"No, I suppose not," said Shenac, with a sigh; "for Allister is to take
down the old house--the dear old shelter--to make the garden larger. He
is an ambitious lad, our Allister," she added laughing, "and means to
have a place worthy of the chief of the clan. But, somewhere and some
time, we'll have a wee house together, Hamish--you and I and Flora.
Don't shake your wise head, lad. There is nothing that may not happen--
some time.
"Do you remember, Hamish," she continued (and her voice grew low and
awed as she said it)--"do you remember the night you were so ill? I did
not say it to you, but I feared that night that you were going to die,
and I said to myself, if God would spare you to my prayers, I would
never doubt nor despond again; I would trust God always. And I will."
"But, Shenac, what else could you do but trust God if I were to die?"
asked her brother gravely. "My living or dying would make no difference
as to that."
"But, Hamish, that is not what I mean. It may seem a bold thing to say,
but I think God heard my prayer that night, and spared you to us; and it
would seem so wrong, so ungrateful, to doubt now. All will be for the
best now, I am sure, now that he has raised you up again."
"For a little while," said Hamish softly. "But, Shenac, all will be for
the best, whether I live or die. You do not need me to tell you that, I
am sure."
"But you _are_ better," said Shenac eagerly, a vague trouble stirring at
her heart.
"Surely I am better. But that is not the question. I want you to say
to me that you will trust and not be afraid even if I were to die,
Shenac, my darling. Think where your peace and strength come from,
think of Him in whom you trust; and what difference can the staying or
going of one like me make, if He is with you?"
For just a moment it was clear to Shenac how true this was--how safe
they are whom God keeps, how much better than a brother's love is the
love divine, which does not shield from all suffering, but which most
surely saves from all real evil.
"Yes, Hamish," she said humbly, "I see it. But, oh, I am glad you are
better again!"
But was he really better? Shenac asked herself the question many a time
in the days that followed. For the May that had come in so brightly
was, after all, a dreary month. There were some cold days and some
rainy days, and never a day, till June came, that was mild enough for
Hamish to venture out again. And when he did, it was not on the hillock
by the creek where Shenac spread the plaid, but close to the end of the
old log-house, where the mother used to sit in the sunshine. For the
creek seemed a long way off to Hamish now. When Allister came down the
hill to speak to his brother, it came into Shenac's mind that his face
was graver, and his greeting not so cheery, as it had been that May-day.
As for Dan, he did not hail him as he had done then, but only looked a
moment with wistful eyes, and then went away.
"Truly, the light is sweet, and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to
behold the sun," said Hamish softly, as he leaned back against the wall.
"I thought, the last time I was out, that nothing could be lovelier
than the sky and the fields were then; but they are lovelier to-day. It
helps one to realise `the living green' that the hymn speaks about,
Shenac:--
"`There everlasting spring abides,
And never-withering flowers,'"
he murmured.
But Shenac had no answer ready. Day by day she was coming to the
knowledge of what must be, but she could not speak about it yet. Nay,
she had never really put it to herself in words that her brother was
going to die. She had all these days been putting the fear from her, as
though by that means she might also put away the cause. Now in the
sunshine it looked her in the face, and would not be put aside. But,
except that she sat very still and was very pale, she gave no token of
her thoughts to Hamish; and if he noticed her, he said nothing.
"Shenac," said he in a little while, "when Allister takes away the poor
old house to make the garden larger, he should make a summer-seat here,
just where the end of the house comes, to mind you all of my mother and
me. Will you tell him, Shenac?"
"He may never change the garden as he thought to do," answered Shenac.
"He will have little heart for the plans we have all been making."
"Yes, just at first, I know; but afterwards, Shenac. Think of the years
to come, when Allister's children will be growing up about him. He will
not forget me; but he will be quite happy without me, as the time goes
on; and you too, Shenac. It is well that it should be so."