Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 19, Number 44, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 February 1898 — BONNIE BESSIE. [ARTICLE]

BONNIE BESSIE.

ONNIE BESSIE evW ery one called her, K (■ I and rightly enough, for of all the Highland lassies w t h o jMijiT ■ gathered at the little M kirk Sabbath rnornone was half so prWty and winning Squire Renfrew of the Red Pass was •desperately in love with Bessie, and sought to make her his wife in spite •of difference In rank. The herds at the Red Pass were the finest and largest la the neighborhood; the barn, and storehouses were always well filled. He was a bachelor, something over two score years old. And he wanted “Bonnie Bessie” for his wife. “If the lassie thinks she can fancy •me," he said, addressing Bessie’s grandmother, as'" he stood under the low, brown rafters of the little Black Lynn cottage, a hot flush mounting to the shining crown of Ills bald head, “if the lassie thinks she can fancy me, •the bargain’s made. I’m ready* and willing to lead her to the kirk to-mor-rrow; and if a good, true husband aud some gold and silver will make her •happy, Bhe’ll be as happy as a queen At the Red Pass.”

Bessie listened, with wide, startled • eyes, burning cheeks, and quivering •lips. She held her peace, standing, tall -and slim, in a sort of stunned silence, until her gray-haired lover had taken his leave. Then she burst forth into vehement, passionate protest. The old grandmother suffered her to •storm until her passion was spent. “Well, ’tis o'er now, and ye’ll simmer down and keep quiet, mebbe. I’ve let ye have your say, and now I’ll have .mine. We’re poor folk, me and you. J found It hard to get bread when 1 had but my own mouth to feed, and since I’ve been burdened wl’ you I’ve gone to bed many a night fit to cry wi’ hunger. But I’ve borne It all an’ done my best, an’ always been willing to gl’ you a share o’ my Inst, crust.” “But, dearest grandma ” “Now, lookee here, my lass,” interrupted the old woman, lifting her bony finger and glowering fiercely upon Bessie, “if ye’re fule enou’ to refuse this good fortln’, that ends It ’twixt us two. You pack out o’ my house, and ne’er cross the threshold again.” ' Bessie was silent. The great world ?beyond the Highland peaks seemed so ■dim and far away, and the old home .-scenes were so familiar. The autumn days drifted on and In ;the spring time she was going to kirk with (Squire Renfrew and be made his Wife.

The springtime came and the wedding day was close at hnpd, when, one evening just before the gloaming, Bessie went to fill her pitcher, as usual, a.! the rocky spring near by. She had Accomplished her task aud lifted the ;pltcher to her shoulder and had started for the cottage, her white, shapely feet -twinkling prettily below the short petticoat as she stepped from stone to stone in crossing the little brawling stream, when suddenly she uttered n stifled cry and staggered to a mossgrown bowlder, sat down, nnd put the pitcher hastily on the ground, pressing ber hand on her heart and trembling .all over. “It’s his glmist, It’s ids ghalst,” she -cried, ‘and O, how sair he looked at . me!” Whatever she had seen, or fancied she had seen, there was nothing in sight when she next looked up; nothing except the overhanging rocks of the glen, the brook shimmering In the • evening light, and the yvhite birch trees swaying spectrally agalust the sky. ‘‘He lias come from his grave,” she . cried, glancing fearfully around. * *‘l ■ dare mi, dare na do It. O! forgive me, -Jamie, that I ever thought o’ It.” . She drew a silken cord which cncirher throat from her Ikmoiu as she spoke and kissed the slender hoop of silver which depended from It. “I'll never ha' peace if I marry the Squire,” she said, “and I ought no to hu' it; I shall feel 1 am a traitor. And, O! Jamie, Jamie, after all. I love no one *but you, and never cnn." Suddenly sire rose, with resolution stamped on every feature. “I must give the Squire his ring back,” she snid, brushing, the last tears from her eye. “It Is hard on him, but there is no other way. Then, Jamie, then perhaps you’ll forgive me, dear.” Leaving her pitcher there blh* tossed 'back her abundant locks as she finished this adjuration, and went si&edlng •way through the falling darkness with the light foot of a chamois. When she reached the Red Pnss the bright glow of the warm lngleside 111 the windows. She approached th< neatest one and pressed her Had, tired _jet resolute, face against the glass. A minute and she tapped llghtlj

against the glass. The Squire turned quickly, stared, and then started to bis feet. “Well, now, well, now, what’s the meaning o’ this?” he cried, rushing across the room and throwing Up the window. “Bessie, my lassie, what’s happened?” • “Somethlng«that never should ha’ happened,” she answered, looking at him with a sort of desperate defiance, and drawing the gold ring from her finger as she spoke. “I’ve come to give this back to you, Squire Renfrew. I was wrong ever to to let you put it on.” “Why, child, what do you mean?” “Take your ring,” she said. “You’ve heard of *Auld Robin Grey,’ maybe, haven’t you?” ’“Yes, I have. But w r hat then?” “Well, I had a Jamie once,” she went on, clutching at the little sliver ring suspended from her neck, a great throb of pain shaking her; “he gave me this, and 1 can’t ever wear any other ring. He—he—went off to seek his fortune,” with another repressed sob, “and he was lost at sea. I tried to forget him, but I cannot. I can’t keep my promise to you, Squire Renfrew —I—l couldn’t feel like she did to ‘Auld Robin Grey’ —I should hate you—l should —Aud here she broke down completely. He took the ring she offered and paused for a moment. A look of unutterable pain and regret came into his eyes. “So,” he said, slowly, “you have come to tell me this, and to ask for your freedom? Aud you really think, too, you have seen Jamie’s ghost?” “Yes. And I shall never return to grandmother again. I dare not. So I am going away.” “Bessie, my darling,” cried a voice, as his strong arm her. The next moment she was on the breast of her lover, who had come back alive and safe. A few days after there was a happy marriage at the kirk, Squire Renfrew himself giving away the bride, our “Bonnie Bessie.”—New York News, /