Year: 1869

Gated in the family OF Lady Annas
friend in Margate. :,


On the morning after their arrival
there, Robbie came to old John, his faith.
full attendant, and in a strangely agitatedd
manner recounted dream which had
visited his slumber in the night.


"Oh, John" he said, " | know where
Mary is, for have seen her in my dream.
Poor Mary Poor Mary II


1t was the first time the lad had mani
tested any desire to speak of Mary or OF
her unhappy fate and now the strange
eagerness with which be did so, alarmed


the old servant greatly. He endeevored


to convince Robbie that there could be
no significance in a dream, and entreated
him to dispel from his mind the impress


sion it had left there.


The young man said no more about


the matter, and John thought he had


shaken off the strange influence Of the
dream. Throughout the whole of that
day, however, he was more silent and
moody than usual, and exhibited an un-
common restlessness.


Before retiring, when night came again,
he whispered to John, as the old servant
parted with him at his chamber door, !


shall see her again tonight, John-l


know shall.
| The old man was sorely troubled IN


mind, and could not sleep. He occupied
| a little room adjoining that of his young
master, where he could easily hear any
word or movement in the latter apart


ment, and thus be ready to render any
| seryice required OF him.


Imagine, then, if possible, his utter
astonishment and horror, when, on softly


entering Robbie chamber at a late hour


In the morning, to see why the young


man had not arisen, be found the apart


ment unoccupied and as silent as the


chamber of death.


Almost beside himself with grief, the


old man delayed only long enough to se-


cure van, before setting out for Tan


dsuk. He recalled the mysterious words


of the old crazy Scotch woman-words
that had ever since rung in his ears and


weighed on his mind with the force and
sh,nifcance of an evil prophecy-and he
knew. taking in account mis- young mas
ter's dream, that the lad had returned to
the see ne of the recent disaster.


For several hours the old servant rode
on in silen ce, occupied with his own sad
thoughts. At length, near midday, and
when within bat few miles OF Iandauk,
he yielded to sudden impulse, and
paused at an out of-the.way place to make
inquiries. The reply he received was,
that youth such as be described had
been seen in the morning crossing the
fields at rapid walk in the direction OF
the Point


John did not drive straight on to Tan
dauk mansion. He knew too well that
the poor boy was not there. Securing
the assistance of few kind friends, he
led the way to the west side of the Point,
opposite the group of hshermerss huts on
the beach, and something more than
mile from them, directly over the ridge
that ran down to the sea.


The old man was led to this place by
those mysterious words, though mysteri-
GUS to him no longer


"Laust + the dcws and fags. doom a. the brae."


There was but one such bill skirting the
sea, and that was on the west side OF the
Point A broad stretch of salt marsh,
thickly matted by growth of tall reeds
and rushes, and darkly shaded by gnsrled
and knotty cypress trees, extended from
the foot of this hill out to the edge of an
open bay or recess of the sea. When a
strong wind from the south or southeast
prevailed for a considerable length of
time the great waves rolled into this bay,
swept in past the head of Sheppey Island,
and rushed Kissing and foaming through
the dark cypress swamp, even to the foot
of the Aill beyond.


Old John approached this dark, for
bidding place with q sickening dread,
an awful weight of horror on his mind,
conscious that fearful revelation would
meet him there. There was laborious |
search through. the rank and tangled |
rushes of the swamp, but it did not con-
tinue long. Their eyes at length rested,
in a gaze Of fixed and awful horror, on |
the object, rather the objects, of their
search.


The body of little Mary-lost Mary, |
lay before them, bearing now no trace of |
that radiant beauty so lately animated by
life and health. She lay where the cruel
waves, had wrecked her boat, among the
kuotted cypress trees. Half reclining
against a fallen tree near by was the form |
Of Robbie, only the mortal part, grieving |
and sorrowing now no longer. The dis
appointments, the pains and fatigues OF
life had borne too heavily upon him
exhaustion and despair had given the
blow that liberated his sor-
rowing soul from earthly cares on that
bright and beautiful summer morning.


Our story is told, without the addition
or modification of a single incident
Then why should we dwell longer on
events so saddening. except briefly to
note their effect on those who we're more
nearly concerned in their occurrence.
The mother of little Mary Purcell, after
long suffering, recovered from the illness
which brought her so near to the verge of
The grave-recovered only to assume the
lifelong burthen Of grief and poverty.


Lady Anna did not live the summer
through. Remorse completed that which
sorrow left undone. The household at
Tandauk was broken up, aud old John
Byron, the last and most faithful Of all,
went forth in sadness, though not in guilt,
10 battle with the world few years