The old man closed his eyes on it all. He was not thinking, he was hardly feeling. The night had brought broken slumbers, but not rest, and he was very weary. A wondering question, whether she could be going to die on such a day as this, passed through his mind. It did not seem possible.
“And besides, she and he said she could not die till I had forgiven my enemy.”
But he was too weary to go over it all again—the long heart-breaking story. He could only sit still with closed eyes, waiting.
And it was thus that the minister and Jacob Holt found him. They had said little to one another as they passed through the dewy fields, and under the long shadows of the wayside trees together. Mr Maxwell at first had said a word as to the mission they had undertaken, and asked a question or two as to how they had better make it known, but Jacob had answered in monosyllables, or not at all.
The last part of their walk had been over the fields again, and they came suddenly upon Mr Fleming sitting at the door. Katie had seen them coming, and was standing at her grandfather’s side, her hand laid on his shoulder, and she looked at them as they drew near with questioning, almost angry eyes. Mr Maxwell held out his hand to her.
“Is he sleeping, Katie?”
But as he spoke Mr Fleming looked up. He did not see Jacob for the moment. He held out his hand and tried to rise.
“No; sit still,” and Mr Maxwell sat down beside him.
“It is kind of you to come so early. Katie thinks her—no worse this morning. But you must think her dying to come so soon again, and at this hour.”
“No. I am glad she is no worse. It was not that I thought her dying. I came for another reason.”