The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1902-07-25
;;,s,;s,se;a,s,;ss;sasa,;ssasss,sasMassassaeSsaS

sin was he confessed that he had
watched Roy Anderson black his cous-
ms boat name and had taken a big
siller penny from Roy not to tell any
one about it. He said, too, that he
was feared of Roy, who had threaten
ed him with many awful deaths if he
said n word. He then told where the
big siller penny was hid and asked me
to put it in the kirk plate the next Sab
bath for the poor So his mother went
for the money. 1t was hid ava in a
wee box in the thatch of the cottage,
and she brought it to the dying lad,
and he put it in my hand WI fingers
that were almost clay. And promised
him all he asked and prayed wi him,
and he went away smiling. Then l
looked at the big siller penny and saw
that it was a false crown piece, not
worth a bodle, and when / got home
l threw it in the fire, and the next
Sabbath put true, honest crown in
the kirk plate for the laddie that was
then in heaven. But told you naeth-
ing at all, for you were but bruised
reed, and | did not want to hang your
head still lower. Do you now believe
that Roy is innocent?
ALAS, alas, must just believe the
very worst. know well that wee An
drew would not lie on his deathbed.'"
"Then why on Gods earth are you
crying for such man, Helen"
II am crying. father, because he does
deserve tears"
This was a refinement of grief hard
for Brodick to understand. He an
swered with some anger: 1.-THE man is
dead and buried as far as you are con-
cerned. Let the dead bury the dead.
AS for you, follow him that died and is
alive and living forever. Then you
will get not only peace, but happiness"
After this conversation Brodick went
more and more frequently to Glasgow
and showed an unusual attention to his
dress and appearance. He Is that set
up With the minister and the big folk
he meets with him." thought Helen, a
little scornfully. "One would think
there had never been minister's we'd
ding before and never would be an
other while the world lasted. Tm fairly
weary of hearing tell of it."
However, after little Andrews con-
fession Helen gradually got the mas
terry of herself. Every possible excuse
for her sentimental sorrow was taken
away, and, whether we will it or not,
time-appointed Of God for the conso-
lation of all grief-does obliterate and
heal. And as soon as Helen knowingly
and consciously turned her face to ''the
hills from which cometh our help" she
was comforted-comforted in prayer, in
sleep, in work. in all her household
ways, until her sorrow was very nearly
a tale Of old. unhappy, faroff things.
Then she realized how foolish it had
been and how utterly useless, since all
her tears could never make
the grass to grow
On the trampled meadows of long ago.
Some change also that she could not
define had come into her home. Her
father, though affectionate as ever, was
had lost their regularity. He was al
ways wearying for post time, he who
had scarce ever before either written
or received letter. He was evidently
happy, and yet be had hardly a word
to say to her. She understood, when
too late, that she had lost some of her
influence over him. He came no longer
to her with his little troubles and hopes
and plans, and she asked herself sadly
IL Roy's love had been worth what she
had lost for 1t.
One night in the following spring, as
she sat knitting by the open door, her
father said to her: "Helen. my dear
lassie, you be to have some new dress
es. There is going to be wedding in
the family" She looked at him sharp
ly, and he nodded his head and contin-
ued, 81 am going to be married myself
next month"
"Fatherl NeverI Neverr
why notT
"How will ! bear the like Of that2"
"Whatp
"a strange woman In the house-mis.
tress, you Remand where will be? 1t
Is sair trial, father. I'm not able to
face it. However could you think of
such thing"
1T was you put the thought and the
need in my mind yourself, Helen. You
taught me, with Roy Anderson, that |
must give you up and live my lane, or
else have a strange man whom 1. dis
liked and distrusted always at my fire.
side. If it please God, may live a
quarter of century yet, and want a
friend and companion. Because you
love must be without love2"
81 am always your daughter"
"Till you are married. Then you are
some mans wife, first of all. am not
complaining. 1 am only looking for
ward bit to the years that may come
10 me-"
''Who are you going to marry?"
'"The Rev. Mr.. Sharp's mother-a
douce, sensible woman not very much
younger than myself. Her husband
was my first captain. She minds him
speaking of me-"
'Well, father, ! have naething to
say. You be to do your own pleasure"
'She is a. good woman, and you will
be the better of some one to talk with.
| make no question but that we shall
all of us be the happier for her in the
house. 1t has been very sad and lone
ly the past year."