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Updated: May 23, 2025
These memories, these thoughts, closed round John Greylston like a circle of rebuking angels. Not for the first time were they with him when Annie found him beneath the old pines. Ever since that morning of violent and unjust anger they had been struggling in his heart, growing stronger, it seemed, every hour in their reproachful tenderness.
Margaret Greylston was radiant in the bloom of young womanhood when this great grief first smote her brother, but from that very hour she put away from her the gayeties of life, and sat down by his side, to be to him a sweet, unselfish controller for evermore, and no lover could ever tempt her from her post.
The curtain falls the story of John and Margaret Greylston is ended. IF men cared less for wealth and fame, And less for battle-fields and glory; If, writ in human hearts, a name Seemed better than in song and story; If men, instead of nursing pride, Would learn to hate and to abhor it If more relied On Love to guide, The world would be the better for it.
Margaret Greylston was sitting by the table, sewing; her face was flushed, and her eyes red and swollen as with weeping. Annie stood still in wonder. But Miss Margaret suddenly looked up, and her niece sprang, with a glad cry, into her arms. "You are not well, Aunt Margaret?
Oh, weary heart! endure yet "a little while" longer. Even now the angel of reconciliation is on the wing. Whilst John Greylston sat alone upon the foot of the porch at the front of the house, and his sister stood so sadly in the parlour, the city stage came whirling along the dusty turnpike. It stopped for a few minutes opposite the lane which led to John Greylston's place.
"Don't tell me so, John," impetuously interrupted Margaret Greylston. "I am sure there is no necessity in the case, and I am sorry to the very heart that you have no more feeling than to order those trees to be cut down." "Feeling! well, maybe I have more than you think; yet I don't choose to let it make a fool of me, for all that.
Now, do have some confidence in me. Indeed I am not so childish as I seem. I am turned of sixteen now, and Richard and Sophy often say I have the heart of a woman, even if I have the ways of a child. Let me go now, dear Aunt Margaret; I will soon come back to you with such good news." Miss Greylston stooped down and kissed Annie's brow solemnly, tenderly. "Go, my darling, and may God be with you."
Oh! would you not be very sorry if Aunt Madge should leave you, never to come back again? Would not your heart almost break?" John Greylston threw down his knife and fork violently upon the table, and pushing back his chair, went from the room. Annie Bermond looked in perfect bewilderment at her aunt, but Miss Margaret was silent and tearful.
How well you look, uncle so noble and grand too; by the way, I always think King Robert Bruce must just have been such a man like you." "No laughing at your old uncle, you little rogue," said John Greylston pleasantly, "but run and find your aunt. She is somewhere in the house." And he looked after her with a loving smile as she flitted by him.
The door was opened, and a grave-looking young man sprang out. He was followed by a fairy little creature, who clapped her hands, and danced for joy when she saw the white chimneys and vine-covered porches of "Greylston Cottage." "Annie!
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