Chambers's Journal of Popular Literature, Science, and Art, No. 682: January 20, 1877.Various
Science
Chambers's Journal of Popular Literature, Science, and Art, No. 682: January 20, 1877.
Various
Periodicals
I awoke, after my short sleep, in the gray dawn, to find the world
astir already, the great sea before my window spreading far away, calm
and glistening as a lake, and the sun shining cheerily in the pale blue
of the morning sky. The people without, in their holiday attire, seemed
happy and hopeful; but for me, alas! there was not much of either hope
or happiness. I began to think very seriously of the future. Yes; I
must leave East Craig, and try in Edinburgh or Glasgow, or, who knew,
even in London! to earn a livelihood for Lilian and myself. I could
surely sew, or work, for the bread we both needed. My bonny Lilian
unconsciously added to my sorrows on that bright, sad morning of the
new year, by the way she lisped her little prayer for 'dear father;'
but I managed, for her sake, to be strong and brave again, and came
down-stairs with a smiling face.
'I'm wishin' ye a happy new year, ma'am!' blurted out Jeanie, the
lassie from a cottage hard by, who performed the rougher household
duties of our modest household for such wages as content a girl of
thirteen. Oh, but it was hard, to preserve a steady demeanour, and
acknowledge Jeanie's well-meant greeting, and sit down to breakfast
with little Lilian in her black frock beside me, and---- A knocking at
the door, quick and strong. The heavy tread too of a man's impatient
foot upon the shingly path that led up from the wicket of the narrow
garden. My visitors, I need not say, were few, and I knew none who
were likely to come thus early. 'I can see no one now!' I cried
apprehensively to Jeanie, as that active lass bustled forward to answer
the peremptory summons.
'Not even me!' answered a voice, the sound of which made me tremble
and grow white, as they told me later, to my very lips, while the door
burst open, and with dilated eyes I gazed as on a vision. Yes; the
tall, bronzed, bearded man who rushed into the room and caught me to
his heart, and kissed me and the bairnie again and again, was Archie,
my Archie, my dear goodman that I had believed to be dead and cold, far
off beneath the measureless waters of the Pacific.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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