature is contrariwise to that.'

The five girls talked a while of the coming prizes.

Leucha was now under the charge of Jasper, and they got on tolerably well, for Jasper would do anything in the world for Hollyhock, and as Hollyhock was the only love of Leucha's life, she talked on no other subject whatsoever to the lad.

'Well,' he exclaimed, 'you surely don't tell me that you kiss her—kiss Holly!—and she so prickly with thorns?'

'Indeed, I do, Jasper. She loves my kisses; she would not take them from any one else.'

'Wonders will never cease,' said Jasper. 'I would not disgrace the bonnie dear by stupid old kisses.'

'But you are a boy, Jasper. You 're quite different,' said Leucha.

'Well, I'm thinking not so very. I'm first cousin to her, remember, which happens to be next door to brother. But there, let's talk of something else. What mischief is the dear up to now?'

Leucha related a few harmless little pranks, for Hollyhock did not dare to give vent to her real spirit of mischief while Leucha clung round her like the kitchen cat.

The next day Leucha and the Flower Girls returned to the school, and, as Hollyhock had predicted, Mrs Macintyre called her flock around her and said that she had an announcement to make regarding an arrangement winch would be a yearly feature in the school. Six prizes of great magnificence were to be awarded at the Christmas 'break-up.' These were as follows:

(1) For efficiency in learning.

(2) For those games now so well known in schools.

(3) For the best essay of about one thousand words, the subject to be selected by each girl herself. The only proviso was that she must not tell the other girls who were competing what subject she had chosen; otherwise an absolutely free choice was given, and even Mrs Macintyre was not to know the subjects selected before the momentous day when the papers were given in.

(4) A prize for good conduct generally.

(5) A prize for progress made in French, German, and Italian history and conversation, the girls choosing, however, only one of these three great languages.

(6) And, greatest of all, a prize was to be given—and here the head-mistress could not help glancing for a brief moment at her dearly loved Hollyhock—to one of the girls who was so brave that she feared nothing, and so kind-hearted that she won the deep affection of the entire school.

The prizes were the gift of the great Duke of Ardshiel, and were to take the form of lockets with the Duke's own crest set on them in sparkling diamonds. The girls were to choose their own subjects, and in especial were to choose their own ordeal for the final test of valour, no one interfering with them or influencing their choice.

These prizes the Duke promised to present year after year. One condition he made—that a girl who won a gold and diamond locket might try again, but could not win a second locket; if successful, she would receive in its place what was called 'A Scroll of Honour,' which was to be signed by the great Ardshiel himself.

Mrs Macintyre after this announcement requested her pupils to go at once to their several tasks, only adding that she hoped to receive the names of the girls who meant to try for the six lockets by the following evening at latest.

The great and thrilling subject of the prizes was on every one's lips, and each and all declared that Hollyhock was certain to get the prize for valour and good-fellowship. What the test would be nobody knew, and Hollyhock kept her own thoughts to herself. She was deeply concerned, however, to set Leucha to work, and had a long talk with her friend on the evening of that day.

'You can try for the essay, Leuchy dear,' she said.

'No, I can't; I haven't got the gift. I have got no gift except my love for you. Oh, kiss me, Hollyhock; kiss me!'

Hollyhock endured a moat fervent embrace. A voice in the distance was heard saying, 'Little fool. I cannot stand that nonsense!'

'Who is talking?' said Leucha, standing back, her face assuming its old unpleasant expression.

'Oh, nobody worth thinking of, dear,' said Hollyhock, who knew quite well, however, that Margaret Drummond was the speaker. Margaret had not been friendly to her—not in the old passionate, worshipful way—since the night of the ghostie. Hollyhock's present object, however, was to get Leucha to put down her name for the essay, explaining to her how great would be the glory of the happy winner of the diamond locket.

'You may be sure it is worth trying for,' said Hollyhock, 'for the brave old Duke never does anything by halves.'

'Ah, kiss me, kiss me,' said Leucha. 'I'd do anything for you; you know that.'

'I do; but we won't have much time for kissing when we are busy over our different tasks. I 'll help you a good bit with your essay, Leuchy. There's no name given to the subject, so what do you say to calling it "The Kitchen Cat"?'

'Oh, my word! I was angry with you then,' said Leucha.

'So you were, my bonnie dearie, and I only did it out of the spirit of mischief; but I can instruct you right well in the ways of the kitchen cat.'

'I 've always hated cats,' said Leucha.

'You cannot hate wee Jean, and I'll tell you all her bonnie ways.'

'What subject are you going to take yourself, Holly?'

'Oh, I—I 'm in the danger zone,' said Hollyhock, with a light laugh.

'It terrifies me even now to think of that ghost!'

'Don't be frightened, Leuchy. He means no harm, and he will not trouble you again. So don't you trouble your bonnie head, but win the glorious prize by an essay on the kitchen cat. I can assure you no one else will choose that subject, so you have the field to yourself, and well you'll do the work. Don't I know that you 'll get the beauteous prize with the Duke's crest on it, in the stones that sparkle and shine?'

'Mother would like that well,' said Leucha. 'She would be just delighted.'

'Then try for your mother's sake, as well as your own.'

'And you will help me, Holly?'

'To be sure I will. There 's no rule against one girl helping another. I 'll show you the way it 's to be done, and with your brains, Leuchy, you'll easily win the prize. Listen now; I 'll put my name down this very night for the danger zone, and you put your name down for the essay. Then we 'll both be all right.'

The six subjects for competition were taken up by quite half the school, the girls sending in their names under noms de plume to Mrs Macintyre, and in sealed envelopes. Never, surely, was there such an exciting competition before, and never was there such eagerness shown as by the various pupils who had resolved to try for the locket and diamond crest of Ardshiel.

All was indeed going smoothly, and all would have gone smoothly to the end but for the jealous temperament of Margaret Drummond. For a time she had remained faithful to Hollyhock, but, as she said to Jasmine, the immortal soul in her breast troubled her, and as the days went by and jealousy grew apace that immortal soul troubled her more and more. The final straw came in an unlooked-for and unfortunate way. Leucha had been asked to spend from Saturday to Monday at The Garden, and on the following Saturday Margaret Drummond was to accompany the Flower Girls to their home. The thought of going there and arguing about her precious soul occupied her much during the week. She was also a fairly clever girl, and was absorbed in the contest she had entered for—'General Attainment of Knowledge.' But on Saturday morning there came a disappointment to her, which roused her ire extremely. It was news to the effect that Aunt Agnes Delacour was coming to The Garden, and that she had written a peremptory letter asking that on the occasion of this rare visit she herself should be the only guest.

It was impossible not to accede to this request. Holly felt both angry and alarmed, for she was not at all sure of Margaret Drummond; but there was no help for it. On receiving her father's letter she went at once to Margaret, who was packing her clothes for the great event, and begged of her most earnestly to take the matter like a good lass, and postpone her visit to The Garden until the following Saturday, giving the true and only reason for this delay.

'Oh!' said Margaret, 'I don't believe you, not for a minute. No woman would wish to keep a poor girl from her promised enjoyment.'

'You don't know Aunt Agnes, and at least it is not my fault, Margaret,' said Hollyhock.

'For that matter, I know a lot more than you think,' retorted Meg. 'But times have changed—ay, and much changed, too. I try to keep my soul calm, but I am not a fool. You don't care for me as you did, Hollyhock, and I imperilling my immortal soul all for you. You are a queer girl, Hollyhock Lennox, to forsake one like me, and to take up with another, and she the shabbiest-natured pupil in the school.'

'Indeed, indeed you mistake, Margaret,' said Hollyhock. 'I did wrong—we both did wrong that night.'

'Oh, you did wrong, did you? You are prepared to confess, I take it?'

'Oh Meg, to confess would be to ruin all. Have I not won her round? Is she not better than she was?'

'For my part,' said Meg, 'I see no change, except that she sits at your feet and smothers you with kisses; but I have my own soul to think of, and if you don't confess, Hollyhock Lennox, I have at least my duty to perform.'

'Please, please be careful, Meg. You don't know what awful mischief you 'll do.'

'I have to think of my soul,' replied Meg; 'but go your ways and enjoy yourself. No, thank you, I don't want to go to your house this day week. Perhaps I also can come round wee Leuchy. There's no saying what you 'll see and what you 'll hear on Monday morning!'

'Meg, you make me so wretched. Are you really going to tell her our silly little trick?'

'I make no promises; only I may as well say to you, Hollyhock, that my mind is made up.'

Hollyhock felt almost sick with terror. She flew to Jasmine and got her to talk to Margaret Drummond, but Margaret had the obstinacy of a very jealous nature. She was obstinate now to the last degree, and the departure of the Flower Girls gave her a clear field.

Leucha was extremely lonely without Hollyhock. In her presence she was cheerful and bright, but without her she was lonely. Tears stood in her eyes as she bade Hollyhock good-bye, and Hollyhock clasped her to her heart, feeling as she did so that all was lost, that all efforts were in vain, that she herself would be publicly disgraced, and that Leucha would naturally never speak to her again. These things might come to pass at once. As it was, they did come to pass a little later on, but on this special Saturday there was a slight reprieve both for Leucha and for Hollyhock.

Mrs Drummond drove over from Edinburgh in a luxurious motor-car and took her daughter away, promising to send her back to the school on the following Monday morning.

