Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1890-12-28

turned to this other Psalm, and read 1t to
him; and even after that 1T was some time
before she could assure him that she had not
been in the least hurt.
Two more of those long and anxious days
went by; the fever waxing and waning by
turns; but ali the time the strength of that
once powerful frame was slowly ebbing
away. For one thing, his mind was we'll
content. He had no more anxiety about
Maisrie; he appeared to regard her future
as we'll assured. He lay quietly murmur-
| ing to himself; and they could make out,
from chance sentences here and there, that
he was going over his boyhood's DAYS again
Embarrassing in the spring woods, max
ing swaying seats out of the shelving
branches of the beeches, guddling for trout
in the small hill burns. An old refrain
seemed to haunt him
Beyond thee, dearie, beyond thee, dearie.
And to be lying beyond thee:
osweetly. soundly, weel may he sleep,
That laid in the bed beyond thee.
''Die Vogelein schweigen i'm Valdez" that
phrase also returned again and again. And
then he would 60 back to his schooldays
and tell Maisrie about little patch OF gar
den that had been given all to himself; how
he had watched the yellow spears of the
crocuses pierce the dry earth and the green
buds begin to snow on the currant bushes;
how he had planted scarlet runners and
stuck the wands in and trained the young
shoots; how he had waited for the big red
globes OF the peonies to unroll; how he had
white monkshood and four distinct spec1-
mems of columbine Then his pets, his diver
sions, his terrible adventures-half drowned
In milldam, lost in a snowstorm on Laid
law moor, the horrors of a certain church.
yard which he had sometimes to pass alone
on the dark winter evenings. Maisrie did
not seek to interrupt him. There was no
agitation in these wandering "reminiscences
Nay, they seemed to soothe him, and some
times he sank into an altogether doing
state.
Vincent" said Lady Musselburgh, when
these two happened to find themselves to-
gether in the room below, "haye you no au-
thority over that girl? She is killing her
selfp
ut is no use demonstrating" said he.
"She knows what the doctor has not dared
to tell her. She sees that her grandfather is
SO weak he may slip away at any moment,
without word or sigh"
But on the evening of this second day,
the old man, with such remnant of his
former resolution and defiance as still clung
to him, seemed TO try to shake off this fatal
lethargy-if only to say farewell And in
this last hour or SO of his life, the spectacle
that George Bethune presented was no un-
worthy one. Death, or the approach of
death, which ennobles even the poorest
and the meanest, was now dealing
with this man; and all the books
and histrionic integuments that had
obscured or hidden his true nature seemed
to fall away from him. He stood out him-
selt-no pressure OF poverty distorting his
mind-no hopeless regrets embittering his
soul. 1t was Scotland he thought OF. In
those last minutes and moments, the Deep
est passion of his hearr-an intense and
proud love of his native land-burned pure
and strong and clear; and if he showed any
anxiety at all, it was merely that Maisrie,
who was kind of stranger, should form
liking for this country to which she. too, in
a measure, belonged-that she should see it
under advantageous conditions-that che
should think of all that had been said of
those hills and wales, and endow them with
that added charm. 4
''But do not fear," he said (his eyes,
with some brilliancy still left in them, fixed
on her, his voice low and panting). "You
have an inheritance, Maisrie-it is in your
blood-a sympathy-an insight-Scotlond
claims you-as one of her own. 1 knew that
when-when-you used to play the Scotch
airs for me-the trembling string, that made
the soul tremble too-'The sun shines bright
in France'-'The Land o. the Leal'-'The
Lowlands O. Holland, that twined my love
and met was Scottish blood that made
them thrill. Yell not be disappointed,
Margaret-ye'l understand-when ye get to
Yarrow-and Ettrick Water-and the mur-
muir of the Tweed. meant-to have taken
We myself-but it was not to be--ye'il have
younger and happier guidance-as is but
natufal-I-wish ye both well. And-and
1 would like veto go in the spring-time,
Maisrie-and-and if ye could find out
William Motherwelrs gravel have forgot
ten where it is-my memory is not what it
used to be-but ii ye could find.out Mother
wells grave--ye might put a handful of
primroses on it-for the sake of-of Jeanie
Morrison"
He relapsed into silence; his breathing
grew more labored-and also feebler; it was
evident to those standing by that end was
pot far off now. Maisrie sat holding his
hand in hers; the fountain of her tears all
dried up; her tragic grief seemed to have