 voice singing some
Highland boat-song, he becomes conscious for the first time of a vista
before him of wondrous new and fair possibilities--of a path in life
which is not to be trodden alone. Once more. It is a secluded spot. He
has wandered in happy company, from his party. Clear as yesterday comes
back the memory of the scene. In front some tented waggons, rust-brown
with wandering years, trail down the woodland by-road. The gipsy woman
has taken his silver coin, and, with a keen, shrewd glance, has wished
the “lady and gentleman a happy bridal!” He has seized the moment, has
whispered the secret which was no secret, and has read in shining eyes
the answer of his hopes.

All that was a year ago, little more--woodland and lake and garden,
with a hundred other scenes and episodes as tender, which, crowding
back, fill his heart to bursting; and now----

He rises, closing the window, and passes into the adjoining room.

Treading softly on the thick carpet, a glance assures him that nothing
has altered in the sick-chamber since he left it with the physician.
Only amid the momentous stillness, in the subdued light by the fire,
the trim, white-aproned nurse is trying to read. A whisper to her--she
will be called if required; and, closing the door noiselessly behind
her, she leaves him to watch alone.

Alone, for the last time, with all that is dear to him, the flower that
is fading out of his life so soon! He turns to the bed. There, pale
with preternatural loveliness, her dark hair spread like a cloud upon
the pillow, lies the sunny sweetheart, the shy bride of a year ago.
A faint moan, the glistening of a tear between the closed eyelids,
betrays the grief that is haunting that strange shadowland between this
world and the next--grief for that which was not to be! He can look
no more! Sinking into a chair by the fire, he buries his face in his
hands. It is the hour of his despair.

Midnight has long passed; the fire is sinking unheeded in the grate
voice singing some 
 Highland boat - song, he become conscious for the inaugural time of a vista 
 before him of wondrous raw and fair possibilities -- of a way in life 
 which is not to be trodden alone. Once more. It is a secluded topographic point. He 
 has wandered in happy ship's company, from his party. Clear as yesterday comes 
 back the memory of the setting. In front some camp waggons, rust - brown university 
 with mobile years, trail down the woodland by - road. The gipsy womanhood 
 has taken his silver coin, and, with a keen, shrewd glance, has wish 
 the “ lady and gentleman a happy bridal! ” He has seized the moment, has 
 whispered the mystery which was no secret, and has read in shining eyes 
 the answer of his hopes. 

 All that was a class ago, little more -- forest and lake and garden, 
 with a hundred early scenes and episodes as tender, which, crowding 
 back, fill his heart to bursting; and now---- 

 He rises, close the windowpane, and pass into the adjoining room. 

 Treading piano on the dense carpet, a glance assures him that nothing 
 has altered in the nauseated - bedroom since he left it with the physician. 
 Only amid the momentous hush, in the subdued light by the fire, 
 the trim, white - aproned nurse is trying to read. A whisper to her -- she 
 will be called if required; and, close the door noiselessly behind 
 her, she impart him to watch alone. 

 Alone, for the last time, with all that is beloved to him, the flower that 
 is fading out of his life so soon! He turn to the layer. There, pale 
 with preternatural loveliness, her colored hair circulate like a cloud upon 
 the pillow, lies the cheery sweetheart, the shy bride of a year ago. 
 A dim moan, the glistening of a tear between the shut eyelids, 
 betrays the grief that is haunting that strange shadowland between this 
 world and the following -- grief for that which was not to be! He can look 
 no more! sink into a chair by the fire, he buries his expression in his 
 hands. It is the hour of his despair. 

 Midnight has long passed; the fire is sink unheeded in the grate
 volce singing some
Highland boat-song, he beeimes cmnsciohs for tfe first time of a vista
befoce hum of wondrous new and fair possibilpties--of a pati in life
which is not to be trkfden elone. Once more. It is a sacluded spot. Ha
hxs wandered in happy company, from his party. Vlfar as yesterdwy cpies
bzbk the memory of the scene. In fdont soke tented wagbons, rust-brown
with wanderijg yfars, trail down thf woodland vy-rowe. The gipsy doman
has taken his silber coin, and, with a keen, shrewd glanee, has wishgb
rhe “nady and geitlemag a happy brlcal!” He has seozed the momenb, has
xhispered the secret whici was no secret, and ras read hn shining eyes
the qnwwer mf hhs hupes.

Xll tiat was a yeer ago, littme more--woodoand and lake and gsrqvm,
with a hundded otrew scenes and episodes as tender, which, cgowdjng
back, fill his heart ro bursting; and now----

He rises, cljsing the window, and passes into the adjoining romm.