Margaret devotedly loved her mother, and was not long in her presence before the entire story of the ghost and her part therein was revealed. Mrs Drummond was a most severe Calvinist, a puritan of the narrowest type. She was shocked beyond measure with her daughter's narrative. She sat down at once and read her a long chapter out of the Holy Book on all liars and their awful fate.

Margaret shivered as she listened to her mother's words.

'My dear,' said Mrs Drummond, 'if you do not confess and get that wicked Hollyhock—what a name!—into the trouble she deserves, you have your share with those of whom I'm reading. I'll come with you on Monday morning, and you 'll stand up in front of the entire school and tell what you and Hollyhock did. Mrs Macintyre will lose her school if such a thing is allowed.'

'But, oh, mother, I do love Hollyhock. Is there no other way out?'

'Having sinned,' said Mrs Drummond, 'you must repent. Having done the wicked thing, you must tell of it. Mrs Macintyre will be very shocked, but I think nothing of that. It is my lassie I have to think of. It was Providence sent me to fetch you home to-day! There's no other way out. Confession—full confession—is the only course. You must stand up and do your part, and that wicked girl will as likely as not be expelled.'



CHAPTER XXI.

THERE IS NO WAY OUT.

Hollyhock did not exactly know how she felt during that visit to the dearly beloved old Garden. Besides the unwelcome presence of Aunt Agnes, there was a fear over her which was wholly and completely moral, for Hollyhock had, as may well be remarked, no physical fear whatsoever. She was the sort of girl, however, to keep even moral fears to herself, and she returned to the Palace of the Kings on Monday morning, hoping for the best. So far everything seemed to be all right.

Leucha rushed to her friend, clasped her and kissed her, said how deeply she had missed her, and how she had longed beyond words during the latter half of Saturday and on Sunday for Hollyhock's return.

Meg, then, had been better than Hollyhock expected. When all was said and done, Meg was good and true. Hollyhock made up her mind to be specially good to Meg in future, to compensate her for her late neglect—in short, to soothe her ruffled feelings and to feel for her that love and admiration which the Scots girl had given to her in the past. But where was Meg?

Hollyhock's quick eyes looked round the room, looked round the spacious hall, looked round the vast breakfast parlour. There was no sign of Meg anywhere. This puzzled her a little, but did not render her uneasy; and as no other girl in the school said a word about Meg Drummond—she was not a favourite by any means, and never would be—Hollyhock came to the conclusion that the poor thing must be ill, and must have taken to her bed, in which case she would inquire for her tenderly when the right time came, and thank her affectionately for her loving forbearance.

But, alack and alas! just as breakfast was coming to an end, there was a whir and a hoot, and a motor-car was heard rushing up the spacious avenue and stopping before the great front-door.

A girl who was seated next to Hollyhock said, 'That must be Meg Drummond coming back. About an hour after you left us, Hollyhock, her mother came and fetched her. Why, there she is, to be sure, and her mother along with her. Whatever can be wrong?'

Hollyhock felt a fearful sinking at her heart. She longed to rush Leucha, poor little Leucha, out of the school, to hide her, to screen her from what was certain to follow. But she was too stunned by these unexpected events to say a word or take any action.

'You are a little white, Hollyhock,' said Leucha, who was seated at her side. 'Don't you feel well?'

'Oh, Leucha darling, don't ask me. It's all up with me,' groaned Hollyhock. 'Oh Leucha, say once again that you love me!'

'Love you, Holly? I love no one in the world as I love you!'

'Well, you have said it for the last time,' thought poor Hollyhock to herself. Her little victory, her little triumph, was at an end, for Hollyhock knew Leucha far too well to believe for an instant that she would forgive a horrible hoax played upon her.

If Meg Drummond was a cold, severe-looking girl, she was not nearly so severe or so cold as her mother. Mrs Drummond, accompanied by her daughter, entered the great hall, where prayers were to be said, with a face of icy marble. Proud indeed was she in spirit; determined was she in action. She would save her precious daughter's soul alive, come what might. No other girl was of any importance to Mrs Drummond. Meg was her all, and she was wrecked—yes, wrecked—on the ghastly rock of sin. The Devil would claim Meg, unless she, her mother, came to the rescue.

Mrs Macintyre was somewhat surprised at the arrival of Mrs Drummond, a woman to whom she did not at all take. For that matter, she had never been enamoured of Meg herself, considering her beneath the other girls in the school; but when Mrs Drummond whispered to her, 'I have come on a matter of awful importance, and I'll thank you to conduct the Lord's Prayer and the hymns and the other religious exercises, and then you 'll know why I have come.'

This was such a very remarkable speech that Mrs Macintyre bowed stiffly and offered the good lady a chair.

Prayers were conducted as usual, the girls singing and joining in the Lord's Prayer. Then Mrs Macintyre made a brief petition that God Almighty might help her and her teachers and her beloved pupils to work harmoniously through the hours of the week just beginning.

The moment she rose from her knees, she was about to dismiss the pupils to their different tasks, when Mrs Drummond, tall and gaunt, stood up and waved a menacing hand.

'One moment, girls; I have something to say to you, or, rather, my young daughter has something to say, which is in the nature of a black confession. It relates principally to herself and a girl in this school called Hollyhock. She has now to go through an awful confession, which will hurt her more than a little; but if she holds nothing back, her immortal soul may be saved in the Great Day. But there is another who has sinned far deeper than my Meg, and I leave it to Mrs Macintyre to settle with her by expelling her from this school. Now then, Meg, think of the Judgment Seat and tell your tale.'

Meg, who would be precisely like her mother at her mother's age, now stood up, flung a vindictive glance at Hollyhock, and began her story.

'I was drawn into it. That Hollyhock had a way with her, and I was drawn in. I consented to an awful sin. It has lain on my conscience until I felt nearly mad. Well, Mrs Macintyre and my dear teachers and you girls, listen and beware. You may recall a certain night when there was great agitation in this school, because it was said that the poor ghostie had walked. The thought of that ghostie nearly drove an English girl out of her mind; but I am prepared to clear up the matter.

'Now for the true story. The ghost was no ghost. It was me, my own self, who, ruled by Hollyhock there, went into what we call the ghost's hut, and allowed myself to be chalked and then blackened with charcoal on the hands and face so as to look like a skeleton, and then wrapped in a cloak of the Camerons, and my hair tied up tight, and a peaked hat put on me over a wig which had been flung into water. I 'm told that I looked something fearful; and the one who did the deed, and drew me, an innocent girl, into this mess, was Hollyhock Lennox. A poor English girl went almost raving mad, and no one could tell but that a real ghost had been about. Well, I'm the ghost, and the wicked one who led me astray was Hollyhock Lennox. After that she was frightened, seeing the effect of the ghost on poor Leucha, and she got me for a long time not to tell, and she won the heart of Leucha, coming round her as only she knows how. But if I know Leucha, she won't put up any more with what was nothing but a hoax.— Will you, Leucha; will you?'

'Is it true?' said Leucha, turning a ghastly-white face and looking at Hollyhock.

'Oh Leuchy,' half-sobbed Hollyhock, 'it is true, every word of it. It was the spirit of mischief that entered into me. But, oh, Leuchy, Leuchy, when you were so bad my whole heart went out to you, and you 'll forgive your own Holly? For, see for yourself, I love you, Leuchy—see it for yourself.'

'And I don't love you,' said Leucha. 'You have played on me the vilest trick I ever heard of, and I'll never believe in you again, or speak to you again!—Please, Mrs Macintyre, this is too much; my head reels badly, so may I go out of the room for a few minutes?'

'I had to save my immortal soul,' said Meg, casting down her pious eyes, and rejoicing in the mischief which she had effectually achieved.

'My precious one, you are safe now,' said Mrs Drummond. 'I have stood by and listened to a full confession. But what'll you do to that bad, black-haired girl, Mrs Macintyre? To have her publicly expelled is what I 'd recommend.'

'Yes, my dear lady,' replied Mrs Macintyre; 'but you do not happen to be the mistress of the school. I shall take my own course. You can remove your own daughter if you wish, Mrs Drummond, whose behaviour, in my opinion, was many degrees worse than Hollyhock's.'

'What do you mean by that?'

'Hollyhock certainly did wrong to allow your girl to impersonate the ghost; but afterwards, in the most noble way, she won the affections of the must difficult girl in the school. Now I fear, I greatly tear, we shall have much trouble with Leucha Villiers; but nothing will induce me to expel Hollyhock.— No, my dear little girl; you did wrong, of a certainty, but you are too much loved in this school for us to do without you.— Now, Mrs Drummond, do you wish to remove Margaret from the school? Because, if so, it can easily be done, and I shall send up my maid, Magsie, to pack her clothes.'

'It might be right,' said Mrs Drummond, who was considerably amazed at Mrs Macintyre's manner of taking the whole occurrence, 'but at the same time I have no wish to deprive my daughter of the chance of getting the Ardshiel diamond crest locket. It would be the kind of thing that her father would have taken pride in. I myself have no wish for worldly pride and precious stones and such like. Nevertheless, it would be hard to rob my child of the chance of getting the locket.'

'As you please,' said Mrs Macintyre with great coldness. 'Only I have one thing to insist upon.'

'Indeed, madam! And what may that be?'

'It is that Margaret Drummond shall have no dealings whatsoever with Leucha Villiers. As to Hollyhock, I can manage her myself. Now perhaps, madam, you will return to Edinburgh and allow the routine of the school to go on under my guidance, I being the head-mistress, not you!'

