Evening star., 1895-08-22
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1GS@a|2:9lE00QGS. Ss Sarr:>e

'It is the business O. every decent man
to call comfort to the dying. Go, and say
the words you ought to say before it is too
late"
God pity the puir soul! She had no
ither place to die in. For Christs sake,
go and put a right between you"
'She left me Of her own free will. Why
should 1 go?''
"Oh, mon, mon, Go for your ain sake,
then. Tomorrow it will be too late to say
the words you will then weep to say. Go
for your ain sake, to spare yourself the
| dinna care for the puir wife, go for your
ain sake"
II do care for her. wished"
Then dipna lose moment. Haste We!
Haste ye! If it is but one kind word, give
1t to her before you part forever. She has
lo'ed We weel. She lo'es ye yet-at the
graves mouth. Haste ye, man! Haste
YET"
and Braelands was a straw before it, An
drew urged him to his horse and saw him
flying down the road to Pfttencraigie ere
he seemed orscious of his own efforts.
Then he drew long sigh and began 10
hurry his steps, Half way down the Brae-
lands garden path Madame Braelands
stepped in front of him.
What have you come here for?" she
asked. Where has the master gone? Did
you send him arywhere?"
II sent him to see his dying wife. She
is dying
mo such luck for my house! The wo-
man has been dying ever since he married
her."
You hae been killing her ever sim he
| married her. Give way. woman! dinna
want to speak to you, nor touch the
cfaithes o. ye! I think nae better O. ye
than God does. ard He'll ask Sophys life
a. your hand
Il shall tell Braelands of your imperti-
nence. 1t will be the worse for you
OF vol
There's tlccd on your hands and blood on
your skirts, and you're waur-ten times
waur-than many puir body that has to
swing on the gallows tree for her crime.
Out O. my way, Mistress Braelands?' and
as she stood before him motionless as a
white stone with passion, he turned into
another road and left her there. For he
was impatient of delay, and with steps
hurried and stumbling he followed the hus-
band whom he had driven to his duty.
When he reached Christmas home it was
easy to feel in 1t the majesty OF Death S
presence. All mere mortal needs had been
forgotten; there was no table laid. no
thought of II eat, for Life stood still to
watch the great mystery traEspiring. The
door to Sophy's death room stood open, for
the day was hot and MINDLESS, and the
household were gathered there. He went
softly in. Braelands was on his knees by
the dying woman. Her head was folded to
his breast and he was whispering in the
fast closing ears the deSpairing words of
love suddenly reawakened. On the edge of
the grave, wfat did they care had the
whole world been present? He won he"
last loving words, her last SMILE and her
sweet blue eyes set in death with their
gaze fixed on him. But Andrew stood
humbly at the foot of her bed, following
her soul with fervent prayer, with love
that spurned the grave, and which was
pure enough to venture into His presence
With her.
When the sun set Sophy's little life of
twenty years was over. Braelands rode
furiousiy away without a word. and An
drew threw himself on the turf. with his
face downward, and ''communed with his
hour all that was human fitted and faded
away; and the primal essence of self was
overshadowed by the presence of the inf
mite. WheE the midnight tide flowed he
had reached that serene depth of the soul
which enabled him to rise to his feet and
say, '"Thy will be DONE"
1t is twenty years since Sophy-shrouded
in white, her hands full of honeysuckIes-
was laid to rest in the little wind-blown
krkyard of PittencraiGie. Some said Brae-
lands watched the funeral from afar; 9TH
ers that he lay raving and tossing with
fever in his bed But this. or that, he was
not present at her burial. Her own kin
who were fishers-iaid the light coffin upon
bier made of oars and carried it, with
Psalm singing, to the grave. 1t was An
drew who threw on the coffin the first
earth: it was Andrew who pressed the
cover of green turf over the small mound
and did the last tender offices that love
can offer. And it was Andrew who was the
real widower. Braelands married again,
married a proud, masterful, rich woman.
who paid in full all Sophy's wretched debt
mother and son, But Andrew kept the