The Morris County chronicle. [volume] (Morristown, N.J.) 1877-1915, 1900-12-07

now the fever was gone. He would lie
for hours gazing out at the skylight
window, whence he could just see some
red roofs and the tower. and hear the
college bells. Gradually the pain, the
torment, and the unrest died out or
his eyes, and peace settled there. His
mother told him how much better he
was, and that after Christmas he could
begin again, and go up in March for
the next exam. Had not Curly" the
last red-gown who had been in, said
so?
But up under the red roof Of the
attic-room the Chronic was drifting out
with the tide. The doctor had told his
mother that afternoon. She had not
seemed to understand, and had gazed
upon him with unbelieving eyes. 1t
could not be. He could not die. He
was going to be minister.
She was alone now, in the red light
of the fire, the lamp, his student-lamp
shaded on the table, and a pile of books
near. Once or twice before this he had
asked for the books and had opened one
or two, feebly gazing in a kind Of
agony on the printed pages. Then he
put them away and covered his face,
with a sob which no one heard. He
could not understand. He would never
understand in this world. But that
pain had gone, too, now.
Mother, mother, 1 want to speak to
you-to tell you something"
Yes, my lad"
He spoke suddenly, in the dusk
.One day you asked me about that
last exam. You asked if l passed, and
FL did not speak. You thought / did
not understand you. And once when
the professor was in I heard you whis-
per to him. He is kind man, very
kind man. He said hadn't time to
read the questions. But-but it is all
of no use, mother. I'd never have
passed. l wasn't clever enough. / feel
as If had to tell you. I couldn't die
and go before God acting a lie.
couldn't let you believe could have
passed. Mother, dear, I'd never have
had a kirk of my own-never in this
world"
He was sitting up, his thin white face
turned upon her, his brilliant eyes gaz-
ing into hers. There was passion of
truthfulness about the Chronic. He
had to tell her." as he said.
And they sat thus, looking at each
other, and the dream of her life died in
that long look.
Il thought it would break my heart
when l realized it, mother" he whis-
pered. The truth came over me in the
last exam. I'd toiled, and worked and
worked. I'd have gone on, if 1 could.
I've seen the dawn break in the east,
many and many a morning, over my
books; but think I was born slow and
stupid. Can you ever forgive me,
mother?"
My ain laddie My ain laddiel"
She knew the truth The sword had
fallen, vet she loved him still. Just
then the college clock struck ten, and
his thoughts drifted
They are all home now for Christ
mas The choir will be practising in
church for the service tomorrow. I
went there every Sunday. It's cool and
dark, with stained windows | used to
forget the exams. and the Junior Math.
1t was the best part of the college.
Mother, l wish you'd dress me in my
red gown after
She promised, stroking his hair. And
presently the Chronic dozed, her hand
clasping his thin one.
She sat and faced it ALL and looked
at the wreck of all her hopes. Life
seemed to sink low; faith burned cold.
She could think of nothing but her bit
ter disappointment, of Duncan drifting
away beyond all her hopes, all her
prayers
The clock chimed again 1t was a
bright, starry night-a night of clear
frosty sky. When she opened the win
dow the sea-breeze came to her, salt
and fresh-so unlike the mountain and
the moor air Of her own home.
Suddenly the Chronic sat up. gazing
at her eagerly.
Mother, it is the class bell. / must
go! Give me my books. mother"
My dear laddie-Duncan. that is no
bell"
He had sunk back on the pillow, and
she held something to his lips. Then
he remembered, and tried to speak.
II had forgotten again. But, mother,
dear, I've been thinking-ther are bet
ter things than these books. And-and
God knows best, mother
He never spoke consciously or CO.
herently again. In the early morning
as the dawn, with sandals gray" was
breaking on the sky, and the great
broken towers of the cathedral could
just be seen rising gaunt beside the
the silent watcher by the gate
His mother did not know the exact
moment in which he died. but as she
closed his eyes the college clock broke
in solemn reverberations above the
chapel and down the silent street.
Duncan McIvor had gone up from the
. school time of life to answer the sum-
mons of higher Master.
Professors and students followed him
to the ruined cathedral, where the city
gathers her dead. They lined the path,
the red gowns and the black. and they
carried the Chronic through the lane of
these young, untried faces.
Jeanne, who had come for her, took
her home, and SHORTLY after Jeanne
married. But she had always d tender
ness for the big students little quiet
mother and she went with her later
when his fellow-students had put a
simple cross over his grave, and one of
the professors had chosen the inscrip-
ton.
He said there were better things,
than books. Jeanie and that is true.
Read the words to me, Jeanne. They
put the grand Latin. but there is the
English underneath. for the like of me
to understand"
And Jeanie read I'm her nitiful voice: