ord he felt a gentle pressure, then
a slight relaxation, and on holding the candle closer to her emaciated
face--which still bore those dim traces of former beauty, that, in many
instances, neither sickness nor death can altogether obliterate--he
stooped and wildly kissed her now passive lips, exclaiming, in words
purposely low, that the other inmates of the cabin might not hear them:

"A million favers, my darlin' Mary, would not prevent me from kissin'
your lips, that will never more be opened with words of love and
kindness to my heart. Oh, Mary, Mary! little did I drame that it would
be in such a place, and in such a way, that you'd lave me and them."

[Illustration: PAGE 409-- He stooped and wildly kissed her now passive
lips]

He had hardly spoken, when one of the little ones, awaking, said:

"Daddy, come here, an' see what ails Alley; she won't spake to me."

"She's asleep, darlin', I suppose," he replied; "don't spake so loud, or
you'll waken her."

"Ay, but she's as could as any tiling," continued the little one; "an'I
can't rise her arm to put it about me the way it used to be."

Her father went over, and placing' the dim light close to her face, as
he had done to that of her mother, perceived at a glance, that when
the spirit of that affectionate mother--of that faithful wife--went to
happiness, she had one kindred soul there to welcome her.

The man, whom we need not name to the reader, now stood in the centre of
his "desolate hearth," and it was indeed a fearful thing to contemplate
the change which the last few minutes had produced on his appearance.
His countenance ceased to manifest any expression of either grief or
sorrow; his brows became knit, and fell with savage and determined
gloom, not unmingled with fury, over his eyes, that now blazed like
coals of lire. His lips, too, became tight and firm, and were pressed
closely together, unconsciously and without effort. In this mood, we
say, he gazed about him, his heart smote with sorrow and affliction,
whilst it boiled with indignation and fury. "Thomas Gourlay," he
exclaimed--"villain--oppressor--murdherer--devil--this is your work!
but I here entreat the Almighty God "--he droppe'd on his knees as he
spoke--"never to suffer you to lave this world till he taches you that
he can take vengeance for the poor." Looking around him once more, he
lit a longer rushlight, and placed it in the little wooden candlestick,
which had a slit at the top, into w