the days
shortening in upon you? You saw the darkness fall since we sat down
together, and the night has come, and it is always night in the grave.
Man, hurry home before the gloaming betrays you to the dark.

"Do you not hear yonder clock ticking in the hall that same old song of
death, the same it sang, the night your father's father was born in the
glen, the same it wailed the night he died? It is none other than the
voice of God telling you that the night cometh fast. Oh, Donald, was it
not your mother who first taught you the way to that holy spring, even
as she taught your boyish feet the path to yonder babbling burn which
even now is lilting to the night? Donald man, be a little child again,
and come back before you die."

Then there was a silence deep as death, and we heard the crickets sing
and the drowsy tinkling on the distant hill. I spoke not another word,
for when a great Scotch soul is in revolution, I would as soon have
offered to assist at the creation as seek then to interfere. But I heard
his wife Elsie sobbing gently and I felt a tear on Donald's cheek. My
heart caught its distilling fragrance, like a bluebell on some
mountainside, and I knew that the seasons were exchanging in Donald's
soul, winter retreating before the avenging spring.

Suddenly he arose and swiftly spoke--

"I'll gang back on Sabbath mornin'; I'll tak' ma mither's psalm-buik,
and I'll gang."

He strode quickly towards the house; as he passed me the rising moon
shone upon his face, and it looked like that of a soul which has the
judgment day behind and eternal mother-love before.

Elsie walked with me to the gate, and her face put the now radiant night
to shame. Her long eclipse had ended. It was then she told me the secret
of the token and her husband's love for it.

"Ye mauna think ower hard on Donald; I promised to tell naebody, but ye
willna let him ken. It wasna the token in itsel', but it was oor Elsie
mair. Elsie was oor little lassie that's gone to bide wi' God.

"Weel, when she was a bit bairn, she aye gaed wi' us to the sacrament,
and she was awfu' ta'en up wi' the token. She wad spell oot the bit
writin' on't, and she thocht there was naethin' sae bonnie as the
picture o' the goblet on the ither side o't. And she wad thrust her wee
bit haun' intil Donald's wes'coat pocket, where he aye keepit the token,
an' she wad tak' it oot an' luik at it, an' no' ask for sweeties or gang
to sleep or greet, like ither bairns.