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"Not so, Rupert, unless it be that the Lord gies us in dreams e inour spiritual darkness think are veesions"I roused up at thisWhenAunt Janet calls me Rupert, as she always used to do in s are serious with herAs I was back in childhood now,recalled by her word, I thought the best thing I could do to cheer herwould be to bring her back there too--if I couldSo I patted the edgeof the bed as I used to do when I was a wee kiddie and wanted her tocomfort me, and said:

"Sit down, Aunt Janet, and tell rew over her face as though there had coleamof sunshineShe sat down, and I put out my hands as I used to do, andtook her hand between themThere was a tear in her eye as she raised myhand and kissed it as in old timesBut for the infinite pathos of it,it would have been comic:

Aunt Janet, old and grey-haired, but still retaining her girlish sliure, her face lined with thecare of years, but softened and ennobled by the unselfishness of thoseyears, holding updainty as a pretty old fairy beside a recureat as when I aood fairyof my life--seven feet beside four feet seven

So she began as of old, as though she were about to soothe a frightenedchild with a fairy tale:

"'Twas a veesion, I think, though a dream it may hae beenBut whicheveror whatever it was, it concerned iant, so ht thatI saw ye being h a s her, so I took it at once:

"Why, dear, there isn't anything to alarm you in that, is there?It wasonly the other day when you spoke to ht have children of your boy playingaround your knees as their father used to do when he was a helpless weechild himself"

"That is so, laddie," she answered gravely"But your weddin' was noneso merry as I fain would seeTrue, you seeht that ye ht ha' set her afire, forall her black locks and her winsoh her black een, that had the licht o' all the stars o'nicht in theh a hairt o' love an' passion, too,dwelt in thee voice thattalked stranger still, but I saw none itherYour eyes an' her eyes, an'your hand an' hers, were all I sawFor all else was dim, and thedarkness was close around ye twaAnd when the benison was spoken--Iknew that by the voices that sang, and by the gladness of her een, aswell as by the pride and glory of yours--the licht began to gloeemore, an' I could see yer brideShe was in a veil o' wondrous finelaceAnd there were orange-flowers in her hair, though there igs, too, and there was a crown o' flowers on head wi' a golden bandround itAnd the heathen candles that stood on the table wi' the Bookhad so in the air o'er herhead like the shadow of a crownThere was a gold ring on her finger anda silver one on yours"Here she paused and tre todispel her fears, I said, as like as I could to the way I used to when Iwas a child:

"Go on, Aunt Janet"

She did not seenize consciously the likeness between past andpresent; but the effect was there, for she went on ravity in her voice, more marked thanI had ever heard from

her:

"All this I've told ye ell; but, oh, laddie, there was a dreadfullack o' livin' joy such as I should expect from the woe coupling, too!And no wonder,when all is said; for though the arland o' floas fresh-gathered, underneath thehastly shroudAs I looked in my veesion--or stane at her feetIf'twas not Death, laddie dear, that stood by ye, it was the shadow o'Death that ht o' candlesnor the smoke o' heathen incense could pierceOh, laddie, laddie, waeis , it matters not!I was sair distressed--so sair that I i' a shriek on my lips andbathed in cold sweatI would hae come doon to ye to see if you werehearty or no--or even to listen at your door for any sound o' yer beingquick, but that I feared to alarm ye till morn should coht, when I saw the veesion, till Icame hither just the now"

"Quite right, Aunt Janet," I said, "and I thank you for your kind thoughtfor me in the matter, now and always"Then I went on, for I wanted totake precautions against the possibility of her discovery of ht runThat would be to ether in I did not know, and I ain:

"You ood friends tohave sense of distrust or annoyance come between us--which would surelyhappen if I had to keep thinking that you or anyone elseme"

RUPERT'S JOURNAL--_Continued_

_April_ 27, 1907