SHORT STORY.

Dominion, Volume 1, Issue 3, 28 September 1907, Page 5

SHORT STORY.

THE MAN WHO KNEW. Bearded, bowed, with hard hluo eyes that questioned ■ always, so wo know David Uyo as children; an old, remotely quiet man, who was to bo passed on the other side of tho street and in silence. I have wondered sometimes if the old man over noticed that hush that ran before him and tho clamour tliafc grew up behind, the games that held breath while ho went by, and the children that judged him with wide eyes. He alone, of all tho people in the little dorp, made his own world and possessed it in solitude; about him, tho folk hold all interest in community and measured life by a trivial common standard. At his doorstep, though, lay the, frontier of littlo things; he was something beyond us all, and therefore greater or less than we. Tho meie pictorial value of .his tall figuro, the. dignity of-iiis long, forked beard, and the expectancy of his patient eye, must have settled it that ho was greater. I. was a child when he died, and remember only what I saw, but the rest was talk, and so, perhaps, grew tho more upon me. . One day he died. For years he had wa Iced forth in the morning and-back to Ins house at noon, a pnrplo spot on the raw colour of the town. He had always been still and somewhat' ominous, and conveyed to all who saV him a sense of looking for something, int. on this day he wont back briskly, walking well and striding long, with the gait of one that' has good iipws, and he smiled at those ho passed and nodded to thorn, unheeding or not seeing their strong surprise nor the alarm he wrought to the children. Ho went straight to his little house, that overlooks a crowded garden and a pool of the dorp spruit, entered, and was seen no more alive. His.servant, a sullen Kaffir, found him in his bed when suppor time camo, called him, looked, made, sure, and ran off *o spread the ndws that David Uyo was dead. He was lying, 1 have learned, as ono would lie who wished to die formally, with a smile on his face and ;his_ arms, duly crossed. , This is, copiously confirmed by many women who crowded, after the .manner of Boers, to seo tho corpse; and of all, connected with him, I think, his end and the studied manner ofiit.'imply-, ing an ultimato deference to the conventions, have most to do with the. awo ; in which his memory is preserved. Now, a death so well conceived, so aptly preluded, must, in the nature of things, crown and complete a lifo of singular and strong.quality'. A' murder without >a good motive is merely folly; properly actuated, it is tragedy, and therefore of worth. So 1 with a death: ono seldom dies well, in the technical sense, without having lived well, in the artistic sense; and a man who. will furnish forth a. good death-bed scone, seldom goes naked of an excellent tradition. I have been at some pains to discover, the 'story of David Uyo;. and though sbmo.o'r Jtho greater part of it may throw no furtlior back than to thovrouws of the .dorp, it seems to. me that, thev have done their part "at least as well as David Uyo did his, and this is tho talo I gleaned. - When David was a' young -mail tho Boers,'were not yet scattered abroad all over the veldt, and tho farms lay in to the dorps,, and men saw-ono another every divy.'' ■ Thero was still trouble with, tho Kaffirs at times, little risings and occasional murders, with th'o sacking and burning of homesteads, and'it "was well to have thdmbn "within a counle'of clavs:' rid" ,6f. the..'field cornet, for .'purposes of defence, and retaliation. But wheii David married all this weighed little with 'him. ■'~■' . _" What' need of. neighbours ?",ho said to his young wife. - "We have more need of lniKh4-good land and much, of it. Wo. willtrek." ■ "It shall bo' ns you will, David,'' answered Christina. "I havo no : wish but yours, and neighbours aro nothing to mo." ', '.' There was a pair of both Boors of the best, caring moro -for a good fire of their own than see the smoke.from another's chimnoy soiling the sky, .