“Ah! what a sad dreary winter that first one was to you, Janet, though it was so merry to the boys and me,” said Graeme. “It would have comforted you then, if you could have known how it would be with you now, and with Sandy.”
“I am not so sure of that, my dear. We are untoward creatures, at the best, and the brightness of to-day, would not have looked like brightness then. No love, the changes that seem so good and right to look back upon, would have dismayed me, could I have seen them before me. It is well that we must just live on from one day to another, content with what each one brings.”
“Ah! if we could always do that!” said Graeme, sighing.
“My bairn, we can. Though I mind, even in those old happy days, you had a sorrowful fashion of adding the morrow’s burden to the burden of to-day. But that is past with you now, surely, after all that you have seen of the Lord’s goodness, to you and yours. What would you wish changed of all that has come and gone, since that first time when we looked on the bonny hills and valleys of Merleville?”
“Janet,” said Graeme, speaking low, “death has come to us since that day.”
“Ay, my bairns! the death of the righteous, and, surely, that is to be grieved for least of all. Think of them all these years, among the hills of Heaven, with your mother and the baby she got home with her. And think of the wonderful things your father has seen, and of his having speech with David, and Paul, and with our Lord himself—”
Janet’s voice faltered, and Graeme clasped softly the withered hand that lay upon her arm, and neither of them spoke again, till they answered Sandy and Emily’s joyful greeting at the door.
Rose lingered behind, and walked up and down over the fallen leaves beneath the elms. Graeme came down again, there, and Mr Nasmyth came to speak to them, and so did Emily, but they did not stay long; and by and by Rose was left alone with Mr Millar, for the very first time during his visit. Not that she was really alone with him, for all the rest were still in the porch enjoying the mild air, and the bright October sunshine. She could join them in a moment, she thought, not that there was the least reason in the world for her wishing to do so, however. All this passed through her mind, as she came over the fallen leaves toward the gate on which Mr Millar was leaning; and then she saw that she could not so easily join the rest, at least, without asking him to let her pass. But, of course, there could be no occasion for that.
“How clearly we can see the shadows in the water,” said she, for the sake of saying something. “Look over yonder, at the point where the cedar trees grow low. Do you see?”
“Yes, I see,” said he, but he was not looking the way of the cedars. “Rose, do you know why I came here?”