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, but as one listened it took to itself words,--always the same words, repeated again and again-- "My lassie! My Lizzie! Oh, my lassie!" "Nay, dearie, nay! You mustna give way. She's better off. You must be strong. We'll bear it together." It was Mr Macalister who spoke; but Margot hardly recognised the voice, hardly recognised the face, which, for all its pallor and quiver of pain, was yet strong and calm. All trace of the peevish discontent that had hung like a cloud over the man had vanished like a mist; his bowed back seemed to have straightened itself and grown erect; the whining voice was composed and full of courage. He had forgotten his nerves in the presence of a great calamity; nay, more than that--he had forgotten himself; his one care and anxiety was for his wife! The tears smarted in Margot's eyes; she ran forward, dropped on her knees before the chair, and clasped her strong young arms round the swaying figure, steadying it with loving, gentle pressure. The wan eyes stared at her unrecognisingly for a moment, then, at the sight of her girlish beauty, old memories returned, and the tears began to rain. "Lizzie's gone! Lizzie's gone! I'll never see her again. All in a moment, and me so far away. My little Lizzie!... I canna bear it!..." "She never suffered, mother. She knew nothing about it. It's better for her than a long, painful illness. You must be thankful for her sake." Mr Macalister looked down at Margot, and bravely essayed an explanation. "It was an accident. We've just heard. Instantaneous, they say. The mother's sore upset, but she's a brave woman. She'll bear it bravely for all our sakes. We'll need to get back to Glasgow." "Yes. I'll help! I'll pack for her. Don't trouble about anything. I'll see that it is all right. You'll let me help you, dear, won't you?" Margot put up a tender hand, to straighten the cap on the poor, dishevelled head; and something in the simple, daughterly action seemed to reach the poor woman's heart, and bring with it the first touch of calmness. She sat up and looked blankly from side to side. "I--I'm sorry! I shouldna give way. I never lost a child before, you see, and Lizzie was such a one for her mother. I wrote to her only last night. She leaves two bairnies of her own, but they are so young. They'll never remember her!" The pitiful trembling began again, whereupon George Elgood's hand held out a glass of water, and
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