- Within a week, of their agreement tho waggons were, croaking towards tho rising sun, and the whips wore saluting tho morning. David and.Christina fronted a now world together, and Sought virgin soil. For a full month they journeyed- out, and rmt-spanred n't last, on a mellow evening, on their- home. ' "Could you live hero, do von thini,-, Christina?" tasked David, smiling, and'she smiled back at him ard mado no other answer. There was need for none, indeed, for no Boer could pass such a place. It was a rise, a little, rand, flowing out, from-a tall kopje, grass and ibush to its crown, and at its skirts ran a wide spruit of clear water. , The veldt waved liko a sea—not . nakedly \ and • forlorn,, but dotted with' grey mimosa and big green dropsical aloes, that here and there showed a scarlet plume like a flame. The' country was thigh-deep in grass and snoke of game; as they looked, a springbok got up and fled, So bore they staved. David and his Kaffirs built tho houso, such a honso as you. seo only when a man who is to make, his homo in it puts,his hand to the building: David knew hut one architecture, that of the great hills and the sky, and when all was done, the houso and its background clove ioctcther liko a picture in,a fit frame, the ono onhancing tho.other, the two being one- in per-, fection. It was.thatched, with deep caves, and theso made a cool stoop and cast shadows.on the windows; while the door was red, and took tho eye at mice, as do the plumes of tho aloes. It was not well devised—to say so v.;ould be. to lend, David a credit not due to him; but it occurred excellently. The next thing that occurred was a child, a son, and this set tho pinnacle on their happiness. , His arrival was the one great event in many years, ' for the . multiplication of David's (locks awl herds was so well graduated, tho growth of his prosperity so steady and of so oven a process, that it tended rather to content than vtb joy. It was liko- having money rather than liko getting it. In tho same bare foot quiet their youth loft them, and tho constant passing of days marked them, tonderlv at first, and then- moro deeply. Their boy, Trikkie, was a man and thinking of marrying, when the consciousness of tho leak in their lives stood, up beforo thorn. Thoy wore sitting of an evening on the stoop,'watching the' sun go down and pull ids ribbons after him, when Christina spolco. "Davi-I,"' she said, "yesterday was twenty-five years since our marriage. Wo—we are growing old, David." Sho spoke with a falter, believing what, sho .said. . For though the bio:>d is running strong and warm, and tl'e eye is ,i« clear us.tho hriirt is 'oynl, twenty-five years is a wi-nry while to count back to one's youth. David tuvnul and hv.il.od nt her. lie saw for a moment 'with her evrs -!inw tb*t tb- of her gi,-|. hood hud' Vanished, and. be was astonished. But he knew ho was..stroii;; and hale, well s"t-np and a good ir.-ili to bo friend", with, and as he "riiviH his knr-s.Jv frit the teiHi'Vnselo "Chr'stina," he sail, seo';::-', she ".->s t.-'.n'h'd. "it is t!;,- Si)"" '"I'' •.■Hi ,'i' us _ You -n-- .•,.;• „!•.--■ I i„ ;.'•■.).v ul.! with me 1-t.lj c-..ysi;i:''

Sho came closer .to him, but. said nothing. It was soon after that, and a wonderful thing in its way, such as David had never heard of' before, that there came to them another boy, a wee- rascal- that shattered all the cobweb", of twenty-five years, and gave Christina, something.better to think of than tho footsteps of time. Trikkic had been glorious enough in his time, and was glorious enough still, for the matter of that; but this was a creature with exceptional points, which, neither David nor Christina—nor, to do him' justice, Trikkie —could possibly overlook-. Trikkie had-a-voice liko a .bell, and wliisk-M.