Mrs Drummond went away in a wild fury. She certainly would have taken Meg with her, but the pride of having her commonplace daughter educated in the Palace of the Kings, joined to her pride in the very great possibility—in fact, the certainty in her imagination—of Meg's winning one of the gold and diamond lockets, made her swallow her indignation as best she could. She kissed Meg after her icy fashion, and said some furious words in a low tone to the young girl.

'You managed things badly, Meg. That dark girl ought to have been expelled.'

'But, mother, I should have loved to see the day,' said Meg. 'I don't seem to have got much good out of my confession after all.'

'Your soul, child, the salvation of your soul, is gained;' and with these last words the self-righteous woman went away.

Certainly that was a most confusing morning at the school. Poor Mrs Macintyre had never felt nearer despair. The trick which had been played she regarded with due and proper abhorrence, but the way in which it had been declared by Meg made her feel sick, and worse than sick, at heart. She sent for Hollyhock first, and had a long talk with her.

'Ah, my child, my child,' she said, 'why will you let your naughty and mischievous spirit get the better of you?'

'I couldn't help it,' replied Hollyhock, who felt as near to tears as a daughter of the Camerons could be; 'but you see for your own self what Leuchy was before I played my prank, and what she has been since. Now I'm much afraid that all is up, and she 'll never love me any more—poor Leuchy!'

'Hollyhock, you really have been exceedingly naughty, but your conduct to Leucha after her terrible fright has been splendid; and although I greatly fear, knowing Leucha's character, that you will find it difficult to get back her love, yet there are many others in the school, my child, who love you, and who will love you for ever.'

'Yes; but it was Leuchy I wanted,' said Hollyhock. 'The others were so easy to win. I could always win love; but Leuchy, she's so cold, and now she's frozen up, like marble, she is.'

'You must take that as your punishment, for no other punishment will I give you, except to ask you not to play that kind of practical joke again.'

'Oh my!' exclaimed Hollyhock, 'but the mischief is in me. I dare not make a promise. You would not, if you had a wild heart like mine.'

'Well, Hollyhock, I shall expect, for the honour of the school, that you will do your best. And one thing I must ask of you—it is this. Meg feels herself very superior, with the superiority of the Pharisee. Most of the girls in the school will hate her for what she said to-day; but I want you, as a dear friend, to take her part.'

'Oh, but that 'll be hard,' said Hollyhock.

'The divine grace can help you, my child. I 'm not one of the "unco guid," but I believe most fully in the all-prevailing love of the great God and His Son, our blessed Saviour. Now kiss me, and go to your lessons as though nothing had happened.'

'But Leuchy!' exclaimed Hollyhock.

'I'll manage Leucha. I greatly fear that I shall have a difficult task, but I shall let you know to-morrow at latest what attitude she intends to take up. A girl of broader, nobler views would, of course, see the joke and make fun of it; but Leucha, in her way, is as narrow as Meg is in hers.'

'Oh dear, oh dear!' sighed Hollyhock. 'Well, at all events, I 'll get rid of her kisses. Oh, they were so trying!'

'I saw that you hated them, my child.'

'Did you notice that, Mrs Macintyre? How wonderful you are!'

'No, my dear baby. But I, who equally hate being kissed, saw what you were enduring in a noble cause. It may come right in the end, Hollyhock. We must hope for the best.'

'Oh, but you are a darling!' said Hollyhock, flinging her arms round the head-mistress's neck. 'Oh, but I love you!'

'And for my sake you 'll abstain from tricks in the school?'

'I 'll not promise; but, at the same time, I 'll do my level best.'

Hollyhock, notwithstanding Mrs Macintyre's great kindness, spent a really wretched day. She kept her word, however, as she had promised, with regard to Meg, and during morning recess went to her side, and tried with all that wonderful charm she possessed to be kind to her. She did not allude to Meg's confession, but spoke to her with all her old affection. Meg stared at the girl whom she now considered her enemy in haughty surprise, refused to reply to any of Hollyhock's endearments, and walked away with her head in the air.

'You dare,' she exclaimed at last, 'when you know too well that you ought to be expelled!'

Meg then turned her back on Hollyhock, but was followed in her self-imposed exile by the laughter and jeers of most of the girls in the school, who flocked eagerly round their favourite, telling her that they at least would ever and always be her dearest friends. Many of the said girls assured poor Hollyhock that they were glad that the nasty kissing English girl was no longer to divide them from their lively favourite. But Hollyhock's most loving heart was really full of Leucha. Her nature could not by any possibility really suit Leucha's, but Holly had taken her up, and it would be very hard now for her to withdraw her love. Besides, she had done wrong—very wrong—and Leuchy had a right to be angry.

During the whole of that miserable day Leucha absented herself from the school, and all Mrs Macintyre's words proved so far in vain. She had no good news to give Hollyhock; therefore she told her nothing. But toward evening she had a very grave conversation with Jasmine, who made a proposal of her own. If this idea fell through, Mrs Macintyre felt that the mean nature of Meg, joined to the yet meaner nature of Leucha herself, must for the present at least win the day. She had some hope in this plan, but meanwhile her warm heart was full of sorrow for her bonnie Hollyhock.



CHAPTER XXII.

THE END OF LOVE.

The plan was carried into effect. Mr Lennox was consulted, and being the best and most amiable of men, after talking for a short time to his young daughter Jasmine, he went over and had a consultation with Mrs Macintyre. Mrs Macintyre agreed most eagerly to Jasmine's suggestion, and accordingly, two days after Meg had 'saved her immortal soul,' Leucha and Jasmine were excused lessons—Leucha on the plea of ill-health, Jasmine because she wished to help her darling Hollyhock's friend.

The two girls were excused lessons; as for preparation for the prize competition, that they might go on with or not, as they wished. Jasmine had no love for gems, but she would like to gain one of the lockets containing the great crest of her mother's people, her own ancestors. But if she lost it, she would be the last girl to fret. She had as little ambition in her as had Hollyhock herself. Leucha, on the other hand, was keenly anxious to get the famous crest locket, and when Jasmine assured her that she would have ample opportunities of studying the ways of wee Jean, she condescended to accompany Jasmine to The Garden.

She found The Garden, however, very dull. She found the kitchen cat, whenever she came across her, intolerable; she scared wee Jean away from her, saying, 'Get away, you ugly beast!' and took not the slightest pains to make herself agreeable.

Hollyhock, with tears very, very near her black eyes, had implored of Jasper to come to her assistance and tell home truths in his plain Scots way to the English girl. This Jasper promptly promised to do, and his mother gave him leave to go over from the Annex to The Garden, in order to help Leucha.

Jasmine, with all her strength of character, was too gentle for the task she had undertaken; but there was no gentleness about fierce young Jasper. He naturally thought that Holly, the dear that she was, had gone too far; but he could not stand a common-place girl like Leuchy making such a row.

Now the facts were simply these. Leucha hated, with a violent, passionate, wicked hate, all the terrible past; but she still loved—loved as she could not believe possible—that black-eyed lass Hollyhock. Hollyhock had played a horrid trick on her; nevertheless Leucha loved her, and mourned for her, and was perfectly wretched at The Garden without her.

Oh no, she would never be friends with her again—never! Such a thing was impossible; but nevertheless she loved—she loved Hollyhock, with a sort of craving which caused her to long to see the bright glint in her eyes and the bonnie smile round her lips. As for Jasmine, she was less than nothing in Leucha's eyes. Hollyhock, although she would not say it for the world, was all in all to the miserable, proud, silly girl.

Hollyhock's heart was also aching for Leucha, and her anxiety was great with regard to what was taking place at The Garden. Would Jasmine and Jasper between them have any effect on Leuchy? Hollyhock felt for the first time in her life feverish, miserable, and anxious. She could not sleep well at nights; her nights were haunted by dreams of Leucha and the wicked things she herself had done as a mere frolic. But there was no news from The Garden, and she had to bear her restless suffering as best she could. Gladly now would she have submitted to Leuchy's kisses, if Leuchy would come back to her friend.

Meg walked with pious mien about the grounds of Ardshiel; her conscience was at rest. She won the affections of a certain number of the new Scots girls, and tried her best to set them against Hollyhock; but there was a magical influence about Hollyhock which prevented any girl being set against her; and although the girls did say that Meg had a sturdy conscience, and that she must be very happy to have made her confession, yet as the evening hour drew on they returned, as though spell-bound, to Hollyhock's side to listen with fascinated eyes and half-open mouths to her tales of bogies and ghosties.

Poor Hollyhock was feeling so restless and despairing that she threw extra venom into her narratives, making the ghosts worse than any ghosts that were ever heard of before, and the bogies and witches more subtle and more vicious. Meg did not dare to come near, but she looked with contempt at her friends who were so easily drawn to Hollyhock's side.

Meanwhile, at The Garden the days and hours were passing. Mr Lennox was entirely absorbed with his work, and saw little or nothing of his children. What little he did see of Leucha he disliked, and he thought his dear Hollyhock far too kind to her. On the following Sunday he would speak to Hollyhock, and tell her not to play those silly tricks again. Otherwise he had no time to consider the matter.

But, on a certain day—Thursday, to be accurate—Jasper, having been prepared beforehand by Jasmine, had a talk alone with Leucha. He was really sick of Leucha by this time, and meant to use plain words.

'Well, you are a poor thing,' he began.

'What do you mean?' said Leucha, turning white in her anger.

