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On this bright October morning Miss Gertrude White was about to begin her domestic inquiries, and was leaving her room humming cheerfully to herself something about the bonnie Glenogie of the song, when she was again stopped by her sister, who was carrying a bundle. "I have got the skins," she said, gloomily. "Jane took them out." "Will you look at them?" the sister said, kindly.
He had the letter in his hand; and he knew the handwriting: but there was no wind of the night that could bring him the mystic message she had sent with it: "Oh, here is, Glenogie, a letter for thee!" For a second or two he held the letter in his hand, regarding the outside of it; and it was with more deliberation than haste that he opened it.
"Glenogie understand it, any way," said she, blithely, "and naturally he rode off at once to see his dying sweetheart. "'Pale and wan was she, when Glenogie gaed ben, But rosy-red grew she when Glenogie sat down. She turned away her head, but the smile was in her e'e, Oh, binna feared, mither, I'll maybe no dee." She shut the piano.
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