-s like the father of a family, and stood six foot two in his naked feet, and lacked no excellence that a sturdy bachelor should possess. But the other, who was born to the name or Paul, lamented his arrival with a vociferous note of disappointment in the world that was indescribably endearing; had a head clothed in down like the. intimate garments of an ostrich chick, and was small enough for David to put in his,pocket. Ho brought a now horizon with him and imposed it on his parents; ho' was, iii' brief, a thing to make a,deacon of a Jew pedlar. Thereafter, life for David arid Chris : tina was no longer a single phenomenon, but a", series of developments. It was liko sailing,in. agreeably rough water. No' pensive mood could survive tho sight of mighty Trikkie gambolling like a young bull in the .company.'of Paul; nor could quiet hours impart a melancholy while the welkin rang with the. voice of the kleintjc bullying the adoring Kaffirs. | Where before life .had elided, now it .steeplcchased, taking' its', davs bullbeaded, and Paul grew to the ago of four as a bamboo grows, in leaps. Then Trikkie,'-tho-huge, tho hairy, the heavy-footed, the man who prided himself tin his ability to make • circumstances, discovered, in- a revealing flash, that, he was, after all, a poor creature, and that tho brightest being on earth was Katjo Voss, whose people'had settled about thirty miles off —next door, as it were. Katje held views not entirely dissimilar, but she consented to marry him, and the big youth walked on .air. ; Katjo was a dumpy Boer girl, with a face all cream and roses, and a figure that gave pro-, mise of much fat hereafter.. Christina had imagined other things, 'but the idea-is a rickety structure'-and she yielded; whilo David, had never considered such an. emergency, and consented heartily. Behind Trikkie's back ho talked of grand-children, and was exceedingly happy. \ . '■■ Then his , dream-fabric tumbled about his ears. , - -Trikkie-' had ridden' off to worship his beloved, and David and-Christina, as was their want, sat on tho stoop, They watched the fieure of their son out of sight, and talked a while, and then lapsed into silence of perfect companionship. The veldt was all alioiit thorn, as.silent-and friendly' as they, and tho distance.-was 1 mellow with a haze of heat. Frqm tho kitaals came at intervals the voice of littlo Paul m fluent Kaffir; 'David smiled over' his pipe and nodded .to his wife once-when the boy's voico was raised in a shout. Christina'was sewing; her thoughts wore on Katjo,'and; were still-vaguely hostile., ";' Of-a sudden she heard David's, pipe clatter on the, ground, .'and looked sharply round at him.. Ho was star-ing-intently into .-void, sky; his brows wero knitted and his face was drawn; even as sho turned ho- gave" a hoarse cry.' •'-•',, -• ■'■:..'' She • rose quickly, but he rose too, and spoke to her ' in an unfamiliar Voice. ' • •' ' - ■ "Go"in," ho said. "Have all ready,, for our son has mot with a mishap. H.e ; has fallen from his horse." She gasped and stared at him, but could,not speak. '~ : •, -. ; . "Go and: do it;" hosaid'againi looking at. her 'with hard oyes.and suddenly she saw, as by .a n '.inward light, that hero was. not madness,. but truth. .It spurred her. ' ''I will do it," she said swiftly. "But yon will go and bring him in?" "At once," ho -.replied) and was away to the shed for, tho cart.. The Kaffirs came running, to inspan the,' horses, and shrank from ,him as they worked.; He was white through -his tan, .and ho ' breathed loud. l Little, Paul'saw him, and sat down I on tho ground-and-cried quietly. ( ■'■-.. Before David wont his ; wife touched • him on the arm, and he turned. She was white'to tho : lips. '(David,"' she said, arid struggled with her speech—"David." "Well?" he answered with a pregnant calm. • ~ "David, he is not—not dead?" "Not yet," he answered; "but' I cannot say how it will be when I got. thero." -A. tenderness overwhelmed him,-, and ho caught a great sob and put his arm about her. "All must be ready, little cousin. Time enough to grieve afterwards—all our .lives,. Christina, all our livesl" Sho put her hand on his breast."All shall bo ready, David," she answered.. "Trust me, David." Ho drove off,-and sho watched him ■lash the horses down tho hill and force them at tho' drift—he, • tho man who loved horses and know them as ha knew'-his children. His •iiildrcnl She fled