The Last of Their Race
d be felt. The old man lay slightly on his side, and Rosm
terrified eyes turned
keeper's house at Rofallion. Any of them here will tell you where it is. And
, and on his face was a
h, my dear, but it is
up, and her
well this morning--better than he has been for years. I told Dr. Blair so when
undred echoes through the house and brought D
ed to him
nd carry him to his room. Will you, Mr. Rosmead? Oh, thank you very much. Then
e fingers that held it like a vice. But the effort was useless. As she knelt there she was able to read the addre
new what h
rgaret Maclaren clucking to her handful of poultry at the kitchen door, she wondered how all
ared with their burden. Even then Isla noted the extreme gentleness and power displayed by Rosm
osmead very gently drew the lids over the starin
ckly, for God's sake!" cried I
late now,
ng-glass that had been carried through many a campaign and laid it aga
I will send your woman to you and then go after the doctor. It
t Rosmead never forgot the despair of her face. She bent over the prostrate
in releasing it. She smoothed it out, folded it, and put it inside the bosom
ackinnon this!" she said under
wn to get his horse from the stable. As he left the house the keeper app
there, and he iss calling at another hoose not far away. I can bring him?--y
ome kind," answered Rosmead. "Can you go
d," answered the man, and he was
s back to say that the doctor had gone a
standing about helplessly, wringing their hands, while Isla, with
m the room, and went up to h
ou soon, but meanwhile I want you to grasp the fact that, even if he were here at this moment, there is nothing to be done. I have some know
u don't know--no one will ever k
-yes, and it was the one thing to avoid. Oh, I have watched him all these years so that noth
straught and spoke freely of that which her normal se
last sleep. He managed it at last, for even with all his gentleness he was masterful. Then with his own hands he helped, guiding the tearful, but
hurt him. It was not woebegone, nor yet was it grief-stricken. It was only hard like the nether millstone. He understood that he ha
ttle shivering breath, and
ne thing at this moment, Mr. Rosmead--tha
horror of it yet. But yours was an old man and full of years and honours. You should see him now! He reminds me of the shock of corn full
nd the hardness on Isla'
are! I shall n
now is that I dare not leave you here alone. If you could send some one down to Lochearn--or if you know
!" she cried a little wildly. "You don't understand! Nob
what to say, for tr
e looks so beautiful and so gloriously at rest. If only you will let your mind dwell on that, half the bitterness will
those who knew only one side of Peter Ros
he drawn blinds, and looked at the still figure on the bed with the majesty of d
not to leave her; and his tenderness, his forethought, hi
me fresh person at the door and with the sound of Malcolm's
very heartily wished that it were possible for him to escape by some
on the downmost step she paused and poi
step farther. You have no right in t
ght of Rosmead a few steps higher up the
hy is Mr. Rosmead here? What i
for him to go--that with what now passed in the Lodge of Creagh between the brother and sister no s
General's dead hand must, in some way, have concerned his son, and that
ave to answer to his sister, to his own
slowly down Glenogle. The mystery of life, its awful suffering--so much of it preventible--oppressed his
e could to make up to Isla Mackinnon--that if she would permit him he would devote his whole li
sla must be slowly and laboriously wooed. But how well worth the winning! Rosmead's outlook upon life had undergone a swi
ad never been dissipated by lighter loves. He brought a virgin heart to lay at the feet of the woman he loved. And, in spite of the sorrow and the woe to which he had been a witness, life promised fair t
heart would tell him then whether it was time to speak. Few misgivings were his. He believed that Isla Mackinnon was the woman that God had given to him and that sh
else, he gave God
of Creagh the storm rose and raged. Malcolm, a l
with that of her usually sweet low voice. "And the thing that killed hi
m, with an air almost of men
t was father's, and now it is mine. To think that after all
eady into the library, Isla following, for it suddenly dawned upon her th
said hoarsely. "Surely you wil
e going to meet David Bain, I went to the keeper's house at Rofallion to ask for
he letters, I suppose, whi
ight have looked at a dozen others without comprehending thei
again like the
im credit for one spark of decent feeling. She hardly observed that he was trembling li
ter. I must have it,"
ard him not, and his to
read it
N
you re
N
ive it
kly, now that it has done its deadly work," she said drearily "Do you understand what has happened, Malcolm?
ngue, Isla! You would drive a
r souls, our hearts, and sometimes our bodies have been starved in Achree, and the old place has been suffered to sink into the dust, and has finally passed into the hands of strangers. All this would not have mattered if only you had been good and brave and a little like what you ought to have been. We could have borne poverty
tongue!" he repeated, but his vo
eared themselves upon his brain. He had no idea until now of the red-hot fires of passion glowing benea
een us is snapped. I will never forgive you. You broke my father's heart, and mine is i
eep groan and covered h
one to hinder you from making its devastation complete. As for me
oked for a moment as hers sometimes ha
myself. I admit that the letter gave the shock, and that is punishment enou
omprehend the words--
idea, and, undoing the pearl button of her bl
or me to keep it. I don't w
denly to mock her with his wealth of full-throated song. She walked blindly, yet her feet guided her away to the great spaces of the Mo
know which way to turn. Then he sat him down and braced himself for the effort of
ny unnecessary pain. It was a letter which had cost its writer several sleepless nights--a letter of duty and f
have been written. But it told the truth--the whole truth, without varnish or e
ad it, and surely in that awful moment h
ushed the letter in his hand, and threw it into the fire, where he w
eing, the doddering Diarmid in the hal
, and walked to the side of the bed. There, for a moment, he stood in silence. Then Diarmid, listening
ips as he knelt, sobbing by the bed, and laid his aching a
he peace upon the beautiful old face was that o