Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1890-12-21

VIII be going away In search OF them, SO
that l may find relatives and shelter. And
the disappointment will be terrible. For he
has got into habit of fretting that never
was usual with him. He has fits of distrust-
ing himself too, and begins to worry about
having done this or done that: and you
know how unlike that is to his old courage,
when he never doubted for a moment but
that everything he had done was done Tor
the best And to think that he should veX
himself by imagining he mad not acted well
by me-when he has given his whole life to
me, as long as 1 can remember-
'Maisrie, I" said he, when your grandfather
gets we'll, and able to leave this place, where
are you going?"
"How can 1 say?" she made answer, wist-
fully enough.
"For L do not mean to let you disappear
again. No, no. 1 shall not let you out OF
my sight again. Do you know that have
house waiting for you, Malsrie?'
For me?" she said, looking up sur
prised.
For whom else, do you imagine? And
rather pretty the rooms are, 1 think.
have got stand for your music, Maisrie;
that will be handler for you than putting it
on the table before you"
She shook her head, sadly.
MY place is with nv grandfather, Vim
cent" she said. "And now will 60 aud
see how he is. He wished to know as soon
as possible of your arrival"
She left the room and was absent only for
a couple of minutes.
eyes; will you come upstairs, Vincent?"
she said on her return. "I'm afraid you
will find him much changed. And some
times he wanders little in his talking; you
must try to keep him as quiet as may be-
As thev entered the room an elderly
Scotch woman-most probably the landlady
who had been sitting there, rose and came
out. Vincent went forward. Despite
Maisrie's warning he was startled to notice
the raYages the lever had wrought; but il
the proud and fine features were pinched
and worn, the ewes were singularly bright
bright and furtive at the same time. And
at sight of his visitor, old George ,Bethune
made desperate effort to assume his usual
gallant air.
HAP" said he-though his labored
breathing made this affectation of gaiety a
somewhat pitiable thing-"the young Leg
islator-fresh from the Senate-the listen
ing Senate, the applause of multitude"
He turned his restless eyes on Maisrie;
and said in quite an altered tone
go away, girl, go awayp'
Well, MaisrIe's nerves were all unstrung
by anxiety and watching; and here was her
lover just arrived, to listen to her being so
cruelty and sharply rebuked; and so, after
a moment of Iudecision, shs lost her self
control, she flung herself on her knees BY
the side of the bed, ard burst out crying.
"Don't speak to me like that, grand
father" she sobbed, don't speak to me like
thatl"
"WelI, well, weIi," said he, in a differ
ent fashion. Il did not mean to hurt you.
No, no, Maisrie; you're good lass-a good
lass-none better in the whole kingdom of
Scotland. / was not thinking-I beg your
pardon, nv Gear-I beg your pardon"
She rose. and kissed his hand, and left the
room. Then old George Bethune turned to
his visitor, and began to talk to him in a
curiously rapid way-rapid and discon-
nected and coniused-while the brilliant
eyes were all the time fixed anxiously on
the young man.
''Yes, I am glad YOU have come-I have
been sorely perplexed," he said, IN his
husky and hurried fashion; perhaps,
when one is i'll, confidence IN ones own
judgment gives way a little-and it is not
every one whom YOU can consult But that
is not the main thing-not the main thing
at ala question OF money is a minor thing
but yesterday-I think it was yesterday
my voice seemed to De going from me-and
L
The book there-bring it"
He looked toward red volume that was
lying on the window-sill. Vincent went
and fetched it; though even as he did so, he
thought it strange that a man who was per-
haps lying on his deathbed should bother
about q book of ballads. But when, he
might have asked himself, had George
Bethune ever seemed to realize the relative
Importance OF the things around him? To
him harebell brought from the Braes of
Gleniffer was of more value than a king 5
crown.
"Open at the marx, " said the sick man,
eagerly. "See if you understand-without
much said-to her, mean-poor lass-poor
lass-I caught her crying once or twice
while we were away-and / have been ask
ing myself whether-whether 1t was all
done for the best" Then he seemed to pull
himself together little. "Yes, yes, it was
done for the best-what appeared best for
everyone; but now-well, now it may be
Judged diferently-I am not what was-I
hone I-have done NO wrong"
Vincent turned to the marked page; and
there he found a verse of one of the ballads
pencIled round, with the last line under
scored. This is what he read:
He turned his face unto the wa,
And death was with him dealing;
Adieu, adieu, my dear friends, a.
Be kind to Barbara Allenl
The old man was watching him sn1iously
and intently.
"Yes. / understand" Vincent said.
"And think you may depend on me-"
"Then there is another thing" the old
man continued-his mind leaping from one
point to another with marvellous quickpess,
though he himself seemed SO languid and
frail. "I-I wish to have all things left in
order. If the summons-comes-I must be
able to meet etit-with head up-fear never pos
sessed meduring life. But who has not made
mistakes-who has not made mistakes?-
not understood at the time. And yet per-
hans it was not a mistske-I am not the
man 1 was-I have doubts-I thought was
doing we'll by all-but now-I am uneasy
Questions come to me in the nighttime
and I have not my old strength cannot
cast them behind me as in better days"
He glanced toward the door.
keep Maisrie out" said he. "Poor lass
poor lsss-I thought was doing we'll for
her-but when found her crying Take
care she does not come back for minute or
| two
"She won't come until you send Tor her ("
| Vincent interposed.
"Then must make haste-and you must
| listen. The money-that was persuaded
to take from your family-that must be paid
back-to the last farthing; and it will not
be dificult-oh, no, not difhcult-not much
of it has been used-Bevan and Morris will
tell you-Bevan and Morris, Pail Mall.
London. And indeed I meant to do what
promised-when went awsy-but when 1
| got I'LL could not bear the idea OF being
buried out of Scotland-I was like the Swiss
soldier-in the trenches-who heard the
Alphorn-something arose in my breast