into tho houso'to do her office and to drink rom of tho cup the bitterness of motherhood. A cool bed, linen, cold water, and hot, water t brandy and milk, all the insignia of the'valley, of : the shadow,.did she, put to hand, and-con .over and'adjust and think upon,, and 1 then thero was the, .waiting. She waited' on the stoop, burning and tortured, boring at-the horizon with dry eyes, and praying and'hoping.. A lifetime went inthoso hours, and the sun was slanting down beforo the road yielded, far , and far away, a speck that grew into a cart going'slowly. By. and by she was able to see her husband driving, but nobody ..with' him—only a, rag or a garment, that fluttered from the side. Her mind snatched at it; was it—God! what ■ was it ? ■'■'.-.-■■ David drove into the yard soberly; sho was at tho stoop. •■■.!•■ "All is ready," she said in a low voico. -"Will you bring him in?"' "Yes.", he said; and sho went inside with her heart'thrashing like a kicking horse. David carried in his son in - his arms'; ho was not yet past that. On the .white bod' inside they laid hiiii, and where his fair head:touched the pillow it dyed it-red. : Trikkie's face •was white' and blue, and his jaw hung oddly; but, once,he was .'within tho door, sonio reinforcement of association came to Christina, and sho wont about her ministry purposefully -and swiftly,, a little comforted. At tho back of her brain .dwelt some idea such as this: here was her. house, her home, there Dayid, there Trikkie. hero sho, mid where those wore together Death could never mako the fourth. The same' thought setuls a stricken child to its mother. David leant on tho foot, of the bed,his burning eyes on the face of his son, and li.'s brows tortured with anxiety. Christina brought some drink in a cup and held it to the still lips of the young,man. "Drink, Trikkie," she pleaded softly. "Drink, my kleintje. Only .p. drop, Trikkie, and the pain will lly away." She spoke as though ho wore yet a child, for.a'mother knows nothing of ii!""'!ioo-.l when her so:i lies helplefs The arts that made him.a man shall keep him n man: so'r.h" eiaxed t!-" closed even and (he dumb mouth. But Trikkie would not drink, I'.ea'r.l nothi:-'.:. care no s : g;i. C'hvi:;;i:\:\ l.iirl di-of-ohi"! cloths to his forel'.ea.!, ud';h' cleansed and bandaged

the. gaping rent in the base of the skull whence thd life -whistled forth, and talked to''tier boy all the while in. the low.; .crooning", mother-voice. David never: moved from the. foot of the bed, and' liever loosed his drawn brows. ]n.-chm»:Jittle Paiil silently and took his; hand,' 'but ho' never' looked down,: and 'the father anil: the child remained 'there;,throughout the languid afternoon.;' Evening cool was growing up when _ Trikkio opened.' his- eyes. Christina .was,.',wotting .towels'" for bandages, and'her back.was towards him, but she 'knew instantly .and. came swiftly, to.; his. .side. . -David leaned . forward ... breathlessly, -and little Paul ..cried .out.,with tho 'gripof his hand!; , They saw a. waver of recognition in.Trikkio's, eyes, a. fond light, and it.j'seemed that:his 'lipsmoved. Christina laid her car to them. ,-, ........ "And—a—shod-rhorso [''/"murmured Trikkie.,, : iXot!iing more.-AiK hour after ho was cold,, mid David.Was. alone on the,stocp, questioning piti-; less skies ant]., : groping for God, while Christina knelt beside ;tho bed within and wept blood;■from her soul. ~,. They buried-. Trikkie in'a little kraal on the -hillside",' and David, made tho coffin. When ho nailed down the lid he; ■was an. old man: when the first "red"clod rung .on. it, he felt that life had emptied itself. When thojv.'wcre. back in, the house: again, Christina'-;turned, to him:'.' ."You know;'-' •■ jdic 'said; in a strange voice;—" You -knew; 'but, you could not . save 'him."' '■'•' 'And- sho laughed aloud; ,'-' David " covered .' his face with his hands and groaned, uut % the next instant' Christina's arms' wore around''liim. ," : ' ' ' "Yet of their-old life 'before, the deluge ,of grief,''too'' much was happy to be all swa)rjped.' "Time-' softqneii the- ruggcdnpss'-aEHheii- wound; soine--what, and i day came when"'all-the world was ho';'- longer/ black. Little Paul helped'''th'eiri' iu'uch; for/what had once beeu'.'Trikkie's was'now.his, and as he . grew '• before their pyes his young strength, and beauty were a balm' to 'them; .'David was much abroad in the lands .now, for ho; was 'mealies,'-"and' rapidly" becoming a rich 'man;-, and as ho rode off in the morning,"and 'rode'.in' at sundown, his now,',gravity of. mind;.and mien, broke up' to '.the 1 youngster who jumped at the'; stirrup with shouts and laughter and/demanded "'tb'.