“I shall never leave them while they need me. I could be content to toil for them always. But, ah! mother, the going awa’ over the sea—”
Her voice failed her for a minute, then she added,—
“I hae wakened every mornin’ with this verse of Jeremiah on my mind: ‘Weep ye not for the dead, neither bemoan him, but weep sore for him that goeth away, for he shall return no more nor see his native country.’” Janet made no secret of her tears now.
“Hoot fie, Janet, woman,” said her mother, affecting anger to hide far other feelings. “You are misapplyin’ Scripture altogether. That was spoken o’ them that were to be carried away captive for their sins, and no’ o’ honest folk, followin’ the leadings o’ Providence. If there’s ony application it’s to me, I’m thinkin’. It’s them that bide at hame that are bidden weep sore;” and she seemed much inclined to follow the injunction. She recovered in a minute, however, and added,—
“But I’m no’ going to add to your trouble. You dinna need me to tell you I’ll have little left when you’re awa’. But, if it’s your duty to go with them, it canna be your duty to bide with me. You winna lose your reward striving in behalf o’ these motherless bairns, and the Lord will hae me and Sandy in his keeping, I dinna doubt.”
There was a long silence after this. Each knew what the other suffered. There was no need to speak of it, and so they sat without a word; Janet, with the quiet tears falling now and then over her cheeks; her mother, grave and firm, giving no outward sign of emotion. Each shrunk, for the other’s sake, from putting their fears for the future into words; but their thoughts were busy. The mother’s heart ached for the great wrench that must sever Janet from her child and her home, and Janet’s heart grew sick with the dread of long weary days and nights her mother might have to pass, with perhaps no daughter’s hand to close her eyes at last, till the thoughts of both changed to supplication, fervent though unuttered; and the burden of the prayer of each was, that the other might have strength and peace.
The mother spoke first. “When will it be?”
“It canna be long now. The sooner the better when once it’s really settled. There are folk in the parish no weel pleased at the minister, for thinking to go.”
“It’s for none to say what’s right, and what’s wrang, in the matter,” said the mother, gravely. “I hae nae doubt the Lord will go with him; but it will be a drear day for plenty besides me.”
“He’s bent on it. Go he will, and I trust it may be for the best,” but Janet sighed drearily.