It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. “Come, we must go home and have some luncheon. The tail-ender of this little caravan, he had been rather out of it. " "Och! if he's a friend o' yours, my dear joy, there's no more to be said; and right sorry am I, I struck him. The owner was at the door unhooking a few articles of wearing apparel which he had exposed outside for sale. The whole incident was so unexpected that neither Courtlaw nor Brendon were awaiting. He was an odd one, especially for a young man. "I have killed you," cried Jack, endeavouring to staunch the effusion of blood from her breast. The air, perfumed with the delicious fragrance of the new-mown grass, was vocal with the melodies of the birds; the thick foliage of the trees was glistening in the sunshine; all nature seemed happy and rejoicing; but, above all, the serene Sabbath stillness reigning around communicated a calm to her wounded spirit.
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