We took the body of Steenie to Bessie McDougal's because it was Janet's home, and because we thought mother might be less affected by his death if she did not see him at first. She did not object to this arrangement; and she waited till evening before she asked to go and see him. Then, with more composure than I had anticipated, she made preparations to go to her son.
"I maun see my bairn now," she said. "I trow these auld limbs will not refuse to take me to him."
"Who shall go with you, mother?" I asked.
"Margaret," she replied; for Margaret had remained with us through the day.
I was not sorry that she was chosen, for she had great fortitude and presence of mind; and I felt that I could not endure any more heart-harrowing scenes that day.
But mother controlled herself in a wonderful manner, Margaret said. She spoke comforting words to Janet, telling her that our compassionate Lord would help her to bear her burdens and sorrows. When the question of burial came up for consideration, mother was quick to express her wish. "He maun sleep near his auld hame," she said. "None o' my dead lie where I can look on their graves."
So we made him a grave in a nook of our own plot of ground; for we could scarcely feel that even a grave was sacred in the eyes of our enemies. Close by the grave runs the little burn that aye sings its song of praise in summer-time. We could see the mound from our window, and for years every change about it was noted. "The grass is green on Steenie's grave now; and there are bonnie wee flowers amang it," mother would say; or in winter, "The snow lies fresh on Steenie's grave the morn." And after she was gone other eyes watched it. I can see it to-day from my window as I write; for I live here still, the only one left of our once happy family. But I am not alone here; and to tell who bides with me will lead me back to my story.