The Camden chronicle. (Camden, Tenn.) 1890-current, 1905-04-14

Bent low beneath a burden of drift
wood, sorrowful Of mem (and mayhap
scornfuD, a powerful, dark-featured
man of perhaps two and thirty was
slowly climbing the steep, rocky slope
which abutted the sea at Muirlothan.
Far above, perched like ragged eagle
on the wind-swept crest of the slope
was solitary fisher-hut. Beyond 1t
struggled the sleepy fisher village.
A hundred eyes seemed to peer down
upon the lone laborer through the
chilly opal dawn, and hundred voices
to form into q floating curse, which
settled upon him with the fierce fury
of a sudden storm And ever the sill
very sea mist writhed like serpents at
his feet, and ever the screaming sea
birds, wheeling overhead, seemed to
cry, now hoarse as a fog-horn, now
shrill and piercing as shepherds
flute:
1.-The curse O. Cain be on we for aye
an aye!'
Yet, upward the laborer pursued his
course-an Ishmael's lot his lot, an
Ishmael's curse cleaning, glinting in
his sullen eyes. Though the burden
sore pressed his great strength, he
eased it not by the casting OF a twig.
In crushing labor he sought the re-
pose of his stricken soul, unmindful OF
heat or winters bitter breath. Ere
long he entered the hut, and cast his
burden into the distant corner.
Then a wrinkled and withered wom-
an, long past her prime, arose feebly
and laid tremulous brown hand up
on his broad shoulder. what ha' ye
ta'en frae the sea, Geordie, my BARN"
she queried. Nae guide, mother, nae
GUIDE mickle to keep the body warm,
that's a.. fear we shall starve, mother,
for since they ha' branded me in Muir
lothian they will gle me nae siller," he
added brokenly, after a moments 81
Ience. Nae fish can be ta'en frae the
sea-" But we wur ma gielty, my BARN,
wi my las breath l wad say't."
"Ah but the court an the kirk ha'
branded me. | be the outcast O. Muir
lothian, a mon O. -gieltiness,'
they say. His strong voice sank bit
terly; red glow of the driftwood fire
cast fantastic glamor over his dark,
bearded face.
"There be times, mother" he said at
last. "whein to dee is better than to
liye-when life's living death"
"But your mother still loves we, BARN
an Annie"
Flush! mother" he interrupted, al
most savagely, ut Gamma be; dinna
mention her to me again. hate her!"
Suddenly he rose and strobe from the
room.
In all Scotland there was scarcely to
he found a prettier, sweeter, or more
winsome lass than Annie, of Muir
lothian. the old laird's only daughter.
From early childhood she and George
Brodie had loved each other with
devotion singularly pure and strong.
Then suddenly one morning the evil
fidings that he had committed crime
broke upon her. Staggered at first,
and stricken dumb, she rebounded
quickly to the supreme height of wo-
mans confidence, protesting his inno-
cence. 1t was an unpopular attitude
even for the laird's daughter.
The evidence against Brodie was
overwhelming. Link by link the chain
had forged itself, coming forth, as it
were, spontaneously from the glowing
furnace of Retributive Justice. Wit
ness had corroborated witness to the
effect that George Brodie and Sandy
MacI can were together on the night of
the tragedy. That they were rivals
for the lairds daughters heart and
hand was an open secret. And in this
was found a sufficient cause.
The defense-that he (Brodie), in
.ompany with Sandy MacLean, had
been assaulted and overpowered by I'M
Known parties-had seemed Himsy and