'She did not?'
He shook his head. 'But I have only you to count on that will help her,' he said sighing.
The packing-up was not a long business, but we went through it very slowly, though we talked little. Who ever said the parting words they had meant to speak at the last? Ours were very few.
Once Cuthbert looked up as he was kneeling on the floor beside the old chest that had held all our goods for so long. 'Will, I can't make speeches, but I am thinking very much to-night of the time you brought me home, and took me for your brother. There never was such a brother. I should like just for once to say, thank you.'
I put my hand on his shoulder and pressed it hard. It was lucky he did not want words, for I had none. We lay down near each other for the last time. I don't know whether Cuthbert cried before he went to sleep. I know I did.
It was soon over the next morning. As we went downstairs in the doubtful light, we could hear my father's heavy breathing. But poor Granny was down before us, with some breakfast ready that no one could eat, and a candle flaring with a sickly ray in the broadening daylight.
'I shall never see thee again, my dear,' Granny said, two slow tears rolling down her face; 'but be a good lad, and don't forget to say thy prayers.'
'I won't, Granny;' and as he kissed her she put her trembling old hand on his brown head and blessed him.
Then Cuthbert went out quickly, and I followed. He stood still for a minute and looked round. He could not have seen the old place look more beautiful than in its morning stillness; the birds were waking up here and there, and a glitter of dew and sunshine lay on the grass.
'Come,' he said, 'it is late.'