“My dear,” she had said, “bide till your time comes. You are but a woman like the lave, and you maun thole the brunt of what life may bring. Love! Ay will you, and that without leave asked or given. And if you get love for love, you’ll thank God humbly for one of his best gifts; and if you do not well, He can bring you through without it, as He has done many a one before. But never think you can escape your fate, and make the best of it when it comes.”
“And so my fate has found me,” murmured Graeme to herself. “This is part of my life, and I must make the best of it. Well, he can bring me through, as Janet said.”
“Graeme,” said Will suddenly, “what are you thinking about?”
Graeme started painfully. She had quite forgotten Will. Those bright, wakeful eyes of his had been on her many a time when she thought he was asleep.
“What were you thinking about? You smiled first, then you sighed.”
“Did I? Well, I was not aware that I was either smiling or sighing. I was thinking about Janet, and about something that she said to me once.”
She rose and arranged the pillows, stooping down to kiss her brother as she did so, and then she said sadly,—
“I am afraid you are not much better to-night, Will.”
“Yes; I think I am better. My head is clearer. I have been watching your face, Graeme, and thinking how weary and ill you look.”
“I am tired, Will, but not ill.” Graeme did not like the idea of her face having been watched, but she spoke cheerfully.