wn of the braeside to welcome me; Marian on my knee in the
twilight looking out seaward and starward; Marian with her brown head
and face, such as the angels have, resting on my breast in the gold of
the dawning; Marian--Marian--Marian--I, an old man, who was once that
bonny Jock Stair, all your own, call to you. Can you come? Will it ever
be again! See! I stretch my hands, wrinkled, old, to that far off blue,
and ask you, as I have a thousand times, to send me peace.

* * * * *

All that summer we lived in the little house, and toward autumn there
were reasons why my wife should not be troubled with new cares. Sandy
came to see us frequently; whiles I ran up to Edinburgh to tend to
needful matters. One day in March, because of some wish my dear had
half expressed, I went to town to get some of the jewels with which the
Ladies Stair had adorned themselves in days gone by. I had promised a
short absence, but there was a matter of some fastenings to be mended
at the goldsmith's, and my stay was three days. Riding backward as fast
as a postboy, I came on the porch suddenly to find a weeper, as if one
were dead, hanging upon the knocker. Dropping the box and riding-whip I
pushed the door ajar with a great shove and entered, upon Dame
Dickenson, who was coming out of her room, from which place I heard a
faint cry. Her eyes were red with weeping; she looked scared and went
white at the sight of me, and with a horrid presentiment of trouble, I
cried on the instant, in a voice which I heard myself as coming from
some other:

"Where is she?"

"Oh, my lord," she said, and her voice broke and went off into a
shriek, "did ye no meet wi' Mr. Carmichael? He's gone for ye."

"I met nobody," I cried, and again there was a tiny wail as of a
new-born babe from the next room.

"Oh, my lord!" she cried again, springing forward and putting herself
between me and the doorway which I made to enter. "Ask God for strength
to bear what's been sent ye. Say a prayer, my lord. Ask Him to let ye
remember the baby that's come to you. Pray, O my lord," she cried;
"prepare yourself."

I pushed her from me and threw the door wide open.

There was a body in the room laid out for burial, with candles burning
at the head and foot--a slim, young, girlish body; and as Father
Pierre, who was kneeling by it, turned his face toward mine I knew that
Marian, because of me, had gone forever. Something seemed to str