The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1879-02-19

walked into his room and put my dirk
through his throat. I had wrongs tc
right, and I righted them; but yon man
you spoke against to-day knows nothing
of the matter. I don't want to murder
him too. Tell the police that the man
who killed James Laing is Alexander
Campbell. They can look for him in
Butte; maybe they will find him, and
maybe they will not.
Without another word he was gone
and Ranald was too shocked to detair
him, even if he had the power. How
ever, he made no spontaneous effort.
and when reflection came he determined
not to do it. He could not bear to give
up his triumph he knew the temper ot
popular feeling, and was sure tina,
David's innocence assured, David would
become the popular idol. BE had labor
ed for his ruin-how could he now give
up his object2 And then he though ght OF
Maggie, and that thought decided him.
No, nothing should now induce him tc
retrace his steps.
"The next morning in court he had
another chance to clear his soul. The
prisoner had received from some person
in the press paper assuring him that
Ranald had been notified of his inno'
cence, and would proclaim it in the
court. David begged the officer to pass
this paper over to Ranald, and he eager
ly scanned his face while he read it. The
two enemies looked q moment into each
others eyes, and then Ranald, with q
scornful smile, tore the paper into frag-
ments.
$50 David was sentenced that day,
and in due time hung with all the Cir
cumstances of barbarity and indignity
then common to the last act of the law.
If Ranald felt himself a murderer, he
did not show it, and no visible judg-
ment followed bis crime. He rose
rapidly in his profession, married Mag
gle Faulder, built yon house at Cross
basket, and was finally made one of the
lords of session.
"But long before this some people
had begun to notice that he was a
haunted man. I say some people,
because there are men and women that
are just Jumps of clay, and never see
any thing beyond their own meat and
money matters"
GA haunted man, Brodie! What do
you mean?"
"Just what say, Allister. The man
he had hung called him from bed and
and board and bench, and he was COM
PEELED to go. His face turned gray as
ashes with terror and mortal agony; and
the servants told strange tales. of cries
and voices and of fierce struggles,
which left their master more dead than
alive. The doctors gave these attacks
some grand Latin name; but the man
was far beyond their help.
"One night he was awfully wretched
and restless, and insisted on having only
the company OF his eldest grandson. q
bright lad of three years old. At mid
night there was the old struggle and the
old cries, and the child ran sobbing down
the great stairs, half crazy with terror
that he never could explain; for it was
not likely he could describe in the Ian
guage of this world things that belor ged
to another one"
- ana hanalQ MacNalr
"Was found dead this time, and his
room is locked to this day. The little
lad present at that last awful struggle
was Sholto's father. He carried the
memory of that hour into every hour Of
his life, and I think that he never either
hoped or tried to avert the poverty and
sorrow he believed to be the just judg-
ment of his house. He was q pious man,
but held the worl Is goods with loose
grip. sholto, you say, is prudent and
world.like ?"
CT have nothing against him but his
constant hankering after work that will
never pay him. Nobody cares for his
torical; paintings and picture castles,
Brodie."
"No, no; and why should they? Tell
him to paint portraits; every one thinks
his own face makes the best picture. "
But in a few months Bailie Allister
had still graver cause of disapproba-
tion. Among the girls in his factory
was one of extreme beauty, known gen
orally by her companions as Lady
Jennie" Popular nomenclature is
rarely wrong. and Jennie's stately beau
ty deserved the title given her. Sholto's
admiration was 80 marked that his old
friend could hardly avoid interfering in
tho matter. So he made the inquiries
he thought proper, and then asked
Sholto to come and dine with him.
Sholto was quite prepared for the
discussion, and when Bailie Allister
proposed that he should now 60 to
Rome and pursue his studies, the prop
osition had been foreseen and consider
ed. He answered, quietly, that he had
been preparing for such step some,
that he had finished designs sufficient
for the houses need until his place
could be properly filled, and that he
was now only waiting for his marriage,
which would be performed the follow
ing week.
"You know who you are going to
marry, Sholto, I suppose ?"
eyes, ] know. I WAS afraid she
would not have me; but she is an angel,
and has forgiven all.
"She has heard, then, OF the wrong
your grandfather did her house ?"
"She has heard that Ranald MacNair
deliberately kept back facts which
would have saved her great-uncle from
O shameful and early death; but she
knows that Sholto MacNair had neither
part nor lot in that sin, and that he
would die himself rather than hurt a
hair OF her head"
"She is but a working girl, Sholto.
"I am not fit to touch her hand,
bailie, she is that nobly born; and I
hope, for my mothers sake, you will
bless our bridal"
So Sholto aud his wife went to Rome,
and the old house of Crossbasket grew
every year more dreary and melancholy
looking. Nobody asked to rent it, no
body asked to buy it, and tho marsh
grew SO llnou tie garden every year that
people began to prophesy the place
would eventually be swallowed up by
the hogs and water.
For some time little vas heard OF
Sholto. The bailie thought it a good
sign. "The laa," he said, sis happy
with his wife, and busy with his brush. "
Events justified this opinion, for Sir
Thomas McGilvery, lord provost OF
Edinburgh, having gone to Italy in the
seventh year of Sholto's absence,
brought back with him wonderful
painting of the hroken-hearted King
james entering Edinburgh after the
woful field of Flodden; and Sholto
MacNair was the artist.
Far ard wide tho fame of the work