The fond arms twined about his neck, the dark head nestled against his breast, the dewy red lips were upturned to meet his own, but as he pressed them he remembered other lips, oh, so warm and sweet and clinging, now pale and cold in death.
Ah, pale, pale, now those rosy lips
That once I kissed so fondly,
And closed for aye the sparkling glance
That dwelt on me so kindly.
And moldering now in silent dust
The heart that loved me dearly,
But still within my bosom’s care
Shall live my Highland Mary!
Was it Laurier’s punishment for his sin that Jessie should haunt him so, that her pale wraith should glide between him and his living love, and make his lips cold to her kiss and his heart chill to her tender embrace!