Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1890-11-16

lowish of curly hair. Heather regarded
the child with a feeling of woe, and then
called old Mamie, to inquire whose baby
it was.
.Don't We know, dearie," said the old
woman; "it's your own"
'.No, no." said the young mother, burst
ing into tears; ''this sweet innocent babe
cannot be NINE"
But after few days Heather grew ac-
customed to the bright little head upon
the pillow, and would lie for hours watch
ing the pretty blue eyes wandering in in
ouisitive search around the shabby room.
By and by, when she was able to leave
her bed, she would sit and fondle the little
fellow for hours, and oft-times pressing the
little form to her breast, would weep hot,
scalding tears on the sunny head.
Heather, though still very weak and IL,
was singing softly, and rocking her baby
to and fro, when the old Laird-Willie's
father-entered.
Heather" he said, II have come to see
the child"
The little arms were instantly out
stretched, and the chubby fingers entan-
gled in the long white beard.
Again and again the old Laird came,
until at last he made a startling proposal.
If Heather would give him the child, he
would adopt itand raise it as his son and
heir. At first, Heather with a true moth
er's heart refused, but the Laird argued
and old Mamie persuaded.
eff you loved your son you would see
the advantage which l offer him." said
Willie's father.
''Yes, indeed" spoke old Mamie, ''You
ought to Jump at the chance of him being
gentleman. What can you, poor weak
lass, do with him? SO come, let the Laird
take him, and be sensible"
1t was with miserable tears Heather at
last consented, but with the understanding
that the old Laird should bring the child
every Sunday morning to see her.
The loss of her BARN pressed sorely
against the young mothers heart, and she
pinned and dropped day by day.
The first three Sundays the old Laird
kept his word and brought little Don
for so they had named him-to see his
mother. But the fourth Sunday he did
not come. Poor Heather had risen almost
before it was daylight and sat by the win
dow, which commanded view to Logan
brae Castle, longingly, patiently waiting
for her darling. Old Mamie brought her
breakfast, but she impatiently motioned
it away.
Thus she sat for hours, with her thin
hands pressed against her aching heart,
waiting, waiting.
Again the old woman brought food, and
again it was rejected. Night came, and
still she sat in front of the window wait
ing, waiting.
'cMy baby, my baby" the poor white
shivering lips mutter, and old Mamie,
coming at midnight, finds her still wait
ing and bore her trembling and exhausted
to bed.
The next morning, though scarce able
to stand, she weakly dressed herself and
started for the castle. Pushing past the
gaping servants, she, by some sort of in
stinct, found herself in the old laird's
study. He arose hurriedly to his feet as
she entered.
"You have broken your word" said she
calmly, 81 want my child"
He shook his head. Impossible
Heather, my girl; you gave him to me-"
She looked at him with dazed stare
''You mean," she gasped, "you mean to
tell me / cannot have him."
He nodded, "Yes, and l think it best
you should not see him."
The girl dropped upon her knees "Give
him to me; give him to me, if just for an
instant. l swear will return him. Let
me hold him, if only one half-moment in
my arms, these arms that feel so empty
without him. Surely, surely you cannot
refuse me this much. You do not know
my feelings mothers feelings-only to
press him warm against my aching heart
to feel his little, soft hand patting my
cheek; the sweet breath against my lips
the little, chubby arms around my neck
the divine touch of baby lips to my throat
You won't refuse me you can't refuse me
give him to me just one moment, just one
half moment, and then l will try and be
content"
At that moment sharp ring echoes
through the castle. The study door is
hurriedly thrown open; a fair, young
soldier with a crutch under him en-
tiers. Heather springs to her feet; his
arms CLASP her fondly, passionately,
willie Williep' she cries, through
prayers and tears.
''My lad" says the old Laird, and the
tears were streaming from his face also.
To wondering servant he gives whis-
pered message, and who returns with a
laughing, growing, blue-eyed baby, whose
little fat arms are stretched in welcome
toward the stranger. The warm blood
dyes Heather's cheek and brow. Willie's
lips are pressed to hers.
1t is long, long years ago since these
events happened. Heather made noble,
stately Lady O'Loganbrae, and was the
proud mother of six brave lads. But
Don, the eldest was, think, the favorite
with his proud, doting old grandfather,
Davie Graem.