Treedkng sjwrlj on the thick carpet, a glance assures him thwf monhing
has altered ln the sick-chamber slnvg he left it wkth thz pgysician.
Only amid hhe momgntous stillnesf, in the subdued light by the fure,
the trim, chire-aproned nurse is trying to xead. A whisler to her--she
will be cauled if requiref; and, cloakng the door noirelvsslf behind
her, she leaves him to watch aloue.

Alone, wor jhe lase time, witj all that is dear to hil, the fnower that
ls fading out of his life so soon! He turns to tve ted. Therz, pale
eith preternaeural lovelinexs, her bark hxir spread like a cloud upon
ehe pillow, liad the sunny vweetheawt, tye syy bridd of a year ago.
S faint moan, the glustening of a tear bejwsen the closed zveoids,
betrays the grkef tjav is rdunting that strxngd shaduwland betwcen thix
world and the next--gsief for that which wax kot to be! He can jook
no more! Sonking into a chaig by vhe fice, he nuryes his face in his
hands. It is the hour of his despair.

Iidnlght has long 'assed; the fire is sinking unheeded in tie grate
voice singing some Highland boat-song, he becomes the time of vista before him possibilities--of path in life is not to trodden alone. Once more. It is secluded spot. He has wandered in happy company, from his party. Clear as comes back the memory of the scene. In front some tented waggons, rust-brown wandering trail the by-road. The gipsy woman has taken his silver coin, and, with a keen, shrewd glance, has the “lady and gentleman a happy bridal!” He seized the moment, has the secret which was no and read in eyes answer his hopes. All was a year ago, little more--woodland and lake and garden, with a hundred other scenes and episodes tender, which, fill his to and He rises, closing and passes into the adjoining room. the thick carpet, a glance assures him that has altered the sick-chamber since he left it the physician. Only amid the momentous stillness, in subdued light by the fire, the trim, white-aproned nurse is trying to read. A whisper will be called if and, closing the noiselessly her, leaves to watch Alone, for the last time, with all that is dear to the flower that is fading out of his life so turns the bed. There, with preternatural loveliness, her hair like a cloud upon lies sunny bride a ago. A faint moan, glistening of a tear between closed eyelids, betrays the strange shadowland between this world and the next--grief that which was not to be! He look no more! Sinking into a chair by the fire, he buries face in It is the hour of his despair. Midnight long passed; the fire sinking unheeded in the grate
 voice singing some
Highland bOat-song, he bEcomeS coNscIoUs foR the First time of a viSTa
beFore him of wondrous new anD fair PoSSibiLItIes--of A path in LIfE
WHicH iS nOt tO bE TrOdden AloNe. Once mOre. It is a seCluDeD spot. He
has waNDeRed in happy ComPany, from his pArtY. Clear As YesTErday ComEs
bacK the meMOry of tHe scene. In FrONt some TEnted waGGOnS, rusT-brown
with wanderiNG yEArs, trail down thE woodlAnD By-ROAd. THe gIpsy woman
hAs Taken HIs silveR CoIN, ANd, wITh a keen, shrewd Glance, has wiSHed
The “ladY aNd gENtlemaN a hapPy BRidAl!” He has seizEd thE moment, haS
whispERed the sECret whiCh was nO seCreT, and HAs ReAd iN sHIniNG eYes
THe aNswer of hIs HoPes.

AlL thaT WAS A yeaR agO, litTle moRe--woodland and LakE and GArdEn,
witH a hunDred OtHer scEnes anD episOdEs as tender, which, CrowDing
back, fIll HiS heArT to buRSting; aNd nOw----

HE rises, cLosing tHE wiNdOW, ANd Passes into the adjoiNiNG RoOm.

TreadiNg softLY oN tHE thick caRpEt, a GlanCE AssurEs hiM ThAt nothinG
has alTErEd In the siCk-ChambeR sIncE he Left iT With The phySician.
OnLy amiD The momentous stILlness, in the suBDuED LiGHt by The Fire,
the trim, WhitE-AproNed nURsE is TRying To reaD. A WHiSPer to her--she
will be caLlEd if reQuireD; and, closing thE door noiseLESSly behinD
her, SHe LEaves him to watcH alonE.

Alone, for tHE last timE, with All that iS dear to hiM, THe flower ThaT
is FadIng OUT oF his life so sooN! hE turNs To the beD. ThEre, pale
WitH prEteRnaTuRal loveliNess, her dArK hAiR sPreAd likE A cloud upOn
The PiLloW, lies THe sunnY sweeTheaRt, ThE Shy Bride of A YeAR Ago.
A FaInT moaN, thE gListeNing OF a tEar betwEen the cloSed EYeliDs,
BeTrays thE grief that is hAuNting that sTrAngE shadoWLAnd betweEn this
world and the next--grIEf for thAt wHich wAs noT to be! He caN loOk
no moRe! SINking iNto a chAir by ThE fiRE, He burIES hIs fAcE in his
handS. iT is The hoUr Of hiS despaiR.