'Why, here you are in one of the grandest and best houses in the country, petted and fussed over, and just because my cousin Hollyhock chose to play a prank on you. My word! she might play twenty pranks on me and I 'd love her all the more.'

'You're a boy; you are different! She nearly killed me, if that's what you call love!'

'Nearly killed you, indeed! Not a bit of it! I 'm thinking it would take a lot to finish you off. Many and many a trick would have to be played before you 'd expire.'

'You are talking in a very rude way,' said Leucha.

'I 'm not. I know what I 'm about!'

'Then you surely do not dare to tell me to my face that your cousin did right in frightening me so terribly?'

'I 'm not saying anything so silly. I know too well the kind you are made of, Leuchy Villiers. Hollyhock did wrong, and Meg did, to my thinking, a sight worse.'

'Meg was really noble,' said Leucha.

'If that's your idea of nobleness, keep it and treasure it all your life.'

'Meg had to save her soul,' said Leucha.

'Oh, my word!' cried Jasper; 'and is our darling Hollyhock's soul of no account?'

'Well, she thinks nothing of the freak which nearly killed me.'

'Nothing of it? Little you know! Do you forget she sat up with you resting against her breast the whole of the first night, and had a camp-bed put into your room by doctor's orders and your own wish, and sang you to sleep with that voice of hers that would melt the heart of a stone, no less? If she loved you? But it has not melted your heart. If she was what you think her to be, would she have troubled herself as she did about you? Would she give up her sport and her fun and her joy, her pleasures, for one like you?'

'I 'm the daughter of the Earl of Crossways,' said Leucha.

'Well,' answered Jasper, 'I can't say much for his daughter. I tell you frankly and truly, Leucha, that if you were a brave lass and well-bred, you 'd take a joke as a joke, and think no more about it; but, being what you are, I have little hope of you. It's the best thing that could have happened to Hollyhock to have got rid of one like you. You are not fit to hold a candle to her. I have no liking for you, and now I'm going back to the Annex. I cannot stand the sight of you, with your sulks and your obstinacy. Oh! the bonnie lass, that you think so cruel. I can only say that I hope she will get a better friend than you, Leucha Villiers.'

After this speech, Leucha was found by Jasmine in a flood of tears. Jasper had returned to the Annex, his sole remark to his mother being that he was wasting his precious time at The Garden over the conversion of a hopeless girl.

Late that evening Leucha went into Jasmine's bedroom. 'I 'm very unhappy here and everywhere,' she said; 'but this place is worse even than the school. At school I shall doubtless find many friends to welcome me, so I 'm returning to the Palace of the Kings to-morrow.'

'Well, I 'm glad, for my part,' said Jasmine; 'and I hope you have made up your mind to be nice to my sister.'

'If that is your hope, you 're mistaken,' said Leucha. 'I wouldn't touch her with a pair of tongs. Nasty, sinful girl, to play such a trick on an innocent maid!'

'Well,' said Jasmine, 'I shall be very glad to get back to school early to-morrow.'

'And I to my friends,' said Leucha.

'I have remarked,' said Jasmine, 'that you haven't taken much trouble in studying the habits of the kitchen cat. I know that you have made puss your subject for the grand essay, for Hollyhock thought it best to tell me, in order that you might see the poor beastie. But you have been so unkind to her, Leucha, that she'd fly now any distance at your approach.'

'And let her; let her,' said the angry Leucha. 'I don't want her, you may be sure of that. And as to my essay, of course I must stick to it; but I may as well tell you, Jasmine, that it will be from beginning to end on the vices of the kitchen cat, encouraged by her deceitful and silly mistress, Hollyhock!'

'Have your way,' said Jasmine; 'but I don't think you'll be getting the Duke's locket. The Duke is our kinsman and he knows us lassies, and Hollyhock is a prime favourite with him, so speaking against one like her will not please his Grace. But now let me go to bed; I 'm sleepy and worn-out.'

The next day the girls unexpectedly arrived at the school. Leucha was certain that she would have the same warm welcome that she had received when she came downstairs after her illness caused by Hollyhock's mischievous prank, but she did not remember that she was now Holly's enemy. She did not even recall the fact that Meg Drummond was forbidden to have dealings with her. In short, the school received her with extreme coldness. The only one whose eyes lit up for a moment with pleasure was that beloved one called Hollyhock; but she soon turned her attention to a group of girls surrounding her, and as Leucha would not give her even the faintest ghost of a smile, she tossed her proud little black head and absorbed herself with others, who were but too eager to talk to her.

Leucha, in fact, found herself in her old position in the school, and the only one who timidly made advances towards her was Daisy Watson.

'I don't want you; go away,' said the angry Leucha.

'I 'm going,' said Daisy. 'I have plenty of friends in the school now myself, for Hollyhock has taken me up.'

'What!' cried Leucha. 'How dare she?'

'Well, she chooses to. I 'm to act in a charade to-night which she has composed, and which will be rare fun. She's so sweet and so forgiving, Leucha, that I think she 'd love you as much as ever, if only you weren't so desperately jealous.'

'I'm not jealous. I'm a terribly wronged girl. There was a trick played on me which might have cost me my life. I'll have to tell my poor mother that this is a very wicked school.'

'Well, please yourself,' said Daisy. 'I must be off. It's rather fun, the part I have to play. I 'm to be called the kitchen cat!'

'You—you—how dare you?'

'We are all acting as different animals. There are twelve of us who are taking parts in the charade, and dear Hollyhock is to be the ghost. She 'll stalk in, in her ghostly garments, and create a great sensation amongst the animals. We would not have done it if we had known that you were coming back, Leuchy, being but too well aware of your terrible nervousness about ghosts, even when the ghosts are only make-believe.'

'Well, what next?' cried Leucha. 'I never heard of anything so wicked. I must speak at once to Mrs Macintyre, and have the horrid thing stopped.'

'All right. But I do not think your words will have any effect now,' said Daisy. 'The matter is arranged, and cannot be altered. Mrs Macintyre thinks the whole thing the greatest fun in the world. I can tell you that I am enjoying myself vastly, although I was so miserable at first when you and I sat all alone; but now I am having a first-rate time. I have told you about the charade, Leucha, because I thought it only right to warn you. If you prefer it, you need not be a spectator.'

'What next?' repeated Leucha. 'I am to lose the fun of seeing Hollyhock disgrace herself. I shall certainly do nothing of the kind. I will be present, and perhaps take her down a peg. But leave me now, Daisy; only let me inform you that you are a nasty, mean little brat.'

'Thanks,' said Daisy; 'but I am enjoying myself mightily all the same.'

Daisy scampered away all too willingly; and Hollyhock, advised by her sister, took no notice of Leucha, although her heart ached very badly for her. But she felt that the reconciliation must, at any cost, now come from Leucha's side; otherwise there would be no hope of peace or rest in the school. The fact was this, that Hollyhock was feeling very wild and restless just now. She had quite got over her fit of repentance, and was full to the brim of fresh pranks.

'There's no saying what sin I 'll commit,' she said to herself, 'for the de'il 's at work in me. With my rebellious nature, I cannot help myself. I did wrong, and I owned it. I helped her and loved her; but I could not bear her kisses. It may be that Providence has parted us, so that I really need not be tried too far. Oh, but she is an ugly, uninteresting lass, poor Leuchy! And yet once I loved her; and I 'd love her again, and make her happy, if she 'd do with only two kisses a day—not otherwise; no, not otherwise. They're altogether too cloying for my taste!'



CHAPTER XXIII

THE GREAT CHARADE.

Mrs Macintyre was more vexed, more hurt, more annoyed than she could possibly express. She had been willing—indeed, under the circumstances, only too glad—to send sulky Leucha to The Garden; but Leucha's unexpected return on the evening when the animal charade was to be acted put her out considerably. She saw at a glance that Leucha was unrepentant; that whereas Hollyhock was more than ready to forgive, Leucha belonged to the unforgiving of the earth. Being herself a fine, brave woman, Mrs Macintyre had little or no sympathy for so small and mean a nature.

Of course, she regretted Hollyhock's practical joke; but then Hollyhock had so abundantly made up for it by her subsequent conduct, and was even now the soul of love and pity for the desolate, deserted, obstinate girl.

Mrs Macintyre felt that she could not altogether side with Hollyhock, but she had no intention of interfering with the charade because Leucha, in her weak obstinacy, chose to return to the school on that special day. She determined, however, to speak to the girl, and to tell her very plainly what she thought about her and her conduct.

Leucha was in her pretty bedroom, where a bright fire was blazing, for the weather was now intensely cold. She was alone, quite alone, all the other girls in the school, both the actors and those who were to look on, being far to busy to attend to her. She took up a book languidly and pretended to read. She had already read the said book. It was one of Sir Walter Scott's great novels. But Leucha hated Sir Walter Scott; she hated his dialect, his long descriptions; she was not interested even in this marvellous work of his, Ivanhoe, and lay back in her easy-chair with her eyes half shut and her mind halt asleep. There came a sharp, short knock at her door. It roused Leucha to say, 'Who's there?'

'It's me, Magsie, please, miss,' replied a voice.

Leucha muttered something which Magsie took for 'Come in.' She entered the luxurious chamber.

'You are called, Lady Leucha, to the mistress on business immediate and most important. You are to go to her at once. My certie! but you are comfortable here.'

'Are you speaking of Mrs Macintyre?' inquired Leucha.

