The Portland daily press., 1893-05-31

Would he get there in timer Oh, the
agony Of moment on which the life Of
human being turns! Her father was
scarcely out Of sight when the hour
struck from the tower of Ehbank kirk.
s'Too late. too latel' cried poor Mar
garet, and she went back to her chamber
to avoid seeing any Of the curious multi
tude who, ON account of her fathers con-
pection with the affair, had congregated
at Elibank Hall.
Weeping and fatigue-for Margaret
had not rested for whole week, so ex-
cited had she been-had worn her down
30 that only the last straw was needed
to put the finishing stroke to her life.
Fortunately she tainted and forgot in
insensibility the trial she had undergone.
She awoke with father, mother and sis
ters around her bed, each striving to do
something for her recovery. Even the
precise Jean had been weeping, and Mar
garet thoughtit was perhaps as much for
the poor young lairds death as for herself
thatJean wept She wondered to see her
father look so calm with a mans death
resting upon his conscience.
But she had revived, was prepared to
brave the worst news she could hear,
and which it would seem that all were
unwilling to tell her, for, one by one,
they all slipped out and left her alone
with her father.
"Poor lassier' said he, more tenderly
than he was wont to speak to his chill
dren, cit has been hard upon you to bear
this. only did what I thought was
right, and you must try to forgive mo
for the shame brought upon you IN be-
ing refused"-
''Say no more about it, father. I
would have been glad indeed to have
purchased that young mans life at the
expense of tenfold the disappointment
or shame as you call it. ! do not call it
so, for surely any man has right to re-
fuse namely, i'll looking lassie as your
Maggie, with her thick lips and wide
mouth. But, oh, father! you will, I fear,
see this days sad sight forever before
you. | am fain to shut my ain cen lest
I should see him before me. And father,
Eehe was a man well worth looking at and
saving. 1t was hard to see him going to
his aeath, but pity you more than I do
him.
when you have said your say, just
leave off, will you, Meg? You are evil
IDENTIFY a little wandering in your wits,
| and as there is a doctor in the next room
I think / will Call him in
He rose and went out before she could
demonstrate, and when he returned he
brought in gentleman whom in the
dusk she did not recognize
"This is the person who called forth
your tears today, lassie," said the laird
of Elibank roughly, but not unkindly.
"He may do more toward your recovery
than can, SO l will leave you together"
And looking steadily through the gather
| ing gloom Margaret saw that the figure
| which stood beside her couch was the
| same that had walked between the two
highland guards in that sad procession
Of the morning.
What passed between them is one of
the secrets Of the past. But one thing
we know, that the laird Of Harden and
| Margaret Murray were married in Eli
bank kirk as soon as the bans had been
| published the usual time Farther, too,
we know that the marriage proved hap
Ply beyond the ordinary lot of mortals.
What was better than all was that the
long cherished feud between the SCOTS
and Murrays was entirely at an end
from this time. The father and son-in-
law became fast friends, and such was
the confidence which the laird of Eli
bank placed in Scott of Harden that
when he was obliged to leave Scotland
he left him in the management of all his
affairs.
Acting as his representative, too, he
carried 500 Of the clan of Scott to the as
sistance of tombstone at the bloody bat
tie of Dryffe Sands
AS the lady of Harden, Margaret
Murray was soon unknown by the title
which fools had given her. The full,
red lips always disclosed the sweetest of
smiles, and her husband, proud of her
sterling worth and virtue and feelingly
| alive to the love which she had conceiv-
| ed for him in what he once considered
his death hour, never ceased to repay
that love by an affection as fond and
tender as her own affection such as
stretches pigmies into height and short
ems giants into ordinary mortals and
converts the homeliest face into the face
| Of an ANGEL. c. Spaulding in Ro-
nance.
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