The times., 1897-11-14
XIII.
MARY GoRDoN,s LAST WORD.

MA pOtSltOH . LAS OIAp.
The next day was the 3otn OF December,
a day OF Dtter frost, 50 thaC the lee rfoze
over, and the way which mad been broke Ell
Tor the boats 10 Terry the presDytery
across from L1e dangerous bounds OF Bal
nagfIe was a gain filled with floating ice
Inc kirk OF cr0ssnichael sits, ike that
OF paHnagnie, on q NH ABOVE Zee water
one house OF prayer fronts the otner, and
the white kirk yard stones greet each
| other across the river, telling the one story
OF earth Co eartn. And every sabbath day
across the sluggish stream two songs OF
| praise go up 10 heaven in united aspira
ton toward one Eternal ia rher.
But this 30th vi December there was
small community uf lofty Ieiio wsIlip across
| the water i'll Crossmichael. 1t was To me
| OF all days the da bitterest ana Olackest.
! have, indeed, good cause TO remember it.
nIgne wciA y as .at.vlsrd mat - Istr as
| the ministers OF the presDytery were con
| cerned, unere " as no nope OF any outcome
| favorable To me- They had only been
| scared from their prey Tor moment by
/ the stern threatening of the folk OF the
| parish. The Peoples Paper, III particular,
mad frightened them ike d sentence OF
| death. But now they were free to make an
| end.
NY brother Hob was keen to head band
| pledged To keep them out of Crosspatrcik
kirk also. But l forbade them To cross
| the water.
| Though the former stress of trial was
over 0nis day of quiet was far harder
/ To bear than the day before. For then,
| with the eXcltation of battle, the plauuits
| of the people, the quick necessities of YER
| bal defense against many aaversaries my
| spirits were kept up. But now there was
| none in the manse beside myself and |
| took TO wandering up and down the little
| Kirk loaning; thinking how that by this
! time the presbytery was met To speed my
| DOOM, and that the pleasant place which
| knew rnenow, would soon know me no more
| forever.
| As l fingered at the road. end think
/ ing how much | would have given for
a heartening word, and vaguely resoly-
| ing To betake me over to the house OF
! Drunglass, where, at the least, | was
sure OF companiGnship and consolation,
| L CHANGED to cast my eyes to the south
| ward, and there along the light gray
| riverside track | saw a lady riding.
As she came nearer, L saw that it
was none other than Mistress Mary Cor
| don. / thought had never seen her look
/ winsorner-a lissorn form, a perfect seat
dainty and welI-ordered carriage
l stood still where / was and waited
for her to pass me. l had my hat in my
| hand, and | counted ON nothing but that
| she should ride by me as though she saw
| me not.
but, ON the contrary, she reined her
horse and sat waiting Tor me to speak
| With her.
| So ! went to her bride rein and look ed
| up at her face, and 10! it was kindlier
| than ever | had seen it before, with a
sort OF loving pity on it which l found
it very hard to bear.
Will you let me walk by your side a
| little way?" l asked of her. For, as we
| had parted without a farewell, SO, on this
bitterest day, we met again without a
| greeting.
My Lady Mary l said at last II have
gone through much since l went from your
house of Earlstoun. We parted in anger,
! but let US meet in peace | am man out
| cast and friendless, save for these foolish
few in this parish, who, to their cost, have
made my quarrel theirs"
She looked kindly down upon me, and
paused a little before she spoke,
"Quintin," she said, there is no anger
| in my heart. There is only great woe
l have come from the place of Balmaghie,
where my Cousin Kate, of Lochinvar, waits
her good father S passing
And ride you home To the EarIstoun?n
l asked.
Aye" she said little wistfully And
the sa ying cheered Inc. For this river wav
was not the girls straight road hoInewarC
and it came TO me that Mary Gordon had
wished to meet and comfort me in my sor-
row.
My father is abroad, we know not well
where" she said, "or he would gladly sun
port you in the way that you have chosen.
Perhaps your way is not my way, but it
must be good way of its kind, the way of
a mans conscience
She reached down hand to me, which
took and pressed gratefully enough.
1t was then hat we came in sight Of
the white house of Drumglass, sitting
! above the water-meadows. at the first