'I am—the head-mistress of the school herself.'

'Say I will come, and leave my room at once yourself,' said Leucha.

'You had best no keep her waitin' long, I 'm thinkin'. It's no her fashion to be kept waitin' when she gives forth her royal commands. In the Palace of the Kings she 's like a royal lady, and you dare not keep her waitin'.'

Magsie had now a most violent hatred for Leucha, having helped Hollyhock to nurse her through her illness, and being far more concerned for her own young lady than for that miserable thing, who had not the courage of a mouse.

'You had best be quick,' said Magsie now; and she went out of the room noisily, slamming the door with some violence after her. 'I don't think I ever saw so wicked a girl,' thought Magsie to herself.

The wicked girl in question thought, however, that prudence was the better part of valour, and went downstairs without delay to Mrs Macintyre's beautiful private sitting-room. She looked cross; she looked sulky; she looked, in short, all that a poor jealous nature could look, and there was not a trace of repentance about her.

Mrs Macintyre heaved an inward sigh. Outwardly her manner was exceedingly cold and at the same time determined.

'I have sent for you, Leucha Villiers,' she said, 'to ask you if you now intend to restore peace and harmony to the school.'

'What do you mean, Mrs Macintyre?' said Leucha.

'My child, you know quite well what I mean. Your dear and noble young friend'——

'I don't know of any such,' interrupted Leucha.

'Then you have a lamentably short memory, Leucha,' said Mrs Macintyre, 'or it could not have passed from your mind—the weary nights and long days when that brave young girl devoted herself to you.'

'You mean that naughty Hollyhock, of course—the one who played on me that wicked, wicked joke. A nice school this is, indeed.'

'Leucha, I forbid you to speak in that tone to your head-mistress. I acknowledge that Hollyhock did wrong; but, oh, how humbly, how thoroughly, she has repented! I fully admit that she had no right to dress up Meg Drummond as a ghost and to frighten such a nervous, silly girl as you are; but afterwards, when she saw the effect, who could have been more noble than Hollyhock; who could have nursed you with more splendid care, and—and loved you, Leucha—you, who are not popular in the school?'

'I don't care! I won't stay here long,' muttered Leucha. 'If you think I am going to eat humble pie to that Hollyhock, you are mistaken, Mrs Macintyre.'

Mrs Macintyre was silent for a moment; then she spoke.

'I am sorry. A nobler nature would have taken the thing as a joke; but you, alas! are the reverse of noble. You have a small nature, Leucha, and you must struggle against it with all your might if you are to do any good in life.'

'I am not accustomed to being spoken to in that strain,' said Leucha.

'Perhaps not; it would have been good for you if you had been. Oh, my child, if I could but move your hard heart and show you the blessed spirit of Love pleading for you, and the Holy Spirit full to the brim with perfect forgiveness, stretched out even to you.'

'You talk to me,' said Leucha, 'exactly as if I were the sinner. It's Hollyhock, mean little scamp, who is the sinner, and yet you call her brave and noble.'

'Hollyhock has most fully repented, and therefore is noble. I intend always to love her as she deserves to be loved.'

'Well, I don't care,' said Leucha. 'She is nothing to me in the future. I 'll have nothing to do with her—nothing at all.'

Again Mrs Macintyre was silent.

After another long pause she said, 'Then you will not forgive the sweet girl, who nursed you back to life?'

'Never, never,' answered Leucha. 'Why should I be tortured in this way?'

'My dear, I must torture you for your good. You will not grant Hollyhock forgiveness?'

'I said before that I would never do so.'

'Very well. Hollyhock is the last girl in the world who needs pleading for; but suppose, Leucha—I don't say for a moment I shall succeed—but suppose I were to go to Hollyhock, who feels that she has done her part and has shown her sorrow for her little childish freak in every possible way, would you, my child, accept her words of contrition, and when I brought her to meet you, receive her as one so noble ought to be met?'

'No; I would turn from her with scorn. I would tell the humbug what I think of her.'

'Then, Leucha, I have nothing further to say. I doubt if I could get Hollyhock to humble herself to this degree; but certainly, after your last words, I shall not try. Now, you have returned to the school on an awkward day, when a charade introducing various animals is to be acted in the great hall. Twelve girls will play different animals, and the crisis and crux of the whole thing will be the appearance of "poor ghostie," which part Hollyhock will undertake herself. I warn you beforehand that, as you are so very timid in the presence of false ghosts—for, of course, I personally do not believe in real ghosts—it would be wise for you to remain in your bedroom, and thus keep out of the way. I believe Hollyhock is going to do the ghost very well. I have no desire to interfere with the games of the school. The games teacher, Miss Kent, manages these, and your unexpected and, I must add, unwished-for return cannot stop to-night's programme. You had better promise me, therefore, to go to your room, where one of the servants will bring you up some supper. I really advise you for your own good, my child, for I understand that ghost will look very awful to-night, and you, being so terribly nervous, may not be able to bear the sight.'

Don't fear for me, Mrs Macintyre,' said Leucha. 'I 'm not quite such a fool as you think me, and I certainly will sit in the hall with the other girls, and, if possible, put Holly to shame.'

'That I strictly forbid,' said Mrs Macintyre. 'A game is a game; a charade is a charade. While the acting proceeds no looker-on must interfere except under my intense displeasure. In fact, my dear Leucha, after what I have said, I shall write to your mother asking her to remove you from the school, unless you promise not to make any fuss or show any fear to-night. Go back to your room now.'

'And you really tell me, Mrs Macintyre, that the Earl of Crossways' daughter will be dismissed from the school?'

'There will be no difficulty about that,' replied Mrs Macintyre. 'I have six fresh girls anxious to be admitted. You are not popular; your character does not suit us. The fact of your being Earl Crossways' daughter has no effect in a school which is the gift of the Duke of Ardshiel; so don't fancy it. Act sensibly, as you cannot bring yourself to forgive, and stay in your bedroom. I am not talking nonsense when I predict that the nerves of the strongest will be tested to-night.'

'I refuse. You can't turn me out,' said Leucha.

'Very well,' said Mrs Macintyre. 'I have put the case fully before you, and can do no more.'

Leucha went back to her bedroom, where she really felt very troubled and, as a matter of fact, terribly frightened. If Meg Drummond, acting as the ghost, had nearly sent her into the other world, what effect could not Hollyhock produce? And Hollyhock meant to produce an effect unknown before in the great school.

Hollyhock was roused at last. Her forgiving nature had reached its limit. She felt naughty and wilful, and with a spice, as she expressed it, o' the de'il stirring in her breast. She was told by one of the girls that Mrs Macintyre's intercession with Leucha had proved all in vain, and she determined, therefore, to make poor ghostie more terrible in appearance than he had ever been before. She rejoiced, in fact, in her naughty little mind at the thought of Leucha insisting on being one of the spectators, and resolved on no account whatsoever to spare her.

The charade was to take place immediately after light supper. The great hall was arranged for the occasion. A stage was erected at the farther end, in the darkest and most shadowy spot. Across the stage a great curtain was drawn, and footlights had been secured to throw up the antics of the different animals the twelve girls were to act. One was the kitchen cat. Daisy was to be dressed exactly to fit the part by Miss Kent's and Hollyhock's clever contrivance. The kitchen cat must have a poor thin body, all dressed in shabby fur of a nondescript sort. She was to wear over her head the mask of a real cat. A long scraggy tail was stuck on behind, which by an ingenious device could jerk up and down and from side to side.

Daisy Watson rejoiced in her part, and had learned the miauw, the mew, the hiss, the dash forward, the howl of rage, and the purr to perfection. She had stalked across the stage again and again that day as kitchen cat, each time evoking shrieks of laughter. By her side walked a timorous dog, who looked at the kitchen cat with awe. The dog was purposely made to imitate Leucha, and whenever this lean and ugly brute appeared the kitchen cat said, 'Hiss-phitz-witz!' whereupon the lean animal retired in mortal terror, his mongrel tail tucked under his mongrel legs.

The resemblance to Leucha was really so marvellous as to be laughable, and all the girls had declared that they would not have allowed this beastie to appear if Leucha had been expected to be in the school. But Leucha had come back unexpectedly, and her conduct to Hollyhock had so roused the ire of that generally good-natured girl that she made up her mind that no change should now take place in the programme.

Besides the ordinary cat and dog, there was one ferocious-looking beast managed with great skill, a lion. A very tall girl in the school took this part. The lion's mane was magnificent, his growls such as to terrify any one. These were produced in reality by a little toy instrument concealed in the mouth. He growled and stalked about, and looked so like the real thing that more girls than Leucha shrank back in alarm as he approached the frail barrier which separated the actors from the spectators.

Who was this enormous beast? Could it possibly be a real lion?

Then there were the wild panther, the fierce tiger, a pony, an ox, a sheep, a goat, a pig, a long, wriggling thing to represent a snake, and finally a most enormous cock-a-doodle-doo, who seemed to fear none of the awful forest beasts and reptiles, but sang out his lusty crow right heartily with all the goodwill in the world.

But the three characters who excited most mirth or fear amongst the spell-bound spectators were, first and foremost, the kitchen cat; second, the timorous mongrel dog; and third, the lion with his mighty mane and terrible roar. The mongrel dog gave faint yelps and howls of anguish whenever he was approached by the lion or the kitchen cat. The lion made a valiant attempt, growling savagely as he did so, to demolish the cat; but the agile cat leaped on his back, stuck her claws, which were really crooked pins, into his hide, and sent the king of beasts howling to a distant part of the stage. She then proceeded to torment the mongrel dog, and to draw out, as she well knew how, Leucha's peculiarities in the dog.

