o house near us at
all;" and with this comforting reflection he drew near the cabin. The
door, contrary to custom at nightfall, lay open; and Owen, painfully
alive to any suspicious sign, from the state of anxiety his mind had
suffered, entered hastily.

"Father! where are you?" said he quickly, not seeing the old man in his
accustomed place beside the fire; but there was no answer. Laying the
child down, Owen passed into the little chamber which served as the
old man's bedroom, and where now he lay stretched upon the bed in his
clothes. "Are ye sick, father? What ails ye, father dear?" asked the
young man, as he took his hand in his own.

"I'm glad ye've come at last, Owen," replied his father feebly. "I've
got the sickness, and am going fast."

"No--no, father! don't be down-hearted!" cried Owen, with a desperate
effort to suggest the courage he did not feel; for the touch of the cold
wet hand had already told him the sad secret. "'Tis a turn ye have."

"Well, maybe so," said he, with a sigh; "but there's a cowld feeling
about my heart I never knew afore. Get me a warm drink, anyway."

While Owen prepared some cordial from the little store he usually
dispensed among the people, his father told him, that a boy from a sick
house had called at the cabin that morning to seek for Owen, and from
him, in all likelihood, he must have caught the malady. "I remember,"
said the old man, "that he was quite dark in the skin, and was weak in
his limbs as he walked."

"Ayeh!" muttered Owen, "av it was the 'disease' he had, sorra bit of
this mountain he'd ever get up. The strongest men can't lift a cup of
wather to their lips, when it's on them; but there's a great scarcity in
the glen, and maybe the boy eat nothing before he set out."

Although Owen's explanation was the correct one, it did not satisfy the
old man's mind, who, besides feeling convinced of his having the malady,
could not credit his taking it by other means than contagion. Owen never
quitted his side, and multiplied cares and attentions of every kind; but
it was plain the disease was gaining ground, for ere midnight the old
man's strength was greatly gone, and his voice sunk to a mere whisper.
Yet the malady was characterised by none of the symptoms of the
prevailing epidemic, save slight cramps, of which from time to time he
complained. His case seemed one of utter exhaustion. His mind was clear
and calm; and although unable to speak, except in short and brok