And so the decision was made. After this the preparations did not occupy a long time. The second day found Harry ready for departure.
“Graeme,” said Harry, “I cannot be content to take away with me such a melancholy remembrance of your face. I shall begin to think you are not willing that I should go after all.”
“You need not think so, Harry. I am sure it is best since you are determined. But I cannot but look melancholy at the necessity. You would not have me look joyful, when I am going to lose my brother?”
“No—if that were all. But you have often said how impossible it was that we should always keep together. It is only what we have been expecting, and we might have parted in much more trying circumstances. I shall be home often—once a year at the least; perhaps oftener.”
“Yes, dear, I know.”
“Well, then, I think there is no cause for grief in my going, even if I were worthy of it, which I very much doubt.”
Graeme’s face did not brighten. In a little while her tears were falling fast.
“Graeme, what is it? There is some other reason for your tears, besides my going away. You do not trust me, Graeme, you are afraid.”
Graeme made an effort to quiet herself.
“Yes, Harry, I am a little afraid, since you give me the opportunity to say so. You have hardly been our own Harry for a while, as you know, dear. And what will you be when you are far from us all? I am afraid to let you go from me, Harry, far more afraid than I should be for Will.”