“And you do not grudge me to my rest, dear?”
“No; even at my worst time I did not do that. For myself, the way looked weary; but at the very worst time I was glad for you.”
The brightness of her tearful smile never changed till his weary eyes closed again. The day passed slowly. They thought him dying in the afternoon, and they all gathered in his room; but he revived, and when night came he was left alone with Shenac. There were others up in the house all night, and now and then a face looked in at the open door; but they slept, or seemed to sleep—Shenac in the great chair, with her head laid on her brother’s pillow and her bright hair mingling with his. On her cheek, pale with watching and with awe of the presence that overshadowed them, one thin, white hand was laid. The compressed lips and dimmed eyes of Hamish never failed to smile as in answer to his touch she murmured some tender word—not her own, but His whose words alone can avail when it comes to a time like this.
As the day dawned they gathered again—first Dan, then Allister and Shenac Dhu, then Flora and the little lads; for the change which cannot be mistaken had come to the dying face, and they waited in silence for the King’s messenger. He slumbered peacefully with a smile upon his lips, but his eyes opened at last and fastened on his sister’s face. She had never moved through the coming in of them all; she did not move now, but spoke his name.
“Hamish, bhodach!”
Did he see her?
“How bright it is in the west! It will be a fair day for the harvest to-morrow.”
It must have been a glimpse of the “glory to be revealed” breaking through the dimness of death; for he did not see the dear face so close to his, and if he heard her voice, he was past all answering now. Just once again his lips moved, murmuring a name—the dearest of all—“Jesus;” and then he “saw him as he is.”