The Highland weekly news. [volume] (Hillsborough [Hillsboro], Highland County, Ohio) 1853-1886, 1873-02-13
By CHRISTIAN REID.

story IN Four chapters.
By CHRISTIAN REID.
AUTHOR OF "vALERIE AYLMER," s'MoRToN HOUSE,
"MABEL LEE" ETC, ETC.
"ALARGARET," said Hugh Churchill,
as he came abruptly into his sisters
room one morning, ''who do you sup
pose is dead?"
The address was startling enough
In itself, but there was a suppressed
excitement in the speakers face, and
a suppressed tone of awe in his voice,
that made Margaret Churchill turn
pale as she looked up from her sewing
in quick alarm.
"Indeed I cannot tell, Hugh" she
said. ''Not-not anybody I care
about, surely?"
Scare about!" repeated her brother.
''Not unless you care about knowing
that he has gone to his deserts in an
other and-a hotter world That is
all the concern 1 feel in Henry Tyr
rell's death, 1 am sure"
'EHenry Tyrrell! Is he dead?"
"He dropped down with fit of ap-
oplexy an hour ago"
''Where?"
"On the street. I was sitting in
Morrison's Office about ten o'clock,
and chanced to see him walk past,
looking as usual; yet, scarcely five
minutes later, boy rushed in saying
that Mr.. Tyrrell had just fallen down
dead. Of course, we ran out at once.
He was not dead, however; so we
carried him into the office, and sent
for the doctors at once. They were
all there in no time, but they could
do nothing for him, and he has just
died"
His voice sank little over the last
words, and look of horror came into
Margaret Churchill's face.
'Died like that o Hugh! how
terrible! Surely he said something
surely he made some reparation for
such an aUsIl1 lifel"
Her brother laughed, not mirthfully.
'Do you believe in death-bed atone
ments, Madge? I confess don't,
and I doubt if Tyrren did, either.
He recovered his senses toward the
last, but he only uttered two names.
The first was his sons"
"And the other?"
The young mans voice deepened,
and change came over his face that
hardened and altered it, as he answer
ed gravely, almost sternly:
''The other was-our father's!"
Margaret looked up, her awe-struck
eyes meeting his, and for a moment
neither spoke At last it was the
girls voice that said:
"God forgive himl"
Low as the words were, they reach
ed Hugh ChurchilTs ears, and brought
dark cloud over his face.
$50 that is your idea Of Christiani-
ty, is it, Madge?" he asked, bitterly. |
ga nice place you and the like of you
would make of heaven-ay, and of
earth, too! If I believed that few
prayers or good works at the eleventh
hour could atone for Henry Tyrrell's
half a century of wrong=doing, would
fling conscience to the winds, and live
as he did-perhaps die as he died, too.
But that would make no difference in
your liberal creed. I don't pretend |
to decide whether or not such opin-
ions are orthodox, but of all the texts
in Holy Writ I like the best the one
which says that what man sows the
same shall he reap, here and here
after"
Margaret did not answer. Her
thoughts, indeed, seemed to have wan
dered from her brothers speech, and
gone back to what he had said before.
At least, when he finished, she went
on with the other train of thought.
"And he spoke Of papa. OHugh!
who can tell what he was thinking?
I wonder was it the sight of you that
brought back the past? Did he see
you at ala"
"He saw me as plainly as you see
me now," her brother answered. "In-
deed, I doubt if he saw any one else.
I was standing at the foot of the bed,
and, when he opened his eyes, they
rested full on my face. And with
such a look! Madge, it aoas awful
I don't think 1 shall ever forget it. It
was so solemn and yet so defiant, as if
he had said, $50 you are here to see
the endI Ny God, what an end
Madge-and his voice grew SO ten
der that she knew of whom he was
going to speak-"you have heard how
bravely and peacefully our father died:
Well, even in this world, there is such
a thing as retribution. I thought
that, if I thought nothing else, as I
stood by the death-bed of the man
who killed him"
Margaret thought it, too, as the
dainty muslin she was hemming fell |
from her lap to the floor unheeded |
She, too, remembered all that she had |
heard of the father whose existence
had faded so early out of her own
of his stainless life and honorable
death, as contrasted with the life and
death of the man who had murdered
him. For even the world, usually so
lenient in such matters, held Henry
Tyrrel as guilty of the blood of Al
bert Churchill as if he had stabbed |
him unawares in the darkness of the
night. It is true that the affair had