The record-union., 1896-04-05
up the time it lost as you showed me

up the time it lost as you showed me
| how
There was soft, youthful light in the
clockmaker's eyes as he unscrewed the
box. Reverently he uplifted the clock
and set it against the wall in a vacant
space. All was still in the little room
as he opened the panel door, but the si-
| lence spoke to him so that the tears ran
from his eyes. "Esme," he called softly
| into the hollow space. "Esme." and the
sound, striking on some vibratory part
of the mechanism, returned a soft, musi-
cal tone for answer. He carefully folded
the letter, and lifting the secret cover,
laid 1t there beside the ring, replacing
the lid. Then, as for four days and the
due number of odd hours, he alternately
wound up and exhausted the movement,
finally setting the hands to the proper
time, and touching the pendulum. AS
the clock resumed it's measured beat,
he raised his hands and speaking to
1t as before, said: You will tell me
when she is no more. Answer, answer,
I say; you will tell me when she goes"
Again it seemed to him some soft mel
odious response came from the mys-
terious interior, and he closed the door.
Spring had come, and 'Lizbeth, his
sewingmaid. who was laying the din
ner-cloth, said to the clockmaker: "You
will be going out more now that the
fine weather is coming"
"Ay," he answered, there's fine wea-
ther coming, 'Lizbeth."
She was startled at that moment to
see him rise from his chair and approach
the clock with face of intent interest.
With one hand uplifted to enjoin ST.
lence, he listened for some seconds, then
opened the panel door, bending his ear
yet closer. He shut it, and without
moving said: 'Lizbeth, 1 am an old
man. My time is near. If you find me
dead soon, promise to do what We will
md written on paper I shall leave"
But, Mr.. Cathro, ye must not
promise, 'Lizbeth. 1 do not bribe
We, but We will find your wage go on the
same when I am away; promise
Sure enough l promise. Mr.. Cathro."
Very well, remember"
|. That night Thomas Cathro stood long
listening ait the clock door, and at last
went to bed. He had been but two
hours asleep, when he leaped up sud
denly, and passing rapidly through the
| open door that led to the parlor, stood
before the clock. Its beat was steady
| for some moments, then there was
blank of sound followed by an irregu-
| lar, quicker throb. 1t resumed for some
seconds. only to again fail in it's meas
ured click, and tremble family. He
opened the front, his face transfigured
"EsDes" he called softly, imploringly
| The clock answered by a succession
Of quick, f1uttering beats. "Esme," he
called again, Il am here" The clicking
ceased, and the pendulum swung sound
| less to and fro, while Thomas Cathro
with fixed gaze, watched it abate slowly
and finally stop.
| He detached it, rapidly unscrewed
the entire mechanism, and with deft
hands undid it's pins and wheels, MAX
| ing heap of all the parts. Then he
opened the secret place in the PEDESTAL
For the first time he discovered that it
formed a box which came clear away
| from the base of the clock. Into this,
among the letters and other relies, he
| packed the entire mechanism, closed
| the lid, and fastened it down with
screws Taking a. piece of paper he
wrote on it these words: Il charge you.
Elizabeth, by your promise, to see this
| box placed in my coffin and buried with
| me, undisturbed, as it now is" The
| box he placed on a chair by the bed
side, and himself calmly crept between
the Sheets placidly stretching his hands
out over the counterpane, and closing his
eyes. In the morning 'LiZbeth found
him lying so, dead. Three days later
| the chime of the chapel bell in Geneva
rang to her last rest amid the lamenta-
| tionS of MANY whom she had befriended
Esme Dundas-Leblanc; and on the
same day, in stern Scottish silence, the
earth was heaped over the coffin of
Thomas Cathro, at whose feet faithful
'Lizbeth had placed the box, never let
| ing it pass from her eyes until the last.
I-McMillan's Magazine.