-.-idb on the saddle-bow. At intervals,': also, Paul laid claim to a gun, to spurs, to a watch,'to air the things .thaf go in procession across'a child's, horizon, and , Christina was' lVot: proof ajrainst the impulse'to' smile'.'it 1.-vxi; It is not, to'be thought; of coursei that tho shock'of fprc-knowlcdgo, of omnipotent vision,, had left David scathlcss. -Thougli"the 'otlier/details of tho tragedy ;shared, his'memory, and olbowcd/tho'terrifymg sense of revelation, he''would find himself nowand again peering at the future,, straining to-foresee, as a sailor bores at a fog-bank. Then ho would catch himself, and.start back shuddering',to tho 'instant'"' matters about 'him; Eve.ntualities'..lic''could meet, but/in their season'rind' hand to hand, afar off they mastered him/ - Christina, tod, dwelt on'"jt". at/ seasons •/but, liy. sbmo process! df'.he.r woman's mind, .it was'less''ilrohjdful to; her-.than to David: she,,./tdo,. could dream at times; .. - ■,":,'';-' '•''■■ One day sjio'iw'as at work within the house;, and' Paul; rail in_and out. Sho spoko to ■ hiirtjioiicd'.. about introducing an : e'vil.smelli!,ig,,.;wa"ter-tortoise; lie went forth to,'qxp,loi,t it. iir fho yard; From timo-to ■tmio' his 'shrill voice, reached her jVth'eii/Hio/frayed' edges of David's blacj/i ,tr'QUse,'rs'.; : ./of qero'mq'ny engaged her,, ~tp; ; the "exclusion of'"ail else. >the scissors'::.and the needle, at inst-, I thero',s'tqld on hoi - - car !i faint tap^tap—such \. :'a.; soun'd •'; as water dropping on to.'a'bpard ; makes: It left her unconscious/, fmv : ,a while, and then grc,w.;)a- little ioiidrf,, with a note of vehemence. 1 J,--.-.At /last 1 she looked up antjpistened// Tap,..tap,'it wont, and sho.sjjra.ng.'frnm'.h.br'ch'air and went to tho. stqep, and looked out along the- road .../jar. off on/tho iiill-sido-was a, librae,;,ridclcn/furi'oiisl,y''rii tho downward.. ...road,.. and,,/though ■dwarfed .by rt'hg..mile's, j: she,- could 'see ,tho rider flogging';,and./'his;urgent crouch over, -the.-. ,)iorsc!s .withers. 'It was a jneture'of riiad speed, of terror and violence,';. n'ricLj stpick her with'a chill., Were . the; Kaffirs , risen ? she queried.' Was „therd"/..war. r'abroad? Was this mad rjder/.lierp'husband?'. ■■' "• The last/, .question,; ,-,struck sharply, . aiul^sKo''.':.- glanced / about. Little. Paul -was.sitting on a stone, plaguing tho water-tortoise with a' stick, and.sppaking to himself ririd'it''Tho sight reassured her, arid' she viowed tho , rider again with equa-'-nimity. Bnt'iTow slib'was able to place him:• it whs/D/iyid,,(lllll tho horsc'was his big roan/-Th'o'pace" 'at which'-ho rode was winding up the. distnncb; 'and tho hoofs no Jpngcr,.tap-tappnd,- : but rung insistently;. 4 ; Therc'/ was\ /war,'. then; it coiil"d";be'nothing els'e/'"Her cat-egory of ■•''calamities''' was', brief,'; and war and tho'deatli of - her dear ones nearly exhausted it-.-/-., .' ~- '.":'- ■-"'■ David galloped- tho-last furlongs with a tightened rein, and frotn snowed from fthe bit.,,; Ho.pulled up in the yard and,slipped from..tho. saddle: Christina_ saw/again/pn ~his face the whito' stricken' look' and the furrowed frown that had" stared 'oh "Trikkio's death. David stood with-'tho bridle in his hand and the-horsq's 'mimlb'i agairist his arm and looked .-arou'rid., Ho saw'.Christina coming. .towards liim with quick step's,', and little: Paul, abandoning '.the skellpot, /{ruhning to greet him., Hb staggered' and drew his hand across hisforehead. ■■■'■' •■'"" Christina had trouble to make him, .speak. ; .:■;;•. •: . , ,/ : ' ; "A dream," : he kept'saying,,/"an evil dream.", v , ...,,. .