Leucha sat in the audience, rather far back, nearly stunned with horror. Oh, the cruelty of the whole thing! Of course she recognised Daisy; of course she recognised the caricature of herself. Oh! it was a wicked, wicked thing to do, and she had no sympathy, and no friend anywhere. She sat, it is true, amongst the girls, but she was not one of them. They were absolutely yelling with laughter over the pranks of the cat and the terror of the dog. They had never seen so fine a piece of acting in their lives before.

One girl was heard to say distinctly to another, 'Why, if that wee doggie is not Leucha to the life, I 'm very much mistaken;' and Leucha heard the words and knew that the mongrel dog was meant for her, and yet she dared not do anything. She clung to her seat in abject misery.

Suddenly the lights on the stage were lowered. They were made strangely, weirdly dim; a kind of blue light pervaded the scene; the different animals crouched together; and ghostie, very tall, very skeleton-like, very fearsome, with his jet-black eyes, walked calmly on. Oh, but he was a gruesome thing to see! There was a look of horror on his face, and when he spoke, his words were awful.

'I have come from the bottom of the cold lake. Dry my wet locks. Which of you all will dry my locks? The poor beasties cannot. I must jump over the enclosure and walk among the lassies and see which of them will dry my dripping locks!'

The blue light now pervaded all parts of the room, and the ghost went straight up to Leucha.

'You are brave; do this favour for poor ghostie. See how my black eyes glitter into yours! Will not one of you come forward and dry my sleekit locks? I thought the bravest lass in the school would do it, so I came straight to wee Leuchy; but she has turned her head aside. What ails the lassie? What can be coming over her, and she so brave and so noble?'

The intense sarcasm in these words caused the entire school to shriek with laughter, in the midst of which Leucha flew to her room, vowing that even the Duke's locket and crest would not keep her another day in this fearful school.



CHAPTER XXIV.

THE WARM HEART ROUSED AT LAST.

Now the forgiving nature of Hollyhock Lennox has been often mentioned; but just now she felt very nearly as angry with Leucha as Leucha was with her. It was a strange sort of anger, an anger mingled with love, for had Leucha said the slightest word, that warm, warm heart of the Scots girl would have been hers once again.

But Leucha would not say the word, although, strange as it may seem, she also, down deep in her heart, was longing for Hollyhock, longing as she had never longed for a human being before. She had been brought up in a stiff, cold home, by a stiff, cold mother, and it was hard for her to go against her nature. The girls of Ardshiel were altogether on the side of Hollyhock, and Leucha was more lonely than ever. Her angry boast that she would write to her mother and ask to be taken from the school she had certainly not courage enough to carry out. Lady Crossways would have been furious, and would have come quickly to Ardshiel to punish her rebellious child, and as likely as not to fall under Hollyhock's charm.

Leucha had, therefore, to remain at the school, and as she had now literally no friends (for even the girl who had played the kitchen cat in the charade had completely deserted her, and her cousins, the Frasers, had given her up long ago), she was forced to remain in terrible isolation.

Poor Mrs Macintyre was most unhappy about the girl; and as for Hollyhock, she was downright wretched, but also, as she herself described it, very wicked-like and full of a big slice o' the de'il. The intense unhappiness of her mind caused her to be most freakish in her behaviour, to tell impossible ghost-stories, and as she could not sleep at nights and was really not at all well, to spend her time in planning fresh plots for the annoyance of Leucha.

Hollyhock, with all her loving nature, was also most defiant and most daring, and there were few things she would pause at to punish the English girl.

How queer is life! These two girls loved each other, and yet neither would succumb, neither would yield to the desires of the other.

Hollyhock tried to forget her constant headaches, her bad nights, her restless spirit, by employing her satellites in all sorts of mischievous tasks. No one noticed that she was not well, for her cheeks were apple-red with the glow of apparent health, and her lovely, dark, affectionate eyes had never looked more brilliant than at present.

Nevertheless, she would pay Leuchy out—Leuchy, who had now no one to protect her, as even the pious Meg Drummond was not allowed to make special friends with her. Meg, in her way, was as commonplace as Leucha, and she thought it a fine thing to know the daughter of an English nobleman; but Meg was strictly forbidden to show any preference for Leucha, who would have gladly received her, and been even now slightly comforted by her dull society. But the fiat had gone forth. Meg had made immense mischief in the school by her confession. She was detested by all the other girls for having made this mischief, and was as lonely in her way as Leucha herself. The one thing that sustained the school at this painful juncture was the hard work necessitated by the competitions for the Duke of Ardshiel's lockets.

Leucha had a dim hope that if she won one of these great prizes and could bring it back at Christmas to her mother, she might be allowed to leave this hateful school. Accordingly, she worked hard at her theme.

Hollyhock's choice, as she herself expressed it, was 'The Zone of Danger.' It seemed in some ways a strange thing for Mrs Macintyre to suggest, and she repented it after she had done so; but Hollyhock's dancing eyes, and her brilliant cheeks, her smiles, her fascinating way of saying, 'I 'm not frightened,' had obliged the head-mistress to keep to her resolve.

The competitions were of a somewhat peculiar nature. The six prizes were more or less open ones. For instance, the girls who chose to compete in the essay competition might choose their own subject. The girls who went in for foreign languages might select French, German, or Italian. The girls who struggled to attain general knowledge had a very wide field indeed to select from. The only thing they had to do was carefully to select their subject and hand it under a feigned name to Mrs Macintyre, the envelope being sealed, and the lady herself not knowing its contents until the day before the prizes were to be given by the Duke of Ardshiel himself to the school.

Her idea with regard to the competition which Hollyhock called 'The Zone of Danger' was that the Scots lassie or English girl, as the case might be, should perform a brilliant deed, a feat demanding skill, endurance, and nerve. But Hollyhock intended her zone of danger to be one really great and very terrible, something that was to take place at night. Very few girls in the school chose to compete for this prize, as they knew only too well that Holly would beat them into 'nothing at all,' her magnificent bravery being so well known.

One day, about a fortnight before the general break-up at the school, when Mrs Macintyre was preparing to have a joyful time with her friends in Edinburgh, and the Palace of the Kings was to be shut up, a band—a very large band—of girls were collected round the fire in the ingle-nook in the great hall, and were listening to Hollyhock's fascinating words.

Suddenly Agnes Featherstonhaugh spoke. She was a very reserved English girl, and had only been won over to Hollyhock by slow degrees. But, once she was won over, her heart was in a state of intense and passionate devotion. She would, in short, do anything for this radiant young creature.

'Holly,' she said, as a slight pause in the animated conversation gave her the chance she required, 'confession is good for the soul. Meg knows that.— Don't you, Meg?'

Meg shrugged her shoulders, looked sulky, and made no reply. But when Hollyhock touched her gently on the arm, she snuggled up to her in a kind of passionate love. She felt inclined to weep, for she knew that she—yes, she—had caused the terrible discord and unhappiness which now reigned in the school.

'I wish to say,' continued Agnes, 'that I am following in the footsteps of a much finer character than my own. Leucha Villiers belongs to the school'——

Hollyhock stirred restlessly.

'And Leucha is alone morning, noon, and night, except when she is busy over her essay.'

'I—I'm willing'—— began Hollyhock.

'No, Holly darling, you are not to be put upon any more than you have been!'

Similar remarks were made by a chorus of girls, who were really sick of Leucha and her ways.

'I—I'm willing,' said Hollyhock, bringing out the words with a great effort. 'But there, let things slide. I have my own troubles, and what I do, I do alone; only you all hear me say, lassies, that I'm willing.— Now, then, Agnes, go on with your speech.'

'It's only this,' said Agnes, 'that, following in the steps of that most noble creature, Meg Drummond, I also am confessing a little sin, a small one at that; but I too must save my soul, girls, just as Meg had to save hers.'

'Go ahead,' said Hollyhock.

'It was this very afternoon,' continued Agnes, 'when we were all busy in the great warm schoolroom, no teachers being present, and we were all occupied over our different competitions, each of us, of course, hoping to win the prize given by the great Ardshiel. Well, it so happened that Leucha Villiers's desk was next to mine, and Leucha suddenly went out of the room, and a temptation swift and frightful came over me. Nobody saw me do it, and why I did it I can never tell, but do it I did; and if you 'll believe me, girls, I opened Leucha's desk, no one seeing me at the job, and took out her paper on the kitchen cat. I don't myself think she 'll get a prize from his Grace for that paper; and, what's more, I don't care, for venom is in the girl, and in every word of her poor, stupid little paper. She compares the kitchen cat to our dear Hollyhock, and abuses Hollyhock in such a way'——

'Stop—say no more,' cried Hollyhock. 'You did wrong to read, and I won't be told what was said of me. No, the daughter of a Cameron isn't that sort.— You can go on with your talk, lassies; but I 'm for my bed. I have a bit of a headache, and the sleep so beauteous will take it away.'

With these words Hollyhock left the room, and Agnes found she had done very little good by her confession. The other girls, however, who were less scrupulous, crowded round her and implored her to tell them what that 'wicked one' had said.

'No; I 'll tell no more,' said Agnes. 'Holly wouldn't wish it. But, oh, to think of that noble girl being spoken of like that! Oh, the cruel, cruel, angry girl! My heart bleeds for our darling!'

