"Perhaps so," said Jamie, speaking guardedly.
"Maybe it is a queer fancy, but I hae been thinking aboot your mither: how when she came to that blest land we read of she would, perhaps, feel strange; and then she might see Wullie beckoning to her; and she would gang to him, and he would lead her to the dear Lord he lo'ed sae weel while on earth; and the Lord himsel would put a crown on her head. You see," said he, by way of apology or explanation, "whiles my mind taks to thinking o' sic things now. The warld isna lang for me, and yet it is pleasant to my auld een. The spring is bonny, and simmer-time is bonnier still; but autumn minds me o' auld age, and hard by are the frosts o' winter and death. Your faither had no fear o' death. I hae had mony a talk wi' him, and they hae dune me gude. Lang may Scotland hae sic men reared amang her sons o' toil, for even there they hae an influence that maun be felt."
Jamie went to Mrs. Lindsay's bedside to speak to her.
"I am right glad to see ye ance mair, Jamie. Sit ye doun, and speak a wee to your auld freend."
But Jamie could say but little: the scene recalled his mother's sick-bed. Mrs. Lindsay understood his feelings.
"Ay, your mither is awa," said she, "and I am gaen soon. This life maun come to an end wi' us a'. Nae doot it is weel wi' your mither; and I trust in the mercy o' God, through Jesus Christ, that it will be weel wi' me. It was honest Wullie wha helped me to lose the fear o' death. He often spoke to the gude-man and mysel o' spiritual things."
The next day, as James Murdoch was speeding on towards his own home, many thoughts filled his mind, but uppermost was this one: "Will my life be as fruitful in good works as my step-father's was? After all of me that is mortal has turned to dust, will any say of me as they say of him, 'He helped me on in the way to heaven'?"