irly faced the fact that before long he would be alone
in the world. Without any exchange of words, he and his father came to
understand each other, and they both knew that they were spending
their last days on earth together. On the son's side, they were days of
deepening sorrow; but with the father, every day seemed to bring him
a greater peace of mind and a clearer shining of the light that never
fades. To his son, Macdonald Dubh never spoke of the death that he felt
to be drawing nearer, but he often spoke to him of the life he would
like his son to live. His only other confidant in these matters was the
minister's wife. To her Macdonald Dubh opened up his heart, and to her,
more than to any one else, he owed his growing peace and light; and it
was touching to see the devotion and the tenderness that he showed to
her as often as she came to see him. With his brother, Macdonald Bhain,
he made all the arrangements necessary for the disposal of the farm and
the payment of the mortgage.

Ranald had no desire to be a farmer, and indeed, when the mortgage was
paid there would not be much left.

"He will be my son," said Macdonald Bhain to his brother; "and my home
will be his while I live."

So in every way there was quiet preparation for Macdonald Dubh's going,
and when at last the day came, there was no haste or fear.

It was in the afternoon of a bright September day, as the sun was
nearing the tops of the pine-trees in the west. His brother was
supporting him in his strong arms, while Ranald knelt by the bedside.
Near him sat the minister's wife, and at a little distance Kirsty.

"Lift me up, Tonal," said the dying man; "I will be wanting to see the
sun again, and then I will be going. I will be going to the land where
they will not need the light of the sun. Tonal, bhodaich, it is the
good brother you have been to me, and many's the good day we have had
together."

"Och, Hugh, man. Are you going from me?" said Macdonald Bhain, with
great sorrow in his voice.

"Aye, Tonal, for a little." Then he looked for a few moments at Kirsty,
who was standing at the foot of the bed.

"Come near me, Kirsty," he said; and Kirsty came to the bedside.

"You have always been kind to me and mine, and you were kind to HER as
well, and the reward will come to you." Then he turned to Mrs. Murray,
and said, with a great light of joy in his eyes: "It is you that came to
me as the angel of God with a word of salvation, and forever