“Whist! Miss Graeme! What ails the lassie? It’s no’ the thought of going awa’, surely? You hae kenned this was to be a while syne. You hae little to greet about, if you but kenned it—you, who are going altogether.”
“Janet, Arthur is to bide in Scotland.”
“Well, it winna be for long. Just till he’s done at the college. I dare say it is the best thing that can happen him to bide. But who told you?”
“Arthur told me after we went up-stairs to-night. And, oh! Janet! what will I ever do without him?”
“Miss Graeme, my dear! You hae done without him these two years already mostly, and even if we all were to bide in Scotland, you would hae to do without him still. He could na’ be here and at the college too. And when he’s done with that he would hae to go elsewhere. Families canna aye bide together. Bairns maun part.”
“But, Janet, to go so far and leave him! It will seem almost like death.”
“But, lassie it’s no’ death. There’s a great difference. And as for seeing him again, that is as the Lord wills. Anyway, it doesna become you to cast a slight on your father’s judgment, as though he had decided unwisely in this matter. Do you no’ think it will cost him something to part from his first-born son?”
“But, Janet, why need he part from him? Think how much better it would be for him, and for us all, if Arthur should go with us. Arthur is almost a man.”
“Na, lass. He’ll no’ hae a man’s sense this while yet. And as for his goin’ or bidin’, it’s no’ for you or me to seek for the why and the wherefore o’ the matter. It might be better—more cheery—for you and us all if your elder brother were with us, but it wouldna be best for him to go, or your father would never leave him, you may be sure o’ that.”
There was a long silence. Graeme sat gazing into the dying embers. Janet threw on another peat, and a bright blaze sprang up again.