„ , ~.'■'. i "A lying...,, dream,",., suggested Christina anxiqusly. ' ."'.,' ', , "Yes," .lie 'hastened to ; add,""a lying dream:".'' 1 -'''''."" '■■''•"'. "About—abbut', little. Paiil ?"... was I her timid question."," ',;/..; :.'•" David was silent for a wliilo", , and then answered. ." I saw;" him dead;'' ho ropliod with" a.- shudder.' "God! I saw. it.as.planv.as' I sa'w ; .. him .a. moment agp'lin.tho.-jcraal." .;.,- . They heard thd child's gleeful shout tho same instant; "I've got got you I" he cried.frpm. without. "Ho has a .water-tortpisc," oxplained Christina . .with •' a;, smile. "Paul,"-sho called, aloud, "como indoors." : ,' ■ {I; .■■ ...:.' "Ja," shouted tho child, and they heard, him run/up, the steps of trie Stoep. , ,:,;, ; ~, ~.,. ~". ' . "Look," he, said, .standing, at the 'door, "I found this in tho. grass. ,-What sort is 'it,'father?" • ••■ David saw something lithe'. and sinuous in tho child's hands, and stiffened in every limb. ( , Paul. had a skaapstickkcr.'jin his" grip,' tho green/ and-yellow deaUi'-sriake that abounds in the veldt.'."" Its head lav on. his arm, its pin-point: oyesvuralibioiisly. aj.gleam, and tlio'-cliild'grippcd'it l bv the middle. Christina stood petrified, but tho boy laughed and dandled the rcp'tilo in glee. '.'•■' .J'lJe still, Paul;"' said' David, in a' voice that was"-ncw ; tb hiin—"bo still; do not mnvo.-'.'''-' : ' ;; : * : >:• Tho child'lbokeil up at liinv in as- ■ tonishincnt. ".Why?" he began. " !!t ; still .. ci?»imaiided David, and went over to'/hun cautiously. Tlie serpent's ovll'/tiead was raised as lie approached, "'Hrid it hissed at him. Paul stood quite quiet/and David advanced his naked'hanil .to his certain death and the."delivery of .his,child. Tho reptile/pAiscd,'.' and as David snatched 'at it, it struck—but on his sleeve. The next infant was a dcl'vious vision "cf; writ'niiig ,;.i;rce"-ai"i ycilow; there/.was/a cry from Pr.ul,lam! the- sna'sp. ,w;as., .on,..the (kor. ! David crushed.'jt, furiously,-with, his' bout. , . "

Christina switched the child. "Did " it bito you,...Paul P" she screamed. "Did it bito you?" The boy shook his head, but David' interposed with a voice of thunder. "Of course it did!" he vociferated with blazing eyes; "what else did my dream point to? But we'll fight with God yet. Bring mo : the child, Christina."- ■ On the plump forearm of Paul they found two minute punctures and two tiny points of blood. David, drew ms knife, ami the child shrieked and .struggled. ■■•'•. ... ' .-."Get-a hot iron, Christina," cried David,; and gripped, Paul 'with his knees. In the morning the room was wild and ■grisly''with' blood and the smell of burnt-', flesh,, and David lay face downwards on,-, the' floor, writhing as the echoes of.Paul's shrieks tortured .his ears.. Hut hi the next room little Paul was still' for ever, and all' the glm'sfly labour was to no purpose. • I' suppose, there is some provision, m the make of.humanity for overflow grief, some limit imnref liable.to afiliction: for when little Paul was laid besidb his brother; there was still David and Christina to walk aimlessly in their empty world. . Their scars •were deep and they wcre/cripnled with woe, and it seemed to them they lived -..' as paralytics live, dead in all save iii their susceptibility to torture. Moreover/there was a barrier between, them in David's disastrous foreknowledge, for Christina could not thr.nv ' off ■the-'thought'that it contained tfc'a.. casual elements which had robbed li<t. of her. sons. I'ain had- fogged ucr; she-could -.not; probe the matter, and sorisatijis tyrannised over her mind. David too, was. bowed with.'a senso of guilt that-ho could not risa to throw,, off. 'All motive was buried 'ili the-kraal; 'and he. and bis wile . sat apart'and spent'.days and nights, without, the traffic of speech. '/i..,/. But Christina was seized with: an idea. .S'livvbko David inithc night ' and spoke 10 Inn; .tensely.'