Blair Collection > Deo-gréine

AN DÈO-GHREINÈ.
167
nor unhappy. Neil has always been good to
me, always courteous, always ready to sacrifice
his pleasure to my caprice. But he has never
loved me truly and deeply, never loved me as
he loves you. When he has laid me to rest in
the God's acre on the banks of the Guadal-
quiver — our home is in sunny Spain — he will
bring, to the lonely inn in my beloved High-
lands, where we know you spend your summer
holidays, this letter to you from the woman
whose mad passions spoiled the lives of two
good men. And you will forgive him freely,
and if possible, restore him to the old place in
your affection."
After reading this letter 1 sat for hours lost
in reverie. The things that were passed before
my mental vision, but as yet there was for me
neither present nor future. It was a time of
peace. It seemed as if the deep silence
which generally pervades Nature immediately
before daybreak, entered my room and laid a
healing hand on my heart. Suddenly this
silence was broken by a deep sob, and a
masculine voice, a voice I loved to hear in
other days, cried out, " Harry, dear fellow, I
am so glad to see you once more ; can you
possibly forgive me ? "
Two hours later Neil Mackenzie and I
walked out into the golden sunlight, arm-in-
arm, and with no shadow of suspicion between
us.
TREUNTAS SHEANN DAOINE.
(le domhxull mackacharn.)
Air a leantuinn bho thaobh -duilleig- 148.
Ma's math mo bheachd, 'nuair a chuireadh
bacadh orm, bha mi toirt fainear an dèidh a
th' aig seann daoine air a bhi luaidh air laith-
ean an òige fein, 's ag aibhiseachadh gach ni
a thachair 's an am sin, 's a' lughdachadh
deanadais na tim a th' ann. Cha ruigear a
leas iongantas a ghabhail de so, b' iad na ceud
làithean gun teagamh a b' fhearr na iad so.
Tha e mar sin nàdurra gu leòir gu'n roghnaich-
eadh an duine a chuid a b' fhearr d' a làithean
gu bhi mèorachadh orra. Anns na làithean
sin, bha e fein gu luthmhor, laidir, a' mealt-
ainn Cèitein a bheatha, gun ghaoid, gun
fhàilinn an cnaimh no'm feith ; an saoghal gu
lèir glòrmhor 'na shùilean ; nàdur uile ceòl-
mhor 'na chluais, 's a deanamh co-sheirm ri
cèol a chridhe fein. Ciod an t-ioghnadh, tha
mi 'g ràdh ged a bheireadh e 'n t-urram do na
laithean sin gu bhi, 's an spiorad, a' tàmh 'nam
fochar, a roghainn air na làithean neo-
thorach a tha nis ann. Laithean anns an dorch-
aichear a' ghrian agus a' ghealach, 's an till
na neòil an deigh an uisge. Làithean 's an
criothnich luchd-gleidhidh an tighe, 's am bi
uamhasan 's an t-slighe. An àite ceòl an
doire a bhi binn na chluais 's ann a chlisgeas
e aig guth an eòin, do bhrigh gu'n d' islich-
eadh uile nigheanan a' chiùil. Co a their
nach b' iad na ceud làithean a b' fhearr na
iad so ?
Tha mi mothachail air a' chuis, gu'n d'
thuirt an Searmonaiche rud-eigin car coltach
ris na ceart bhriathran so, tri mile bliadhna
roimh 'n am so, ach tha iad a cheart cho freag-
arrach air son ar latha-ne, 's a bha iad air son
a latha-san. Tha mi, air an aobhar sin, ann
am beachd suidhichte, gur gnothach mi-
sheirceil a bhi diultadh èisdeachd do'n t-seann-
duine, no, a bhi bacadh dha bhi 'g aithris air
gniomha laithean òige fein.
Tha e soilleir gu leòir an tlachd a tha e
fein a' gabhail annta ; tha e, mar gu'm b'
eadh, a tighinn beò a ris anns na laithean air
am bheil e ag iomradh. Ceadaichibh dha sin
a dheanamh ; is suarach an ni dhuibhs' èisd-
eachd, agus is sochair phrlseil dhasan a bhi
mealtainn thairis a ris subhachas na tim nach
till ris air dhoigh eile.
'N uair thainig mi gus a cho-dhunadh so,
chuir mi mo chasan am forcadh ri leac an
teinntein, sgrog mi mo churrachd-oidhche
mu'm chluasan, chas mi m' fhiaclan, 's thuirt
mi rium fein ann an guth mùchta,
" Mo chrochadh is mo cheusadh.
Is m' èideadh nior mheal mi e,"
mur innis mi thairis, is thairis a ris, mar a
mharbh mi 'n taibeist, 's mar nach do mharbh
mi 'm bradan, 's a h-uile ni eile a rinn, 's nach
do rinn, mi riamh, dlreach, a chionn gu'm
bheil e air a thoirmeasgdhomh sin a dheanamh.
A cheart cho luath 's a chi mi xMacGillemhich-
eil a' tigh 'n a stigh air an dorus, buailidh mi
air toinneadh ran sioman, 's cumaidh mi suas
an iomairt gu gairm nan coileach. Is iomadh
sgeul ris an d' eisd esan, 's moran diubh nach
robh idir cho firinneach ris na gheibheadh e
bhuamsa. Bha e 'n oidhche roimhe ag inns-
eadh dh' ise — 's i bean-an-tighe tha mi 'ciall-
achadh — mu dhuine truagh d' an d' thugadh
an ceann an tuasaid a thaobh-eigin. Cha'n'eil
cuimhn' again a nis, co dhiù a b' ann le claidh-
eamh geal soluis, no le corran dubh fiaclach a
chaidh an ceann a sgathadh dheth — bha mi
leigeil orm nach robh mi 'g èisdeachd — ach
coma codhiù, a rèir coltais cha robh an duine
bochd toileach dealachadh r'a cheann, 's leum
e as a dhèigh 's ghrad chuir e air ais na àite
fein e, 's ann an tiota bha e cho daingeann air
a mhuineal 's a bha e roimhe ; ach gu tubaist-
each, chuir e, 'na dheihr, taobh-beòil a chinn
ri taobh-cùil na coluinn, air chor 's gu'n robh
a nis a bheul far am bu chòir cul a chinn a
bhi, agus ubhal a sgòrnain air cùl a mhuineil.
Ciamar a fhuair an duine truagh troimh 'n