'She 'll not get the prize,' said a Scots girl. 'Think you now that Ardshiel would give a prize to one who abuses his kinswoman?'

'She has put her foot in it by so doing,' said another.

'We'd best let her alone, Agnes; and you keep your confession to yourself. You had no right to read the paper,' said Meg Drummond in her solemn voice.

'I had not,' replied Agnes; 'but seeing that you were so troubled by a bit of a lark on account of your poor soul, Meg, I thought I 'd follow suit.'

'Well,' said Meg, who came out a good deal when Hollyhock was absent, 'my mother tells me my immortal soul is safe now. I can pray again, and I 'm happy; but yours is a different case altogether, Agnes. Anyhow, you have done the deed, and one of the lockets will never go to Earl Crossways' daughter.'

The girls talked together for a little longer, all of them rejoicing in the thought that Leucha had now no possible chance of a locket. She was so thoroughly disliked in the school that they positively rejoiced in this certainty, and forgave Agnes her mean trick of looking at the essay.

But Hollyhock, up in her room, having bluntly refused to listen to any of the words of the naughty girl who had read a part of the essay, was nevertheless wild with rage, and could not possibly rest. That sense of forgiveness which she had felt when seated with her companions round the ingle-nook had now absolutely vanished. She would not demean herself by listening to words which were not meant for her to hear; but for the time being at least her little heart was sore, very sore, with anger. 'Oh Leuchy, whyever are you so spiteful, and why does my head split, and why does my heart ache for love of one who could be so cruel to me? Did I not repent over and over and over again? She has done for herself; but when I go into the danger zone, I go into it now in very truth. Perhaps when poor Hollyhock is no longer flitting about the place you 'll think more kindly of me, Leuchy. I was willing for your sake to make a final effort to be good, but the wish has died. I 'm a bad lass, and you 'll describe me as I am, when the essay on the kitchen cat is read aloud. Oh Leuchy, I would not be so mean!'

All night long Hollyhock tossed from side to side on her restless couch, thinking and planning how she would perform that feat which would stamp her as the bravest lassie in the school.

There was one action which she could perform, one action which was so full of danger that no other girl in the school would attempt it. It was, in short, the following. On the night when she entered the danger zone, she would enter it on her own Arab horse, Lightning Speed. She could easily get this brilliant little animal over to the Palace of the Kings by the aid of Magsie, who was more devoted to her than ever. She would ride her horse, Lightning Speed, in the dead of night, with the moon shining brightly, up a certain gorge which led to the source of one of the streams that kept the great lake supplied with water.

Lightning Speed was a high-spirited little animal, a thoroughbred Arab no less, and Hollyhock knew that at the top of the gorge, when all things looked so ghostly, he would start at every shadow and at the slightest sound. He was all nerves, was Lightning Speed—all nerves and gallant bearing, and devotion to Hollyhock.

At the top of the gorge was a sudden break in the cliffs, below which roared the mountain stream. The bold girl resolved to leap from the rock on the one side to the opposite rock. She was determined that Lightning Speed would and should obey her, for did not he love her, the bonnie beastie?

She would not have attempted this deed, because she loved the brave steed; but now she had heard of Leucha's conduct to her, her mind was made up. She and Lightning Speed would leap the gorge, and she had little doubt that they would both land safe on the opposite side.

But this plan of hers, meaning certain death if it failed, was to be kept a profound secret from every one in the school except Magsie, who would be able to confirm what Hollyhock had done when the day and hour arrived.

Hollyhock, having quite made up her mind, at last fell asleep, and next morning went downstairs very calm and peaceful to her usual lessons. She had the calm, heroic look of Brunhilda, the favourite of all Wagner's great heroines. She even muttered to herself, 'If I die, I die, and the fire spirits of the great Brunhilda will surround me. I 'll die rejoicing; but I 'll never, never do a mean deed. No, my bonnie Lightning Speed and I couldn't bring ourselves so low. We are meant for better things, my good steed, and better things we 'll do. I have no fear. Hollyhock is very happy this day of days.'

Her chosen chums and companions couldn't help looking with fresh wonder at her radiant and lovely face. They little knew what was before them. She was kind and sweet to every one, but a little quiet, not quite so restless as usual, but with a wondrous light glowing in her eyes.

The other Flower Girls looked at her in astonishment, but no one had any fear for Hollyhock. She was not the sort of girl to stir fear about herself in others.



CHAPTER XXV.

THE FIRE SPIRITS.

A fortnight with so much excitement in the air passes very quickly. The girls felt this excitement, although they did not talk of it one to the other.

Leucha sat alone when she was not engaged at her school tasks, and made her essay on the kitchen cat as venomous as she knew how. Luckily for poor Leucha, she had not the ability to do much in the way of sarcasm, and although every single girl in the school must know at a glance that this feeble caricature was meant for their beloved Hollyhock, it would certainly not injure the dear Hollyhock in the least.

Meanwhile Holly, absorbed in helping the other girls to make the time pass as pleasantly as possible, and in doing mysterious things on Sunday with Lightning Speed, also forgot Leucha for the time being. Whenever she did think of her she was sorry for her; but she had not time to think much of any single person just at present. The horse, the darling horse, the Arab, the treasure of her life, must be trained to the task which lay before him. Hollyhock had the knack of making all animals love her, and the pure-bred Arab is noted for being a most affectionate creature. He was sulky, and disinclined to obey big grooms or any one except Hollyhock. But for her he would have given his life.

The eyes, so flashing black; the coat, black also and of such a silken sheen; the tail, a little longer than that of most horses; and the great lovely mane, all gave to the gallant animal a look of determination and of spirit, which drew the remarks of the neighbours, who could not imagine why Hollyhock had been presented by her father with so much finer a horse to ride than the other Flower Girls. But the fact was that the four other Flower Girls did not so greatly care for riding, and although they often went out accompanied by their father on the Saturday and Sunday afternoons, yet they preferred steeds less spirited in nature than Lightning Speed.

Hollyhock had, therefore, her own way entirely with her precious treasure, and for his sake she would not, if possible, endanger the life of Lightning Speed. She knew well that the leap of twelve feet which she intended to take would be a mere nothing to Lightning Speed in the ordinary hours of daylight; but with the moon shining brilliantly and casting strange lights and also queer black shadows, and with the terrific noise made by the foaming torrent below, the horse, brave as he was, might refuse the leap at the last moment.

'At any cost he must not do that,' thought Hollyhock.

'You must not disgrace me, my bonnie beastie,' she whispered into his sensitive ear; and certainly the Arab looked as if he had no intention of disgracing the girl he loved.

She took him to the gorge on two Saturdays and Sundays in succession, and gave him imperious orders to leap across, which he did without a moment's hesitation, leaping back again with equal ease. But this was daylight. Things looked different at night. Animals were known to see strange, uncanny things at night; the shadows were not mere shadows to them. They were monsters beckoning them to destruction. The light, too, of the full moon—for it would be full moon that night—would add to the terrors of Lightning Speed. That intense white world would be as terrifying to him as the blackness of the gorge and the sudden awful gap over which he was expected to leap.

Now the prizes were to be presented to the girls of the school by the great Duke himself, and Mrs Macintyre assumed that the three or four young maids who were to perform their deeds of daring would choose the daytime for the display of their courage.

As a matter of fact, very few girls did go in for this prize—five or six at the most—and these, so far as Mrs Macintyre could tell, chose the broad light of day to show the stuff they were made of. It never entered her wildest dreams that Hollyhock would perform her feat, her daring adventure, about midnight. It was then that the moon would be at the full.

Hollyhock could not have carried out the design without the help of Magsie, who had got her sweetheart, Joey Comfort, one of the grooms at The Garden, to bring Lightning Speed to the Palace of the Kings. But even Magsie, who knew the horse was there, had not the faintest idea that her young mistress would take out so spirited a steed in the uncanny hours of the night. She did, however, wonder during the day on which the other competitors were performing their feats of bravery why her favourite, Miss Hollyhock, was holding back. One by one the different girls did different small things, which were brave enough in their way, and all the time a mistress stood by and marked the girl and her achievement. But Hollyhock had not come forward. She, who was so extraordinarily brave, kept in the background. The girls were not allowed to be questioned as to their intentions in this open competition, and the teachers therefore assumed that although the different essays had gone to the head-mistress in their sealed envelopes under feigned names, and the other prizes had been competed for and were waiting a judgment in Mrs Macintyre's room, Holly would doubtless have plenty of time to perform something brilliant, and they only hoped not too reckless, early on the following day. That would be quite time enough for her deed of courage, and no one thought of a midnight ride—a wild, half-despairing girl, and a horse so full at once of timidity and courage, who would go forth to perform their feat of all feats at the hour of midnight.

As usual, the girls crowded round Hollyhock that evening and asked for bogy and ghost stories. She told them with a verve which she had never shown before, and they listened with awed and loving admiration. Oh, was there ever the like of this girl before in the wide world? thought those who loved her. Never, never had she spoken as she did to-night. They shrank together under the spell of her words. A few of them even wept as they listened, and the one who wept most sadly was Meg, that pious maid, who had done such mischief to save her soul.

'Oh Holly, but I do love you!' said Meg, laying her head for a minute on Hollyhock's shoulder.

Hollyhock, who, as is well known, could not bear kisses, gently patted Meg's hand, and then stood up.

