The McCook tribune., 1897-10-08

= It's Sea-DdlnillS, anu
passed within half
a mile OF Mr.. Lor-
raines abode, which was just six
Scotch miles away from Dumfries itself.
The starting place was the Bonny Jean
Commercial Inn an establishment said
10 have been much patronized by the
poet Burns during his residence in the
south of Scotland; and hither Marjorie,
after leaving her tutor, proceeded with
out delay.
The wagonette was about to start;
and Marjorie hastened to take her
place. The vehicle was drawn by two
powerful horses, and could acc0mmo-
date dozen passengers inside and one
more on the seat of the driver; but
Today there were only a few going
three farmers and their wives, d sailor
on his way home from sea, and couple
of female farm servants who had come
in to the spring hiring" All these
had taken their seats; but John Suth-
erland stood by the trap waiting to
hand Marjorie in. She stepped in and
took her place and the young man
found seat at her side, when the
driver took the reics and mounted to
his seat, and with waves and smiles
from the Misses Dalrymple, who kept
the Bonny Jean Inn, and cheer from
very small boy on the pavement away
they went.
At last the vehicle reached the
crossroads where John and Marjorie
were to alight. They leapt out, and
pursued their way on foot, the young
man carrying small hand-valise,
Marjorie still holding her school books
underneath her arm.
Presently they came to two-arched
bridge which spanned the Amman. They
paused just above the keystone. The
young man rested his yalise on the
mossy wall, and both looked thought
fully down at the flowing stream.
It's many long year, Marjorie,
since we first stood here. / was bare
footed Gallant, you were wean scarce
able to run; and now I'm a man, and
you're almost a woman. Yet here's
the Amman beneath US, the same as
ever. and it will be the same when
we're both old-always the same"
Marjorie turned her head away, and
her eyes were dim with tears.
Come away" she said; 81 cannot
bear to look at it! Whenever l watch
the Amman I seem to see my mothers
drowned face looking UP at me out of
the quiet water"
The young man drew closer 20 her,
a, gently touched her hand.
DON'T greet, Marjorie!" he muir
INJURED, softly; "your poor mothers at
peace with God"
Yes, Johnnie, ken that" answered
the girl in a broken voice; ''but it's
sad, sad, to have neither kith nor kin,
and to remember the way my mother
died-ay, and not even to be able to
guess her name! Whites 1 feel very
lonesome, when I think it all o'er."
And no wonderi But you have
those that love you dearly, for all that.
There's not lady in the country more
thought of than yourself, and wherever
your bonny face has come it has
brought comfort"
AS he spoke he took her hand in his
own. and looked at her very fondly;
but her own gaze was far away, fol-
lowing her wistful thoughts.
You're all very good to me-" she
said presently, "Mr. Lorraine, and Solo
mon, and all my friends; but, for all
that. miss my own kith and kim
He bent his face close to hers, rs he
returned:
Some day, Marjorie, you'll have a
house and kin Of your own. and then
He paused, blushing, for her clear,
steadfast eyes were suddenly turned
full upon his face.
What do you mean, Johnnie?"
al mean that you'll marry, and"
Brightness broke through the cloud,
and Marjorie smiled.
Marry? Is it me? It's early in the
day to think of that, at seventeen"
"Other young lasses think of it. Mar
married last Martinmas, and she was
only a year older than yourself"
Marjorie shook her head, then her
face grew sad again as her eyes fell
upon Amman water.
I'm naebody's BARN." she cried.
"aud shall be naebody's wife, John
ME"
Don't say that Marjorie" an
swered Sutherland, still holding her
hand and pressing it fondly. There's
one that loves you dearer than any
thing else in all the world
She looked at him steadfastly, while
his face flushed scarlet.
81 know you love me, Johnnie, as If
you were my own brother"
More than that, Marjorie
thousand timesi" the young man con-
tinued passionately. "Ah! it has been