She told her about her father—so grave and kind and trustworthy—and about Hughie, who was so good and clever, but who had “gone wrong,” and been lost to them, leaving their life so dreary. And once or twice she spoke of one over whom she had kept the silence of many a year. It was Katie’s own name she heard—but it was of another “bonnie Katie” that her grandmother murmured so fondly, one who had been beguiled—who had sinned and suffered, and died long ago. But she always spoke brokenly of her when she was restless and feverish, and Katie, though she would have liked to hear more, strove always to turn her thoughts away.
But almost always her talk was happy and bright. In those days Katie heard more of her grandmother’s youthful days than she had ever heard before. She spoke about her home, and her brothers and sisters, and about “the gowany braes” and “the silver Ythan,” and the songs they used to sing, before it had ever come into her mind that there was trouble and care before her. She even tried to sing again, in her faint sweet voice, some of the dear old songs, laughing softly at her own foolishness.
But she never once spoke as though she thought she might not recover; even when she gave Katie words of counsel or caution, it was just in the way she used to do when they were going about their work together, and the girl was sure that she would soon be well again, and that that was Miss Betsey’s thought too.
But seeing her as she stood looking down on her grandmother’s sleeping face that morning, Katie was not so sure of what Miss Betsey’s thoughts might be. Still, her grandmother’s eyes opened and she smiled her old cheerful smile, as she said she was glad to see them.
“You must tell grandfather that the minister is come, Katie,” said she.
Mr Maxwell had seen Mr Fleming stepping up the brae, and he knew well that no words of his could comfort him. He could only hope as Katie did, that his Lord and Master might show him His face in the solitude he sought.
He had few words to say to Mrs Fleming, for she seemed inclined to slumber through the afternoon.
“I wish you could stay with us to-night, Miss Betsey,” said Katie’s mother. “I am afraid grandmother is not so well.”
“There is not much difference either way, I think. I would be glad to stay, but Uncle Gershom has had another bad turn, and I promised cousin Lizzie I would stay with her to-night. But I will come over to-morrow morning before I go home if I can get away.”
“Do you think her very ill?” asked Mr Maxwell as they walked down the hill together.