Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1900-04-19

than herself; but, at the time or her
forming Luke's acquaintance, she was an
orphan and very poor, having just then
received her first situation as governess.
Agnes Muir had good Scotch wit, as
well as good Scotch heart. Though fiat
tered not little by the knowledge of
her lovers high family connections, she
at the same time learned sufficient of his
personal antecedents to obtain pretty
thorough insight into the instability of
his character, and sensibly declined to
marry him while he had nothing to live
ON but the meager pay he was obtaining
in his employment and the irregular
money presents his brother found it ad-
visable to send him from time to time. SO,
when, few months after their vows had
been interchanged, she had obtained an
advantageous opportunity to accompany,
in the character of gOverness, well-to-
do family emigrating to the South Afri-
can colony of Natal, she accepted it after
much elaboration; and there was a COM
pact made between the lovers that, in
the event Of Luke receiving such an ac-
cession of fortune as should enable him
to support a wife, she was to return to
him without delay.
The woman remained faithful to the
compact, but the man did not. Agnes
had disappeared but short time before
her lover returned to his evil courses.
Censurable neglect in the discharge Of his
duties caused him to be dismissed from
his employment. He drifted from bad to
worse, and became common farm labor
err. He so far forgot Agnes Muir, with
in less than twelyemonth after their
separation, as to fall in love with and
obtain the affections of his employers
only daughter, Mary Mcleod, whereupon
he at once ran away with her to Gretna
Green, where they were united in we'd
lock by poor clergyman.
1t should have been mentioned that
Luke Dalziel had before this changed his
name to Luke Graeme, through sense
of shame at having descended to manual
labor. AS such, and in total ignorance Of
his real name and connections, did Mary
Mcleod marry him, out Of the overflow
ing love and trustfulness Of her great
heart. She was not long in discovering
the mistake she had made in anchoring
her hopes upon Luke Graeme. Her faith
err willingly enough forgave her the mad
cap marriage she had made, but the most
he would do for them was to afford them
the occupancy of dipalidated cabin on
his little holding. Here they eked out
Woodworking existence Of extreme pow
erty. A child, little boy, was born to
them, and at the same time, or near to it,
old Farmer Mcleod died, leaving few
pounds of savings to his daughter.
Luke suddenly took to hard drink.
While the fit was on him he squandered
the poor savings that had been left to
his wife. He grew periodically brutal,
as well as drunken. His debasement
would seem to have been almost COM
plete. But his wife loved him still, and
never thought of doing otherwise than
cling to him through it all. Nevertheless,
one self-sacrifce yet remained for her
to perform, which few women would have
had the heroism to even mediate, but
which this woman both faced and carried
out. This was nothing less than the sac
rifice Of her maternal tenderness to what
she considered might tend to the future
welfare Of her child.
One stormy winter day, following upon
a fortnight of exceptional privation and
misery, during which her husband had
been indolent, brutal and drunken even
beyond his wont, Mary Graeme disap-
peared with her child, and with a GER
tain fixed, desperate resolution stiffening
over her white face, such as it had never
worn before. She returned at nightfall,
but without her child, and with the
traces of horrible, agonizing heart-break
written indelibly in form and feature.
"What have you done with the BARN,
Mary" cried her startled husband.
'.It's gone, Luke-gone forever from the
L 4oI I,a% -,
store for it herev' she replied, with a
hollow solemnity Of voice.
Heavens and earth! you haven't de-
stroyed it?" gasped Luke.
''Not so, but have saved it!'' she said,
in the same hollow tone. II have done
with our BARN to-day what I've been
slowly resolving to do for long, long
time, Luke. It's in the keeping Of my
second cousin, Sandy. He will take it to
his sister in the Highlands, and between
them they're to take care Of it as of their
own. This was sworn to me, Luke, on
the sole condition that we never-never
see it more!'
Then, with a hysterical shriek-a frag-
ment torn from a shattered heart-she
threw up her hands and fell senseless on
the floor.
In spite Of Luke's degradation. he was
at first treaty shocked. He kissed his
wife back to consciousness, and swore
that he would be another and better man
from that time forth. For time he was
so, but he soon slipped back into his indo-
lence and shiftlessness, and, perhaps,
grew glad that the child had ben got rid
of so cheaply. Then came news to them
that Sandy's sister had died, and that
Sandy himself had gone off to foreign
parts alone, from which they inferred
that the poor child, which had never been
strong, must likewise have persisted OF
the rough Highland airs to which he had
been borne away so suddenly. 1t was
in this condition that Chelmsford's in
quiries found them out few months
prior to the opening Of our story, when
Luke had suddenly been called on to re-
sumo his name, and take the title and
estate supposed to have been vacated.
a L.