Walker Lake bulletin. (Hawthorne, Nev.) 1883-1926, 1898-02-16


f. 8: :: !: :: !: :: q: !:
fXA5Ah Va land lassies w h o
16GMxAT, IA gathered at the little
Kt4z%$NyAf A kirk Sabbath morn
s tMN% ings not one was half
eMNl IMj so pretty and winning
w rs Bessie.
Squire Renfrew of the Red Pass was
desperately In love with Bessie, and
sought to make her his wife In spite
of difference In rank. The herds at the
Red Pass were the finest and largest
In the nelghborhood; the barn and
storehouses were always well filled. lie
was n bachelor, something over two
score years old. And he wanted "Bon-
ME Bessie" for his wife.
IF the lassie thinks she can fancy
me-" he said, addressing Bessle's grand
mother. as he stood under the low
brown rafters of the little Black Lynn
cottage, hot flush mounting to the
shining crown of his bald head, III
the lassie thinks she can fancy me,
the bargains made. I'm ready ana
willing to lead her to the kirk to-mor-
row; and If good, true husband and
some gold and silver will make her
happy, she'll be as happy as queen
ut the Red Pass"
Bessie listened, with wide, startled
eyes, burning cheeks, and quivering
lips. She held her peace, standing, tail
and slim, in a sort of stunned silence,
until her gray haired lover had taken
his leave. Then she burst forth into
vehement, passionate protest.
The old grandmother suffered her to
storm until her passion was spent.
"NVell It's DER now, and veil sim
mer down and keep quiet, mebbe. I've
let We have your say, and now I'll have
mine. We're poor folk, me and you.
found it hard to get bread when |
had but my own mouth to feed, and
since I've been burdened wi you I've
gone to bed many II night fit TO cry wi
hunger. But I've borne 1t all an done
my best, an always been willing to gil
you a share o my last crust
But, dearest grandma"
"Now, lookee here, my lass" inter-
rupted the old woman, lifting her bony
finger and glowering tiercely upon Bes-
sic, ''if yere fule enou' to refuse this
good fortn', that ends it 'twixt us two.
You pack out o my house, and ne'er
cross the threshold again"
Bessie was silent. The great world
beyond the Highland peaks seemed SO
dim and far away, and the old home
scenes were so familiar
The autumn days drlfted on and in
the spring time she was going to kirk
with Squire Renfrew and be made his
wife.
The springtime came and the we'd
ding day was close at hand when, one
evening just before the cleaning, Bes-
sic went to till her pitcher, as usual,
at the rocky spring near by. She had
accomplished her task and lifted the
pitcher to her shoulder and had started
! for the cottage, her white, shapely feet
twinkling prettily below the short pet
ticoat as she stepped from stone to
stone In crossing the little brawlirg
stream, when suddenly she uttered a
stified cry and staggered to a moss
grown bowlder. sat down, and put the
pitcher hastily on the ground, pressing
her hand ON her heart and trembling
all over.
Its his ghaist it's his ghaist.n uhe
cried, and 0, how sair he looked at
mel"
Whatever she had seen, or fancfed
she had seen, there was nothing In
sight when she next looked up; moth
| ing except the oyerhanging rocks of
the glen, the brook shimmering in the
evening light, and the white birch trees
swaying spectrally against the sky.
He has come from his grave" she
cried, glancing fearfully around. Il
dare ma, dare ma do 1t, .! forgive me,
Jamie. that | ever thought o it."
She drew II silken cord which encir-
cled her throat from her bosom as she
spoke and kissed the slender hoop of
silver which depended from 1t. I'm
never ha' peace If marry the Squire"
she said, and | ought no to ha' it: |
shall feel | am Il traitor. And, o. ia
ME, Jamie, after all, love no one
but you. and never can"
suddenly she rose, with resolution
stamped on every feature.
Il must give the Squire his ring
back" she said, brushing the last tears
from her eye. 1T is hard on him, but
there is no other way. Then, Jamie.
then perhaps youll forgive me, dear"
Leaving her pitcher there she tossed
back her abundant locks us she finished
this adiuration. and went speeding
away through the falling darkness
with the light foot of n chamoiS
When she reached the Red Pass the
bright glow of the warm ingleslde lit
the windows. She approached the
nearest one and pressed her sad, tired.
yet resolute. face against the glass.
A minute and she tapped lightly