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She said to herself, musingly, "How terrible for one's child to die first. But I shall never know that pang. Go on, Mr. Gwynne." He read what words for him to read! the concluding stanzas; and as he did so, the movement of Mrs. Rothesay's lips seemed silently to follow them.

However, it quickly passed from her gentle mind; and then, as the best way to soothe all her troubles, she quitted the study, and sought her mother. Of Mrs. Rothesay's affliction we have as yet said little. Many and various are earth's griefs; but there must be an awful individuality in the stroke which severs the closest human tie, that between two whom marriage had made "one flesh."

Rothesay's feeble strength was found unequal to a walk of two miles. Christal, apparently not sorry for the excuse, volunteered to remain with her, and Olive went to church alone. She was loth to leave her mother; but then she did so long to hear Mr. Gwynne preach! She thought, all the way, what kind of minister he would make. Not at all like any other, she was quite sure.

Therefore I would not disturb you, but took my book." He spoke in the abrupt, cold manner he sometimes used. Olive thought something had happened to annoy him. She sat down and talked with him until the cloud passed away. Many times during the evening Lyle renewed his lamentations over Miss Rothesay's journey; but Harold never uttered one word of regret.

And with an earnest credulity, which contained the germ of purest faith, she, remembering the mother's dream, called her nursling by the name of Olive. She carried the babe home and laid it on Mrs. Rothesay's lap. The young creature, who had so strangely renounced that dearest blessing of mother-love, would fain have put the child aside; but Elspie's stern eye controlled her.

While she pondered, there came a light knock to the door, and Captain Rothesay's voice was heard without his own voice, soothed down to its soft, gentleman-like tone; it was a rare emotion, indeed, could deprive it of that peculiarity. "Nurse, I wish to see Miss Olive Rothesay." It was the first time that formal appellation had ever been given to the little girl. Still it was a recognition.

She clung helplessly to those sustaining arms "Take care of me, Olive! I do not deserve it, but take care of me!" "I will, until death!" was Olive's inward vow. And so, travelling fast, but in solemn silence, they came to B . Alas! it was already too late! By Angus Rothesay's bed they stood the widow and the fatherless!

"Besides, Harold Gwynne shall share my success," he thought; and he formed many schemes for changing the comparative poverty of the parsonage into comfort and luxury. It was only when the pen was in the young man's hand, ready to sign the paper, that the faintest misgiving crossed Rothesay's mind. "Stay, it is but for a few days yet life sometimes ends in an hour.

From the moment of Captain Rothesay's death, Olive seemed to rule in his stead or rather, the parent and child seemed to change places. Olive watched, guided, and guarded the passive, yielding, sorrow-stricken woman, as with a mother's care; while Mrs.

She thought, "What if my father should die, and we two should be left alone in the world! Then she will have none to look to save me, and I will be to her in the stead of all. Once, I think, she loved me very little; but, oh! mother, dearly we love one another now." When Mrs. Rothesay's senses returned, she lifted her head, with a bewildered air. "Where are we going? What has happened?