CHAPTER LIX.
A BREAKING UP.
Things in the castle went on in the same quiet way as before for some time. Cosmo settled himself in his father’s room, and read and wrote, and pondered and aspired. The household led the same homely simple life, only fared better. The housekeeping was in Grizzie’s hands, and she was a liberal soul—a true bread-giver.
James Gracie did not linger long behind his friend. His last words were, “I won’er gien I hae a chance o’ winnin’ up wi’ the laird!”
On the morning that followed his funeral, as soon as breakfast was over, Aggie sought Cosmo, where he sat in the garden with a book in his hand.
“Whaur are ye gaein’, Aggie?” he said, as she approached prepared for walking.
“My hoor’s come,” she answered. “It’s time I was awa’.”
“I dinna un’erstan’ ye, Aggie,” he returned.
“Hoo sud ye, sir? Ilka body kens, or sud ken, what lies to their ain han’. It lies to mine to gang. I’m no wantit langer. Ye wadna hae me ait the breid o’ idleness?”
“But, Aggie,” remonstrated Cosmo, “ye’re ane o’ the faimily! I wad as sune think o’ seein’ my ain sister, gien I had ane, gang frae hame for sic a nae rizzon at a’!”
The tears rose in her eyes, and her voice trembled: