ight, and there
will be no fear of you."

"And are you goin' mother?" asked Sandy, gravely.

"I doubt I'll need to go, Sandy lad, with the bairns. But I think less
of it, that I can leave you to be a comfort to grannie. I'm sure I
needna bid you be a good and obedient laddie to her, when--"

It needed a strong effort on her part to restrain the bitter cry of her
heart.

"And will you never come back again, mother?"

"I dinna ken, Sandy. Maybe no. But that's no' for us to consider. It
is present duty we maun think o'. The rest is in the Lord's hands."

What else could be said? That was the sum. It was duty and the Lord
would take care of the rest. And so they parted with outward calm; and
her mother never knew that that night, Janet, sending the children home
before her, sat down in the lane, and "grat as if she would never greet
mair." And Janet never knew, till long years afterwards, how that
night, and many a night, Sandy woke from the sound sleep of childhood to
find his grandmother praying and weeping, to think of the parting that
was drawing near. Each could be strong to help the other, but alone, in
silence and darkness, the poor shrinking heart had no power to cheat
itself into the belief that bitter suffering did not lie before it.

CHAPTER FOUR.

It was worship time, and the bairns had gathered round the table with
their books, to wait for their father's coming. It was a fair sight to
see, but it was a sad one too, for they were motherless. It was all the
more sad, that the bright faces and gay voices told how little they
realised the greatness of the loss they had sustained. They were more
gay than usual, for the elder brother had come home for the summer,
perhaps for always; for the question was being eagerly discussed whether
he would go back to the college again, or whether he was to go with the
rest to America.

Arthur, a quiet, handsome lad of sixteen, said little. He was sitting
with the sleepy Will upon his knee, and only put in a word now and then,
when the others grew too loud and eager. He could have set them at rest
about it; for he knew that his father had decided to leave him in
Scotland till his studies were finished at the college.

"But there's no use to vex the lads and Graeme to-night," he said to
himself; and he was right, as he had not quite made up his mind whether
he was vexed himself or not. The thought of the great countries on the
other side of the glob