Christie smiled, and shook her head.
“You will have better use for your strength than that, Effie. I am sure the water in the burn at home would cool my hands, if I could dip them in it. Oh, if I could just get out to the fields for one long summer day, I think I should be content to lie down here again for another six months! In the summer-time, when I used to think of the Nesbitts and the McIntyres in the sweet-smelling hay-fields, and of the bairns gathering berries in the woods, my heart was like to die within me. It is not so bad now since you came. No, Effie, I am quite content now.”
Later in the day, she said, after a long silence:
“Effie, little Will will hardly mind that he had a sister Christie, when he grows up to be a man. I should like to have been at home once more, because of that. They will all forget me, I am afraid.”
“Christie,” said her sister, “why do you say they will forget you? Do you not think you will live to see them again?”
“Do you think so, Effie?” asked Christie, gravely.
Instead of answering her, Effie burst into tears, and laid her head down on her sister’s pillow. Christie laid her arm over her neck, and said, softly:
“There is nothing to grieve so for, Effie. I am not afraid.”
Effie’s tears had been kept back so long, they must have free course now. It was in vain to try to stay them. But soon she raised herself up, and said:
“I didna mean to trouble you, Christie. I know I have no need to grieve for you. But, oh! I cannot help thinking you might have been spared longer if I had been more watchful—more faithful to my trust!”