Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1890-12-18

gesticulated unconsciously with her hands.
He could guess from their motion, as well
as from O'Brien's rigid figure and sunkeI
head, how fruitless was her task.
Scott groaned. The physical pain he was
suffering at that moment from the rapid de-
velopment of his disease was nothing to his
agony OF mind. In the midst OF luxury and
every apparent condition of happiness,
David Scott was as miserable in body and
| soul as any man that day in London. He
clasped his hands, and the tears forced
themselves down his sunken cheeks.
30 God and Father" he prayed aloud.
''if 1 do this thing Thou knowest the purity
of my motives. Not in despair, nor in coll
tempt of Thy holy laws, do 1 take
the life Thou has given me, but
to e1piate the crime by which 1
took Michael's life from him, and
left him to die alone without one friendly
hand to moisten his lips with water, or wips
the death-dews from his brow. II in those
last dreadful moments ne dou Dted OF Thy
goodness, the iault was mine. II he came
into Thy presence uncalled and unprepared,
it is right that 1, tho, should in the same way
seek Thy awful judgment seat, for hast not
Thou said, An eye Tor an eye, tooth for u
tooth?' But toward my little girl, my
Catherine" The anguish of this thought
was too much for the man; he laid his head
on the table before him. and his prayer lost
all cOherency and purpose. For some mo-
ments his soul was in confusion. Then his
hand touched the cold steel of the pistol,
and it recalled 10 him his intention. He
grew calm, rose from his knees, carefully
looked to the loading of the pistol, and,
holding it in his right hand, pressed the noz-
zle against his waistcoat, moving it little
hat ha fnI for ha art
below.
A shadow fell upon the window. Cath
crime stood without and O'Brien looked over
her shoulder. The girl pushed open the
glass and came in. Her face was exquisite
in its shy happiness. Scott had Just time 10
put the pistol down unobserved on the table
behind him, before Catherine reached her
arms up round his neck, and laid her head
upon his breast.
dearest" she murmured, eve are going
to be so happyP Scott looked over the
pretty fair head to O'Brien. There was
something in the mans appearance totally
different to his ordinary self aud yet strange
ly we'll known.
"Davidp' he said, coming nearer,
and Scotts thoughts travelled mysteri-
ously back to the days of Miehael's
lifetime: "David. will you forgive
me-for GATHERINGS sake-as 1 have for
given you?''
A giddiness rushed over Scott. He had
but time to put Catherine from his arms be-
fore the room turned round with him,
wavered into blackness, and for an instant
everything was blank. Then he stepped
out of thes darkness onto a sunit cliff,
where he and Michael were walking side by
side; every step they took was on scented
thyme and tiny golden coltsioot, two blue
butterflies futtered in arabesques over the
ground, above was blue and ardent heaven,
below blue and glittering sea. He tasted
the saltness upon his lips, and the slumber-
GUS far-away sea song hummed in his ears.
Michael spoke to him and he answered. At
first 1t was solid, vivid reality. Then he
came to know it was only his spirit there on
the cliffs, his body was lying back in his
easy chair in his own library, where busy
hands were endeavoriDg to keep him cap
tive, to cheat him of the vision.
He resisted, his soul escaped once more
to the cliff, but already its sunshine was
paler, its flowers dropping, its butterflies
departed. Michael's face looked strange
and indistinct, yet his voice now sounded
close at hand, in his enr.
"Davyl Dayyl''
again in his own library, struggling pain
Yes, it was the voice of the dead Michael,
but it was James O'Brien who spoke, kneel-
ing beside Scott's chair.
"Forgive ME, Davy! dear old friend, for
give me; my sin has been greater than
yours!''
From O'Brien's face the dark, determined
look was gone; his eyes had lost their cold
ness; emotion gave him back reflection of
his beautiful youth.
Over the dying man old memories
crowded. He understood now why from
the very first the stranger had held such
fascination for him.
There never was James O'Brien," said
the speaker. ''he was figment of my brain,
an instrument of my vengeance. For it was
1 who, lying crippled at the cliffs foot, was
picked up by the crimps and shipped while
still unconscious. During 90 years of
exile brooded revenge. 1 thought on our
broken friendship, my lost Catherine, my
ruined life, and my heart became hell of
evil thoughts. sought you out with the
determination of making you pay tor every
pang that had suffered, and when found
you happy in your daughter, L conceived
the dastardly plan of playing with her heart as
the mother had played with mine. But from
the first moment saw Catherine something
more than the old love revived. 1 felt I
could do her no wrong, so 1 made up my
mind to leave. 1 meant to forego every
thing once nore-friendship, love, happi-
ness, and nv revenge as we'll. But Cathe.
rine-dear, brave, generous Catherine-has
given me back all you once took from me q
huudred-fold. Let her earn me, David,
your pardon, too"
A twilight fell upon the room for David
Scott Ouly dimly could he see the faces of
The man and woman he so loved; but hold.
ing hand of each in each of his, his feeble
grasp frightened a little over them as he
spoke.
"God has been very merciful to me-" he
said, ''be good and happy, Catherine. !"
Then he withdrew his hand from hers to lean
over more completely toward O'Brien.
kiss me, Michael" he asked him; but
almost before the kiss of good comradeship
could be given and received, he sunk gently
back in his chair, and died without sigh.
Temple Bar.
THE end