“Ay, lassie. I’ll no deny it, but dinna think that I grudge it now. It wasna made in a right sperit, and that the Lord is showing me. I thought you couldna do without me.”
“We couldna, Janet.”
“And I aye thought if I could be of any use to your father and your father’s bairns, and could see them contented, and well in a strange land, that would be enough for me. And I hae gotten my wish. You’re a’ weel, and weel contented, and my heart is lying in my breast as heavy as lead, and no strength of mine can lift the burden. God help me.”
“God will help you,” said Graeme, softly. “It is the sore home-sickness, like the captives by Babel stream. But the Lord never brought you here in anger, and, Janet, it will pass away.”
“Weel, it may be. That’s what my mother said, or something like it. He means to let me see that you can do without me. But I’ll bide still awhile, anyway.”
Graeme’s face was fall of dismay.
“Janet! what could we ever do without you?”
“Oh, you could learn. But I’m not going to leave you yet. The giant shallna master me with my will. But, oh! lassie, whiles I think the Lord has turned against me for my self-seeking and pride.”
“But, Janet,” said Graeme, gravely, “the Lord never turns against his own people. And if anybody in the world is free from self-seeking it is you. It is for us you are living, and not for yourself.”
Janet shook her head.