“No; and he’ll never ken as much as is for his good, if it depends on you. But he’ll hear something ere he’s many days older.”
“Mrs Stirling,” said Lilias, rising, and speaking very quietly now, “you must not meddle between me and my brother. He is all I have got; and I know him best. He never was meant for a herd-boy or a field-labourer. He must bide at the school; and he’ll soon be fit for something better; and can you not see that will be as much for my good as his? I must just have patience and wait; and you are not to think ill of Archie.”
“Me think ill of him! No, no; I think he’s a fine laddie, as his father was before him, and that makes it all the more a pity that he should be spoiled. But if you’ll promise to be a good bairn, and have patience till you are rested and quite strong again, and say no more about your fine plans till then, I’ll neither make nor meddle between you. Must you go? Well, wait till I cover the fire with a wet peat, and I’ll go down the brae with you. I dare say you are all right; your aunt will be wearying for you.”
As Nancy went bustling about, Lilias seated herself again upon the door-step. The scene was changed since she sat there before; but it was not less lovely with the long shadows upon it than it was beneath the bright sunshine. It was very sweet and peaceful. The never-silent brook babbled on closely by, but all other sounds seemed to come from a distance. The delicate fringes of young birches waved to and fro with a gentle, beckoning motion; but not a rustle nor a sigh was heard.
Yes, it was very sweet and peaceful; and as she let her eyes wander over the scene, Lilias had a vague feeling of guilt upon her in being so out of tune with it all. Even in the days when she and Archie used to sit waiting, waiting for their weary mother it had not been so bad. She wondered why everything seemed so changed to her.
“I suppose it is because I’m not very well. I mind how weary and restless Archie used to be. I must have patience till I grow stronger. And maybe something will happen that I’m not thinking about, just as Aunt Janet came to us then. There are plenty of ways beyond my planning; and the Lord has not forgotten us, I’m sure of that. I must just wait. There is nothing else I can do. There! I won’t let another tear come to-night, if I can help it.”
She did her best to help it, for Mrs Stirling came bustling out again, and they set off down the brae. She had leisure to help it, too; for from the moment the great door-key was hidden in the thatch, till they paused beside the stepping-stones, she did not need to speak a word. Nancy had all the talk to herself, and rambled on from one thing to another, never pausing for an answer, till they stood beside the brook. Here Nancy was to turn back.
“And now, Lilias, my dear, you’ll mind what I have been saying to you, and that you have promised to have patience? It winna be easy. You have ay been doing for your aunt and your brother; and the more you had to do the better you liked it. But it’s one thing to do, and it’s another thing to sit with your hands tied and see them needing the help you canna give. I doubt you may have a sorer heart to carry about with you than you have kenned of yet. No, that I’m feared for you in the end. And, though it’s no pleasant thing to ask favours, I have that faith in you that I would come to you, and wouldna fear to be denied. I ken you would have more pleasure in giving than in withholding; and I would take a gift from you as freely as I ken it would be freely given.”
She paused a moment, and Lilias tried to say that indeed she might trust her, for it would give her more pleasure than she had words to tell, to be able to do anything for so kind a friend.
“As to that, we’ll say nothing,” said Nancy, drily. But suddenly, changing her tone and manner, she added, “What I have to say is this. You’ll not refuse to me what I wouldna refuse to you, you that are far wiser and better than I am, or ever expect to be? What’s the use of having friends if you canna offer them a helping hand in their time of need? And mind, I’m no giving it,” she added, opening her hands and showing three golden sovereigns. “There’s no fear but I’ll get them back with interest. There’s nine-and-twenty more where these came from, in the china teapot in the press; though that’s neither here nor there. And, Lilias, my dear, no soul need ever know.” The last words were spoken beseechingly.