The Providence news. (Providence [R.I.]) 1891-1906, 1894-03-21

The Elms and saw good deal Of Isabel,
whose presence learned To bear without
shrinking or shaking. She talked to me Of
her life in india, and also of her brother,
for whom she had the warmest affection
and admiration.
"They may tell you stories about Don
ald," she once said. ''They may say hc was
a scamp, and all that, for it is easy talking.
But don't believe them. He was high spir
tied, that was his fault, and my father
crossed him. His worst sin was TO become
a soldier when his friends wanted him To
be something else, and the records of the
war Office show he was no coward. He
saved the British colors when the enemy
broke British square, and he has done
many brave thing since. II he had re-
mained in the army, he'd have got almost
any rank, but he hadn't peace to do that,
and it's since he left it we have lost trace Of
him"
She never missed chance of speaking
about him. He seemed to fill her whotS
soul, to be her only thought, a circumstance
that secretly piqued me not little.
"Oh," she would often break ont in the
most irrelevant way, 'if you could only find
my brother, If you could only find Donald,
/ should be SO grateful TO you. But in
deed, indeed" and here she would look in
my face till j thought / saw visions OF
heaven, Twill be just as grateful to you
IL you never find him. Words cannot ex-
press your goodness in trying"
Then would reply that il Donald were
In India would find him, a speech which
always brought me rapturous smile OF
thanks and further visions of paradise.
Twill pass swiftly over the preparation
made at Kilburnie for my departure. My
dear mother took care that my outfit lacked
nothing it was possible for her TO procure
and even my father softened toward me,
busying himself with my affairs and seem
ing conscience stricken for having been so
stern with me.
'You do well, Andrew" he said one even
ing when we chanced TO be by ourselves,
and his voice was husky. "You do well,
Andrew, have no doubt. In following youf
own instincts. When you go so far away
for to a housekeeping man like me it is so
far away. though it is still in Gods uni.
verse-when you go away do not forget
that we are left behind, and you'll let us
hear from you. And rs to the other thing
we may find way out of our troubles.
God bless you, my boy. We arc ell in his
hands," And he could say no more.
At dinner. on the last evening, Duncan,
the coachman, who was also gamekeeper,
factor, forester and general factotum and
had served the Kilgours man and boy for
80 years, got out his pipes and serenaded us
In his most stirring manner.
"It Is for Mr.. Andrew" he said. HE
will be going away, God bless him, and be
big man, with black servants, and maybe
Duncan will never set eyes on him again.
And. God bless him, he will have the pipes
to his denner whatever Just as loud as auld
Duncan's lungs can blaw. Aye, will he
too" And so Justify did Duncan blow that
not n word of conversation could we have
during the whole meal When his chanter
was silent, however, and the dusk had fall.
en-, and we three, my father, my mother
and myself. sat together, there was talk,
but no syllable Of 10 will be set down here,
for IL was for ourselves alone.
Next morning Duncan drove me 20 the
village TO meet the stage-my father and
mother accompanying. Early as was the
hour. Sir Thomas and Isabel were waiting
for US, and greeted us with fervor that
was almost silent. Isabel held in her hand
two little lunches of white heather on
which she looked down from time TO time
as fancied with some reimbursement. As
last che came cl9sa Il me, and With Q spil