could never, never come again. Kneeling down beside him,
she laid her head upon his breast, and just this once--the first time
and the last in his presence--gave way to her grief.

"O Hamish! Hamish, bhodach! Must it be? Must it be?" He did not
speak. She did not move till she felt tears that were not her own
falling on her face. Then she rose, and putting her arms round him, she
made him lean on her, all the while softly soothing him with hand and
voice.

"I am grieved for you, my Shenac," said he. "We two have been nearer to
each other than the rest. You have not loved me less because I am
little and lame, but rather more for the trouble I have been to you; and
I know something will be gone from your life when I am not here."

"Oh, what will be left?" said Shenac.

"Shenac, my darling, I know something that you do not know, and I see
such a beautiful life before you. You are strong. There is much for
you to do of the very highest work--God's work; and then at the end we
shall meet all the happier because of the heart-break now."

But beyond the shadow that was drawing nearer, Shenac's eyes saw
nothing, and she thought indeed that her heart was breaking--dying with
the sharpness of the pain.

"It won't be long, at the very longest; and after just the first, there
are many happy days waiting you."

Shenac withdrew herself from her brother, she trembled so, and slipping
down beside him, she laid her face on his bosom again. Then followed
words which I shall not write down--words of prayer, which touched the
sore place in Shenac's heart as they fell, but which came back
afterwards many a time with a comforting and healing power.

All through the long summer afternoon Hamish slumbered and woke and
slumbered again, while his sister sat beside him, heart-sick with the
dread, which was indeed no longer dread, but sorrowful certainty.

"It is coming nearer," she said to herself, over and over again--"it is
coming nearer." But she strove to quiet herself, that her face might be
calm for his waking eyes to rest upon.

Allister and his wife came in as usual to sit a little while with him,
when the day's work was done; and then Shenac slipped away, to be alone
a little while with her grief. An hour passed, and then another, and a
third was drawing to a close, and she did not return.

"She must have fallen asleep. She is weary with the long day," said
Hamish. "And you are weary too, Allister and Shenac.