Chapter Eighteen.
But I must go back again to the June days when Shenac’s peace was new. The light came in through the western window, not from the sun, but from the glory he had left behind; and with his face upturned towards the golden clouds, Hamish sat gazing, as if he saw heaven beyond.
“Ready and waiting!” thought Shenac—“ready and waiting!”
For a moment she thought she must have spoken the words aloud, as her brother turned and said,—
“I have just one thing left to wish for, Shenac. If I could only see Mr Stewart once again.”
“He said he would come, dear, in August or September,” said Shenac, after a moment’s pause.
“I shall not see him, then,” said Hamish softly.
“He might come sooner, perhaps, if he knew,” said Shenac. “Allister might write to him.”
“I so long to see him!” continued Hamish. “I do love him so, Shenac dear—next to you, I think. Indeed, I know not which I love best. Oh, I could never tell you all the cause I have to love him.”
“He would be sure to come,” said his sister.