.:' -.-;' ; . ; : "David,"' She 'cried.gripping him by ;the anil—" David I Wo cannot . live for over./,, Do you hear mo ?■ .. Look,, David, . look ..hard I ' Look where you-..'ookedibefore.. Can you . see nothing for mo—for us, Da ;!d r '■■■■■ ; • -He was sitting up, : and :tlio, spell of her inspiration 'claimed him. ■ He opened his' eyes. wide. 'and.■searched the burvi'i darkness for a sign. He gropjd with his iniml,. tore at .the ' bonds, of t!iy present. ;■'-. -.' "Do you see nothing?" whispered .Christina.!' -"Oh, David, 'thorn nmvb bo.something: Look—look hard:..;." ' For the space of a hundred, seconds they huddled' on, tho bed,: David , fumbling with the trusts'of destiny, Christina waiting, breathless ... , f "Lio down," said David at last. : " You aregoing to die, little cousin. It is'.all well." ■. '■ •. ' :•' ~ ■■. His voice was tho calmest in the' .world., ; ■ "'.-,: ''/ :' "And/you ?". cried Christina;- ; -" D.ivid,.'and you ? " '• '■■ "I seo nothing." ho'said. .'■. .." Poor ". David I " . murmured ' his; : wife, clinging to; him. '"But lam sure all will'yet-be well, David. ■•Have".'' no fear;'my husband." ... ■ v , She. murmured on in tho dark, with ' his arm about her,_and. promised him death; entreated liim to believe .with'' her, and coaxed him with' the bait of.the grave.. 'They'were bride and; groom again, they. two, and slept '.at last-in one 'another's arms. ','''■/ In tho -;inornirig, all was 'well- with • Christina,-' and,she..bustled;about as .'.;. of old; ■", David .■was still,., and. hoped', over. ..with'..a- tired content .in. .what . should' happen, a languor'.that, forbade him. from railing on. fate;; 'To-, .gethrr. theyi'.prepared matters, as' for;' 'a : journey.-- /:,.-/ j,. ~ ■ " '•' If..the.';block.trousers cornotfrayed again,"i-'Said Christina, ,',' try,>to' re- . member. that the scissors. are., better ; than' a knife. .And the seeds-iaroall; in tbe.'box .uhdcrour..bed." ".Ili. thbvbox.under.our.bed," re-; peated David carefully...- "Yes,,under . the bedl . : I .will l-em'-jmbor.-" , .' "And tliis; David." lioldihgup piles •of 'white; linen, "this is' for ~me. You will'not'forgct ?;" ';/; : ',,' ,'' "Tor you ?'• "he 'queried, not understanding. .;■:'.'..,.' ':' ./i •' ';'..' "•".'" Yes,", she answered softly. "'I. .will be'buried in' this."' . . '..'.' '''■ 'He/started, buVrecovered himself' "with'a quivering.lip.. •".','■ "' "Of coiirso," .ho answered. "I will sec to it. . I must be very .old; ■ ' Christina.".' , ■(. / .._.-'.'..-■',-■/ i ,'Sho' canny-over and kissed him on the"forehead. '.'■ .■' \'■;'. .■'"'."■''; '. ;'ln the middle of the afternoon she .'went''to''bed, anc| he canie in/'and sat; ' beside/bcf:.. She held; his hand, and,' smilod-at'liim./' ■. ; ,-' '"•. "Arq you dying now ? " ho asked at ■length/ '- ''•';'- ': :'..'•■ '-. "•'•; •'■'. '■. ' .?.;.." Yes," -sho said.- ; :, " Wdiat shall I tell 1 Trikkio''and;'tho kleintjo from you ?:".';"- : - 'i'-- ■; ' '.-■. -.';■/;'.■■ //"/',, ' ■■"Tell them nothing," ho said,'afteri . ■a' pause..; ■"it;,cannot bd that |f. shall be apart from you all long. -NbjJ 'I am very, sure of .that." ; '•, ' , 'y> ; ' Slid •pressed his hand; arid ' afterwards' felt, some pain';'.-: Itwaa;little, and she made no outcry. -Her. death 'was calm and ;not strongly distressing, and' the .next day .David" .put her into .the ground where her sons j lay. But,, as I hayo made clear, he did not'die till long afterwards', when he: ■ had sold: his farm and come to live in the little whitchouso in the dorp,, where colours jostled each other in the garden, ■ and, ; fascinated'-' children ■ watched him go in and dome out.. I : ■ think,,tho story .'explains that perpetual search "of which his vacant eyes gave news, and the joyous alacrity of, his'last home-coming, aud the perfect' techniquo of his death. -. Itsall points to tho conclusion, that however brave tho figures", l howevor : asjiiri" 'their ,'c'apors, they but■ respondH ■;-.:v-l,4": which; are pulled and loos. .<x\ elsewhere.—Perceval Gibbon, in "Blacklyood's Magazine.!' ~• . ii •'' '•■ '■