motionless, all but his eye, which followed every one. Ailie got
worse; began to wander in her mind, gently; was more demonstrative in
her ways to James, rapid in her questions, and sharp at times. He was
vexed, and said, "She was never that way afore, no, never." For a time
she knew her head was wrong, and was always asking our pardon--the
dear, gentle old woman; then delirium set in strong, without pause.
Her brain gave way, and then came that terrible spectacle,

"The intellectual power, through words and things,
Went sounding on, a dim and perilous way";

she sang bits of old songs and Psalms, stopping suddenly, mingling the
Psalms of David and the diviner words of his Son and Lord with homely
odds and ends of ballads.

Nothing more touching, or in a sense more strangely beautiful, did
I ever witness. Her tremulous, rapid, affectionate, eager, Scotch
voice--the swift, aimless, bewildered mind, the baffled utterance,
the bright and perilous eye; some wild words, some household cares,
something for James, the names of the dead, Rab called rapidly and in
a "fremyt" voice, and he starting up, surprised, and slinking off as
if he were to blame somehow, or had been dreaming he heard. Many eager
questions and beseechings which James and I could make nothing of, and
on which she seemed to set her all, and then sink back ununderstood.
It was very sad, but better than many things that are not called sad.
James hovered about, put out and miserable, but active and exact as
ever; read to her, when there was a lull, short bits from the Psalms,
prose and metre, chanting the latter in his own rude and serious way,
showing great knowledge of the fit words, bearing up like a man, and
doating over her as his "ain Ailie." "Ailie, ma woman!" "Ma ain bonnie
wee dawtie!"

The end was drawing on; the golden bowl was breaking; the silver
cord was fast being loosed--that _animula, blandula, vagula, hospes,
comesque_, was about to flee. The body and the soul--companions for
sixty years--were being sundered and taking leave. She was walking,
alone, through the valley of that shadow into which one day we must
all enter--and yet she was not alone, for we know whose rod and staff
were comforting her.

One night she had fallen quiet, and, as we hoped, asleep; her eyes
were shut. We put down the gas, and sat watching her. Suddenly she sat
up in bed, and, taking a bedgown which was lying on it rolled up, she
held it eagerly to her breast