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"Stories of the Border Marches"

"I
knew you were coming," drowsily murmured the awakened sleeper, glancing
feebly at his rescuer, and immediately dropping off to sleep again.
When next he came to full consciousness, it was in a warm bed in a
comfortable room, where every evidence of luxury met his eyes. In an
armchair by the fire, with outstretched feet, sat his rescuer, his face
turned towards the bed. And presently:
"Why did you say last night that you knew I was coming?" he asked.
And when the dreamer had told his dream:
"It is strange," said the other, "that last night I should have been
forced, as it were, to get up and go to the old cottage by the wood.
Over and over again I woke, plagued by an unaccountable impulse to visit
those ruined walls. Struggle as I might against it, argue with myself as
I would on its folly, it always returned; and at last, about midnight,
it conquered me, and I arose and went."


THE MURDER OF COLONEL STEWART OF HARTRIGGE

Since a time long prior to the Raid of the Redeswire--when on Caterfell
the rallying cry, "Jethart's here," fell like sweetest music on the ears
of a sore-pressed little band of armed Scots, fighting for their lives,
and giving back sullenly before superior English strength--the worst
enemies of Jedburgh have never been able to taunt her with apathy, or
with want of strenuousness.


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