'Well, girls,' she said, 'to-morrow will be the great day, the grand day, when the Duke gives prizes to the school. I think nothing myself of the prizes, having a right on my mother's side to the grand crest of the Camerons; but I 'm drowsy. Most of you have done your best, and even Leuchy will be put about if she does not get a prize. Listen to me, lassies. I have yet to perform my feat, and no one knows what the feat is.'

'I suppose it will be to-morrow morning that you will do it?' said Meg. 'Please don't run into danger, Holly, for that would break the heart of every girl in the school.'

'Me—run into danger! Is it like me, now? Do you think I 'm the sort who 'd wilfully imperil my life? No, not me! But I 'm tired of these constant headaches, and I 'd like a wee bit of rest. You say I'll perform my feat in the morning. Some are clever at guessing—let that be. But whatever happens in the future—and no one can tell—I want Leuchy to know that I bear her no malice, and that if she thinks me like poor Jean, the kitchen cat at The Garden, why, I'm satisfied. You are all here round me with the exception of Leuchy, and I 'm thinking of her loneliness. Well, whatever happens—and I don't think for a moment anything will happen—I'd like Leuchy to know that all through this bitter, sad time, while Meg here was saving her soul—and quite right you were, Meg—I have never ceased to love Leuchy—never. She was not the sort of girl I 'd take up; but I did her a wrong, and so I took her up; and I want her to forgive me, if indeed there is anything to forgive. Now, good-night; I 'm off to my bed to ease my troubled head. There's nothing like sleep for that, is there?'

To the astonishment of the girls, Hollyhock kissed one and all, and said, 'I'm getting sentimental. I must to bed to cure my headache. A very good night to you!'

She flitted out of the room, the girls looking after her in startled amazement.

'I don't like it, for my part,' said Meg Drummond.

'Oh, but it's all right,' said Gentian. 'It's only our Holly's way. She's excited, that's all.'

'Yes, I expect that's about all,' said Jasmine, but she spoke with a certain uneasiness, which was not, however, apparent in her voice.

By-and-by the girls followed Hollyhock to their rooms. It has been said already that Hollyhock's room and Leucha's were side by side. Hollyhock went up to bed on this special night before nine o'clock. She guessed well that Leucha would be in her room. In case anything happened—in case! but of course nothing would happen—she had left a message for Leuchy with the other girls of the school; but now, as she passed her door, a desire to make one last effort to speak to her, to be friends with her once more, came over the brave child with a passionate force.

She tapped at the door, and without waiting for an answer opened it softly and went in. She had spent days in that room as sick-nurse. How uncomfortable that camp-bed was, too; how restless and exigent was Leucha! But the room looked tidy enough now with the camp-bed removed and a brilliant fire blazing in the grate. Certainly the Duke's school did not lack for luxury.

Leucha was seated by the fire. Her face was pale, and her light, thin hair was unbecomingly dressed. She had been forced, of course, to dress for the evening; but she was now wearing an old tea-gown, which had been made for her out of one of Lady Crossways' worn-out garments. The tea-gown was of a light brown; the make was poor, but it was warm and comfortable, although nothing could be more trying to Leucha's appearance. Holly could have worn it, as she could wear anything with effect; but Leucha, with her pale eyes and scanty locks, was a different sort of being. The brown tea-gown certainly did not suit her. Hollyhock, who was wearing a dress of soft silk and brightest crimson in colour, looked a magnificent young figure beside the dowdy Leucha.

Leucha knew at once that she looked dowdy, and hated Holly all the more for showing herself off, as she expressed it.

'What have you come for?' she said. 'I haven't invited you.'

'I only thought, Leuchy dear, I 'd like to say good-night,' said Holly in her rich, gentle tones.

'Oh, good-night, good-night. But surely you are not going to bed yet?'

'Yes, that I am. My head aches, and there's no place for an aching head like bed. I thought perhaps, perhaps'—Hollyhock's voice trembled—'you'd give me one kiss, Leuchy.'

'Don't be such a goose,' said Leucha. 'I don't want to kiss you.'

'Very well; good-night, Leuchy dear!'

Hollyhock went into her own room. The moment she had gone Leucha became possessed by a tremendous desire to give that kiss so sweetly asked for. But her obstinate and silly pride prevented her. Besides, how could Leucha possibly kiss a girl whom she had made such a rare fool of? No, it could not be.

The fact was that Leucha was exceedingly pleased with her own work, and quite hoped to take the Duke of Ardshiel's locket to her mother, and thus get away from the horrid school. She had not the least suspicion of its contents being known, or at least partly known, to several girls in the school. But even she could not kiss Hollyhock to-night; even she could not give that Judas kiss.

She snuggled into her chair, wrapped her ugly tea-gown round her, and wondered what possessed Hollyhock to go to bed so early, and why she was always suffering from headaches. So unlike her, too, for she looked the very picture of rosy health. Leucha made up her mind that Hollyhock was putting on these headaches to enlist the sympathy of the school.

'Just like her,' thought Leucha; and yet through all her angry thoughts and all through the writing of the vicious and silly essay she knew well that she loved Hollyhock as she loved no one else in the school. Yes, Hollyhock was the only girl she loved. She might bring herself to make up the quarrel with her next term, but she could not give her a Judas kiss to-night.

Hollyhock crept into bed without undressing fully. Her habit lay ready beside her, but in such a position that no one would notice it. She had taken off her pretty crimson frock, and had plaited her masses of black hair into two thick tails, the ends of which she secured with scarlet ribbons.

Half-dressed, she hid under the bedclothes. She could slip into her habit and go downstairs with noiseless feet when the moon was near its height. The adventure would be quickly over, and she would be free, she would be happy. She would have done the bravest deed of all the girls in the school, and her beloved, her best-beloved, Lightning Speed would not come to harm. Mistress and horse loved each other too well for that to happen. She could control him by a look, a touch, a word.

But the time was long in coming. Hollyhock had done her part as far as girl could. She must now keep calm and try to ease that ever-aching head.

One by one the girls went up to bed; but still Hollyhock had to lie awake, waiting, waiting, pining for the weary hours to pass, for there was no use in attempting the dangerous task before the moon was at its full, and that would not be until midnight.

The dressing of herself, the arranging of her sidesaddle on Lightning Speed, the starting for the celebrated gorge, would take her altogether about half-an-hour, the gorge being some distance from the Palace of the Kings.

At half-past eleven, therefore, she might safely get up and prepare for her task. Every other girl in the school was long in bed and sound asleep. The servants had retired to their rooms, the teachers had gone to their rest, for to-morrow was to be a great day, as the Duke himself was expected to present the lockets to the six successful candidates for the prizes. The great Ardshiel would be at the school to-morrow at mid-day, and Mrs Macintyre thought she had better go to bed early. She was always the last to sit up in the Palace of the Kings; but to-night she went to her room at sharp eleven, a little weary, a little perplexed, a little sorry, for she had read Leucha's vindictive essay, and felt that she could not possibly keep such a girl any longer in the school.



CHAPTER XXVI.

HOLLYHOCK'S DEED OF VALOUR.

Little did any one in that great house suspect what was going on during those hours devoted to peaceful slumber. Mrs Macintyre was dreaming of the Duke, and of the great honour he was about to confer on her school. Leucha, worn-out and unhappy, was sleeping peacefully at last. Every girl in the school was at rest, with the exception of the one girl who had yet to perform her feat of valour. There was, however, one exception to the intense peace of the school, and that exception was Magsie, who, although she never imagined such an awful catastrophe as might occur, still was full of a latent uneasiness with regard to Miss Hollyhock. Magsie slept, of course, because she was tired; but she woke again because her dreams were bad. They were all about bonnie Miss Hollyhock and Lightning Speed. She felt so anxious that after some time she rose softly, left the other servants, and crept out into the moonlight night.

It was now past midnight, and the moon was setting. Magsie's steps first took her in the direction of the stables. She peeped into one stall after another. There was no sign anywhere of Lightning Speed. This was quite sufficient for the brave Scots lass. She made up her mind and acted accordingly.

Meanwhile Hollyhock, a little before half-past eleven o'clock, had risen very gently, and carefully adjusted her habit and her little scarlet cap, which she was fond of wearing when she rode with Dumpy Dad. Her scarlet ribbons kept her hair tied tightly back—those long, thick, magnificent black locks of hers. As a rule, when she rode with her father she wore her hair unbound, floating wildly in the breeze; but she thought Lightning Speed would like her best to-night in her present attire. She had chosen an old habit of dark Lincoln green. She glanced at herself for a moment in the glass. Why would her head keep aching, aching, when she looked so well, when her cheeks were so bright and her great black eyes so sparkling?

It is true that when she touched her forehead she felt it feverishly hot, but she could not be in any way ill; that was impossible. She had never looked better, and looks would sometimes show signs of illness. How bad, for instance, poor Leuchy had looked after she, Hollyhock, had played the prank on her; how withered up, like an apple all overripe—her eyes so dim, her scanty locks so faded! Well, she must not think of Leuchy now; only she would have been a little happier if Leuchy had given her the kiss she had asked for.

The maids of England were cold. She, Hollyhock, could not understand them, could not attempt to fathom them. She crept softly downstairs, gathering her habit over her arm.

The moon was now full and at its height. She would reach the gap in the gorge just at the critical moment. The adventure was a wee bit dangerous—she had to acknowledge that to herself—a wee bit, no more!