Then the eager little girl must needs have the book in her own hands again, to search among the leaves for the illustrations which were interspersed, so that Geordie might be introduced to all the beauties of this wonderful volume. Geordie kept looking at her as she turned the leaves with a somewhat pitiful gaze, and presently he said in a low tone, "Jean, come a little nearer. I want to speak to ye, Jeanie. Do ye ken I'm maybe goin' til the grand school the good Maister keeps waitin' for us in the heavenly land? And I'll be learnin' a deal o' things there that we canna learn down here," he added, with a smile; and then he paused.
Jean looked up from her boot with bewildered eyes as she listened to Geordie's words; a grave expression came into her face, but the shadow was only caused by her not understanding what he meant, for she knew that Geordie occasionally went beyond her depth.
"I'll no ever herd Gowrie's cows again, Jean, or wait at the fences for Elsie and you. I'm dyin' Jeanie," he added in a hoarse whisper, as he gazed sorrowfully at the little girl.
There was no mistaking the meaning of these words, and little Jean, dropping her precious book, burst into loud sobbing, as she flung herself on Geordie.
Grace had been watching the boy with a sinking heart, and a great fear began to take possession of her that what he said might be true, as a terrible spasm of agony crossed his face, and a groan of pain escaped him. She looked anxiously to see if there was any sign of the doctor coming, and taking little Jean aside, she told her that if she loved Geordie she must be brave and quiet, even though he was so very ill, as he seemed to think. Then she tried to speak some soothing words of comfort, but little Jean wailed out with a fresh burst of sorrow:
"Oh, Miss Cam'ell, why didn't God keep him from Blackie, if he loves him as ye say? Ye mind how ye read to us in the Bible about him saving the herd-laddie out o' the jaws o' the bear; oh, but, I think, he might have taken care of our Geordie;" and poor little Jean would not be comforted.
"Where's granny?" Geordie had whispered, and Elsie rose from her post at Geordie's head and flitted away like a little noiseless ghost to find the old woman. She met her at the farm, where, having finished her cup of tea, she was being shown some of Mistress Gowrie's feathered favourites in the farmyard.
"Mistress Gowrie, he's not better, as ye think; he says he's dyin', and wants to see granny," Elsie said, with quivering lips, as she reached them.
"Dying, child, nonsense! what do you mean?" said the farmer's wife, looking at Elsie to see if she was not dreaming. But Elsie looked terribly wide-awake and sorrow-stricken, and Mistress Gowrie went off in search of her husband.
Then Granny Baxter began to perceive that there was something wrong, and presently Elsie succeeded in making her understand, and began to guide her slow steps to where her grandson still lay. Oh, how slow they were, Elsie thought, as she glanced along the straight field path still to be crossed before they reached the knolls, and thought of what might be going on there. But had not Geordie wanted to see his grandmother, and surely she might endure for him who had done so much for her? So the little girl kept close by the old woman's side, who leant her wrinkled hand on Elsie's shoulder, while, with the help of her staff in the other, she hobbled along, with her eyes fixed upon the ground, groaning and muttering about this terrible blow that seemed likely to fall upon her.