y, and a very stupid way. Let her rest."
"Yes, let her rest. And, Will, you are not to think I am not glad that
you are going home. I would choose no other lot for you, than the one
that is before you, an opportunity to prepare yourself for usefulness,
and a wide field to labour in. Only I am afraid I would stipulate that
the field should be a Canadian one."
"Of course. Canada is my home."
"Or Merleville. Deacon Snow seems to think you are to be called to that
field, when you are ready to be called."
"But that is a long day hence. Perhaps, the deacon may change his mind,
when he hears that I am going home to learn from the `British.'"
"There is no fear. Sandy has completed the work which my father and
Janet began. Mr Snow is tolerant of the North British, at any rate.
What a pleasant life our Merleville life was. It seems strange that
none of us, but Norman, has been back there. It won't belong now,
however."
"I am afraid I cannot wait for Emily's wedding. But I shall certainly
go and see them all, before I go to Scotland."
"If you do, I shall go with you, and spend the summer there."
"And leave Rose here?" said Will, in some surprise.
"No. I wish to go for Rose's sake, as much as for my own. It seems as
though going to Merleville and Janet, would put us all right again."
"I hope you may both be put right, without going so far," said Will.
"Do you know, Will, I sometimes wonder whether I can be the same person
who came here with Rose and you? Circumstances do change people,
whether they will or not. I think I should come back to my old self
again, with Janet to take me to task, in her old sharp, loving way."
"I don't think I understand you, Graeme."
"Don't you? Well, that is evidence that I have changed; and that I have
not improved. But I am not sure that I understand myself."
"What is wrong with you, Graeme."
"I cannot tell you, Will. I don't know whether the wrong is with me, or
with matters and things in general. But there is no good in vexing you,
unless you could tell me how to help it."
"If I knew what is wrong I might try," said Will, gravely.
"Then, tell me, what possible good I shall be able to do in the world,
when I shall no longer have you to care for?"
"If you do no good, you will fall far short of your duty."
"I know it, Will. But useless as my way of life is, I cannot change it.
Next year must be like this one, and except nursing you in your
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