The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1897-10-02

step comm up the loanin', Aleckp
My mothers voice pied like that of
a young lass feeching with her sui
len lover when he is in the wrong.
She might have been the lass her
self.
My heart was melting fast. There
was no more anger in it anywhere.
1.-THE lass that / was speakin' ABBOTT,
listened lang. But she never heard
the step she lo'ed better than her ain
soul. She prayed, but nae answer
cam but the cryin' O the wild birds
cot on the lonely muir. Oh, Alec,
lad, it's an awful thing to be prood
with them ye Lowell"
Ny mother helped me on with my
coat, and motioning me to walk be-
hind her, she let me softly out. And
on the doorstep she stopped quickly
and kissed me, almost as she had
been my sweetheart. Then the door
shut to, all but crack, and l knew
my mothers ear was at that crack.
There was sudden feeling of in
tense cold in the air. 1t was my face
drying in the night wind. 1t was
not dark, for at that time of the year
the days are very long, and the skies
very clear. ran rather than walked
towards the farm stealing of Neither
Neuk. / could easily have gone
blindfold, knew the way so we'll.
reached the orchard wall. 1t was
but low stone dyke, but the gloom
was dense among the trees. As l
came near, something soft and white
"a great owl most like-fitted across
and was lost in the shadow. skirted
the dyke, keeping wide from the
Office houses, till came opposite to
our pear-tree. Here or hereabouts in
the meadow must be the place. l
stopped to my search. My foot
struck something that jingled. 1t was
the chain that had been about
Nance's neck. The trinkets were
still upon it.
Then the anger came on me again,
and almost | had thrown it from me
once more, like poisonous asp which
had power to sting me. But my
mothers last words came to me: "Be
not proud with those you love-" So
l stood with the trnkery in my hand !,
and my better soul came again to me
like the forgiveness of child. My
mother was certainly praying for me
at that moment.
After all" l said to myself, "what
business is it of mine7 | know she is
sweet and pure and-loves me. OF
course, men loved her-tried their
best to win her. And what matters it
if she has taken their gifts as she has
taken the gifts of the summer air, the
summer flowers? Right certainly
she loves me as she never loved be-
fore. I will go and tell her that l am
sorry. will take back the ring to
herp
I stopped and began to look for
the blue ribband and the ring. |
searched everywhere, and in the clear
lingering light of the west l could
distinguish every blade of grass.
The blue ribband and the pearl
ring aCere not therei
But as l skirted the dyke side
found small shoe and flat stone
had fallen from the wall and lay
partly upon the top of it. 1t was
well, I knew Nance Chrystie's shoe.
But then again, when Nance went
indoors from the pear-tree she had
gone through, not outside of the
orchard.
Then she must have been here
again. She must have come back
of her own accord, she must have re-
turned to the orchard. What was
the white fitting owl which l saw as
] came?
looked over the dyke. There was
the pear tree-and-yes, something
white was settled low in the crotch
where we two had sat.
| was over the dyke in a moment,
and Nance-Nance nestled in to me
with frightened cry.
"Oh, | was afraid" she whispered,
$50 dreadfully afraid. l did not know
it was you, Aleck And l dropped my
shoe"
| had her by the hand There was
a ring on her finger-my ring. l felt
the Water-of-Dee pearls.
She read my thoughts.
"Aleck," she said, dear lad, am
sorry | was cross. l shall always
wear your ring there now. do not
care who knows-so long as you love
me"
| We kissed one another.