Ardtaraig

and part she spent nursing Aunt Macallister in her last illness. This sad duty over, Aunt Grace once more returned to Rothesay; this time to reside with Aunt Susan, who was now growing frail and required some friend to be with her. About this time, my dear mother died, and at the very last, Aunt Grace was with us in our sorrow. The winter following, papa and I went to Rothesay, and not long after our arrival, Aunt Susan became seriously ill. Cousin Georgie and I took it in turns to nurse the sufferer, as the older people then disliked the idea of being tended by strangers. After some months of painful illness Aunt Susan, too, passed away. Aunt Grace had to set about breaking up another home but this time it was the last weary task of the kind she ever had to undertake. She then came to Edinburgh, where, for many years, she resided with Aunt Maclean, under whose roof, as already stated, she departed this life, after a few days’ illness. Thus Aunt Maclean was left the last survivor of the Ardtarig family, and died, as before mentioned, exactly one hundred years after the marriage of her parents, George and Grace Ardtarig.
And now I think my tale is finished; so far, at least, as it is necessary to tell it. Of course, there are many things which might have been added, but the main facts have been given, and that, I think, is enough. Looking back on my youth I see much that I might have told, but these matters would be entirely personal, and no attempt has been made to deal with things of the kind. The ground gone over has recalled to myself much of my own life’s story, which, as it were, has run alongside of most that has been written – the years of childhood, of youth, the opening up of life, so wonderful, so new, to every human being, with its lovely dream-time and its yet more enchanting realities. Ah! that glorious dawn, with all its hopes and unlimited possibilities! Scarcely have we realised existence when, lo! it is evening – close the blinds, and prepare for bed! The long look back in these pages has been fraught with sadness. Still the task is left with some regret. The calling up of so many departed friends, including the “shades” that have “walked” unseen, save by the writer, makes the ending like a long good-bye. And he, for whom the little record was originally written, has himself passed into the shadows. I wished to carry him through the Past, and hoped to have had him with me in the Future, so far as it was mine; but we live to little purpose if we cannot say, “God’s will be done!”

CECILIA S. MIDDLETON. ( 8 Jan 1838 – )

EDINBURGH, April 27th 1907.