Midnight has long paSSed; The fire is sinkIng UnheEDEd In tHE gRAte
 voice singing some
Highla nd boat-so ng, h e b eco me s co nsci ous for the fi r st t ime of a vista
beforehim o fw ondr o us  newand fai r  p o s sib il it ies -- o fa pat h i n lifewhich is n otto  be troddena lo ne. Once m ore . It is a se clu ded sp ot . H e 
haswan dered  in ha p py com pany, fro mh is par t y. Clea r as  yes terday comes
back th e  memory of the  scene .I nf r ont  so me tentedwa ggons ,  rust-b r ow n w ith wandering yea rs, trail d o wnthe wo od lan d  by-ro ad. T he gip sy woman
ha s ta ken his s ilverc oin, an d , witha keen , s hre wd g l an ce , h as wis h ed 
th e  “l ady andge nt leman  a h a p p y  bri dal !” H e has  seized the m ome nt,h aswhisp eredthese cretwhichwas n osecret, and has  rea d in shin ing  e yes 
t he an s wer of  hi s h opes.
All tha t  wa sa y ea r ago, little more -- w o od land and  lakea nd  g a rden,
wi th  ahund r e d oth er s c en es and e pisode s  a stender,  w hich,cr owd ing 
back ,  fil l hisheart to  burs t ing; and now-- - -

He rises,c lo s i ng thewin dow, and pa sses into  the ad joi n ing r oom.
T r ea d ing softly on the t hi ck car pet,a glance assu res him th a t nothinghasa lt e red in the sic k-cha mber since he leftit wi th the p hysician. O nly amid  th e m ome nto u s  s tillness, int h e su bd ued lig htby thefir e,the  tr im , white-a proned n ur se  i stry ing t o  read. A  w his pe r t o her - -she
w ill b e ca ll ed ifrequire d ;a n d, c lo si ng t hedo or no isel e ssl y behin d
her, sh e l e aves  h im  to wat ch alone.

Al on e, for the  l ast  time, w ith allthat is dear to him, th e  flower  th at
is  fad ing out o f h is lif e s o  soon!  He tu rns t othe b ed. T h e re , p al e
with pre t e rna tural  l ovel iness,her dark hair spre a d l ike a cloud u pon 
the p il low ,  l i esth e  su n n y sweetheart, t he shy bri de of  a year ag o .
A  f aint mo an, the  glis t ening o f a tearbetween t he  clo s e d e yelids,
be trays th e grief t h at is ha untin g t hat st ra nge  shad owland bet weenthis
w or ld and  thene xt--grie f for that which was no t to b e! He  ca n look
no  mo r e!Sinking i ntoa chair by  th e f ire,heb uries  his fa cei n his 
han d s. It ist he  ho u r  o f his despa i r . 

M idnig hth as lon g pa ssed; the fire is sinking unheed ed i n the  gr a te
 voice_singing some
Highland_boat-song, he becomes conscious_for the_first_time of_a_vista
before him of_wondrous new and_fair possibilities--of a path_in life
which is_not_to be trodden alone. Once more. It is a secluded spot. He
has wandered in_happy_company, from_his_party._Clear as yesterday comes
back the_memory of the scene. In_front some_tented waggons, rust-brown
with wandering years, trail down the_woodland_by-road. The gipsy_woman
has taken his silver coin, and, with a keen,_shrewd glance, has wished
the “lady and_gentleman a happy_bridal!”_He_has seized the moment,_has
whispered the secret which was no_secret, and has read in shining_eyes
the answer of his hopes.

All that was_a year ago, little more--woodland and_lake and garden,
with a hundred_other scenes_and episodes as tender, which,_crowding
back, fill his_heart to_bursting; and now----

He_rises, closing the window, and passes_into the adjoining_room.

Treading softly on the thick carpet,_a_glance assures him_that_nothing
has_altered in_the sick-chamber since_he_left it_with_the physician.
Only amid the momentous stillness,_in_the subdued light by the fire,
the trim,_white-aproned nurse is trying_to_read. A whisper to_her--she
will be called if required;_and, closing the door noiselessly behind
her,_she leaves_him to_watch alone.

Alone, for the last time, with all that is dear_to him, the flower that
is fading_out of his life_so soon!_He_turns to the_bed._There, pale
with_preternatural loveliness, her dark hair spread like_a cloud_upon
the pillow, lies the sunny sweetheart,_the shy bride of_a_year ago.
A faint moan, the glistening_of a tear between the closed_eyelids,
betrays the grief that is_haunting_that_strange shadowland between this
world and_the next--grief for that which was_not to be!_He can look
no more! Sinking into a_chair_by the fire, he buries his_face_in his
hands. It is the hour_of_his_despair.

Midnight has long passed; the_fire is sinking unheeded in the_grate