CHANGES.
There were hurried footsteps and coming and going one rainy night at the
home of the Lindsays. It was not the evening of Alice's marriage, for
Hallowmas was long past, and Alice was far away. There had been a quiet
wedding, for all had thought merriment out of place in a house so soon
to become a house of mourning. The grandmother was feeble still, and
would be so until the mortal should put on immortality; but it was the
grandfather about whom all were anxious on that gloomy night. He had
been seized with sudden illness, and lay speechless and unconscious. Not
one of the household had retired to rest. Davie and Jeannie were there.
Robert had gone for the doctor, and all were anxiously waiting for his
arrival.
"It is a lang way," said Davie, "and the roads are heavy wi' the rain.
Ye maun hae patience."
But it was not easy to be patient. Again and again did one and another
look out into the darkness and listen, but heard only the fast-falling
rain.
"If only Sandy had been here to go," said Belle. "Robert is but a young
lad to be out this dark night."
But Sandy was in Edinburgh.
"Robert will do as weel as onybody," said Davie. "I might hae gane
mysel, if had kenned ye would be worried about the lad; but hae nae
fears for Robert; he'll come hame safe and sound."
Archie Lindsay sat by his father's bedside. Margaret, his sister, was
constantly passing from one sick-room to the other. Mrs. Lindsay
suspected that something had happened to her husband. "What is wrang wi'
your faither?" she asked.
Margaret vainly endeavored to quiet her apprehensions.
"Ye needna say your faither isna muckle seck, Maggie. What else would
keep ye a' out o' your beds? I maun see him for mysel."
Finding that she could not be quieted, her two children carried her to
her husband's bedside. She gazed on the face to which the light of
reason would never more return.
"Wae is me! Wae is me!" she exclaimed. "He is gaen, and gaen as his
faither did before him. Oh, that I, wha hae been sae long on the brink
o' the grave, s'ould live to see him taen awa!"
Her children persuaded her to return to her own room, promising to
inform her if any change should take place.
The doctor came, but his remedies were of no avail. Mr. Lindsay passed
away at dawn.
Margaret, true to her promise, communicated the sad intelligence to her
mother as soon as she awoke.
Mrs. Lindsay spoke not a word. She raised her eyes and stretched her
hands upward; then the hands fell and the eyes closed; her heart had
ceased to beat.
Margaret Lindsay had been a most dutiful daughter. As long as her
parents lived she had devoted herself to their care and comfort. Now
that they were gone, she became a member of her brother's family.
Little Annie shared her aunt's room, for the child had been very lonely
since Alice went away. She sometimes relieved the hours of their
tediousness by going to her uncle Davie's to play with the twins. Many
an hour did she amuse both herself and them, much to the satisfaction of
her aunt Jeannie, whose duties were neither few nor light.
Annie was fond of books and study, like her brother Sandy. Since he had
been in Edinburgh he had written to his little sister, telling her how
much he desired her to study, and how pleasant it was to read and gain
knowledge. Very proud was she when she had written a letter to him in a
neat, legible hand. "Alexander looks nicer than Sandy," she said,
looking at the address, "but I like the sound of Sandy better."
While Alexander was in Edinburgh, studying under his uncle's direction,
Robert Lindsay was fast attaining a man's stature. He had no taste for
farm-work, but he liked to handle tools, and was never tired of
machinery.
"He'll no make a farmer, that is plain to be seen," said his father,
"and he might as well do what he likes best."
But his mother, loath to spare another child from home, managed to hold
the matter in check for a short time. Finally he became so restless that
his parents consented to let him go to Glasgow, where his sister Alice
lived, that he might gratify his inclination in some of the many mills
and machine-shops of that busy city.
The house seemed lonely when he was gone; and well it might, for in no
very long time five had left the home circle. So dull was it that Isabel
prevailed on Davie to let his son Jamie, who had for some time been
employed on the farm, live with her altogether, so that the evenings
might not seem quite so long. Annie did not at first like him in
Robert's place, for he teased her slyly in many ways. If she laid down
her knitting he would manage to tangle the yarn or draw out some of the
needles. He misplaced her bookmarks, and pretended to rub out her sums.
But that was only his way of noticing her, for, after all, he loved to
please her, and he brought her all the queer or pretty things he found
in the woods or fields. She reproved him one day when he brought her
some bird's eggs.
"O Jamie!" she exclaimed, "how could you do sic a thing? You hae robbed
a bird's nest."
"Nae, I didna," he replied. "The auld bird is dead. A sportsman maun hae
shot her. I kenned long ago where the nest was, and the mother-bird
hasna been there these mony days. Nae, I wouldna rob a bird's nest even
for you, Annie."
The twins often came to see Annie as soon as they were old enough, and
they were always welcome at Aunt Belle's. They bid fair to have the good
sense of their parents, with more beauty. Davie was never too busy to
stop and speak to his little daughters as they passed him at his work.
Archie had grown to be a big boy, and was a great help to his mother.
But he had a great aversion to in-door work, and he longed for the day
when Maggie and Nannie should take his place, and he work in the fields
like other lads.
Time soon granted the boy's wish. Davie Murdoch had no more bairns to
trot upon his knee; and Jeannie was heard to remark, "It taks mair cloth
to mak gowns for baith lassies than to mak ane for mysel."