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"Donal Grant, by George MacDonald"


The old woman was very calm, only every now and then she would lift
her hands and shake her head, and look as if the universe were going
to pieces, because her husband lay there by the stroke of the
ungodly. And if he had lain there forgotten, then indeed the
universe would have been going to pieces! When he coughed, every
pang seemed to go through her body to her heart. Love is as lovely
in the old as in the young--lovelier when in them, as often, it is
more sympathetic and unselfish--that is, more true.
Donal wrote to Mrs. Brookes that he would not be home that night;
and having found a messenger at the inn, settled himself to watch by
his friend.
The hours glided quietly over. Andrew slept a good deal, and seemed
to have pleasant visions. He was finding yet more saving. Now and
then his lips would move as if he were holding talk with some
friendly soul. Once Donal heard the murmured words, "Lord, I'm a'
yer ain;" and noted that his sleep grew deeper thereafter. He did
not wake till the day began to dawn. Then he asked for some water.
Seeing Donal, and divining that he had been by his bedside all the
night, he thanked him with a smile and a little nod--which somehow
brought to his memory certain words Andrew had spoken on another
occasion: "There's ane, an' there's a'; an' the a' 's ane, an' the
ane 's a'."
When Donal reached the castle, he found his breakfast and Mrs.


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