Higher it rose, and with each successive gust of the increasing wind the ivy and creepers rattled on the window panes, whilst the great beeches seemed to shiver in anticipation of a fiercer blast. For many a year to come would a storm be associated with sorrow, gloom, and death in the mind of Alison Cheyne! The thunder growled, and more than once a gleam of lightning overspread the northern quarter of the sky, showing the tall trees in black outline tossing their branches wildly. The sound thoroughly roused Sir Ranald, and recalled his dying energies. 'Kiss me, bird Ailie--kiss me,' said he, in a voice like a husky whisper; 'the light has surely gone out, I cannot see you, child.' Alas, it was the light of life that had left his eyes for ever! Alison saw how fixed they were in expression as she kissed him softly, most tenderly, again and again, and wiped his forehead with her handkerchief. Then, with hands that were tremulous but firm in intent, he drew down the lids of his eyes--as James VI. of Scotland did, with wonderful presence of mind, when dying, and no other man on record--and they never opened again! Alison thought he was asleep, and listened to his stertorous breathing, while restraining her own; it grew fainter and fainter, but there was a sound in it that is indescribable, though more significant than any other, that a human soul is on the wing; while his shrivelled hand groped feebly and fatuously about the coverlet as if seeking for another; and, taking it between her own, Alison bent her lips over it. It trembled in her grasp, and when she looked up he had passed away, and an awful placidity lay upon the livid face. At that moment the thunder was grumbling, and the wind bellowing; so it might be fancy, or it might not, but amid the tumult of sound Alison seemed to hear--what was it?--the wild baying of a hound dying hollowly away in the distance. 'Oh, my God,' she exclaimed, and fell prone, face downward, with arms outspread, upon the floor. The hound--the hound again! Was it fevered fancy? Could she but think she was warring with shadows--but alas, she could not, then at least. CHAPTER XII. 'ASHES TO ASHES.' When she opened her eyes with a sob and a gasp, she found herself in the arms of Archie and Rebecca Prune, and while her little white hand wandered in bewilderment across her brow, she moved her head from side to side, and looked vacantly, wearily, and inquiringly around her. At last she realised it all, and rushed to the bedside. 'He has left ye, my bairn,' said Archie, in a broken voice, 'but God bides wi' ye yet.' 'Oh, papa, come back to me--I cannot live without you, papa! Do not leave me thus, all alone, all alone!' she wailed out, as she buried her face in the bedclothes, and threw her arms across the stiffening form, till the old man, by an exertion of strength that was great for his years, bore her bodily away to her own room, and left her there with Mrs. Prune.