He went up and down the grassy paths. Once again, all as long ago—for it seemed long now—he was joined by Miss Graeme.
“I couldn’t help fancying,” she said as she came up to him, “that I saw lady Arctura walking by your side.—God forgive me! how could I be so heartless as mention her!”
“Her name will always be pleasant in my ears,” returned Donal. “I was thinking of her—that was how you felt as if you saw her! You did not really see anything, did you?”
“Oh, no!”
“She is nearer me than that,” said Donal. “She will be with me wherever I am; I shall never be sad. God is with me, and I do not weep that I cannot see him: I wait; I wait.”
Miss Graeme was in tears.
“Mr. Grant,” she said, “she is gone a happy angel to heaven instead of a pining woman! That is your doing! God bless you!—You will let me think of you as a friend?”
“Always; always: you loved her.”
“I did not at first; I thought of her only as a poor troubled creature! Now I know there was more life in her trouble than in my content. I came not only to love her, but to look up to her as a saint: if ever there was one, it was she, Mr. Grant. She often came here after I showed her that poem. She used to walk here alone in the twilight. That horrid Miss Carmichael! she was the plague of her life!”
“She was God’s messenger—to buffet her, and make her know her need of him. Be sure, Miss Graeme, not a soul can do without him.”