Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1898-12-01


IL. The shoe 1t was loose. l felt his
heart again. The motion had ceased
| needed all my manhood TO keep from
cry ing like child; for my charger
was my friend How long | lay be
side him. | do not know; but. at length
heard the sound OF wheels coming
along the road, ! tried to shout. and.
in some measure, suceeededi for a
voice. which | recognized as that OF
my farmer friend. answered cheerily
He was shocked to discover that his
expected guest was in such evil plight
1t was sill dark, for the rain was fall.
ing heavily; but, with his directions,
was soon able to take my seat be.
side him In the gig. lie had been un.
expettedly detained. and was now
fastening home with the hope of be-
Ing Vet In time to welcome me.
Next morning. after the luxurious
rest of heather bed. | found myself
not much the worse for my adventure,
but heart-sore for the loss of my horse.
CHAPTER XX.
AkGAhEI.
Early IN the forenoon / ca me in
sight of the cottage of Margaret. 1t
lay unchanged, gray. stone-fasiI iIioneti
hut, in the hollow Of the mountain
basin. | scrambled down tn soft
green brae, and sC0n stood within the
door of the cottaga. There | wss met
by MargareG's attendant. She Id NE
to the bed where my old nurse lay.
Her eyes were set undimmel by
years, and little .hange had T4ssed
upon her countenance, since / parted
with her on THAI memorable night.
The moment she saw me she ruke
oat into pass o:la q la nent:ut on.
such as a mother night utter OYER the
manned strength and disligured
beauty of her child.
What i'll has he done-my ba RI
to he all night the sport of the powCrs
of. the air and rhe wicked OF tie
earth? But the day viii dawn fo!
my Duncan yet. and lovely da' i,
will be-"
Then. looking at me anysiously, u c
said:
You're not much the worse for las
night my BARN. But woes ME. lis
grand horse. that carried Him so, that
! blessed the bcas: ia nay 0T-aycrs.
l knew that no one could have ei
brought her news of my accident.
You saw me fall. then, nurse" 1
said.
''rhat l did" she answered. Il see
you ofteuer than you think. But there
was a time when could nIrdly 5, e
you at all. and thought you were
dead. my Duncan"
| STOPPED to kiss her She laid the
one hand that had still the power { {
motion upon my head. and dividing
the hair. which had begun to e mixed
with gray, said, "Eh. the BOZ ny gray
hairs. My Duncan's a man in spite
Of them"
She searched until she found the
scar Of the saber-crit.
Just where | thought to find it,
SHE said. THAT was a terri de day;
worse for me than for you, duncan"
You saw me their | exclt lined.
little do folks know" she answer
ed. who think I'm lying here like a
live corpse in its coffin. what liberty
my soul-and that's just me-erj ,ys.
Little do they kn.,w what | ST.. and
hear. And there's no witchcrait or
evil-doing in it. my boy; but asst what
the Almighty made me. Janet, here.
declares she heard the cry that made.
when this same cut. that's no so well
healed yet, broke tsut In your bonny
head. l saw no sword, only the burst
ing Of the blood from the wound. But
sit down, my bairn. and have some
thing to eat after your walk. Wen
have time enough FOR speech"
Janet had laid out the table with
fare OF the old, homely sort, and /
was a boy once more as | ate the
well-known food. Every now and
then / glanced toward the old face.
Soon saw that she was asleep. From
her lips broke murmured sounds. so
partially connected that | found it i'm
possible TO remember them: but the
impression they left on my mind was
something Ike this:
."Over the water. Yes; 1t Is a rough
sea-green and white. But over the
water. There Is a path for the path
less The grass on the hill is long
and cool. Never horse came there
II they once sleep In that grass, no
harm can hurt them more. Over the
water. Up the hill" And Then she
murmured the words OF the psalm.
He that dwelleth In the secret place"
For an hour sat beside her. 1t WAS
evidently a sweet, natural sleep. the
most wonderful sleep OF all, mingled
with many a broken dream-rainbow
rose at last, and telling Janet thar
would return In the evening, wenI
back to my quarters; for my absence
from the midday meal would have
been a disappoInti ,ent to the house
hold.
When I returned TO the cottage, u
found Margaret only just awakcd. aud
greatly refreshed. | sat down beside
her in the twilight, and the following
converse ton began:
You said, nurse that. some time
ago, you could not see me. Did you
know nothing about me all that time?
Il took 1t 10 mean that you Were
III, my dear. Shortly after you left
US, the same thing happened first; but
do not think you were i'll then"
Il should like TO tell you all my
story, dear Margaret" l said, cOnceiv.
Ing a sudden hope of assistance from
one who lowered So near the unseen
that she often fitted across the bor,
ders. "But would IL tire your
Tire me- my chl!d"' she said, with
sudden energy. Did not carry you
in my bosom. till | loved you more
than the darling l had lostF Do l!
not think about you and your fortunes,
till, sitting there, you are no nearer tu
me than when a thousand miles
away? You do not know my love to
you, Dur an. / have lived upon II |
when, | iare say, you did not care |
whether l was ..r. or --s,A But
that was all OH my .orc. Wh,I |
you leave me u"v | shah not car, |
n My shou.A. Will only retugI