other and
me. Will you tell him, Shenac?"

"He may never change the garden as he thought to do," answered Shenac.
"He will have little heart for the plans we have all been making."

"Yes, just at first, I know; but afterwards, Shenac. Think of the years
to come, when Allister's children will be growing up about him. He will
not forget me; but he will be quite happy without me, as the time goes
on; and you too, Shenac. It is well that it should be so."

Shenac neither assented nor denied. Soon Hamish continued:--

"I thought it would be my work to lay out the new garden. I would like
to have had the thought of poor lame Hamish joined with the change; but
it does not really matter. You will not forget me; but, Shenac,
afterwards you must tell Allister about the summer-seat."

"Afterwards!" Ah, well, there would be time enough for many a thing
afterwards--for the tears and bitter cries which Shenac could only just
keep back, for the sickness of the heart that would not be driven away.
Now she could only promise quietly that afterwards Allister should be
told; and then gather closer about him the plaid, which her brother's
hand had scarcely strength to hold.

"You are growing weary, Hamish," she said.

"Yes," said Hamish; and they rose to go. But first they would go into
the old house for a moment, for the sake of old times.

"For, with all your cares, and all my painful days and nights, we were
very happy here, Shenac," said Hamish, as the wide, low door swung back
and they stepped down into the room. Oh, how unspeakably dreary it
looked to Shenac--dreary, though so familiar! There was a bedstead in
the room yet, and some old chairs; and the heavy bunk, which was hardly
fit for the new house. There was the mother's wheel, too; and on the
walls hung bunches of dried herbs and bags of seeds, and an old familiar
garment or two. There was dust on the floor, and ashes and blackened
brands were lying in the wide fireplace, and the sunshine streaming in
on all through the open door. Shenac shivered as she entered, but
Hamish looked round with a smile, and with eyes that were taking
farewell of them all. Even in her bitter pain she thought of him first.
She made him sit down on the bunk, and gathered the plaid about him
again, for the air was chill.

It all came back: the many, many times she had seen him sitting there,
in health and in sickness, in sorrow and in joy; all their old life, all
the days that